He didn’t have an opinion?
He reached out his foot to the shelf and pushed himself into a gentle sway.
“Don’t you think they should stay?” Josie asked him.
“Who cares?” he said. “We’re all gonna die anyway.”
He looked up at us.
His blue eyes were dark like a stormy nighttime sky.
“Maybe Niko’s in the Train,” I said, steering Josie away.
We hurried away.
Josie stepped into the Train.
“I’ll knock on his door,” she said.
A moment later I heard, “Dean, can you come here?”
I opened the door to Niko’s berth. Josie was standing there, looking around, totally transfixed.
Niko’s berth had a hammock, like mine.
It was the only thing in the berth, besides drawings.
Drawings covered all three walls.
Each drawing or sketch was meticulously stuck into the soft wall with thumbtacks. The drawings were on all different-size pieces of paper. Some eleven by fourteen. Some no bigger than a Post-it. There was a little edge of the fuzzy, orange Greenway dressing-room wall showing between them. The berth looked ordered and neat, and at the same time, it was wonderful and wild. It boggled my mind.
For one thing, who had any secrets left?
We were all with one another all the time.
This guy, the leader of our group, had kept his drawing a secret. How did he do it? I guess I’d seen him sketching on his clipboard at times. I think I just assumed he was making lists or something.
I looked more closely at the drawings. On one whole wall, there were hands, lots of hands. They were rendered in charcoal or felt-tip pen. Some in plain old ballpoint pen.
On the other walls the drawings were varied. There was a drawing of Henry and Caroline, looking at a book. One of me, cooking something. From the grimace on my face, I guess I’d burned it. I looked taller than I remembered myself. There was a drawing of the bus, broken-down and leaning on its two flat tires near the front entrance. There was a beautiful color pastel of Josie. She looked radiant and glowing, her brown skin captured in a spectrum of chocolate and mocha tones.
“Did you see this?” I asked her, pointing.
She nodded yes.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
There was a sketch of the ink cloud pouring up into the sky. A drawing of our memorial circle—the one we’d had after Josie woke up. A really crazy-good drawing of Luna, which he had to have made in the last twelve hours…
Josie had her back to me, looking at the wall with the hands.
I saw that they were all different hands. Hands from different people. They were labeled at the bottom- right corner in Niko’s neat block printing: Dad. Grandpa. Tim. Mrs. Miccio. I saw Chloe’s chubby little mitt. And one of Jake’s big meat paws.
Josie was looking at one drawing in the center of the wall. Tears were streaming down her face.
I knew whose hands they were before I read the label. The hands were open, as if welcoming, or calling someone into them. The palms seemed soft, drawn with gentle lines and a sort of a rosy effect from the charcoal. The fingers were long and thin and tapered off at the tips. A wedding band and engagement ring were on the ring finger, but you only saw the back of the rings because of how the hands were opened.
They were the hands of Niko’s mother.
Sometimes, when you’d least expect it, the grief would chop your legs out from under you.
And that’s how it was with me when I saw that drawing there.
“What are you guys doing in here?” Niko said from the doorway.
“Oh, Niko,” Josie said, turning to him. “Your drawings are so beautiful.”
“And private,” he said. He motioned for us to leave.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “We were looking for you.”
“Please get out of my room!” he said, raising his voice.
We went into the Living Room and he followed.
“Thanks for making me the enemy with the kids, by the way,” he said derisively. “I’m trying to keep everyone safe and now everyone hates me. I really appreciate it.”
His jaw was tight. I could see this was pretty much Niko at his worst—uptight, being a stickler for the rules, going for sarcasm to try to defend himself.
“We just want to understand your logic here,” I said.
“We made a deal. One. Day. That’s my logic.”
“But, Niko, Robbie is really helpful and the kids love him,”
“I know,” Niko said. “But don’t you think he might just be trying to win everyone over so we’ll let them stay?”
“But Mr. Appleton needs more time to recover,” I protested.
“I know! Look,” Niko turned to us. “Robbie’s just…”
“Just what?” Josie asked.
“I don’t like him.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Why?”
“The way… I don’t know. The way he’s all over everyone. It doesn’t feel right.”
“Come on, Niko,” I protested.
“I saw him put his arm around Sahalia. They were going to get motor oil. He had his arm around her. It just wasn’t right.”
“Niko, she’s thirteen,” Josie said. “You can’t think…”
“I don’t know what I think!” he exclaimed. “Except that everyone is putting pressure on me to do something that feels wrong.”
He looked from my face to Josie’s face. Back and forth.
“Don’t you feel it?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I mean, Mr. Appleton is kind of a jerk, but everyone loves Robbie. He’s friendly. He’s nice. He’s helping us to fix the bus. Ulysses
“Can we compromise, Niko?” Josie said and for the first time, I saw warmth toward him from her. “What if we just let them stay for two more days? Long enough for Robbie to finish fixing the bus and for Mr. Appleton to rest.”
Niko turned away from her.
“You can’t back me up on this?” he asked us.
“Just two days, Niko. I think the little kids really need some grown-up time. And it would also give Brayden and Sahalia some time to get used to the idea that they can’t go with them. I can get everyone used to the idea, if I just have some more time…”
Niko sighed. He shrugged.
“Okay, Josie. If that’s what you want to do. Fine.”
Josie told everyone that Robbie and Mr. Appleton could stay two more days.
Robbie and Ulysses hugged.
Mr. Appleton nodded and I think he even smiled.
That was about as positive as I’d seen him.
Robbie took over Josie’s job of storyteller that night.
On the floor of the Living Room, the kids gathered around him like he was a campfire.
