I eat grape number six.
“And your cup, too. Don’t forget your cup.”
I eat grape number seven.
Now Maura is on the couch holding Baby Wendy. I’m not looking at them but I know they’re there. Because I saw them sit down. I always know where Baby Wendy is.
I hear Maura moving. With my eyes I look. The white cloth is over the baby’s head. It is breast-feeding.
“There,” says Maura. “Now, like I said, just keep eating. And by the way, have you seen Wendy’s bunny? The little one with the bow?”
I open my mouth to answer. Cereal falls out. I pick up my napkin quick.
“Never mind,” says Maura. “Just keep eating for now. And when you’re done, go into your room and start cleaning it.”
I finish at 9:21 and stand up. I bring my bowls and spoon and cup into the kitchen. Then I go into the living room and stand in front of her.
“You l—”
“I said to go into your room and start cleaning,” says Maura.
“But y—”
“Ginny, now.”
I turn and walk out of the living room. When I get to the hallway she says, “Wait. I’m sorry. Stay there. Just tell me what you wanted to tell me.”
I stop walking. “You left your purse in the car.”
“In the car? What’s it doing in the car?”
“You left it there.”
“My purse? Wait—you mean the bunny is in the purse?”
I nod my head yes.
“When did I leave it in there? I mean the purse in the car, not the bunny.”
“Yesterday when you picked me up from school.”
“Ginny, just come here.”
I walk into the living room. Maura turns her head and looks at me. Her hands are still under the blanket. “Are you sure my purse is in the car?”
I nod my head yes.
“Of course you are. You keep track of everything. But why didn’t you tell me yesterday? Why did you wait this long?”
But that was two questions so I don’t say anything.
“Sorry. Why did you wait?”
I make sure my mouth is shut tight. I think hard. Then I shrug.
Because after she left her purse in the car I went out to see if the charger to her phone was in it. Sometimes she keeps it in her purse. The phone I got from school yesterday won’t turn on. It’s the exact same kind as Maura’s. I made sure.
So I went outside to the car to look for the charger when she was in the bathroom but when I got there I remembered that if I opened and shut the car door she would hear. But while I was standing next to the car looking through the window I saw the bunny’s ears poking up out of her purse.
Maura is quiet. Then she says, “All right. I see now. When I said I was looking for the bunny, you remembered when I put it in my purse. And then you remembered that I left it in the car.”
I am glad she didn’t ask a question.
“Well, that makes sense. Do you think you could go outside and bring it in for me?”
I nod my head yes. I am excited because now I can look inside the purse. I go to the closet to get my coat.
EXACTLY 9:44 IN THE MORNING,
SUNDAY, JANUARY 16TH
There wasn’t a charger in Maura’s purse. I need to find it soon. Or find someone else’s.
We didn’t go to church this morning because Brian is coming home. Grammy is staying with me while Maura goes to get him. When Grammy told me that they would be home by lunchtime I was glad. I have all morning to find a new hiding place for the things in my backpack. So I told Grammy I was going to make my list.
When I got into my room I made my list fast and then I took Kayla Zadambidge’s phone out of my backpack. Her wallet too. I didn’t want to get them from Kayla Zadambidge but I needed to. Because Michelle Whipple pulls her backpack up close to her every time I walk by. I took Kayla Zadambidge’s phone and wallet on Friday in Room Five when she was talking with Larry because I’m guessing I might need some money when I leave to go to Canada. Even though it’s wrong to steal. Her phone and her wallet were together in the front pocket of her book bag. I need to find a better hiding place for both of them because Brian always helps me clean my room. Maura never comes in here anymore.
The house is very quiet. I stand with the wallet and the cell phone in the middle of the room. I look around. I could hide them under my bed. I could put them in my closet. I could put them in one of my game boxes in my closet. I could pick Sorry! or Chutes and Ladders or Life, the Game of Chance. Or maybe even Chinese Checkers. I pick Chinese Checkers because it is my favorite game. Plus it’s the game that Maura used to play with me all the time when I first came to live at the Blue House. Seeing Chinese Checkers makes me feel happy and sad at the same time which is what I feel when I think about stealing or running away or getting kidnapped.
I take the Chinese Checkers box down from the shelf and put the wallet and cell phone inside. Then I put the box back on the shelf and close the door. And sit down with my Snoopy pad to check over my list. It says,
Empty garbage in room
Clean room
Put laundry in dryer
Read for exactly 30 minutes
Listen to Michael Jackson
Go outside to get some air
Watch a movie
Do not play Chinese Checkers
When I go into the living room to see what Grammy is doing and to tell her that my list is done she is playing with Baby Wendy. It is on the couch with its feet up in the air laughing. It laughs all the time now. Grammy is making silly animal noises at it. I try to remember my Baby Doll laughing but I can’t. It’s been too long. And that makes me anxious. I need to be with it soon so I can help it learn things like the ABC’s. I used to sing the ABC’s to it all the time but it’s still way too little to sing with me.
In the living room Grammy asks Baby Wendy what a cat says. I know she will answer the question herself so I say, “Meow,” before she can. Then she asks Baby Wendy what a horse says so I say, “Neigh.” And when she asks what sound a sheep makes I say, “Baa.” Because I know. I know what all the animals say. I am fourteen years old and I know a lot more than Baby Wendy.
“It’s great that you know all the animal noises, Ginny,” says Grammy, “but I was trying to talk with your sister. She’s just a baby, so she has a lot to learn. Isn’t it great that she finally learned how to laugh?”
“I made my list,” I say.
“Does that mean you want to read it to me?”
I nod my head yes.
“All right. Go ahead, then.”
So I read my list and at the end Grammy says, “Why should we not play Chinese Checkers?”
I shut my mouth tight. Then really fast I say, “Because there’s nothing in the box.”
“You mean you forgot to put the game away when you last played it?”
I keep my mouth shut tight and wait for three seconds and hope she says something else.
“I think it’s great that you’re playing games with your mom again,” says Grammy, “but you might want to put them back in so that you don’t lose them. But it’s fine if you don’t want to play Chinese Checkers. By the time your movie is finished, your mom and dad should be home. I’ll have lunch all ready.”
“So they’ll be home before exactly twelve o’clock?”
“As far as I know, yes. Do you have any homework that needs to be done for tomorrow?”
I shake my head no.
“Are there any projects that are due?”
I think because that’s a different question and then I shake my head no again.
“Okay. Then I think you’re ready to start working through your list.”
In the kitchen her phone
buzzes. She picks up Baby Wendy and walks into the kitchen. She looks around on the counter. Her phone is next to the coffeemaker.
Charging.
She finds it and answers it.
“Oh,” she says. “That’s a surprise. We’ll be ready for you.” She puts the phone back down on the counter. My eyes follow it. “Your mom and dad will be home even earlier than we thought. They’re getting discharged right now. Let me go change Wendy’s diaper, and then we’ll start getting ready for them.”
“I will wait downstairs,” I say.
She goes upstairs. I walk right to the counter.
EXACTLY 3:50,
MONDAY, JANUARY 17TH
“I think you might be turning a corner,” says Patrice. “Or someone might be turning one, anyway. Your mother says things are improving.”
I put another pretzel in my mouth. I like the way the salt feels on my tongue.
“It was the day she fell asleep that did it, I think. You sat there playing with the baby while she slept, and when she opened her eyes, everything was fine.”
She looks down. Then she looks back at me.
“But they still want to go have a look at Saint Genevieve’s. Your mom knows how much work it is to take care of you, and how much attention you need. They want to make sure they explore all the options. It sounds like a really great place for you. The structure, the calm, the supervision—there aren’t any small babies there at all. You have to be at least thirteen to live there.”
I take a drink of water and look around the room for Agamemnon. He is hiding again. He hides mostly all the time. I wonder if he ever comes out.
“Are you glad that your dad is home?”
I nod my head. “Yes,” I say. “Now I don’t have to vacuum or empty the garbage.”
Patrice laughs. “I wonder if it’s nice to talk with him again, though,” she says. “How is he doing?”
“He takes a lot more pills now. He lies down and takes naps and breaks. But we talked yesterday about going to the Special Olympics basketball tournament on Sunday, January 23rd.”
“It will be nice for the two of you to go there together. I understand that you invited Rick, too.”
I nod my head yes. “I wrote a letter on Wednesday to invite him. Then I gave it to Maura to type into an email,” I say.
“Did he write back?”
“Yes. He said he couldn’t make it because he’s still down in Georgia.”
“Well, that’s sad. But it’s nice that you can still email back and forth with him. I saw that in your letters you still call Krystal your Baby Doll.”
“Krystal with a K,” I say.
“Right,” says Patrice. “Why don’t you call her by her name? I hear you’ve started calling Wendy by her name. Or at least, Baby Wendy.”
I don’t want Patrice to know the reason. I don’t want her to know that I can’t call Maura my Forever Mom or Brian my Forever Dad or Baby Wendy my Forever Sister because I’m not going to be with them forever. I’m going up to Canada with Gloria to take care of my Baby Doll. All I have to do is make the call.
So I don’t say anything. Instead I make my shoulders go up and down. Sometimes that means I don’t know. And sometimes it’s just your shoulders going up and down.
“At any rate, I think you might have bought yourself some time. Just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. I don’t think it’s too much for me to tell you that I’d like you to stay with Maura and Brian. Saint Genevieve’s is a great place, but—Let’s just see what happens, all right? Let’s just keep letting things get better, and we’ll all just see. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say.
Patrice looks at a pad of paper. “And I have some more news for you from some of my social worker friends.”
I sit up straight and listen.
“They said that they helped Gloria register Krystal with a K with Social Security. They helped Gloria get her to a doctor and to an ophthalmologist. It turns out she needs glasses, just like you.”
“Is Gloria hitting it?” I say.
Patrice bites her lip. “It’s hard to say,” she says. “Hitting doesn’t always leave marks. And there are different kinds of abuse, too, that are harder to detect. But for right now, the social workers didn’t see a reason to remove Krystal fro—”
“Krystal with a K,” I interrupt. I am picking at my hands.
“—Krystal with a K,” says Patrice, “from Gloria’s care. I’m sorry that I don’t have more information than that. But you know, I was hoping we could talk a little more about her today. It must be frustrating to know that she’s still living with Gloria.”
“It is very tedious,” I say.
“I can only imagine,” says Patrice.
“Gloria doesn’t know how to take care of babies.”
Patrice makes a big smile with her teeth and lets out a breath. “Right, well—”
I interrupt. “She doesn’t remember to change diapers. Or give it food.”
Then Patrice interrupts me. “I know Gloria was abusive and neglectful when you were with her,” she says. “You kept Krystal with a K alive. You kept her safe and fed. You were a really good girl, Ginny, and I’m proud of you. But things are different now.”
So I say, “How are things different now? Gloria used to get really, really mad. She forgot to bring food home.”
“I know it,” says Patrice. “I remember how thin you were when we first met at the hospital.”
“They put a needle and tubes in me,” I say. “Plus a cast on my arm. Then they let me eat a lot of food.”
“I’m sorry that you still remember all that,” says Patrice. “It was a scary time. But like I said, things are different now.”
I remember that Patrice didn’t answer my question. So I ask it again. “How are things different now?”
“There are two reasons,” she says. She looks up at the ceiling and counts. “Actually, three.”
I wait.
“The first reason is that Crystal with a C did a good job of taking care of Krystal with a K. She made sure she had plenty of food after you left.”
I wait for the second reason.
“The second reason is what I already told you. There weren’t any marks on little Krystal with a K’s body when she went to the doctor’s,” says Patrice. “The doctor couldn’t find any signs of physical abuse.”
“There were signs on my body,” I say.
Patrice touches her eye. “Yes, there were,” she says. “And now that we know about Krystal with a K, we know why. Little babies cry a lot. You were protecting her.”
“Gloria used to come downstairs to yell and hit when there was too much noise. And Donald—”
And then I stop talking.
Now Patrice is crying. I don’t know why. “You were a good girl, Ginny,” she says. “You kept the baby safe from them. And all this time we didn’t know it. Thank goodness your aunt stepped in and took charge. Did you know she kept the baby for a few months after you left? She took care of little Krystal with a K while Gloria got some help. Then a few years passed, and—”
Patrice stops.
“How many years have passed since you were taken out of the apartment?” she says.
“Five years,” I say.
“Five years?” says Patrice. She is still crying. “Are you sure it’s been that long?”
“Yes,” I say. “Crystal with a C took care of it after I left but now she’s in jail. I need to go keep it quiet or—”
“Ginny,” says Patrice, “it’s time to tell you the third reason. I’m going to tell it to you straight.”
I listen.
Patrice swallows. “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once. I know this is probably the worst possible time for you to have something else
to deal with, but it’s causing you a ton of stress. So I have to tell you.” She stops and her face changes. “Ginny, your Baby Doll is six years old.”
I don’t say anything. I am thinking.
“Does that make sense?” says Patrice.
“My Baby Doll is a baby,” I say.
“No,” says Patrice, “she isn’t. She’s a big girl now. She doesn’t wear diapers anymore. And if there’s food in the apartment, she can get it herself.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true,” I say.
“It is true. A baby who was one year old five years ago needs to be six years old today. Because five years have passed. Right?”
In my brain I check the math.
5 + 1 = 6
But I also know my Baby Doll is way too little to be six.
I shake my head again. “No,” I say. “Crystal with a C said she’ll always be your little baby. It needs me.”
“Ginny, that’s just an expression. Krystal with a K is six.”
“No, she isn’t!”
I cover my face with my hands. Crystal with a C knows I don’t like expressions. She doesn’t lie. She’s the one who tells the truth. If the truth is that my Baby Doll is six then I’m too late to stop all the things that happened to me from happening to it. Because Gloria is completely unreliable and Crystal with a C does her thinking for her.
And now Crystal with a C is in jail.
EXACTLY 5:14 AT NIGHT,
TUESDAY, JANUARY 18TH
“The Special Olympics basketball tournament will be on Sunday, January 23rd,” says Maura. “Then, the day after that, we’re going to Saint Genevieve’s. We’re really hoping you like it. The pictures Sister Josephine sent sure are nice.”
That wasn’t a question so I don’t say anything.
“Ginny?”
“What?” I say.
“Are you...excited about going to Saint Genevieve’s? It will be nice to meet some new kids. Kids who are special like you.”
Ginny Moon Page 20