“Mouse’s arm is broken, India.”
“They’ll fix it when she becomes a citizen.”
“I don’t want to be a citizen,” Mouse chimes in. “I want to go home!”
My voice shakes. “We’re going to Uncle Red’s, India.”
“Oh yeah, Finn . . .” India snorts, sounding like her real self now. “Do you actually think Uncle Red wants us?”
“Minute seven, Jew-ellll.” Laird’s fist pumps the air.
“We have to find Mom,” I tell her. “Mom wants us. And what about Maddy? You’ll never see her again if you stay here.”
“Maddy . . . are you kidding? I’m going to invite her. She’ll love Falling Bird.”
“She’s not coming here and you know it.”
“Don’t you see, Finn? This is for sure. What’s it going to be like at Uncle Red’s? You don’t even know. Besides, Uncle Red wanted us to come here. He hired Chuck.”
That doesn’t make sense, but then none of this makes sense.
India’s eyes are back to the screen again, staring at the new girl, Jewel.
“You think that Jewel person is ever going to care about you the way we do?” I ask.
India shrugs but she’s already drifting away from us. “There will be another after Jewel. And another after that. Always someone to welcome,” she says
“India.” I chase after her through the thick crowd of cheering people. “You can’t stay here.”
“You can get a job, Finn. Maybe you could be a driver. Even Mouse can drive here. They make cars so even little kids can reach the pedals.”
Jewel is on the screen competing in some kind of spelling relay. She’s spelling the word prosciutto.
“See how smart she is.” India points proudly.
“India. I’m smarter than that. I can spell hors d’oeuvres,” Mouse says. “H-O-R—”
“Don’t you see . . . it doesn’t matter?” India asks. “It’s not your day anymore, Mouse. Look at Jewel! Isn’t she adorable? Jewel, it’s me, India!” India waves her arms in the air.
The crowd presses in on us. They chant, “Jew-elll!” The chant swells louder and louder. “Jew-elll! Jew-elll! You’re so coo-elll!”
But India’s attention is on the screen, which is showing a distant feather taxi carrying Jewel to Falling Bird. It cuts back to the skywriting—Welcome, Jewel—and then to the highway with the trucks with hearts around Jewel’s name.
Mouse’s eyes squint as if she’s searching for a way out of this.
“India,” Mouse shouts over the noise. “Maddy called. She says that Brendan really likes you.”
“I just talked to Maddy, Mouse. She’s going to try to come,” India mumbles, her eyes on Jewel’s taxi moving across the screen.
“How? How could you talk to her?” I ask.
In the background, the security guys in carts patrol the perimeters. There are hundreds of them and yet they seem to fade into the background like puzzle-piece edges in a finished puzzle.
My hands find the two green twigs with their leafy tops linked together in my pocket. The connected parts are warm—almost as if there’s a heartbeat locked inside. It’s comforting to touch them. I pull them out and hand them to India. I don’t know what else to do.
Her hands won’t take them. You can’t make someone grab something they don’t want.
Out of the press of people, Laird’s red blond head bobs toward us, his quick blue eyes taking stock of the situation.
“India, I’ve got your back. You don’t have to worry anymore.” Laird’s voice is honey-coated steel. He breaks into a run, headed for her.
“We need you, India. We can’t do this without you,” I tell her, dodging in front of Laird, blocking him, protecting her. Mouse wiggles her good hand into India’s pocket.
“Get away from me, Mouse!” India pushes her out of the way, sending India’s piece of puzzle wood flying through the air.
“Ow!” Mouse screams. “My arm!”
A big man in an orange vest, his eyes glued to the screen, steps back to allow a cart to pass. His thick rubber sole lands on the delicate wood piece, splitting it almost in two.
Laird stops, his face stricken. “India, don’t leave. You won’t get another chance like this one.”
I duck under a woman’s arm and race to Mouse. Together she and I try to connect the pieces. It’s hard to figure it out with one damaged. We fiddle until the cracked piece clicks with ours.
The wood pieces form a crane with the broken piece hanging down like a limp leg. A top notch of leaves that look like feathers appear when the pieces are joined. The bird is still wooden, still inanimate, but an internal mechanism has connected, launching circuitry that creates the bird’s flying motion. The bird’s motor hums as we watch the mechanical crane fly away in an awkward off-balance trajectory.