Ginny Moon

by Benjamin Ludwig

  “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 back 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.”

  “Your Forever Dad mentioned to me on the phone that this might be confusing for you. You know your Forever Mom is breast-feeding Baby Wendy, right?”

  I nod my head yes.

  “Then why do you think she isn’t feeding it—I mean her?”

  “Because milk doesn’t come from breasts.”

  “Of course milk comes from breasts. That’s what breast-feeding is. No one ever told you how breast-feeding works?”

  I shake my head no.

  Patrice smiles. “Then I think you’ll be happy to hear what I’m about to tell you. Before I explain it, though, I need to ask if you remember the most important rule.”

  “When Baby Wendy is born you’re not allowed to touch her,” I say.

  “That’s right. And Baby Wendy is born. She’s here. So you have to make sure you never, ever try to feed the baby yourself. Trust your parents a little, will you? They know what they’re doing. Your Forever Mom is doing a great job of feeding Baby Wendy. Now, let’s talk about exactly how she does it.”

  EXACTLY 6:44 IN THE MORNING,

  MONDAY, OCTOBER 25TH

  I don’t hear any noise on the other side of the door. My head and face are close, close, close to it. Because I am listening.

  I know that my Forever Sister is in there with my Forever Mom. I know that my Forever Mom is taking excellent care of it because my Forever Dad and Patrice told me so. But even though I believe them I need to make sure. I need to see.

  I close my eyes and listen harder. Now my ears are ringing. My ear is so close to the door that it sounds like listening to the inside of a seashell.

  “Ginny?”

  I come up fast out of my brain. It is my Forever Dad. At the bottom of the stairs.

  “Come down here. Right now. If your mom finds you—”

  The door opens right next to my face.

  I jump back and almost run into the laundry basket. My Forever Mom is in the doorway.

  “Ginny, go downstairs,” she says. Then to my Forever Dad she says, “It’s all right. I can handle this.” She looks at me again. Her eyes get skinny and her mouth turns into a short, short line. “Ginny, you’ve got to stop sneaking around like this. No more hovering outside my door. This is the second time today. Wendy is fine. Now go downstairs like your dad said.”

  “Come on, Forever Girl,” my Forever Dad says. “I’ve got the car all warmed up, and it’s time to go.”

  EXACTLY 11:28 IN THE MORNING,

  THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28TH

  Halloween is in three days. On Sunday. I am in Room Five eating lunch with Larry and Kayla Zadambidge and Alison Hill because the teachers want me to have a smooth transition back to school. Plus my Forever Mom came downstairs for approximately three minutes this morning and said there was a media circus when I was kidnapped and all the kids at school will try to ask me questions. When I said I’ve never been to the circus and would like to go see it she said I didn’t have to because I was already the main attraction. When I said I didn’t understand she said a media circus is when a bunch of reporters come to your house looking for information about you and there are stories about you on television and the radio. She said that a media circus is understandable when there’s a kidnapping but when you’re coming home with a newborn baby and reporters are sticking cameras in your face and knocking on your door all the time it can make you pretty edgy. Especially when the kid who was kidnapped set the whole thing up and doesn’t show any remorse.

  After that she went upstairs and shut the door. My Forever Dad brought me to school.

  Only the kids who go to Room Five are allowed to eat lunch with me this week. Plus Ms. Carol. Ms. Carol is a new teacher who follows me like Mrs. Wake used to. She is not an old lady. She has long hair and glasses that make her eyes look too big. When I asked Mrs. Lomos where Mrs. Wake was Mrs. Lomos said, “The principal decided it was best for her to move on.”

  “What are you going to be for Halloween?” says Larry to Alison Hill.

  “I don’t know yet,” says Alison Hill. She is drawing a face on an orange pumpkin.

  “Halloween is in three days, Alison Hill,” I say. “You’d better decide soon.”

  “What are you going to be, Ginny?” Larry asks me.

  I say, “I’m going to be a witch. Gloria always dressed me up like a witch and she was a witch too. We were witches together. We used to throw spells at each other in the kitchen and do spins on the floor in our socks so our costumes would twirl. Then we flew on our brooms in the living room and up and down the hall.”

  “There’s no such thing as witches,” says Kayla Zadambidge. “I’m going to be a queen.”

  Kayla Zadambidge has long hair. She is pretty and will make a great queen. So I say, “You will make an ugly, ugly queen, Kayla Zadambidge. Alison Hill, you should be Janet Jackson.”

  “Ginny!” says Ms. Dana.

  Alison Hill makes a funny face. “Who’s Janet Jackson?”

  I put down the pieces of the candy corn that I am putting together. They are orange and yellow and white. I use a mean voice. “What the hell is wrong with you, Alison Hill? Janet Jackson is one of Michael Jackson’s sisters.”

  Ms. Dana looks up from her desk. “Ginny, language!” she says.

  Larry starts singing about the light fandango and cartwheels.

  Alison Hill says, “Maybe I should be a werewolf.”

  “Werewolves are scary,” I say.

  “How about a vampire?” says Alison Hill.

  “No,” I say. “Vampires are scary too. Plus they suck blood.”

  “How about someone from Star Wars?” says Larry.

  “You could be Queen Amidala!” says Alison Hill.

  “Or you could be R2-D2! That little dude is the bomb!” Larry says.

  Then I look at Larry and say, “No, Larry, R2-D2 is a robot. Don’t you get it? He’s a fuc
king robot.” I am angry, angry, angry.

  “Ginny, let’s go,” says Ms. Dana. She stands up and points to the door. Ms. Carol’s eyes get really big for a second behind her glasses and then go back to their regular size.

  “What’s with the language, babe?” says Larry.

  “Ginny, come talk with me in the hallway,” says Ms. Dana.

  I stand up. I don’t answer Larry’s question because I am still mad. Because I don’t have a new secret plan yet. I need to figure out how to get back to Harrington Falls without the police finding me. Or how to get a ride up to Canada and then have Gloria come meet me there. Or how to get Crystal with a C out of jail so she can kidnap me again. I’m sitting here at school while my Baby Doll is in the apartment with Gloria and no one, no one is around to keep it safe.

  EXACTLY 4:14 IN THE AFTERNOON,

  FRIDAY, OCTOBER 29TH

  “Do you know who helped track you down when you were with Crystal with a C?” says Patrice.

  “The man with the gun,” I say.

  “No. There was someone else. It was extremely lucky that the hunter spotted you, and he did help a lot by calling. But there was another person, too.”

  Patrice wipes her mouth with a napkin. We are eating brownies.

  “It’s a confusing time when someone is kidnapped,” she says. “There were a lot of people across the country who thought they saw you in different places. When people look hard for a missing person, they make a lot of mistakes. So the police look for patterns. They look for numbers of sightings that are clustered in certain areas, and then they go to those areas.”

  “Who was the other person?” I ask.

  “That’s the interesting thing. The person who helped track you down didn’t actually see you himself. But he used to know Crystal with a C, and he remembered that she had a vacation cabin. The hunter called from the town where the cabin was, and the police went there to investigate.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Your dad.”

  “My Forever Dad knew where the cabin was?”

  “No. Your Birth Dad.”

  “I don’t have a Birth Dad.”

  “Yes, you do. Everyone does.”

  I don’t say anything. I don’t know who my Birth Dad is even though everyone has one. Maybe it’s because I’m not everyone.

  “Ginny, your Birth Dad helped us find you. Your parents didn’t want to even mention him at first, but now—Anyway, Gloria left him when you were born. Literally at the hospital. She kept in touch with him over the years by phone and email, but she wouldn’t let him see you. During the investigation he met your Forever Parents, and now he says he wants to get to know you.”

  I think. And think some more. “Why?” I say.

  “Because he’s your dad. Until last week, he didn’t know where you lived.”

  I think. I think and think.

  “Ginny, how do you feel about all this?”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “That’s fair,” says Patrice. “It’s happening kind of fast. But I want you to know that your Forever Parents think it’s pretty exciting. They think it’s a great idea for you to meet your Birth Dad. As soon as you’re ready.”

  “As soon as I’m ready?” I say.

  “Yes, as soon as you’re ready.”

  “When will that be?”

  Patrice laughs. “Knowing you, I’d say in about two seconds.”

  EXACTLY HALLOWEEN—2:05,

  SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31ST

  We are in the parking lot at school and I am putting on my ghost costume. It is a sheet with holes in it so my eyes can see out. I was going to wear my new witch costume but then I changed my mind. Because I don’t want to be me anymore. I want to be able to be invisible instead. I want to be (-Ginny) because my Baby Doll is all alone with Gloria and I’m mostly not smart enough to figure out how to go get it.

  But I don’t say that to anybody. I’m keeping it a secret in my brain.

  When I changed my mind about the costume my Forever Mom said, “Honestly, Ginny, if we’d decided this last week, we could have bought two new sets of sheets for the price of that witch costume. And you could still be wearing the exact same thing you’re wearing now.”

  But that wasn’t a question.

  I stand next to the car and wait for my Forever Mom to help straighten my costume. She straightens it at the bottom and moves the top so that my eyes can see through the holes we cut together. “There,” she says.

  “Ooooooh!” I say in a high voice. Because that is what a ghost says.

  “Very good,” my Forever Mom says. “You make an excellent ghost.”

  I say, “Ooooooh!” again because I am still wearing the costume. Plus I like making scary sounds. They make me feel strong.

  “All right,” says my Forever Mom. “It’s time to go in.” This is the first time she has gone anywhere with me since my Forever Sister was born. My Forever Dad is home watching it.

  There are lots and lots of cars in the parking lot but I stop counting after nine. When we get to the door my Forever Mom pulls it open. Inside we hear music. We follow the hallway to the gym where there are kids from the whole school and all of them are dressed up and moving fast. There are orange and black decorations everywhere. A lot of the little kids have butterfly and pumpkin costumes. Some are dressed up as trains and cars. There are bigger kids dressed as M&M’s and werewolves and zombies.

  I start to pick at my fingers.

  There are witches and princesses. Someone is even dressed like a cow. And all of them are making noise. So much noise I can’t stand it. The music is way too loud. A lot of the kids are yelling and trying to scare each other. I see vampires and gypsies. I see a giant bug and a cat. I even see a kid dressed up as a baby. It is like all the things that are in my brain came out.

  So I take my costume off. I pull the sheet down off my head and stand there holding it.

  “Ginny, why did you do that?” says my Forever Mom.

  And I say, “We need to leave now.”

  And she says, “Why?”

  “Because it’s too loud.”

  “Ginny,” my Forever Mom says, “we just got here. I’m trying to spend time with you without the baby.” She looks back and forth fast and lifts her foot and puts it down again. “Don’t you want to walk around and find your friends?” she says. “What about Larry and Kayla? What about Alison? I bet Ms. Dana is here, too.”

  I think she asked me a question but I can’t remember what it was so I don’t say anything. A small boy in a green mask runs past me. His shoulder touches my costume. “Ow!” I yell and step back. Someone else knocks into me. I recoil and almost bump into a boy who is dressed like a football player. He says, “Hey!” and makes an angry face. I recoil again.

  My Forever Mom’s lip rises. “Fine,” she says. Through her teeth. “No one can say I didn’t try. Now let’s go.”

  She shoves her hand out. I used to like holding her hand but I don’t take it. Because I’m not who I used to be anymore and I don’t think my Forever Mom likes the person I turned into. I don’t think I like the person I turned into either.

  We walk back out of the gym and through the hallway and back outside. The air is cold but it feels good on my face. Halloween is not the same as it used to be when I was with Gloria. Nothing is the same as it used to be. I am not Ginny anymore.

  I am not Ginny.

  I am (-Ginny).

  And that scares me, scares me, scares me. Because I don’t know that girl.

  EXACTLY 2:52 IN THE AFTERNOON,

  TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 2ND

  My Forever Dad makes a breathing sound. “Ginny, please, stop checking your watch. I’m trying to talk with you.”

  We are at the kitchen table.
My Forever Sister is crying. It does that a lot. The sound makes me want to run upstairs and pick it up because I know exactly what to do to help it. But I don’t because I remember the most important rule.

  “There are two things we need to talk about,” he says.

  I am happy. He is using numbers and numbers make me glad.

  “First, you have to stay away from your mother’s room. From our room, I mean. She’s in there all the time now with the baby because she needs some privacy. You can’t go in there anymore for any reason, and you can’t stand right outside the door listening. And when your mom comes downstairs with the baby, you have to stop telling her how to take care of it. No more advice on what to feed it or what it needs. And the most important thing is that you have to stop hovering so much. Give your mom some space, okay? She won’t put the baby down because she knows you’ll bend down over it and stare. It scares her, Ginny. It scares me, too. I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s the truth.”

  “What is the second thing we need to talk about?” I ask. Because he finished with the first.

  “The second thing is that I have the first letter,” he says. He puts a folded piece of paper on the table. His face looks a lot redder than it used to look and he takes more pills in the morning now. At night too. And sometimes he lies down on the couch to rest after he finishes talking to me and closes his eyes. And breathes deep and slow. “From your Birth Dad. Are you ready to read it?”

  I nod my head yes.

  “Getting to know your Birth Dad will be easier this way,” he says. “If the two of you exchange letters for a while, you’ll have more to talk about when you finally meet.”

  “When will we finally meet?”

  “We’re not sure yet. We’re going to give it a while and see how things go before we set a date.”

  Upstairs the crying stops. I take a deep breath and uncurl my fingers. “Can I read the letter now?” I say.