Invincible Summer(6)

Lie, but he’s not looking at me.

I lead Gideon into the tiny grocery store. Noah’s by one of the registers, scanning the magazines. “You’re not supposed to be here!” Noah says, hiding something behind his back, but I’m too busy being stunned that Noah‘s where he’s supposed to be. “I could be buying you a present right now,” he says.

“That’s totally porn behind your back.”

“Yeah, but it could be a birthday card. You don’t know my life.” “I’m looking for Claudia.”

Mom hate Mom hate Mom hate Gideon’s signing. Noah puts his finger over his lips. I know he’s telling Gid to be quiet, but the gesture’s uncomfortably close to the sign for





true.


I say, “Where’s Claudia?”

“Oh.” He looks over his shoulder. “Uh, she’s around here somewhere—”

“Noah!” I prowl the whole grocery store, scanning up and down each of its ten aisles. I see a dozen girls who look like Claudia, but no Claudia.

He waves his hand. “She’s fine.”

“Who the hell even knows where she is. . . .”

“This isn’t exactly Claudia Does Manhattan. There are, like, twenty stores here.”

“The streets are mobbed.” I grab Gideon’s wrist so he’ll shut up. “She could be anywhere.”

“Chase, she’s not a baby. She’ll be fine. Now get out of here. I’m trying to get you a nice card, okay? And it’s creepy to look at nude girls now with Gid here.”

All the people on the streets, at the basketball courts, in the Jeeps, pouring in and out of the burger place suddenly look a million times more sinister. Because none of them are my baby sister. Claudia I sign to Gideon.

Beach dig go want he signs, jumping from foot to foot.

No. Claudia where?





Dig big big Noah same.


No, no, not Noah. Don’t be like Noah. I keep a firm grip on his wrist and pull him towards the playground. Dizzy he complains.

The innocent little girls on the swing set are not my sister.

They look about fifteen years too young. If people act like I’m older than Noah, I’ve always felt, somehow, that Claudia’s older than me. At least during the summers. It’s probably because Shannon’s had a crush on her since she was born, or because during the year she goes back to being my baby sister, and during the summer she’s a cat in heat. And it’s worse every single year, just like Noah’s whatever with Melinda.

Where is she?

Scared Gideon signs, and points at me.

Am I scared?

I sign dead sister don’t want which is really cruel of me, but at least it gets Gideon to shut up.

I wait for an overweight family devouring frozen yogurt to clear the nearest bench so Gid and I can sit down. He crawls the length of the bench, getting sandy yogurt residue all over his fingers and his hand-me-down clothes. Okay. If I were Claudia, I would be . . .

The only logical ending I can figure for the sentence is: using that genius I.Q. to find a new, functional family.

Find! Gideon says.

What?

He points, and there’s Claudia. Of course—the other ending for that sentence. If I were Claudia, I would be . . .

hanging into some stranger’s car.

“Claudia!”

She turns to me, laughter frozen in her smile, and rolls her eyes at me. “Hold on,” I see her say into the car. “It’s my boyfriend.”

“Stop it.” I yank her away from the window and pull her toward the grocery store. “You’re eleven. Eleven. I am not your boyfriend.”

“Aw, Chase.” She pulls Gideon up and carries him like a baby, then sees his lunchbox and laughs. “You think your siblings are growing up too fast, Chasey? Who’s buying his brother a Marilyn Monroe lunch box?”

“Yeah, because he’s really going to jerk off to a lunch box. Don’t translate that!” Claudia has this habit of signing to Gideon everything we say in front of him, which is a problem when we are saying things, as we usually are, that Gideon doesn’t need to hear. “We can’t stay infants forever, Chase.” Claudia tosses her hair over her shoulder. “It’s summer! It’s hot! Things are happening! Let things happen, darling!”

It is such a struggle not to roll my eyes whenever Claudia talks.

“I found her,” I tell Noah, pushing her in front of him.

“Look. Alive. Thank me.”

Noah shakes his head at Claudia, and for a second I think he’s going to scold her. “He needs to relax,” he quips to her.

“I know, right?” She sets Gideon on the ground. “He holds on like crazy.”

Noah sees I’m still pissed off when we get back in the car, so he tunes the radio to one of my favorite summer songs—grungy, sticky rock that makes my mouth taste like sunscreen—and Claudia, for once, doesn’t ask to change the station, and just busies herself with keeping Gideon in his car seat.

“Trying to hold on to him, are you?” I call back, but she pretends she can’t hear me. She makes a silly face at me the next time I look back. She’s still on my team, no matter what, no matter that a lot of the time I’d rather have Noah and leave Claudia out for the seagulls. t h r e e