Ginny Moon

by Benjamin Ludwig

  “All right, let’s just start over. I can’t come get you at the house, and I can’t come get you at school. By the way, it was great to see you when I came there in September. But I can’t believe how fast those bastards called the police.”

  I nod. “Yes,” I say. “There was a lot of drama. I saw you standing next to the Green Car. I stood at the window and slapped the glass. Then I had to go see Patrice.”

  “Patrice? That’s that therapist lady, right? I’m surprised she’s still in the picture.”

  In my brain I see my picture of Michael Jackson. He is dancing on the stage and holding his hat and standing on his tippy-toes. “She’s not,” I say.

  “But you just said you went to see her.”

  “I did go to see her,” I say.

  “All right, listen,” says Gloria. “We need to focus. We need to find a way to get you the hell out of there. And I think we’re thinking way too hard about it. It needs to be smoother. Simpler. So here’s what we’ll do. Go home. Just go back, I mean. Then on Monday when you get off the bus at school, don’t go inside. Just walk down the sidewalk as fast as you can, and when you get to the corner, cross the street. I’ll meet you right there at Cumberland Farms. Then we’ll make a run for it.”

  “A run for what?” I say.

  “For the border.”

  “On Monday, January 24th?”

  “Yes. I think so. Today is Tuesday, so that’s just six days from now, right? I know that seems like an awfully long time to wait, but I need some time to get things in order. The hard part will be giving the social workers the slip. They won’t leave me alone.”

  “I can’t go on Monday, January 24th,” I say. “That’s when I’m going to Saint Genevieve’s Home for Girls Who Aren’t Safe.”

  “Saint Genevieve’s Home for—what?” says Gloria. “What do you mean?”

  “Brian and Maura are bringing me down to Connecticut on Monday,” I say. “To visit Saint Genevieve’s Home for Girls Who Aren’t Safe.”

  “Are you going to school at all that day?”

  “No.”

  “It won’t work, then. We need to do it on a day when you’re at school. What about Tuesday?”

  I nod my head yes and now I am even more excited. I feel like my brain isn’t in my head anymore. I feel like it is floating around in the air. “Yes,” I say. “On Tuesday, January 25th, I will go to school. The day after I get back from Saint Genevieve’s. Two days after the Special Olympics basketball tournament. Will you have my Baby Doll in the car?” Then my brain makes me remember that she wants me to go to Cumberland Farms. Which is at the end of the road that goes to school on the other side of the street. “But I’m not allowed to cross the street by myself.”

  “Oh, come on,” says Gloria. “You can figure out how to cross the street. You won’t have to do what those people say anymore, so you can just wait for all the cars to stop and then run across. Don’t you want to come home with me and Krystal with a K?”

  “I want to pick it up and let it chew on my finger and get it something to eat,” I say.

  Gloria starts to laugh. Then she stops. “Wait. You want to—”

  “Pick it up and let it chew on my finger,” I say, “and get it something to eat.”

  “Okay,” she says. Very slowly. “We’ll talk about that some other time. But right now I think we really need to stop talking so you can go back and get ready. For our little rendezvous. With a little luck, no one will even know you were gone. Sneak back in, if you have to. And then this week make sure no one sees what you’re packing. Get all your money together, if you have any. Put some clothes and all your favorite things in your backpack or whatever you carry to school, and be sure to hide the cell phone. Actually, no—it would be better if you got rid of the phone completely. Turn it off and throw it in the woods. And then if you could get a few new phones, that would be great, too. You can never have enough phones when you’re on the run. The police can trace them sometimes, so it’s good to use each one once and then get rid of it. And remember to bring the money. And it’s extremely important that you not tell anyone what you’re doing. Don’t let anyone know that you called me and that we talked. If anyone finds out, none of this will work, right? Do you think you can remember all that?”

  Gloria doesn’t like to hear the word no so I nod my head yes even though it is way too much to remember.

  “Have you ever dyed your hair before? We’ll have to move fast as soon as you get in the car, but we should probably dye your hair. I’ll stash my car somewhere to throw the cops off our trail. Point is, I’ll be driving something else. Then we’ll ditch that and get on a bus. It’s going to be tricky while we’re still in the States, but once we get across the border, it will be easier. It’s so much easier to hide up there in Canada. I already know a place where we can stay, and then after the dust settles, we can start to build a new life, just me and my two girls, just like we’re supposed to.”

  “And I’ll take excellent care of my Baby Doll.”

  Gloria laughs. “Right. Like I said, we gotta talk about that sometime. Shit, you’ve been through a lot. I can’t believe—No. We have to stop talking now, or you’re going to get caught. So let’s say goodbye, and then I want you to start walking back to the house. When we hang up, you should turn the phone off and then throw it as far into the woods as you can, okay? Then go back inside. Like I said, with a little luck, no one will even know that you were gone. And wait—did you say you had a tournament coming up?”

  I nod my head yes. “On Sunday, January 23rd. It’s in the gym.”

  “Sunday in the gym. Got it. All right, then. Is there anything else you want to say before we hang up?”

  I think. “No,” I say.

  “Great. So remember, get as much money as you can, and a few phones, and then walk straight to Cumberland Farms on Tuesday when you get off the bus. That’s where we’ll have our little rendezvous. Be sure to walk, nice and steady. Don’t go slinking around all careful. People notice that sort of thing. Walk with purpose, okay?”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Good,” she says. “Now let’s say goodbye. I love you, Ginny.”

  “Goodbye,” I say. Then I press the red button on the phone and I stop walking.

  I look around at where I am. It is darker than ever now and the road is still sandy and so are my pants and there are piles of snow on the side of the road. Everything is black and white and colder than it was before. So cold that I can’t feel my fingers when I pick at them.

  The time is 6:03. I shut the phone off and throw it deep into the woods where no one will find it. Then I turn around and keep walking back to the Blue House.

  EXACTLY 3:31 IN THE AFTERNOON,

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 19TH

  I am in Patrice’s office again sitting in the flower chair. Agamemnon is lying in a sunbeam on the carpet near the heat register. His eyes are closed but sometimes he moves his tail back and forth.

  I take a bite of graham cracker.

  “What are you thinking, Ginny?” says Patrice.

  “I am thinking about Agamemnon,” I say.

  “What about him?”

  “He isn’t hiding today.”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “His tail is moving but his eyes are shut.”

  Patrice looks. Agamemnon’s tail twitches from right to left. “You’re right,” she says. “Sometimes animals do that. They look like they’re asleep, but their minds are moving. In his dreams Agamemnon might be chasing a mouse.”

  “Or a chipmunk,” I say. “Or a squirrel.” Because I remember that the Maine coons were great hunters.

  Patrice stands up. She picks up Agamemnon and turns to me. “Is it all right if I put him on your lap?”

  I nod my head yes. I haven’t held a cat in a lo
ng, long time. I wonder if I remember how to do it. The last alive thing I held was my Baby Doll. Five years ago when I picked it up to put it in the suitcase. Then before I can think any more Patrice puts Agamemnon on my lap. His head is near my knees. I put my arms around his sides. With my right hand I start to pet him. He purrs.

  My eyes are wet. It is hard to see.

  “There,” says Patrice. “Now, that’s a surprise, isn’t it? You’re pretty good at holding cats. Now the two of you can get to know each other. He’ll just keep on dreaming, if you let him. I wonder if we could talk about what happened last night. Brian and Maura tell me that they found you climbing back into your window.”

  I wipe my eyes and go back to petting Agamemnon. “I went outside,” I say.

  “Yes, I’d gathered that,” says Patrice. “They said that you wouldn’t tell them why, though. They said that you had your backpack with you, and your DVD player and fourteen movies inside it.”

  “I am fourteen years old,” I say.

  “Right. You’re fourteen years old, so of course that’s how many movies you would bring. Did you watch a movie while you were outside?”

  “I was going to watch The Sound of Music but then I didn’t.”

  “What made you stop?”

  I make sure my mouth is closed tight. I think. And keep moving my hands deep in Agamemnon’s fur.

  “I’m going to wait until you’re ready to answer,” says Patrice. She picks up some blue-and-white yarn from a basket next to her chair. There are two long silver needles in the yarn. She starts to knit. “But I’ll ask the question again in case you forgot it. What made you stop watching the movie?”

  “I got angry,” I say. And clamp my hand over my mouth.

  The knitting needles make a clicking sound. “I see,” says Patrice. “I bet you were angry about the conversation you’d just had with Brian and Maura. What was it about?”

  I am shocked. Because she gave me the thing I have to say and it’s true, mostly. Now I can just say it. I take my hand away and breathe. “They’re going to bring me to visit the home for girls who aren’t safe,” I say.

  Patrice starts nodding her head. “Saint Genevieve’s. And you don’t want to go there?”

  I think. Then I say, “No, I don’t want to go there.”

  “It sounds like you got angry about having to leave the Blue House, and so you needed to get away for a little while to be by yourself. Have you thought about telling Brian and Maura that you’re angry and that you don’t want to go?”

  I am confused. “No,” I say.

  “Well, maybe you should. When you tell people that you’re angry, or that you don’t want to do something, then it shows that you care. And that’s what they’ve wanted all along, Ginny. Brian and Maura want to know that you like living with them. That you’d miss them if you had to go away. That it’s worth trying to get you to stay. The only thing they’ve seen you care about since you contacted Gloria on Facebook is your sister. About Krystal with a K, I mean. Now, that’s understandable, considering the circumstances, but aside from that, you haven’t shown anyone that you care about anything. You haven’t shown any interest in staying at the Blue House at all. I mean, your behavior has gotten a lot better, but you still don’t seem to want to stay.”

  What this means is that Patrice doesn’t know anything about the reason I climbed out the window. She isn’t going to talk about Gloria or phones at all.

  I smile.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  I want to clamp my hand over my mouth but I don’t. I don’t need to.

  “Ginny, I asked why you’re smiling.”

  “We are going to the Special Olympics basketball tournament on Sunday, January 23rd,” I say. Because it’s true even if it isn’t the answer to Patrice’s question.

  “That’s great,” says Patrice. “I think it’s great that you’ve kept up with all the practices each week, even while Brian was in the hospital. I know he’s glad to be home. Are you still glad he’s home, too?”

  I nod my head yes.

  “Good,” says Patrice. “You and Brian have a special bond. It will be hard to go away to Saint Genevieve’s and leave him behind, don’t you think?”

  I think. Then I nod my head yes.

  “I bet you’ll miss the way he used to take you sledding, and all the fun you had going to the lake this past summer.”

  That still wasn’t a question so I still don’t say anything.

  “You won’t be able to do any of those things if you move to Saint Genevieve’s. How does that make you feel?”

  I start picking at my fingers. I know what she wants me to say. There is only one answer that will make her happy and the answer is true even though I never have time to think about it. “It makes me feel sad,” I say.

  Patrice keeps knitting. “I wonder if we could write down just how sad it makes you feel,” she says. “You know, on a piece of paper. I could do the writing for you, if you like. We could write a little note to Brian telling him how much you’re going to miss him. But Brian isn’t the only one in the Blue House who you’ll miss, I bet.”

  “I’ll miss Maura and Baby Wendy too,” I say.

  “Of course you will,” Patrice says. “Should we write to them all in the same note? Or do you think that we should write separate notes to each of them?”

  But that was two questions. In my brain I see my Baby Doll on one side of the equal sign and on the other I see Brian and Maura and Baby Wendy. But one does not equal three at all. One is less than three, like this:

  1 < 3

  I can’t miss Brian and Maura and Baby Wendy as much as my Baby Doll because my Baby Doll needs me a lot more than they do. Because they’re safe. No one will hit them or hurt them. Brian and Maura and Baby Wendy don’t need me. So really one is greater than three this time even though the math isn’t right. Because taking care of my Baby Doll is greater than everything. Even math.

  “What are you thinking, Ginny?” says Patrice’s voice.

  “I am thinking about my Baby Doll,” I say without moving my head or eyes.

  “Yes, well, I think we should probably talk about that a little, as well. I heard from my social worker friends again.”

  I come up fast out of my brain. I look straight at her. Agamemnon grips my leg with his paws.

  “They let me know that they’ve been having some meetings with Gloria, and the doctors who’ve been looking at Krystal with a K say she’s losing weight.”

  “That’s because Crystal with a C is in jail,” I say. “She knows how to take care of it.”

  “You may be right,” says Patrice. “The social workers are doing the best they can to help Gloria be a better mom. But—”

  I interrupt. “Is she hitting it?”

  “Not that anyone can tell. But—”

  “Is she changing its diaper?” I say. “Is she staying with it at night?”

  Agamemnon jumps down on the floor. He runs out of the room.

  “Ginny, I knew this news would be surprising to you, but I need you to stay calm and listen. I have more to say.”

  I grab the arms of the chair tight and wait.

  “The social workers said that if Krystal with a K doesn’t stop losing weight, they’re going to have to take her out of the apartment. They’re going to have to take her away from Gloria.”

  Everything stops. In my brain I remember the first time the police came. The day the first Forever started. The whole thing all at once. The knocking and yelling. The flashing lights.

  I shake my head and look at my watch and come back up again. “When are the police coming?” I say.

  “I don’t know yet,” says Patrice. “And remember, it’s not definite. It’s a possibility, if things don’t improve.”

  “When will you
know?”

  “Again, I’m not sure,” says Patrice. “Probably sooner than later, though. We should know something by the end of this week. Maybe even this weekend.”

  I pick at my fingers. I stand. Then I sit again. Then I stand up and stay standing.

  “Ginny, do you want to have a beverage?” says Patrice.

  “No,” I say. “I want—”

  I stop talking. I shut my mouth tight, tight, tight.

  “Brian and Maura wanted me to share these things with you,” says Patrice. “They think you have a right to know. And I agree with them. I know it’s hard to hear that Krystal with a K isn’t doing well, but I hope you see that people are doing something about it. The social workers are involved, and if it comes to it, they’ll do their best to place her in a good home.”

  “Will I be able to go see it?”

  “I’m not sure, but when you’re at Saint Genevieve’s, you’re going to be pretty far away. The social workers try to place children locally, when they can. If you’re in Connecticut, visits will be tough. Krystal with a K will be in foster care until a judge decides whether or not reunification is possible, and then—” She stops. “So it’s a big mess, and I know you’re going to want to be around to get updates. Now, if you tell me that you want to stay at the Blue House, I can help you work toward that. But we need to tell these things to Maura and Brian. So let’s write that letter, okay? We need to make it clear how much you’ll miss everyone. How much you care. And above all, we can’t have any more incidents. No more running off into the woods or running away. You have to stay put.”

  I don’t know what stay put means. I don’t understand it at all but Patrice already has paper out and a pen. She tells me to say what I want to say while she writes it. So I start talking in my brain. I talk fast in my brain and then talk very, very slowly. So that I’m not telling any lies. It is extremely hard and tedious to do.

  But I have to do it.

  Patrice writes and writes and then she reads it back to me.

  Dear Maura and Brian and Baby Wendy,

  I don’t want to go to Saint Genevieve’s Home for Girls Who Aren’t Safe. I’m guessing I want to stay put instead even though I don’t really understand what that means. But I promise while I’m here I won’t tell any more lies with my mouth. I won’t have any more incidents. I won’t get into fights at school. I will not steal things. Every time you see me I will be a very good girl.