14 Disorientation

Chapter 14 Disorientation disorientation (n) a technique whereby a magician confuses his audience, often with rapid patter and flourishes, so that they don't notice a gimmick or sleight When Evan woke up at dawn, he didn't know where he was. He'd been dreaming of an elephant caught in a trap, and the cry of the elephant howling in pain was still in his ears. But this wasn't his bed. And there was a strange sound—something was rattling. Something was trying to break out or break in. Evan sat up. The room was nothing but shadows. His T-shirt was plastered to his back, and the bedsheets were twisted around his legs. He couldn't figure out where he was. And then something kicked him, and he realized

that Jessie was sleeping next to him, and suddenly he remembered. The howling was the wind, and the rattling sound was the windows of their old, drafty house, shaking and raging against the storm. Evan got out of bed to get a drink of water. The wind was louder than anything he could remember hearing. He could feel the house shake under his feet. The windows were rattling so much he thought they would shatter. Occasionally something thudded against the house, and Evan wondered what it could be. He looked out the window. Through the smudgy daylight he could see the rain blowing sideways against the house. It looked as though someone had turned on the sprayer of a giant garden hose and was aiming it right at the window. There were no streetlights or house lights on. But as his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he began to see certain shapes. Several large tree limbs were down, and one of them was lying across the road. Part of the fence in front of the house across the street was

knocked flat, and the gate had blown up against the mailbox on the corner. Strangest of all, something was stuck high up in the tree right in front of their house. At first Evan couldn't figure out what it was: some big, round object with polka dots painted on it. Finally he realized it was one of those plastic kiddie pools, wedged in the branches of the tree, thirty feet off the ground. As he turned away from the window, he saw two lawn chairs chasing each other down the middle of the street. Evan climbed back into bed. Jessie was snoring loudly, but he could hardly hear her over the roar of the storm. Something banged outside. The house creaked like a ship tossed on open water. It's going to fall apart, he thought. It's too old and broken- down. What would they do then? He struggled to settle his mind, and after what felt like hours, he fell asleep. It was a sound like an explosion that yanked Evan back awake. At first he thought he hadn't slept at all,

but then he saw that there was daylight outside—a dark murkiness, but daylight nonetheless. The sound was so loud, it even woke Jessie, who could sleep through an army invasion. "What was that?" she shouted, looking at Evan with wild eyes. The sound of the outside storm seemed even louder than before, as if it was rushing into the house through a gaping hole. Evan and Jessie hurried out of their mother's room and followed the noise of the storm. When they looked in Jessie's bedroom, they couldn't believe their eyes. A large tree limb was sticking right through the wall and lay across Jessie's bed. There was a hole about the size of a car door, and rain was pouring through it, soaking the bed and the floor. Chunks of plaster from the ceiling had fallen on top of the mess. Evan looked at Jessie, expecting her to flip out, but the expression on her face was very still. Jessie didn't like anything to mess up her room, not even one tiny bit. What was she thinking now?

Jessie pointed at her bed. "If I'd slept there, I'd be dead," she announced, like a reporter stating a fact. "Nah," said Evan, who didn't even want to think about that. But what if Jessie had been in her bed? What would he have done then? To shake the thought loose, he asked, "What tree is it?" They carefully crossed the room to the hole in the house and peered out. "Oh, Evan! It's the Climbing Tree!" It was true. The Climbing Tree had snapped in half, and the top of it had crashed into their house. Evan felt a stab of pain—it was almost as if someone had died. The Climbing Tree was more than just a place to hang out. There were times when it had felt like Evan's only friend in the world. Times when he'd needed to get away—from the house, from Jessie, from the fighting between his mom and his dad, from his own impatience or frustration or confusion. And the Climbing Tree had always welcomed him, held a place for him, and let him just be, without asking one single thing in return.

Evan felt like raising his head to the sky and howling. But he couldn't. Jessie was here, and she was looking at him. Waiting. "Look," he said. "We should probably... um, do something..." He pointed to the open gash in the house. He just wanted to go into his own room and close the door and bury himself under the covers on his bed. He wanted someone—anyone—to take charge. And once again, that old fury rose up in him. His father should be here. But he wasn't. He'd left. Disappeared when they needed him most. And there was no point in getting mad about that now. There were things that needed to get done. Things that couldn't wait. He thought about Pete and the repairs they'd made to Grandma's house after the fire. He remembered Pete's words. Instructions, strong and clear. "We need to stop the rain that's coming in," Evan said. "It's going to wreck the house." "Wreck the house?" shouted Jessie, waving at the tree in her bed.