Lulu Zarkades

Quick Facts

• Role: Youngest daughter in the Zarkades family; a lens of childhood innocence amid upheaval
• Age at start: 4
• Family: Daughter of Jolene Zarkades and Michael Zarkades; younger sister to Betsy Zarkades; beloved granddaughter of Mila Zarkades
• First appearance: Early family scenes that showcase home routines and play
• Motifs: “Invisible” kitten-ears headband; yellow “blankee”; patty-cake ritual
• Notable description: “Plump pink cheek,” “plump hands,” an “elfin” face, tangled black hair; small enough to be easily carried—details that underline her vulnerability and the tenderness with which others hold her

Who They Are

Lulu Zarkades embodies childhood at its most candid and unguarded. Her unfiltered questions and imaginative games reveal how a child tries to name and survive what she cannot fully understand. Through Lulu’s eyes, the novel exposes the intimate costs of the Impact of War on Soldiers and Families, and the quiet heroism of simply enduring. She turns everyday rituals—patty-cake, bedtime stories, a headband—into talismans against separation and fear, allowing the book to explore Grief and Loss not as grand tragedy but as a series of small, piercing moments.

Personality & Traits

Lulu’s age shapes her speech and logic, but she isn’t a generic “cute kid.” She’s specific: stubborn yet tender, comic yet devastatingly perceptive. Her behavior becomes a barometer for the household; when routines fray, so does Lulu. The novel uses her literalism—asking where a missing leg went—to cut through adult euphemism and show the reality of trauma.

• Innocent curiosity: She blurts what others won’t, as in her birthday jab—“That’s so old. Are you sure you’re that old?”—a comic beat that also signals her habit of naming the obvious.
• Imaginative coping: The kitten-ears headband “makes” her invisible; what begins as play becomes a strategy to outwait pain and separation.
• Fiercely affectionate: Patty-cake, fierce kisses, and bedtime rituals show how love for her mother structures her day—and how fractured those days become in Jolene’s absence.
• Strong-willed: Her defiance—“She’s not the boss of me”—is age-typical but also a refusal to be powerless in a world making choices for her.
• Highly sensitive: Quick tears during arguments and after deployment news reveal an emotional radar attuned to the home’s tensions.

Character Journey

Lulu begins as a securely attached preschooler buoyed by routines that make sense: Mommy at bedtime, games on cue, affection on demand. Jolene’s deployment detonates that order. Lulu clings to ritual objects and magical thinking—especially the kitten-ears “invisibility”—to skip the days she cannot measure (“How long is a year?”). Regression follows: thumb-sucking, tantrums, and stormy tears that echo the home’s instability. Jolene’s return brings joy shadowed by confusion. Lulu confronts the new reality with blunt, child-logic questions about the amputation and then, in a gesture of fierce empathy, offers her “blankee,” transferring the comfort she needs to the mother who needs it more. By the Epilogue, that empathetic impulse and restored routines re-anchor her; the family’s reconstructed love returns her to a recognizable childhood.

Key Relationships

• Jolene Zarkades: Lulu’s bond with her mother is ritual-rich and tactile—patty-cake, stories, kisses. Deployment ruptures the clock that organizes Lulu’s life, and her insistence that she stay “invisible” until Mommy returns maps a child’s attempt to pause time. Post-injury, Lulu’s plainspoken awe and comfort-giving “blankee” show a budding capacity for caregiving without the adult vocabulary for it.

• Michael Zarkades: Initially the secondary parent in Lulu’s daily routine, Michael must become the steady center. Lulu’s fears push him to learn her language—rituals, reassurance, presence—and their bond deepens as he grows into an everyday caregiver rather than an occasional comfort.

• Betsy Zarkades: Their sibling dynamic is classic friction: bickering, “not the boss of me” defiance, occasional alliance. Yet Betsy often interprets Lulu’s feelings to distracted adults, revealing a protective streak that shields Lulu when words and patience fail.

• Mila Zarkades: As “Yia Yia,” Mila is unconditional warmth—consistent care, spoiling, and steadiness. During deployment and recovery, she becomes a soft place for Lulu to land, shoring up routines when parental roles are strained.

Defining Moments

Lulu’s pivotal scenes trace how a child metabolizes adult crises—through play, literal questions, and small heroic acts of comfort.

• Patty-cake with Jolene: Their reworded, giggly game establishes the mother-child bond as Lulu’s emotional baseline. Why it matters: It’s a measuring stick; when the ritual falters, we feel what Lulu loses.
• The kitten-ears “invisibility”: A running motif that shifts from family joke to psychological shield during Jolene’s absence. Why it matters: It dramatizes how children convert imagination into survival.
• Deployment announcement: Lulu’s time questions—“How long is a year? Is that like next week?”—expose the incomprehensibility of separation to a preschooler. Why it matters: The scene reframes global conflict as a domestic wound measured in bedtime stories missed.
• Offering the yellow “blankee”: In the rehab center, she gives away her prized comfort. Why it matters: It’s Lulu’s first act of deliberate, other-centered care, showing growth from needing comfort to providing it.
• Homecoming and the missing leg: “Yep, it’s gone. Where is it?” Why it matters: Her bluntness punctures adult avoidance, forcing the family to name what’s changed before they can adapt.

Essential Quotes

“That’s so old,” Lulu said. “Are you sure you’re that old?”

Lulu’s playful jab is comic relief, but it also establishes her candor: she speaks what she thinks, without decorum. That frankness later becomes the novel’s truth-telling engine, cutting through adult euphemism about war and injury.

“She’s not the boss of me,” Lulu said again, more adamantly. “Tell her.”

Defiance here is developmental—but thematically it’s Lulu resisting powerlessness in a home where decisions (deployment, schedules) are out of her control. The line registers as both sibling squabble and a child’s protest against a world that refuses her consent.

“You’ll come home, right, Mommy?” Lulu asked, biting her lower lip.

The question exposes the gap between adult assurances and a child’s dread. The lip-biting detail reveals anxiety she can’t reason away, making the promise of return a fragile, necessary fiction she must cling to.

Lulu took off her headband and burst into tears. “I want to stay inbisible ’til you come home.”

What began as make-believe turns into a grief strategy: if she can’t stop time, she’ll disappear from it. The mispronunciation (“inbisible”) preserves her smallness even as she articulates a devastating wish to escape reality.

“Yep, it’s gone. Where is it?”

Lulu’s directness refuses decorum in favor of clarity. The question’s simplicity confronts the family—and the reader—with the body’s irrevocable change, insisting that healing begins with naming what’s been lost.