The Sky is Everywhere(54)
Author: Jandy Nelson

“But you did help me,” I interrupt. “You were the only one who could even find me. I felt that same closeness even if I didn’t understand it. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

He turns to me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Toby.”

He smiles his squintiest, sweetest smile. “Well, I’m pretty sure I can keep my hands off you now. I don’t know about your frisky self though…” He raises his eyebrows, gives me a look, then laughs an unburdened free laugh. I punch his arm. He goes on, “So, maybe we’ll be able to hang out a little – I don’t think I can keep saying no to Gram’s dinner invitations without her sending out the National Guard.”

“I can’t believe you just made two jokes in one sentence. Amazing.”

“I’m not a total doorknob, you know?”

“Guess not. There must have been some reason my sister wanted to spend the rest of her life with you!” And just like that, it feels right between us, finally.

“Well,” he says, starting the truck. “Shall we cheer ourselves up with a trip to the cemetery?”

“Three jokes, unbelievable.”

However, that was probably Toby’s word allotment for the year, I’m thinking as we drive along now in silence. A silence that is full of jitters. Mine. I’m nervous. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of really. I keep telling myself, it’s just a stone, it’s just a pretty piece of land with gorgeous stately trees overlooking the falls. It’s just a place where my beautiful sister’s body is in a box decaying in a sexy black dress and sandals. Ugh. I can’t help it. Everything I haven’t allowed myself to imagine rushes me: I think about airless empty lungs. Lipstick on her unmoving mouth. The silver bracelet that Toby had given her on her pulseless wrist. Her belly ring. Hair and nails growing in the dark. Her body with no thoughts in it. No time in it. No love in it. Six feet of earth crushing down on her. I think about the phone ringing in the kitchen, the thump of Gram collapsing, then the inhuman sound sirening out of her, through the floorboards, up to our room.

I look over at Toby. He doesn’t look nervous at all. Something occurs to me.

“Have you been?” I ask.

“Course,” he answers. “Almost every day.”

“Really?”

He looks over at me, the realization dawning on him. “You mean you haven’t been since?”

“No.” I look out the window. I’m a terrible sister. Good sisters visit graves despite gruesome thoughts.

“Gram goes,” he says. “She planted a few rosebushes, a bunch of other flowers too. The grounds people told her she had to get rid of them, but every time they pulled out her plants, she just replanted more. They finally gave up.”

I can’t believe everyone’s been going to Bailey’s grave but me. I can’t believe how left out it makes me feel.

“What about Big?” I ask.

“I find roaches from his joints a lot. We hung out there a couple times.” He looks over at me, studies my face for what feels like forever. “It’ll be okay, Len. Easier than you think. I was really scared the first time I went.”

Something occurs to me then. “Toby,” I say, tentatively, mustering my nerve. “You must be pretty used to being an only child…” My voice starts to shake. “But I’m really new at it.” I look out the window. “Maybe we…” I feel too shy all of a sudden to finish my thought, but he knows what I’m getting at.

“I’ve always wanted a sister,” he says as he swerves into a spot in the tiny parking lot.

“Good,” I say, every inch of me relieved. I lean over and give him the world’s most sexless peck on the cheek. “C’mon,” I say. “Let’s go tell her we’re sorry.”

There once was a girl who found herself dead.
She spent her days peering
over the ledge of heaven,
her chin in her palm.
She was bored as a brick,
hadn’t adjusted yet
to the slower pace of heavenly life.
Her sister would look up at her
and wave,
and the dead girl would wave back
but she was too far away
for her sister to see.
The dead girl thought her sister
might be writing her notes,
but it was too long a trip to make
for a few scattered notes here and there
so she let them be.
And then, one day, her earthbound sister finally realized
she could hear music up there in heaven,
so after that, everything her sister needed to tell her
she did through her clarinet
and each time she played, the dead girl
jumped up (no matter what else she was doing),
and danced.

(Found on a piece of paper in the stacks, B section, Clover Public Library)

I have a plan. I’m going to write Joe a poem, but first things first.

When I walk into the music room, I see that Rachel’s already there unpacking her instrument. This is it. My hand is so clammy I’m afraid the handle on my case will slip out of it as I cross the room and stand in front of her.

“If it isn’t John Lennon,” she says without looking up. Could she be so awful as to rub Joe’s nickname in my face? Obviously, yes. Well, good, because fury seems to calm my nerves. Race on.

“I’m challenging you for first chair,” I say, and wild applause bursts from a spontaneous standing ovation in my brain. Never have words felt so good coming out of my mouth! Hmm. Even if Rachel doesn’t appear to have heard them. She’s still messing with her reed and ligature like the bell didn’t go off, like the starting gate didn’t just swing open.

I’m about to repeat myself, when she says, “There’s nothing there, Lennie.” She spits my name on the floor like it disgusts her. “He’s so hung up on you. Who knows why?”

Could this moment get any better? No! I try to keep my cool. “This has nothing to do with him,” I say, and nothing could be more true. It has nothing to do with her either, not really, though I don’t say that. It’s about me and my clarinet.

“Yeah, right,” she says. “You’re just doing this because you saw me with him.”

“No.” My voice surprises me again with its certainty. “I want the solos, Rachel.” At that she stops fiddling with her clarinet, rests it on the stand, and looks up at me. “And I’m starting up again with Marguerite.” This I decided on the way to rehearsal. I have her undivided totally freaked-out attention now. “I’m going to try for All-State too,” I tell her. This, however, is news to me.