My Life in Dioramas Read Online Free PDF Page B

back and crossed over one of the footbridges to the woods. Maybe there’d be some raccoon poop or deer droppings or anything.
    No luck.
    What had I become? Scouting out the yard for poop?
    I ended up on the old metal bench by the pear tree, watching the stream. It was really running fast, and I closed my eyes and listened and then opened them again and watched the way the light played on the water, making the stream seem like a living breathing thing, a part of me.
    A part of me worth fighting for.
    I had to figure out my plan for real.
    I needed exact logistics.
    I needed help.
    So I went inside and texted Stella and Naveen. I need help! Operation Save Big Red summit—10am Truxton Pond.
    My mother was vacuuming the wooden ceiling beams in the living room. She shouted over the loud hum, “I thoughtwe’d go roller-skating! On Sunday! What do you think?” She used her foot to turn off the vacuum. “Your father said he’ll take Angus over to Joe’s and help out with some odd job. So it’ll be just us girls.”
    â€œSounds fun.” Under normal circumstances it would be, particularly for my dad, who loved to help our elderly neighbor Joe with projects, just to hear crazy old stories. “Can I ask Stella?” I asked, because I always did.
    My mom looked at me for a second, turned the vacuum on, and said loudly, “Sure!”
    I got roped into some vacuuming and boxing up of clutter in the living room. Then I was sent out to the back porch to stash random stuff like old candles and bug spray and gardening gloves. A slight breeze blew while I collected everything and my mother’s wind chimes rang out a random, joyous melody that made me think of churches and Christmas. They were part metal and part wood with a green stone of some kind hanging from the main string. My dad had given them to my mom for her birthday a bunch of years ago, and I’d seen her blow gently on them before sitting down with her iced coffee or tea a million times. On cloudy days the green of the pendant looked like a deep emerald but on sunny days like this one, it lit up like a green sun in some faraway galaxy. Looking at it now made my heart hurt.
    Before my mother could come up with any more jobsfor me, I went downstairs and started a diorama of my bedroom. I wanted to capture it as it looked before I’d stripped it of all personality—just in case I never had the chance to put my stuff back for real.
    I couldn’t make glass animals small enough so I just made a little mantel and bed. I colored a braided rug and tried to make Angus, this time out of cotton balls and some beige yarn. I put him at the foot of the bed and the whole thing looked so cozy that I wanted to just climb in.
    When I was done, I headed for the stairs, but I heard my parents talking. My dad was saying, “We’ve been through difficult things before.” And my mom said, “This feels different. I feel different, like I can’t handle it.”
    I backed away and just stood there, outside the napping room.
    Dad said, “Think you need to talk to someone?”
    Mom said, “I don’t know.”
    It wasn’t normal. To have a mother who napped so much.
    My dad called me up for dinner a few minutes later. “It’s time for ze Italian meat-a-balz.”

7.
    Naveen was lying on brown grass that had just started to turn green, staring up at the sky with his knees jutting up into the air, one leg crossed over the other, when I arrived at Truxton Pond on Saturday morning. I had a basket full of supplies for my operation.
    â€œDo I need to call an ambulance?” I asked.
    â€œHuh?” Naveen’s bike lay beside him.
    I studied him. “Did you fall or get hit by a car or something?”
    â€œNah.” He opened his eyes, sat up. “Timed my ride, though, to see how fast I could get here. Catching my breath.”
    I laid my own bike down next to his—careful that my