by Cash, Wiley
“Okay,” the operator said again. “And where’s your mom right now?”
I gave her the address for our house, and then she asked me Mom’s name.
“Her name’s Corinne Quillby,” I said, “and she’s twenty-nine years old.”
“All right,” the operator said, “and what’s your name?”
“My name?” I looked at Ruby where she stood staring at me, her back still leaned up against the jukebox. I smiled at her. “My name’s Boston Terrier,” I said.
Ruby smiled back. “And I’m Purple Journey,” she whispered.
C H A P T E R 3
I must’ve drifted off to sleep sitting up in my bed, because the next thing I heard was the sound of him tapping on the window outside. Ruby didn’t move, and I figured she was either asleep or pretending to be. I scooted down toward the end of the bed and reached out and unlocked the window and opened it. It was a new window and the frame was made out of plastic, so it slid up easy without making a sound. The window frames in the house we’d lived in with Mom were old and made out of wood. Sometimes we couldn’t get them open no matter how hard we tried. I scooted back toward my pillow and waited for him to climb in.
The windowsill was painted white, and even though it was dark in our room I could see Marcus’s fingers close around it to pull himself up, and I heard the sound his shoes made when they scraped against the side of the house as he climbed up into our room, first one leg and then the other.
“Be quiet,” I whispered.
“I’m trying to,” he whispered back.
Once he’d climbed in all the way he walked right to our closet and stepped inside and closed it behind him. I lay down and covered myself up with the sheet and pretended to be asleep. We always did that in case Miss Crawford or one of the other workers heard him coming in the window and opened our bedroom door to check on me and Ruby. I always imagined hearing somebody’s footsteps coming toward us, the bedroom door opening, and that crack of light coming in the room from the hallway and lying across my bed. “Easter?” one of them would whisper.
I’d stir in my pretend-sleep like they’d just woke me up, and I’d wait a second before saying anything. “What?” I’d say.
“You okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I’d say.
They’d peek in the door, see me and Ruby both in our beds, and decide things looked just fine. That’s what I hoped would happen anyway. I didn’t know what they’d do if they found Marcus Walker hiding in our closet.
I lay there with my eyes closed and waited a few minutes, and then I whispered his name. “I think you can come on out,” I said.
I heard the closet door open slowly, and I could just barely see him as he stepped out and walked toward the bed. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said back.
He might’ve snuck in three or four times before that, and we never did much except whisper to each other and tell stories about our lives and our families. We lay down side by side on the bed together one time, and the last time he’d snuck in we’d given each other a quick pop-kiss before he left. I didn’t know if he was my boyfriend or not, but I thought he might be.
Tonight we sat on my bed with our backs against the wall. Our feet hung off the side of the bed. It looked funny to see my pale white feet beside his black sneakers in the little bit of light coming in the window. He smelled good, and I knew he’d put on some of his dad’s cologne, but I didn’t know what the name of it was. We’d already run out of stuff to talk about, but only because he just wanted to know one thing: who the man was that I’d been talking to at the baseball field.
“His name’s Wade,” I finally said.
“Who is he?” Marcus asked. I took a deep breath to let him know I didn’t want to answer that question; I didn’t want to talk about Wade at all. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “I just thought it was weird.”
We were quiet for a second, and then Marcus’s hand slid across the bed. When I turned my hand over he put his fingers through mine. We just sat there holding hands, neither one of us saying a word.
“He’s my dad,” I finally said. I waited, already knowing what he was going to say.
“You told me you didn’t have a dad,” he said.
I looked over at him. “Maybe I said that just because I don’t want the one I got.”
“What does he do?”
“Who knows,” I said. “He used to be a pitcher a long time ago.”
“Really?” Marcus asked. His voice sounded excited. “Who’d he play for?”
“The Gastonia Rangers,” I said, “and a couple of other teams you’ve probably never heard of.”
“Did he make it to the big leagues?”
“Not even close.”
“Did you ever see him pitch?”
“A couple times when I was real little, but I don’t really remember it.” That was the truth. My clearest memory of going to a Rangers game was the last time Mom took us not long after Ruby was born. Rowdy Ranger, the mascot, was going around to all the kids in the stands and giving them high fives. He had on a white cowboy hat and a black mask over his eyes. When he saw me and Mom, he came trotting down the stairs toward us, but right as he reached out his hand to slap mine he tripped over the last step and spilled my Coke all over Ruby. She was just a little baby, and she wouldn’t stop crying once she got wet. People around us started fussing, trying to give Mom napkins to dry Ruby off, but Mom took one look at Rowdy Ranger and another look at her sopping-wet baby, and she packed up all our stuff and took us right home. That was the last time I’d been to a baseball game.
“Sammy Sosa used to play for the Gastonia Rangers before he got called up to Texas,” Marcus said.
“I know. My dad used to play with him.”
“Wow,” Marcus said.
“Yeah, and I saw Michael Jordan at the Food Lion.”
“Really?” he asked, laughing.
“Of course not,” I said. “I don’t believe a word my dad’s ever told me.”
“Sosa hit another one tonight against the Giants,” he said. “That’s forty-nine.”
“He’s still two behind McGwire.”
“I know,” he said, “but he’ll catch him.”
My palm had started to sweat, and I thought about turning Marcus’s hand loose, but then I felt his thumb rub mine real gently, and I decided that it felt nice no matter how sweaty my hand got.
“Do you think your dad will try to get you back?” he asked.
“He might,” I said. “But I don’t think he can, and I don’t want to go with him if he does.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a long story,” I said. Then I said, “He told me today that he’s afraid somebody’s going to adopt us soon just because we’re white.”
Marcus sat there and didn’t say nothing, but I could tell he was thinking about what I’d said. “He’s probably right, you know,” he finally said. “I bet y’all would have a better chance of getting adopted because of that.” We were quiet for a minute. Then Marcus whispered, “Did you tell him anything about your grandparents?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t want to think about that. Not yet anyway.”
“I know,” Marcus said. “I don’t want to think about that either.” He squeezed my hand, and I squeezed his back. “But what if you have to go?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “We don’t even know them. We’ve never met them. It’s kind of like they’re not even real.” I looked over at Ruby and thought about what she’d said earlier about us going to Alaska. “There ain’t no way it would be a good idea for us to just show up in Alaska.”
“So what’s your plan?” he asked.
I leaned my head against the wall and smiled. “You really want to know?”
“Yes,” he said.
I closed my eyes and told him that I’d do whatever I could to make sure that me and Ruby stayed in the home until I was eighteen because then I’d be able to adopt her and take her with me
wherever we wanted to go.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“College,” I said. I told him that I wanted to take Ruby with me and get her in a school near the college. We’d both go to class all day, and at night I could get a job because Ruby would be old enough to stay home by herself.
“You think you can take her with you to college?” he asked. “Think she could live with you in the dorm?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “We could get a little place of our own so we wouldn’t have to live with anybody else. Besides,” I said, “I’m sick of living with other people anyway.”
“My cousin Janae goes to Gaston College,” he said. “She’s got a little girl who’s three. They have an apartment.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but that’s just community college. That’s just right down the road.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “I just want to go to a real college. The kind you have to pack up and leave home for.”
He asked me what I wanted to go to school for, and I told him that I wanted to be a police officer because it was the easiest way to explain it. I didn’t tell him that I really wanted to be in the FBI.
“I think you’d be a good cop,” he said. “I wouldn’t mess with you.”
“You’d better not,” I told him. “I’d throw the cuffs on you.”
He laughed, and then he unlaced his fingers from mine and put his hand in his lap. “Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Why do you only talk to me when I come over here at night?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You don’t ever talk to me anywhere else,” he said. “You won’t even hardly look at me: not at school, not after school. It’ll probably be the same way on Monday too.”
I didn’t know what to say because I hadn’t thought about it before, and I didn’t know how to explain myself.
“You wouldn’t even let me meet your dad today,” he said.
“That doesn’t mean nothing,” I said. “Nobody’s met him. I don’t hardly know him.”
“But you’ve met my mom and dad,” he said.
“One time,” I said. “I met them one time after school, and you didn’t even tell them I’m your girlfriend.”
“Are you?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure.”
“You wouldn’t think so by how you act.”
“I just don’t want nobody knowing my business,” I said.
“That means you just don’t want them knowing about me.”
“That’s not what it means.”
“Whatever,” he said. He climbed down from the bed.
“Where you going?” I asked.
“I have to go,” he said. “I’ve been here too long anyway.” He slid the window open and put his hands on the windowsill. He stood there, bent over, looking outside like he was waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. I’d been wondering if we’d kiss again when he left, and when it looked like we wouldn’t it made me realize how bad I’d wanted to. “Maybe I’ll see you at school,” he said. He put his foot outside and sat on the sill, and then he lifted his other foot through and slid out. I heard him drop to the ground.
C H A P T E R 4
Marcus didn’t come back to my window the next night or Sunday night either, and I didn’t see him at school on Monday because we weren’t in the same class. After school was over, he must’ve gone straight home because he didn’t hang around and play kickball with us like he usually did. He didn’t have to stay after school like me and Ruby. His mom usually got off work before he got home, and even if she didn’t he was allowed to be at home by himself. Most kids my age were, but not me. None of the kids from the home could be there without Miss Crawford or one of the other workers, so we had to hang around after school until someone came to pick us up in the van.
By Friday, I was half convinced I’d never see Marcus again. I told myself that if I ever did see him I’d tell everyone I knew that he was my boyfriend: Ruby, Miss Crawford, even Wade if he ever decided to show up again.
Saturday morning, after breakfast, Ruby hung out with some of the little kids and watched cartoons in the TV room. I stayed in our room and stared at the wall with a Nancy Drew mystery, The Case of the Disappearing Diamond, open on my lap, trying to figure out all the things Marcus could be thinking.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate enough to solve the mystery with Nancy if I was just going to sit there and think about something else while listening to the little kids laugh at cartoons a few rooms over, so I climbed off my bed and walked toward the office to ask Miss Crawford if she’d sign me on to one of the computers.
There were two computers in the study room for playing games and getting on the World Wide Web. I didn’t ever have any reason to get on the Web, but I liked hearing the loud, fuzzy sound of the phone line dialing. I thought that voice saying,“you’ve got mail,” was pretty neat, even though I’d never gotten an e-mail myself. I’d never had a reason to send one either. I liked getting on the computer for one thing only: Oregon Trail. I’d name two of the pioneers after me and Ruby and play for hours, and once the rest of them died off I’d pretend that it was just me and her in that wagon, shooting at turkeys and deer and floating across rivers on our way out West.
I walked past the computer room and peeked in to make sure one of the computers was open. A boy named Travis who was a few years younger than me was sitting at one of them. I couldn’t tell what he was looking at, but he had on earphones and I could hear rap music playing from where I stood; he nodded his head to the beat.
Hopefully somebody wouldn’t claim that other computer before I could get back, and I walked down the hall to the office; it was through a door just off the kitchen.
When I got closer I could hear a man’s voice, and I stopped in the kitchen and listened at the door. Miss Crawford was talking too, and she was being stern with somebody. Her voice sounded just like she looked: skinny and tough. She was old and had gray hair, but all of us knew she meant business, and nobody messed with her.
“Listen,” she said, “I ain’t the person you need to be talking to.” A file cabinet slid open, and I heard her take something out and slide the drawer closed.
“But they’re my kids,” the man’s voice said. I recognized it immediately; it was Wade. He sounded nervous and scared, completely different from how he’d acted when we’d seen him at the baseball field the week before.
“Not in the eyes of the court they ain’t,” Miss Crawford said. “Not legally. Their files say you gave them up in 1996, and you don’t get them back just because their mama died. You can’t just show up after school like you did or come over here on a Saturday morning and try to see them.”
“But when I signed that paper they said there was some kind of provision that gave me visitation rights. I remember that. I remember that from when I signed it.”
“There might’ve been,” Miss Crawford said. “That’s something you’re going to have to ask the judge about. Or you can contact their guardian ad litem, Brady Weller. Here’s his card.”
When I heard Brady Weller’s name I immediately pictured him. Me and Ruby had met him a couple times. The first time was the morning we woke up in the home after we’d moved in the night before. He was waiting for us in the living room with Miss Crawford. She told us who he was, and then she led us to the dining room table and left us alone. Brady was tall with short blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was older than Mom, but as soon as I saw him I couldn’t help but wish that she’d been friends with guys like Brady Weller instead of Calico. He set a couple of folders on the table in front of him, but he didn’t open them. I think he would’ve smiled at us if we’d been anybody else, but he seemed to know we probably wouldn’t feel like smiling back. “How do y’all like your new room?” he asked, leaning forward and putting his hands on the table.
Me and Ruby just sat there staring at the table. But then she looked up at me, and then she looked at Brady. “Our mom’s dead,” she finally said. Her eyes started filling up with tears.
Brady reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “I know,” he said. “And I was awfully sorry to hear that. But this is a good place to be. Miss Crawford’s really nice, and she’s really excited about y’all being here. And I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”
Wade had gotten quiet on the other side of the door, and he must’ve been looking down at Brady’s card.
“Why do I even have to call anybody?” he asked. “They’re my kids.”
“I know that, Mr. Chesterfield,” Miss Crawford said. “But there’s just nothing else I can do for you.”
I imagined Wade staring at Miss Crawford with a look in his eyes that begged her to do anything she could do to help him. She must’ve seen the look I had in mind, because she said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Chesterfield, but this is just the way things have to be.”
“I get it,” he finally said. “But I don’t have a lot of time on my hands.”
“I understand,” she said.
“So just let me see them today,” he said. “I’m not asking for much. Just a few minutes. That’s all.”
Miss Crawford interrupted him. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do that. I probably shouldn’t tell you what I’m about to tell you, but I want you to understand this situation. We’ve been in contact with the girls’ grandparents in Alaska, and they’re working really hard to adopt these girls, and so far they’ve done everything right, everything the court’s asked of them.”
“Well, that’s just great,” Wade said. “You need to know that those people haven’t ever laid eyes on these girls, not once in their whole lives. But me, I’m here. I want them. They’re my girls.”
“I understand,” Miss Crawford said. “But that’s not how the law works.”
“I know how the law works,” Wade said. “And I know it never works for people like me.” He was quiet for a second, and then his voice came out in a whisper. “Are you going to send my girls to Alaska?”