She let the phone drop. I heard it clatter to the floor as I tossed my books onto my bed. I walked over to pick it up, thinking it must be my father and collecting my thoughts about how to broach the California subject with him. I didn’t know how he’d take it. I thought maybe I’d better let him give me a condition report on my mother first and then lead into it gradually. Maybe he was planning on being away again and would want to send me to my aunt and uncle. There was no soup kitchen to save me from that this time. Wes was so sweet, I was thinking when I pulled the phone cord up to get the receiver off the floor so I could hold it to my ear.
“Hello.” I said it carefully.
I heard a sharp intake of breath, like a little gasp, and then, “Hello?” It was definitely not my father. The voice was soft and muffled. I could hardly hear it.
And then again, a little louder, “Hello, Greenwood?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to figure out who would be calling me on my hall. Students weren’t allowed to call each other through Mrs. W. No one from home called me by my last name. And then it hit me.
“MOLL?” I said it too loud, I realized, but no one was around. They were all getting ready for lights out, brushing their teeth and stuff.
“Shhh,” she said. “You can’t let anyone know I’m calling you. Promise me.”
“Okay,” I said and thoughts started whirring. “Where are you? Everyone’s all upset. I mean the deans and everyone.”
“Listen, I can’t talk long. Just don’t tell anyone I called and don’t say anything that anyone could hear. I’ll call you again tomorrow after study hall at 9:55. Okay?”
“Wait, listen, don’t hang up.”
I heard a click and stood there like an idiot, holding it next to my chest as if by hanging onto it I could rouse her again, but the line was dead and I finally had to place it back in its cradle.
The next twenty-four hours dragged like a boring textbook. No matter where I was I wanted to run up to my hall and wait by the phone. I argued endlessly with myself over whether I should tell someone and if so, who. My first thought was Wes.
I can trust Wes. I know I can. He’ll stand by me through anything. But why burden him with this when he already has so much on his mind? But if I don’t tell him he might feel hurt that I didn’t confide in him. Like that night we went to the Social Room. I don’t want that to happen again. But if I do tell him, what can he do? He can only tell me to do what I think is right. I don’t know what I think is right. I don’t even know where Moll is or what she’s doing much less what she’s thinking. He might tell me to go to Mr. Williamson. I don’t know if I can trust Mr. Williamson. I know I can’t go to Bleaker. She’s the one who started all this. It’s all her fault. But when Williamson was in her office he didn’t seem to be blaming her. If he knew what she’d done he would have called me into his office not come into hers to see me. And what if I tell Wes and then I get into trouble? If he knew then he would get into trouble, too. So I can’t tell him because it’s important to protect him. So that can’t be the right thing to do.
Then I thought about telling Brady or Jan. That seemed a bad idea. If I told either one them and didn’t tell Daria, she’d freeze me out for sure. But Faith. Faith would be a good person to tell. And after the soup kitchen, Faith and I had bonded and I trusted her. She always seemed to know what was right. Yes Faith. But then I started to think about it more.
Faith would certainly say to tell the school. I mean Faith is no rebel. She has no axe to grind with the school. She’s not like Daria. She’s not ever out to prove anything to the powers that be. She’d tell me to do what’s best for everyone, meaning best for Moll too I guess. But what if I do tell them, then what happens? Because I don’t even know where Moll is. So what good would it do to tell them she called? They would probably want me to make her tell me where she is. And then what? Wherever she is, she might not stay there. And to make her tell me anything she doesn’t want to would be manipulating her and that could not be the right thing to do. So what good would telling Faith be anyway?
“Miss Greenwood? How about it? The translation at the top of page thirty-two.” My Latin teacher, Mr. D’Amico, had come toward my desk. Apparently I’d been so busy with my own thoughts I hadn’t heard him.
“Um, yes,” I said and read what I had translated.
“He proves to them that to accomplish their attempts was a thing very easy to be done, because he himself would obtain the government of his own state; that there was no doubt that the Helvetii were the most powerful of the whole of Gaul; he assures them that he will, with his own forces and his own army, acquire the sovereignty for them. Incited by this speech, they give a pledge and oath to one another, and hope that, when they have seized the sovereignty, they will, by means of the three most powerful and valiant nations, be enabled to obtain possession of the whole of Gaul.”
“Well done, Miss Greenwood. I hope you’ll find our company more engaging for the rest of the class.”
He moved on to someone else, and I sank back in my seat. But my thoughts would not be still.
Not Faith. But maybe go straight to Mr. Williamson and drop all of it in his lap. No, I couldn’t do that. I have no idea what he would do. What if he thinks I had something to do with Moll’s disappearance? Or if he thinks I know more than I’m telling him? If I tell him she called me, he’ll think I know more than I do. Why would he believe me? He might make them kick me out. I’m already in trouble. I could get in so deep I couldn’t climb out. Daria . . . I should ask her what to do. Oh hell, she’d just tell me to let them all find their own way out of this. She never understood why I was nice to Moll to begin with. Especially after how she’d set Moll up at the dance. No, not Daria. Poor Moll. Where could she be? Maybe she just walked to town and she’s staying in a room at one of those old houses owned by some old lady who took pity on her.
I dawdled through meals and managed to get through classes and even sat through study hall with my books open but I couldn’t concentrate. Wes had a big term paper to work on so he walked me back to my dorm quickly, all the while I tried to act normal and he didn’t notice anything. Once there, I dumped my stuff and waited by the phone so Jenny Biddle wouldn’t get it again. I picked it up the second it started to ring so no one else would question who it was for and said, “Hello” as quietly as I could.
“Greenwood?”
“Yes. It’s me. Listen don’t hang up. No one knows you’re calling me. I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Okay.” She spoke softly and I tried to keep my voice down, too. I turned to the wall to get as much privacy as possible.
“Where are you?”
“New York.”
“City?” I was amazed. That was the last place I thought she’d go.
“Yes.”
“How did you get there?”
“I walked to Newtown and called a cab to take me to a train station and then took a train.”
“Are you okay?”
“Sort of.” She stopped and I wasn’t sure what I should say next. “But I’m never coming back. Not ever.”
“I understand how you must feel. Bleaker’s a bitch and she should burn in hell. But you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t care about any of that anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there must be a higher purpose to life.”
“Moll, where are you staying?” She was starting to scare me for real.
“That’s why I called.”
“Why?”
“I’m running out of money.”
“Do you want me to send you some?” Money was never a problem for me. There was always plenty of it. I didn’t know if Moll’s family had much money but it seemed to me they didn’t, with her mom working at some pharmaceutical company as some kind of scientist.
“Well, maybe. But really I need a place to stay. I’ve been staying at this youth hostel run by a church but I have only one night left and then I have to leave. I on
ly have twenty dollars. I don’t know where to go.”
I thought quickly. What could I do? And then it hit me.
“Listen, my parents have a big apartment on the east side. You could stay there. My mother’s in the hospital and my father’s at our house in Connecticut.”
“How would I get in?”
“I’ll call the doorman. The day guy is Jake. I’ll tell him your name and describe you and he has an extra key. He can let you in and once you’re in you can use the extra set of keys my parents keep in the apartment. They’re hanging on a hook inside one of the kitchen cabinets. You’ll find them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. But Moll, you really should call your mother. Everyone’s worried and they’ve pressured me to tell them what I know. That was before you called but now that I do know, it’ll be hard to keep quiet.”
At that moment someone down the hall yelled my name. “Hey, Greenwood. Get off the phone. I’m expecting a call.”
“If you tell anyone you talked to me, or tell anyone where I am or tell anyone anything, I’ll kill myself.” She said it quietly. As if she’d made up her mind. “I already walked on the Brooklyn Bridge yesterday.”
A chill ran up the back of my legs to my neck.
“Please, Moll. Just go to my apartment and take it easy. I can call you tomorrow from the pay phone so I’ll have some privacy. I won’t say anything to anyone. I promise. They’re yelling at me to get off the phone.” I gave her the address of my family’s apartment. “I’ll call you at my apartment at this same time tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Moll,” I said. “Please take care. Don’t do anything, Promise me?”
“We’ll see what happens,” she said. She hung up and I slumped against the wall for a minute and then the phone rang again. It was for that girl down the hall, which gave me a chance to search my purses and wallet and pockets for whatever loose change I could get my hands on and run down to make a quick call from the pay phone to leave a message for the doorman, Jake, to let Moll Grimes into my parents apartment the next day. The hell with waiting to use the wire.
THIRTY-FOUR
Fighting with Myself
AT FOXHALL, IT WAS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO KEEP ANYTHING secret. Everyone was whispering about the mattress room key, but since no one who had actually used the key was about to rat out anyone else who’d used it, gossip was rampant but unsubstantiated. And since no one who would have spilled the news to the deans actually knew who had the key, the story simply whirled around like an eddy in a stream, never spilling into the stream and never totally fading away either. It was kind of funny to us, the ones who knew about it, to hear the story expanding. One version had some kid who’d been kicked out of another school living down there. Another version had a girl giving birth on one of the mattresses and that’s why the school changed the lock. I even heard a version where a male teacher (a lot of conjecture about just who) and a senior girl were having an affair and using the mattress room for their trysts. The word tryst actually floated around for a couple of days.
But once I had spoken to Moll, I no longer paid any attention to the gossip and, after hearing her talk about the Brooklyn Bridge, I knew this could go no further than me. Still, carrying that weight around was like trying to keep a river that had breached its banks from flooding. My sleep that night was interrupted by nightmares and every time they woke me, I found myself twisted around in my sheets like a knotted up piece of string. By morning, I wished I had never agreed to help Moll. Still, what else could I have done? It was too late for second thoughts now.
I caught up with Wes after breakfast. He and some other guys were reading the newspapers on the benches outside the dining hall. I sat down close to him and spoke low so no one else could hear me.
“Hey, can you get the wire from Stocky so I can use it tonight?”
He had the paper opened to double pages so he could see all the OpEds in The Times at one time. He lowered the paper a little and turned to me.
“Why don’t you ask him? He’s right over there.” He pointed with his index finger without letting go of the pages.
“Uh-uh. I want you to ask him. You know how he is.”
“How is he? I thought he’s let you use it before?”
“He has but if I ask him, he’ll be insufferable and try to get me, you know . . .”
“Really? Even though you and I are going together?”
“Stocky’s kind of a pig, y’know.”
“Really? The guys all like him. Huh. I had no idea.” He shook his head.
“Well will you?”
“Now?”
“Sure now. But get it later and give it to me at study hall so I can hide it with all my stuff.”
“What do you need it for?”
“I’ve got to call a friend tonight. We agreed on a time after study hall. So I need it before then.”
“What friend?”
“Just a friend.”
“Yeah. I know a friend. What friend?”
So here it was. Should I tell Wes and possibly get him in trouble if it came out that he knew? Or should I lie and tell him it was a friend from home? I could say it was my friend Melena. But that would mean lying to Wes and eventually he’d probably find out. We’d had that one fight about me being too secretive. I didn’t want to have another one. Maybe I should forget about the wire and just pay for the call. But I had no idea how long I’d be on with Moll or how much change I’d need. There was only so much change you could even get at school and nowhere to get it during the week. The wire was my only option. I could call my apartment collect but then my father would see it on the bill and if he asked about who I called collect while he wasn’t even home, what would I say? This was a mess that I didn’t see any way to escape.
“Wes,” I began.
“Present.”
He was being silly. That was a good sign.
“Do you trust me?”
“Sure.”
“I mean really? I mean if I told you I couldn’t tell you something, would you trust that I was doing the right thing and thinking about what was best for you?”
“Like what?”
“If I could tell you what, I wouldn’t be asking if you trust me.”
“Oh. So you want to tell me there’s something you can’t tell me but you want me to trust you.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“But it has to do with the wire.”
“Sort of.”
“And you want me to get it for you but you can’t tell me who you’re calling.”
“Right.”
He put down the paper and stared straight ahead, then turned to me.
“Is it another guy?”
“No.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“But if you do get in trouble, will you let me help you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then I trust you. I’ll get the thing from Stocky and give it to you after study hall.”
“Thank you.” I hadn’t realized it but I’d been holding my breath and now I let it out and slumped back against the wall.
“But be careful, okay?”
“I will.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Right and Wrong
IT WAS NERVE-WRACKING TRYING TO USE THE WIRE ALONE in the booth with no one standing guard but I got it into the slot and opened a canvas bag on my lap to catch the change when it came back out. The thing worked fine, Moll answered on the first ring and I pulled the booth door shut at the same time as I pulled on it to release my change so I could use it again when the operator came on to say my time was up and so no one walking by could hear me. I reinserted the wire to be ready for later.
“Are you okay?” I asked first.
“Yes. Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“No problem.”
/>
“I only have sixteen dollars left.”
“Well, eat anything in the kitchen. I’m sure there’s lots in the freezer, too. Take whatever you want.”
“I already had some toast and tea.” Her voice was quiet, not like the night before when she’d sounded kind of petulant.
“Moll, we really need to talk about this.”
“About what?”
“About you running away. They called your mom. She must be worried sick.”
“I’m sure she is. But that’s just the way it is.”
“I don’t understand. I know Bleaker hurt your feelings. She’s a bitch. But your mom hasn’t done anything.” Look who is defending a mom. As if I know anything about what a supportive mother would feel like.
“It’s not about that.”
“Not about what?”
“About what happened at the dance.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Everything.”
“It may feel like everything is wrong, but if Bleaker hadn’t said anything to you, you’d still be here, wouldn’t you?”
“I guess. But that was just . . . you know, the last straw. Nothing’s been going right anyway.”
“But Moll, you’re so smart. You’re doing well in all your classes aren’t you?”
“So what? What does that mean? The world doesn’t care about classes and term papers and exams.”
“It’s supposed to. I mean, that helps you get into college.”
“Where it will be more of the same.”
“Maybe it won’t. Maybe college is different.”
“It won’t be any different. It’s been like this my whole life. I don’t fit in anywhere. I just have to accept that.”
“Well, but you can’t stay at my parents apartment forever. Eventually they’ll be back.”
“I know.”
“So what is your plan?”
At that moment, the operator came on and said I had to put in more money for the next three minutes, so I chucked the same change in again.
The Other New Girl Page 20