I nod my head yes.
“I’ll only be gone for twenty minutes,” she says. “And, Ginny, stay in the house, all right? Don’t go outside for any reason. Remember what we said before—your Baby Doll is safe, and if you try to go back to Harrington Falls, the police will find you.”
She looks at me. I keep looking at the woodstove because she didn’t ask a question.
“Ginny, did you hear me?”
I nod my head yes.
“I do wish you’d be a little more...talkative,” she says.
When she leaves I stand up. I am going to make myself a snack.
EXACTLY 11:40 IN THE MORNING,
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21ST
Crystal with a C said that when you make scrambled eggs you crack them in a bowl and mix them up and pour them in a frying pan and cook them for five minutes. She showed me how to crack the eggs. That part is already done. I even picked the shells out. So I start to mix them.
I pour the eggs into the frying pan. My watch says it is 11:42. I take the dish towel off my shoulder which is where Crystal with a C puts it when she cooks. I put it on the counter next to the stove. Then I turn the stove on.
I go into the living room and sit down to wait.
At 11:44 I smell smoke.
I walk back into the kitchen. The dish towel is on fire.
At school we learned that if there’s a fire you should call 911 and stop, drop and roll! But there isn’t a phone here at the Little White House and the kitchen is really tiny.
The fire is getting bigger. It crackles. It reaches up to the shelf above the counter. I want someone to stop it but no one is here.
Then the smoke alarm goes off. It is loud and scary and I don’t like loud noises so I put my hands over my ears and recoil. The noise doesn’t go away so after exactly seven seconds I open my eyes and put my arms down and run to the sink.
Now the fire is on the counter too. I fill a glass with water and throw it at the flames. The fire goes down a little. Black smoke is everywhere. I throw more water on it and after three glasses the fire is mostly out but now the dish towel has a big black hole in it. It smokes when I pick it up. It smells bad. There are some red parts on the towel that are still glowing so I throw it away in the garbage. I don’t want Crystal with a C to see it. Plus it’s ruined anyway. My eggs have water in them now so I throw them away too. I scrape them into the garbage and put the frying pan down on the counter. The counter has a big black mark on it where the dish towel used to be. I put a bowl of apples on top of it.
But the smoke alarm is still going off and it’s hard to see and I am coughing so I go outside and stand in the driveway. I look toward the road and start counting.
When I get to 537 Crystal with a C comes home. She gets out of the car and looks at me and then looks at the Little White House. I look too. Because I wasn’t looking before. A lot of black smoke is coming through the screen door.
Crystal with a C runs inside.
When she comes out she has the garbage can with her. Smoke is pouring out of it. She dumps all the garbage on the ground. I see fire. She jumps up and down on the flames and on all the garbage. The fire goes out.
Then Crystal with a C hits the top of the car with her hands. “Ginny!” she screams. She is crying. She cries and cries and then she says, “The police are in town talking with everybody they see. They’re showing your picture to everyone. Someone saw you, goddamn it! You’ve been seen! And now I come home to this?”
I don’t say anything.
“Get in the car,” she says. “Just get in the car! I’ll go get your backpack. We have to leave!”
EXACTLY 2:48 IN THE AFTERNOON,
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21ST
We are driving.
The backseat is filled with all of Crystal with a C’s clothes. She threw them in fast before we left the Little White House. I am holding my backpack on my lap. When I asked where we were going she said she didn’t know yet. She said we just need to be moving.
Crystal with a C cried three times while she was driving. Once at 11:53, once at 12:28 and again at 1:14. I do not know why she cried. When I ask her she says it’s because she doesn’t know what to do. We can’t go to Canada yet, she says, and we can’t go to her other apartment. And we can’t stay in the Little White House anymore because the police will find us.
We are driving on the highway again. It is the same highway we were on when we left school three days ago. I know because of the signs. The sign we just passed said Greensborough, Exit 33, 1 Mile. So I say, “Why are we here again?”
And Crystal with a C says, “Because we have to go back the other direction. The police know we went west, so we have to go east. And that means backtracking. You know what backtracking is, don’t you?”
I don’t but the word makes sense. Backtracking. So I nod my head yes.
“We’re going to have to take a little detour, too,” she says.
“Because of the blockade?” I say.
“Yes, because of the blockade,” she says. “We’re going to have to go straight through town. So I’m going to need you to get down. Just scrunch yourself down below the window. Right now. Get on the floor and make yourself as small as possible so no one can see you. And I’ll put a jacket over your head. That way the police won’t know you’re there when we go past them. I need you to hide, Ginny.”
“I’m a good hider,” I say. Then I get down on the floor and Crystal with a C puts a coat over my head. I can’t see where we are anymore but that’s okay because I know Crystal with a C will come through for me.
We turn and we slow down and turn again and drive for a little while. It’s too dark so I can’t see my watch. Then we turn three more times. Right, left, left. And the car stops.
I hear Crystal with a C’s voice. “Ginny, stay right where you are. I’m going to get out of the car for a minute. Be ready.”
The driver’s-side door opens and closes. Seven seconds pass. Then the car door on my side of the car opens. “Okay, Ginny, get out!” says Crystal with a C in a loud whisper. “We have to move to a different car! Get out fast. Keep your head down low!”
I throw the coat back and pull my backpack with me and get out of the car. I crouch low and tuck my head down. I blink in the bright light. It is 3:55 and I am scared, scared, scared.
“Stay close against the car! Don’t let anyone see you!” says Crystal with a C.
So I do. I am against the car in a tight, tight ball. Crystal with a C shuts my door. She runs past me. Behind the car. I peek to see where she’s going.
But across from me on the other side of the sidewalk I see a big yellow house I know.
I pick my head up all the way. Across the street is Cumberland Farms and the gas station attached to it. I see the post office too. We are in the middle of Greensborough right near my school. Down the street I see the road that goes down to the bus loop.
I hear a click. The sound of the car door locking.
Crystal with a C is standing on the other side of the car. “Ginny, I love you,” she says. Her face is different. “I tried. I swear I tried, but you’re just too much. A real handful. Now go straight to the school and tell your teachers you’re okay. But, please, don’t mention me to anyone, all right? Don’t mention the house or the fire or the color of the car or anything. Just tell everyone that you took a walk and got confused. You were perfectly fine these past three days, right?”
I am confused. “How will I get to Canada?”
Crystal with a C makes a breathing sound. “You’re not going to Canada. Not today, anyway. Just go back to school, Ginny. Go back and pretend that none of this ever happened. Pretend you don’t remember!”
But pretending would be the same as lying if I said it with my mouth. I want to explain that I just can’t do tha
t but then Crystal with a C gets back in the car and the engine turns on. The car pulls away. I want to run after it because Crystal with a C is the only person who can help me get back to my Baby Doll. There are other cars coming now and I know it isn’t safe to run into a busy street but I am going to chase it anyway. I have to. I take one step forward. Then I hear a siren.
Blue lights come up the road fast. They come so fast I think they will rip the road in two pieces. Then there are more blue lights and a police car slides sideways in front of Crystal with a C’s car. The noise is louder than the smoke alarm. I see police cars with policemen getting out of them and people running and more police cars and policemen running at me. I turn to run but someone grabs me so I recoil and cover my face and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.
EXACTLY 12:08 IN THE AFTERNOON,
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23RD
My new Forever Sister was born on October 19th which was the day after the Harvest Concert. I saw it for approximately one minute yesterday. My new Forever Sister has blue eyes and small hands and feet. It mostly sleeps and cries. I stood watching it for exactly thirteen seconds in the living room while my Forever Mom held it. Then she said, “Welcome back, Ginny. Do you think you could back up a bit?” And then she said, “We’re glad you’re back from the hospital.”
Because that’s where I went before I came back to the Blue House. The police brought me to the hospital and after the doctors looked at me my Forever Dad came to bring me here. The doctors were all women. They wanted to see if I was injured because they all knew that Crystal with a C kidnapped me. I couldn’t pretend that none of this ever happened. Plus the police took Crystal with a C away. So I’m guessing they figured it all out.
My new Forever Sister is named Baby Wendy. It’s very little so it needs a lot of milk. You get milk from the refrigerator even though I know it comes from cows. But my Forever Mom says she is breast-feeding it instead. She is upstairs in the bedroom doing it right now.
I am in the living room picking at my fingers. My Forever Dad is making lunch. He doesn’t understand. Finally I walk into the kitchen and grab my breasts to show him. “There’s no milk in these,” I say.
He drops a bowl of potatoes and puts his hands on his forehead. “No—Yes—Ginny, just slow down,” he says.
“I gave my Baby Doll milk from a towel. Every day.”
“From a towel?”
“You dip the towel in the milk and then let the baby suck. You get the milk from a carton in the refrigerator. Not from these.”
He looks the other way. “It sounds like Gloria didn’t breast-feed you,” he says. He starts picking up the potatoes. “You couldn’t remember something like that, though. You were too young. Did you really use a towel when you wanted some milk? Didn’t you have any cups in the apartment?”
But that was two questions so I don’t say anything.
He keeps talking. “Some moms feed their babies with milk from their breasts,” he says, “and some moms feed their babies with cow’s milk. It’s called formula, actually. But it’s a matter of personal choice.”
He doesn’t understand. “My new Forever Sister needs milk,” I say.
“Right,” he says.
“It has to drink a lot of real milk,” I say.
“Right again,” he says. “But let’s not call your sister ‘it,’ okay? And remember, she is drinking real milk. Upstairs right now with your mom.”
“No,” I say. “That isn’t real milk. Real milk comes from the refrigerator.”
He opens the refrigerator and takes the milk out. Then he pours a glass and puts it on the counter.
“There,” he says. “That’s real milk. Real cow’s milk.”
“Exactly,” I say because sometimes exactly means right. I pick up the milk and walk to the stairs.
“Ginny, what are you doing?”
“I’m bringing the milk upstairs.”
“No,” he says. “Don’t do that. Put it back on the counter. Baby Wendy drinks breast milk.”
I put the glass of milk down.
“Let’s try one more time,” he says. “The milk that you drink comes from cows, but babies can drink milk from their mothers, if their mothers decide to breast-feed. See?”
When people say See? they mean Do you understand? but my Forever Dad doesn’t understand at all. “I know where milk for humans comes from,” I say. I pick up the glass of milk and point to it. “This is human milk. You know, hu-man.”
“You can pronounce it however you want, but it still comes from a cow,” he says.
“So then why won’t my Forever Mom give it to the baby? Why won’t she give it milk that’s real?”
“She is giving it milk that’s real.”
I look at him over my glasses and shake my breasts at him again. “But there’s no milk in these,” I say. I have had breasts for approximately one year and I know that milk doesn’t come out of them. Nothing does.
“Ginny, put your—Watch—Just listen,” he says. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I’m sorry if this is all confusing, but you’re just going to have to trust me. Wendy is getting plenty of real milk. You can talk with Patrice about it when we go to see her after lunch. It’s really nice that she agreed to set up an appointment with you today—after all, it’s the weekend. But I bet she’ll want to talk some more about going back to school on Thursday, too. Do you still think you’re ready?”
He is changing the subject so I have to focus. I can’t get distracted. My new Forever Sister needs real human milk but it isn’t getting any and I know that Gloria will forget to feed my Baby Doll because Crystal with a C is in jail and no one will go to check on them. In my brain for a second I see my Baby Doll’s tiny eyes and face. Its eyes used to blink when I picked it up.
I come up out of my brain. The glass of milk is still in front of me on the counter. In my brain again I can see myself dipping a towel or my shirt in it and then putting the wet part in my Baby Doll’s mouth.
“Ginny?”
“What?” I say.
“Please, don’t worry about Wendy. She’s getting everything she needs. I’m really sorry about how intense things are around the baby right now. Your mom is being extra cautious, staying upstairs all the time. It would help a lot if you didn’t hover so much when she comes downstairs. Just...just give her some space, will you? You’ll see. We’ll all get back to normal soon. You’ll go back to school next Thursday, and then everything will slowly go back to the way it used to be. Everyone is safe. You’re home, the baby is healthy and your mom is doing well. Everything is going to be fine. Crystal is in jail now, and your baby sister has plenty to drink.”
“Crystal with a C,” I say. Then I go to my room.
EXACTLY 2:08 IN THE AFTERNOON,
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23RD
“It’s been two days since you’ve been back at the Blue House, and now you have a baby sister,” says Patrice. “A lot has changed.”
That wasn’t a question so I don’t say anything. I just sit in the flower chair and look at Patrice.
“Your Forever Parents tell me you’ve been pretty quiet at home. What’s been going on in that brain of yours? Ginny, I want you to try to connect. I want to know how you feel. I want you to tell me how you feel about being back. Now, I know that Crystal didn’t hurt you, but—”
“Crystal with a C,” I say.
“All right, Crystal with a C didn’t hurt you. The doctors at the hospital said you were perfectly fine, but I wonder if Crystal with a C said some things when you were at her house that you’re still thinking about. Things that you remember. Could you tell me what those things are?”
“She said my Baby Doll is fine with Gloria for a few weeks but she likes to spend at least a few hours with them every day. But now Crystal with a C is in jail. So I need to go b
ack to the apartment.”
She writes something down. “I wish she hadn’t humored you about your Baby Doll,” she says. “Remember, there was no baby in that apartment with you. The police would have found it. They even went back to look again when you told them it was in the suitcase. Now, how do you feel about what happened to Crystal with a C?”
“Angry,” I say.
“That’s good. It’s okay to feel angry when you miss someone. It’s okay to be mad and miss Gloria, too. Did you know that when you were gone, your Forever Parents missed you very much?”
“Yes,” I say. Because they told me.
“Everyone missed you, Ginny. The whole town. The whole state, even. Everyone was looking for you and saying prayers and worrying. They wanted to find you and keep you safe.”
That is the problem. Everyone wants to keep me safe but safe for me means not safe for my Baby Doll. Like this:
(Safe) for Ginny = (–Safe) for Baby Doll
But if I escape and go to Harrington Falls the police will find me. I need to come up with a new secret plan.
“We’ve seen each other every day since you’ve been back,” Patrice says, “and we’ll see each other all next week, as well. At home your parents say that you’ve been hovering too close to Baby Wendy, and of course that makes them worry. It freaks them out a little bit. They say it’s creepy. Your mom, especially. They say you keep trying to bring the baby different things to eat and drink. They say you’re trying to sneak up to the nursery all the time. Can you talk a little about that?”
“They aren’t feeding it,” I say.
Patrice looks at me funny. “What makes you say they aren’t feeding it?”
“Because they don’t give it milk.”
The Truth According to Ginny Moon Page 9