The Project About Family

River stared at the big white poster board on her desk and felt her stomach do a flip.

Mrs. Gutierrez had just handed out the assignment. "This week," she said, smiling wide, "you'll each make a family tree! You'll draw branches for your family members, decorate it however you like, and on Friday, you'll share it with the class."

All around the room, kids started buzzing with excitement. Marcus said he'd need a huge poster because he had eleven cousins. Sophie was already drawing little hearts in her notebook for her mom and dad.

River didn't buzz. River didn't draw hearts. River just stared at the white poster board and thought about her family, which was... complicated.

She lived with her mom and her stepdad, Jeff. Jeff was nice. He made really good grilled cheese sandwiches and always asked about her day. But he wasn't her dad-dad. Her dad-dad lived two towns over, and she saw him on weekends — well, most weekends. Her dad had a girlfriend named Trisha, and Trisha had a son named Cody, who was four and always wanted River to play dinosaurs.

Then there was Grandma Lulu, who was Jeff's mom but treated River like she'd known her forever. And River's other grandma — her mom's mom — who lived far away in New Mexico and sent long letters with pressed flowers inside.

River also had a half-brother named Benji. He was only one year old and drooly, and he belonged to both her mom and Jeff. River loved Benji. She loved the way his whole face scrunched up when he laughed. But sometimes when people saw them together, they'd say, "Oh, is that your real brother?" And River never knew what to say, because Benji felt real. He felt as real as anything.

So River stared at her poster board and thought: Where does everyone go?

A regular family tree had a trunk, two branches for parents, and neat little leaves. Easy. Simple. But River's family didn't look like that. Her family looked more like... a bush. Or maybe a whole garden. Things going in every direction.

That night at home, River sat at the kitchen table with her markers and poster board while Jeff made spaghetti and her mom fed Benji mashed peas.

"What's wrong, Riv?" her mom asked, because moms always notice.

"We have to make a family tree," River said quietly. "But ours doesn't fit on a tree."

Her mom set down the tiny spoon and came over. She looked at the blank poster board for a moment. "Hmm," she said. Not hmm like she was worried. Hmm like she was thinking.

"You know what?" her mom said. "When I was little, Grandma June had this garden out back. Nothing matched. She had sunflowers next to roses next to wild mint that grew wherever it wanted. The neighbors thought it was messy." Her mom smiled. "But it was my favorite place in the whole world."

River thought about that. But she still didn't pick up a marker.

At school the next day, River peeked at what the other kids were doing. Marcus had drawn a beautiful tree with neat rows of leaves, each one labeled with a name. Sophie's tree had two big branches, one for her mom's side and one for her dad's side, perfectly even.

River's chest felt tight.

At recess, she sat on the bench by the fence instead of playing four square. Her friend Wren came and sat beside her.

"You okay?" Wren asked.

"The family tree project," River said. "I don't know how to draw mine. My family's all... tangled."

Wren pulled her knees up. "Mine too. My mom says my family tree would need extra tape."

River looked at her. "Really?"

"I've got two dads," Wren said. "And my birth mom, who I write letters to sometimes. And my abuela, who's not related to anyone in my family by blood, but she's lived next door since before I was born and she makes me a cake every single birthday. Try fitting that on two branches."

River actually laughed. It came out like a little bubble she didn't know she'd been holding in.

"So what are you going to do?" River asked.

Wren shrugged. "Haven't figured it out yet. But I'm not gonna leave anyone out. That's my only rule."

I'm not gonna leave anyone out.

River turned that sentence over in her mind like a smooth stone in her pocket.

That evening, she sat at the kitchen table again. Jeff had cleared everything away and left her a cup of apple juice and a little note that said You got this, Riv with a smiley face.

River picked up a green marker. She put the tip to the poster board.

And she did not draw a tree.

She drew a garden.

Right in the middle, she drew herself — a stick figure with curly hair and her favorite red rain boots. Then, branching out in every direction, she drew flowers. Big ones, small ones, tall ones, short ones. Each flower was a different color, and inside each one, she wrote a name.

A big golden sunflower for her mom. A tall blue cornflower for her dad. A sturdy orange marigold for Jeff. A tiny pink bud — not even open yet — for baby Benji. A bright purple wildflower for Trisha, and a little green sprout for Cody, because he was small and still growing.

She drew a great big red rose for Grandma Lulu, who always wore red lipstick and called River "sugar bean." And way off in the corner, connected by a long, winding vine, she drew a desert flower for Grandma June in New Mexico — because Grandma June once told her that desert flowers are the toughest ones. They bloom even when it's hard.

River kept going. She added her Aunt Dee, who was actually her mom's best friend but had been around forever. She added Mr. Patterson, the neighbor who walked her to the bus stop every morning and always saved her the comics from his newspaper.

When she finally put her markers down, the poster board was covered — absolutely covered — in color. It was wild and sprawling and nothing was in a straight line.

It was the most beautiful thing River had ever made.

On Friday, the kids presented one by one. Marcus showed his giant tree, and everyone clapped. Sophie held up hers with the two perfect branches and the little hearts, and everyone said "aww."

Then it was River's turn.

She walked to the front of the room holding her poster board against her chest. Her heart was hammering. She turned it around.

The class got quiet.

"It's not a tree," River said. Her voice wobbled just a tiny bit, then steadied. "It's a garden. Because my family doesn't really fit on a tree. I have a mom, a stepdad, a dad, a baby brother, a sort-of stepmom, a sort-of stepbrother, two grandmas, an aunt who's not really my aunt, and a neighbor who saves me the comics."

She pointed to each flower as she said each name.

"Some of them are related to me. Some of them aren't. Some of them are connected to each other, and some of them have never even met. But they're all mine."

For one second, the room was still.

Then Mrs. Gutierrez started clapping — not polite clapping, but real, big clapping. And the other kids joined in. Marcus whistled. Wren stomped her feet on the floor, which was her way of saying YES.

And Sophie — quiet, neat Sophie with the perfect two-branch tree — raised her hand and said, "Mrs. Gutierrez? Can I add my nanny to mine? Because she's been in my family since I was a baby, and I didn't put her on, and now I feel bad."

"Me too," said a boy named Jay. "I forgot my stepmom."

"Can I add my dog?" asked Marcus, and everybody laughed.

Mrs. Gutierrez looked around the room and smiled. "Add whoever belongs," she said. "It's your family."

River walked back to her seat. She looked down at her wild, colorful, messy, beautiful garden, with all its different flowers reaching out in all directions.

And every single one of them was real.