Teardrop

9 NOWHERE BOY

Eureka gripped the letter tightly. She pushed back against the possibility of feeling what her mother’s words nearly made her feel.

At the bottom of the page, Diana’s signature was smudged. At the edge of her cursive Mom lay three tiny raised circles. Eureka ran her finger over them, as if they were a language she had to touch to understand.

She couldn’t explain how she knew: they were Diana’s tears.

But her mother didn’t cry. If she did, Eureka had never seen it. What else had she never known about Diana?

She could remember their most recent trip to Cypremort Point so clearly: early May, flat-bottomed jon boats jostling against their slips, sun blazing low in the sky. Had Eureka really slept so soundly afterward that she hadn’t heard her mother crying? Why would Diana have been crying? Why did she write this letter? Did she know she was going to die?

Of course not. The letter said so.

Eureka wanted to scream. But the urge passed, like a scary face in a haunted-house ride at a county fair.

“Eureka.” Dad stood before her. They were in the parking lot outside Fontenot’s office. The sky above him was a pale blue, with pale white bars of clouds. The air was so humid, her T-shirt felt wet.

Eureka had stayed inside the letter as long as she could, not looking up as she’d followed Dad out of the boardroom, into the elevator, through the lobby, out to the car.

“What?” She clutched the letter, fearing anything might take it away.

“Mrs. LeBlanc’s watching the twins for another half hour.” He glanced at his watch. “We could get a banana freeze. It’s been a while.”

Eureka was surprised to find that she did want a banana freeze from Jo’s Snows around the corner from their church, St. John’s. It had been their tradition before Rhoda and the twins and high school and the accident and meetings with lawyers about dead mothers’ bewildering inheritances.

A banana freeze meant two spoons, the window booth in the corner. It meant Eureka on the edge of her seat, laughing over the same stories she’d heard Dad tell a hundred times about growing up in New Iberia, about being the only boy to enter the pecan pie bake-off, or how the first time he invited Diana to dinner, he’d been so nervous, his flambé set the kitchen on fire. For a moment, Eureka let her mind travel to that booth at Jo’s Snows. She saw herself spooning the cold banana ice cream into her mouth—a little girl who still thought her father was her hero.

But Eureka didn’t know how to talk to Dad anymore. Why tell him how crippled she felt? If Dad breathed one wrong word to Rhoda, Eureka would be back on suicide watch, not even allowed to close her door. Besides, he had enough on his mind.

“I can’t,” she said. “I have another ride.”

Dad looked around the mostly empty parking lot, like she was kidding.

She wasn’t. Cat was supposed to pick her up at four to study. The reading of the will had finished early. Now Dad was probably going to wait awkwardly with her until Cat showed.

As Eureka scanned the lot looking for Cat, her gaze fell on the white truck. It was parked facing the building, under a golden-leaved buttonwood tree. Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead. Something silver gleamed through the windshield.

Eureka squinted, remembering the shiny square—that unusual citronella air freshener—hanging from Ander’s rearview mirror. She didn’t need to see it up close to know it was his truck. He saw her see him. He didn’t look away.

Heat coursed through her body. Her T-shirt felt oppressive, her palms clammy. What was he doing here?

The gray Honda almost ran Eureka over. Cat hit the breaks with a harsh squawk and rolled down her window. “S’up, Mr. B?” she called from behind her heart-shaped sunglasses. “Ready, Reka?”

“How are you, Cat?” Dad patted the hood of Cat’s car, which they called Mildew. “Glad to see she’s still kicking.”

“I fear she’ll never break down,” Cat moaned. “My grandkids will drive this POS to my funeral.”

“We’re going to study at Neptune’s,” Eureka said to Dad, walking around to the passenger door.

Dad nodded. He looked lost on the other side of the car and it made Eureka sad.

“Rain check,” he said. “Hey, Reka?”

“Yeah?”

“You have everything?”

She nodded, patting her backpack, which held the ancient book and the strange blue chest. She touched her heart, where the locket lay. She held up Diana’s tearstained letter, like a wave. “I’ll be home for dinner.”

Before she got into Cat’s car, Eureka glanced over her shoulder, to the spot under the buttonwood tree. Ander was gone. Eureka didn’t know what was stranger: that he’d been there or that she wished he hadn’t left.

“So how’d it go?” Cat turned down All Things Considered. She was the only teenager Eureka knew who listened to talk instead of music. How was she supposed to flirt with college boys—was Cat’s defense—if she didn’t know what was going on in the world? “Are you the heiress to a fortune, or at least a pied à terre I can crash at in the south of France?”

“Not exactly.” Eureka opened up her backpack to show Cat her inheritance.

“Your mother’s locket.” Cat touched the chain around Eureka’s neck. She was used to seeing it around Diana’s neck. “Nice.”

“There’s more,” Eureka said. “This old book and this rock in a box.”

“Rock in a huh?”

“She wrote a letter, too.”

Cat put the car in park in the middle of the lot. She leaned back in her seat, propping her knees on the steering wheel, and turned her chin toward Eureka. “Feel like sharing?”

So Eureka read the letter once more, this time aloud, trying to keep her soft voice steady, trying not to see the tearstains at the end.

“Amazing,” Cat said when Eureka was finished. She quickly wiped her eyes, then pointed at the back of the page. “Something’s written on the other side.”

Eureka flipped the page over. She hadn’t noticed the postscript.

P.S. About the thunderstone … Beneath the layer of gauze lies a worked-stone artifact shaped like a triangle. Some cultures call them elf-arrows; they are believed to ward off storms. Thunderstones are found among the remains of most ancient civilizations throughout the world. Remember the arrowheads we unearthed in India? Think of them as distant cousins. This particular thunderstone’s origin is unknown, which makes her all the more dear to those who give themselves permission to imagine the possibilities. I did. Will you?

P.P.S. Don’t unwrap the gauze until you need to. You’ll know when the time comes

.

P.P.P.S. Always know I love you

.

“Well, that explains the rock,” Cat said in a way that meant she was totally confused. “What’s the story with the book?”

They studied the fragile pages filled with line after handwritten line of an indecipherable language.

“What is this, medieval Martian?” Cat squinted, turned the book upside down. “It’s like my illiterate great-aunt Dessie finally wrote that romance novel she’s been yapping about.”

A rap on Eureka’s window made both girls jump.

Uncle Beau stood outside with one hand stuffed in his jeans pocket. Eureka had thought he’d already left; he didn’t like to linger in Lafayette. She glanced around for Aunt Maureen. Beau was alone. She rolled down the window.

Her uncle leaned in, elbows resting on the window frame. He pointed at the book.

“Your mom”—his voice was even quieter than normal—“she knew what that book said. She could read it.”

“What?” Eureka took the book from Cat and flipped through its pages.

“Don’t ask me how,” Beau said. “Saw her going through it once, taking notes.”

“Do you know where she learned—”

“Don’t know anything more than that. But what your dad said about no one being able to read it—I wanted to set you straight. It’s possible.”

Eureka leaned forward to kiss her uncle’s weathered cheek. “Thanks, Uncle Beau.”

He nodded. “Gotta get home, let the dogs out. Y’all come by the farm anytime, okay?” He gave the girls a small salute as he walked to his old truck.

Eureka turned to Cat, cradling the book against her chest. “So the question is—”

“How do we get it translated?” Cat rapped silver fingernails on the dash. “I had a date last week with a classicist-veterinarian double major at UL. He’s only a sophomore, but he might know.”

“Where’d you meet this Romeo?” Eureka asked. She couldn’t help but think of Ander, though nothing Ander had done in Eureka’s presence bore the vaguest semblance of romance.

“I have a method.” Cat smiled. “I go through my dad’s student rosters online, pick out the hotties, and then position myself strategically in the student union after class gets out.” Her dark eyes flicked up to Eureka and a rare self-consciousness displayed itself. “You will never tell anyone any of that. Rodney thinks our meeting was pure serendipity.” She grinned. “He’s got dreads down to here. Wanna see a picture?”

As Cat pulled out her phone and scrolled through her photos, Eureka looked back at the spot where Ander’s truck had been. She imagined it was still there, and that Ander had brought Magda back to her, only now the Jeep was painted with snakes and flames and asymmetrical emeralds.

“Cute, huh? Want me to call him? He speaks, like, fifty-seven languages. If your uncle’s telling the truth, we really should get it translated.”

“Maybe.” Eureka was distracted. She slung the book and the thunderstone and her mother’s letter into her backpack. “I don’t know if I’m up for this today.”

“Sure.” Cat nodded. “Your call.”

“Yeah,” Eureka mumbled, fidgeting with her seat belt, not thinking about her mother’s tears. “Would you mind if we don’t talk about it right now?”

“Course not.” Cat put the car in drive and ambled toward the exit of the parking lot. “Dare I suggest we actually study? That Moby-Dick exam and our GPAs’ subsequent plunges might take your mind off things.”

Eureka looked out the window and watched pale golden buttonwood leaves drift over Ander’s empty space. “What do you say we don’t study—”

“Say no more. I’m your gal. Whatcha got in mind, sister?”

“Well …” Was there really any point in lying? With Cat, probably not. Eureka raised her shoulders sheepishly. “A drive-by at Manor’s cross-country practice?”

“Why, Miss Boudreaux.” Cat’s eyes took on their captivating glimmer, usually reserved for older guys. “Whatever took you so long to say so?”

Manor was several times bigger than Evangeline and several times less funded. The only other coed Catholic school in Lafayette, it had long been Evangeline’s chief rival. The student body was more diverse, more religious, more competitive. Manor kids seemed cold and aggressive to Eureka. They won district championships in most sports most years, though last year Evangeline went to State for cross-country. Cat was determined to hold on to the title this year.

So it was like crossing enemy lines when Cat pulled into the Manor Panthers’ jock lot, which opened onto the bayou.

When Eureka opened her door, Cat frowned down at her own knee-length navy uniform skirt. “We can’t go out there dressed like this.”

“Who cares?” Eureka got out of the car. “Are you worried they’ll think Evangelinos are here to sabotage them?”

“No, but there might be some studs out there working up a sweat, and I look like a total frau in this skirt.” She unlocked the trunk, her mobile closet. It was heaped with colorful prints, a lot of Lycra, and more shoes than a department store. “Cover me?”

Eureka shielded Cat and faced the track. She scanned the field for signs of Ander’s frame. But the sun was in her eyes and all the cross-country boys looked similarly tall and lanky from here.

“So. You’ve decided to get yourself a crush.” Cat rummaged through her trunk, muttering to herself about a belt she’d left at home.

“I don’t know if it’s that acute,” Eureka said. Was it? “He came over a couple nights ago—”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

Eureka heard a zipper and glimpsed Cat’s body shimmying out of something.

“It was nothing, really. I left some stuff in his car and he came by to return it. Brooks was there.” She paused, thinking about the moment she’d stood sandwiched between two boys on the brink of a fight. “Things were really tense.”

“Was Ander weird with Brooks or was Brooks weird with Ander?” Cat spritzed perfume on her neck. It smelled like honeydew and jasmine. Cat was a microclimate.

“What do you mean?” Eureka asked.

“Just”—Cat was hopping on one foot, fastening a high heel’s strap—“you know, Brooks can be rather possessive about you.”

“Really? You think so—” Eureka broke off, rising swiftly on her toes as a tall blond boy rounded the curve of the track ahead of them. “I think that’s Ander—no.” She lowered her heels back to the ground, disappointed.

Cat whistled in amazement. “Wow. You don’t think your crush is ‘that acute’? Are you kidding me? You were just crestfallen that that dude wasn’t him. I have never seen you like this.”

Eureka rolled her eyes. She leaned against the car and looked at her watch. “Are you dressed yet? It’s almost five; they’re probably about to start cooling down.” She and Cat didn’t have a lot of time.

“No comments on my look?”

When Eureka turned around, Cat was wearing a skintight leopard-print tube dress, black stilettos, and the little lynx beret they’d bought together last summer in New Orleans. She twirled, looking like a taxidermist’s centerfold. “I call it the Triple-Cat.” She made claws with her hands. “Rawr.”

“Careful.” Eureka nodded at the Manor kids on the field. “Those carnivores might eat you up.”

They crossed the parking lot, past the line of yellow buses waiting to take kids home, past the phalanx of orange water coolers and skinny-legged freshman boys doing sit-ups on the bleachers. Cat was getting catcalls.

“Hey, homie,” she purred at a black kid checking her out while he jogged past.

Eureka wasn’t used to seeing Cat around black kids. She wondered whether these boys saw her best friend as half white, the way white kids at Evangeline saw Cat as half black.

“He smiled!” Cat said. “Should I catch up? I don’t think I can run in this dress.”

“Cat, we came here to look for Ander, remember?”

“Right. Ander. Supertall. Skinny—not too skinny. Delightful blond curls. Ander.”

They stopped at the edge of the track. Even though Eureka had already run six miles that afternoon, when the toe of her shoe touched the pebbly red gravel, she got the urge to sprint.

They watched the team. Boys and girls staggered around the track, running at different speeds. All of them wore the same white polo shirt with the dark yellow collar and yellow running shorts.

“That ain’t him,” Cat said, her pointer finger following the runners. “And that ain’t him—cute, but not him. And that guy certainly ain’t him.” She frowned. “It’s weird. I can picture the aura he projects, but it’s hard to remember his face clearly. Maybe I just didn’t see him up close?”

“He’s unusual-looking,” Eureka said. “Not in a bad way. Striking.”

His eyes are like the ocean, she wanted to say. His lips are coral-colored. His skin holds the kind of power that makes a compass needle jump.

She didn’t see him anywhere.

“There’s Jack.” Cat pointed at a dark-haired beanpole with muscles who’d stopped to stretch on the side of the track. “He’s the captain. Remember when I played Seven Minutes in Heaven with him last winter? Want me to ask him?”

Eureka nodded, following Cat’s saunter toward the boy.

“Say, Jack.” Cat slid onto the bleacher above the one Jack’s outstretched leg was using. “We’re looking for a guy on your team named Ander. What’s his last name, Reka?”

Eureka shrugged.

So did Jack. “No Anders on this team.”

Cat kicked her legs out, crossed her ankles. “Look, we had that rained-out meet against you guys two days ago, and he was there. Tall lad, blond—help me out, Reka?”

Ocean eyes, she almost blurted out. Hands that could catch a falling star.

“Kinda pale?” she managed to say.

“Kinda not on the team.” Jack retied his running shoe and straightened up, signaling he was done.

“You’re kinda a crap captain if you don’t know your teammates’ names,” Cat called as he walked away.

“Please,” Eureka said with an earnestness that made Jack stop and turn around. “We really need to find him.”

The boy sighed. He walked back toward the girls, grabbed a black shoulder bag from under the bleachers. He pulled out an iPad, swiped it a few times. When he handed it to Eureka the screen displayed an image of the cross-country team posing on the bleachers. “Yearbook pictures were last week. This is everyone on the team. See your Xander here?”

Eureka pored over the photograph, looking for the boy she’d just seen in the parking lot, the one who’d hit her car, the one she couldn’t get out of her mind. Thirty young and hopeful boys smiled out at her, but none of them was Ander.