Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 Cleo threw up all day. Barry tried to help keep her calm, but even he couldn't get her to stop crying. Mom managed to talk to their doctor, who had evacuated to Baton Rouge. He said there was a bad flu going around and Cleo wouldn't start to feel better for at least another day. Mom and Dad talked about going to the Superdome. But the newscaster on TV said there were already ten thousand people at the football

stadium, with thousands more lined up around the building. "We're hearing there is not enough food or water at the Dome," the newscaster said. "And if the power goes off, it's going to be like an oven in there." Then they showed a man who had been turned away because he wanted to bring his little dog with him. "They say no pets," the man said, holding the dog up to the camera. "But I can't leave this guy all by himself!" Looking at those crowds on television, Barry was relieved when Mom and Dad decided they were better off at home. Throughout the afternoon, Barry kept his eyes on the sky. By six o'clock, the wind had kicked up. The sky turned gray with streaks of silver. But the strangest thing was the silence. Their block was deserted. There were no motorcycles vrooming. No kids laughing and shouting. No music playing or basketballs bouncing. Usually the trees were filled with birds, and frogs chirped from the bushes. But there wasn't a bird in sight, and not a peep was to be heard.

And then, around ten o'clock that night, the wind and rain started for real. Dad and Barry were settled on the living room couch. The baseball playoffs were on, and Dad had set them up with a feast of chips, salsa, and sodas. Mom and Cleo were fast asleep in Mom and Dad's room. The wind moaned at first. Then it started to howl, and finally it was shrieking so loudly Dad had to turn up the TV. Barry moved closer to Dad. Soon there were other noises. Pom, pom, pom. "That's just the rain banging against the metal roof on the shed," Dad said. Ka-bang! "Whoops, a gutter came loose." Che-chong! "There goes part of someone's fence." Dad sat there calmly, watching the game, munching on chips. Barry remembered their plane ride to New York the past summer. An hour into the flight, they had flown into a thunderstorm. How that airplane bounced up and down! It felt like a giant hand was dribbling the plane like a basketball. Flashes of lightning exploded in the sky. A woman sitting across

from Barry burst into tears. The pilot made everyone sit down, even the stewardesses. The plane rattled so badly Barry was sure one of the wings would fall off. And in all that commotion, Dad had just sat there, reading his book. A few times he'd patted Barry's leg. "Quite a ride," he'd said, never taking his eyes from the book, never once looking outside at the lightning or craning his neck to see the scared expressions on the stewardesses' faces. So Barry had kept his eyes glued to Dad's face. As long as Dad was calm, he decided, he didn't have to worry. Finally the bouncing stopped. The plane flew out of the clouds and into the clear blue sky. Later, when they were in a taxi heading into the city, Barry asked Dad how he had stayed so calm. "What were you thinking about?" "'Blueberry Hill.'" Barry gave Dad a funny look. "When I get nervous, I play the song 'Blueberry Hill' in my mind."

Barry knew the song. It was a hit by Fats Domino, the most famous citizen of the Lower Nine. Fats had struck it rich singing songs way before Dad was born. But he never moved out of the neighborhood. Barry and Jay loved to walk by his bright yellow house. Sometimes Fats was out on his porch to wave hello. Barry watched Dad now as the wind howled and moaned and shrieked. "Hey, Dad," Barry said, "are you playing 'Blueberry Hill' in your mind?" Dad laughed. He put his arm around Barry and pulled him close. "Nah, I was thinking that wind is making a pretty song." "Sounds like wolves," Barry said. "Nah," Dad said. "Ghosts," Barry said. "Don't think so," Dad said, listening more closely, tilting his head and half closing his eyes. Dad clicked off the TV. He reached over and grabbed his trumpet, which he always kept nearby. The wind shrieked a high note. Dad put his trumpet to his lips and played along.

The wind shifted lower, and so did Dad. He played softly, along with the wind, until after a while that wind didn't seem so scary, and it actually sounded like a song. Not as pretty as 'Blueberry Hill,' but still a song. Barry almost smiled, imagining Cleo's big fat lady in the sky. Not a vampire, but a pretty singer, belting out her song. The house shook and rattled, but as Dad's music filled the air, Barry started to feel safe. The lights were bright. Mom and Cleo were cozy in bed. He thought of Gramps patting the walls of the house. In a few hours the sky would turn blue again. Barry had planned to stay up with Dad, to help him keep an eye out for leaks, to watch over Cleo and Mom. But now he felt tired. All the late nights he'd stayed up working on Akivo… and all today he'd been so worried about Clee…. Maybe he could take a little rest, catnap like Mom did after dinner, before she started her hours of baking. Barry closed his eyes… drifting, drifting, drifting… And then his eyes popped open.