by Caleb James
“I know. No one wants to touch alumni of the McGuires’ Little House of Horrors.”
“It was a horrible thing. Alex, no child should ever have to go through something like that.”
“But we did.”
I looked at Lorraine. She’d entered our lives four years back. I could still hear Nimby’s words in my ear that pivotal morning: “Push him, Alex. Push him hard.” I did. Sean McGuire’s eyes were forever burned into my memory as his arms flailed, searching for something to grab onto. His fall broken by the crack of his skull on the cement floor.
The days and weeks that followed were a blur. Endless interviews with counselors and doctors. Batteries of tests where I’d been given dolls with genitals and asked prying questions. Had anyone ever done this to me? The worst part was being separated from Alice. I knew what had happened and that she needed me. I’d wanted to kill them all. They’d segregated the boys and the girls in two safe homes. Then more interviews with cameras and one-way mirrors, and a woman judge, and lawyers. At first I thought it was about my having pushed Sean to his death. But that wasn’t it. I’d lied and said he’d slipped on the stairs and fallen. That went unquestioned. It took me awhile to understand the fuss was about something bigger. In the safe home, they didn’t want us to see the news. But it was everywhere—The McGuires’ Little House of Horrors. Dozens of children and young adults coming forward, alleging molestation over more than a dozen years. Film clips of federal agents removing computers filled with child pornography. He’d never touched me; it was little girls—like Alice—that he wanted.
“Alex?” Lorraine’s voice. “You okay?”
“Sure,” I said, far from okay. I stared at my empty teacup. “You want some more?” I glanced at the clock on the stove. “I’ve got to pick up Alice. And then I was going to hit the food pantry… maybe stop by the farmer’s market.”
“I’ll be here,” she said.
I didn’t mean to be rude, but I had to ask, “Why? I really appreciate this, but why are you doing this? It’s not part of your job.”
“I know.” She got up from the table, took my teacup and hers, and brought them to the sink. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something. You take better care of your sister than anyone else ever could or would. I’ve seen the things you do, Alex. How hard you work to keep this family together. It’s not fair.” Her voice cracked as she ran the hot water and rinsed out the mugs. “If I can help even a little… that’s all.”
“There is no fair,” I said. “It’s just a made-up thing.”
She looked at me. There were tears in the corners of her eyes. “I know that, but someone your age shouldn’t.”
Twelve
I WAITED outside the iron gates at Our Lady of the Fig—as Alice called it. I stared at the doors that would soon burst open, spilling out hundreds of navy-and-white uniformed kids. I thought about Lorraine waiting at the apartment in case an OCFS worker showed up. She’d stirred up awful memories. Alice never spoke about what happened to her in that house; she said she couldn’t remember. But she had night terrors, sometimes they’d be so bad and so frequent that she’d refuse to go to bed. But no matter how hard she’d try to stay awake, sleep eventually found her… and with it, the terrors.
I stared at the statue over the stairs. The virgin watching over the children.
“Migraine better?”
My pulse quickened as I turned and met his golden-brown eyes. He pushed his hair off his forehead—it looked so silky. I wondered what it would be like to touch it. He’d probably punch me if I did. Get a grip. He’s got a girlfriend. He’s going to the prom. You have a crush on a straight boy—deal with it. I chuckled, thinking how next time Alice and I played “What’s Wrong,” I could add that to my list.
“What’s the joke?” Jerod asked.
“You know I don’t have a migraine.”
“Duh… one more day and you’ll need a doctor’s note.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow.”
He looked down. “So you didn’t forget about Saturday.”
“No.” I said, wondering what catastrophes would occur between now and then, and realizing I’d probably call and cancel. But right now… it was kind of fun to think maybe I wouldn’t.
Nimby fluttered at my shoulder. “He’s dreamy,” she chattered. “Look at those eyelashes, so long. Look at how he looks at you, Alex. He likes you. He really likes you.”
I bit the inside of my mouth. But I wondered—something crazy May had said—“We don’t lie.” Was Nimby right? Was she mocking me, or did my fairy have better gaydar then I did?
“Alex? You okay?”
“Yeah, just a weird day.”
“Weird good?”
“If only.”
“So? What happened?”
And then the bell rang and the doors burst open. A navy-and-white army poured out, their laughter and end-of-the-day excitement deafening.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he said. “Then you know what….”
I braced for the worst. My life was too complicated to have friends. Not to mention I was seriously crushing on Jerod. A clean break might….
“I’ll make things up.”
It wasn’t what I’d expected. The smile that went with it, straight teeth and something about his lower lip, full… what would those lips feel like? It was him in my dream. Crap!
Nimby kicked my ear, her little foot having the impact of a cotton swab. “Say something!” she shouted.
“Like fill in the blanks?” I felt the air grow heavy, and the chaos of hundreds of excited children seemed far away.
“Just like that.” His gaze fixed on mine. “Let me see… you’re a superhero with secret powers. Clearly you can’t divulge this to just anyone.”
“Clearly.”
“Alex Nevus is the alter ego of….”
I waited for it.
“Avenger Boy.”
“Really? What are my powers?”
“How should I know?” he said. His expression was unreadable, his lips gently parted, half smile, half serious. “But it’s the costume that makes the whole thing,” he added.
“Tell me.”
“I’ll do better than that.” He slipped a backpack strap off one shoulder, and swung it around to his front. He unzipped the top and reached in. He glanced up as he pulled out a spiral-bound artist’s pad. He hesitated. “Here.” He flipped the book open and handed it across.
“Holy shit! You do anime. Really good.” And then I saw me—or the anime me—a really handsome version of me. “Black jeggings, really?”
“They’re bulletproof.” I felt him watching me. His upper teeth biting his lower lip.
“Good to know.” My anime self had a flaming “A” on his chest, broad shoulders with bulging muscles, and shiny blue-black hair that fell in front of the black mask that covered his… my… eyes. Beside him, facing down a circle of thugs, was Alice, only she was dressed like the Lewis Carroll Alice, with a blue dress and white apron with big pockets, from which she was pulling throwing stars. I started to flip pages, watching me—Avenger Boy—and his sidekick—Precious Alice—defeat the bullies who’d been torturing a frightened little boy. “These are amazing,” I said. “Jerod, you are really talented.”
“They’re not that good,” he said.
“Are you crazy? These are like professional work.” It was no lie, each frame filled with action, the characters beautifully drawn and inked. The story was good. The band of thugs was merely the tip of a much more sinister plot by an underworld demon plotting mankind’s overthrow. “So like you’re secretly recording my life?”
“Trying to.”
I flipped back to the book’s beginning. “Really, really good. You do this stuff on the computer too?”
“Yeah….” His voice was pitched low, and I had trouble hearing. “It’s what I want to do… you know, be an artist.”
“My mom’s an artist.” I could have kicked myself. He’d met crazy M
arilyn. This was not what he wanted to hear about his chosen profession.
“I know.”
His response floored me. But as I tried to respond to that, Alice raced over, followed by Jerod’s little brother, Clay.
“How did it go?” Alice asked. Her expression was anxious.
I felt Jerod gently pull his book from my fingers. I didn’t want to let it go, and for a moment, the two of us were connected by the now-closed artist’s pad. “Can I show Alice?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not now… not here. I don’t know why I showed you.”
“Your anime?” Clay asked. “They’re awesome!” The little boy was clearly impressed by big brother. “He gets in trouble for them.”
“Clay, shut up,” Jerod said. “They don’t need to hear that.”
“So what happened?” Alice was punching my elbow. “Tell me.”
I felt Jerod watching us. “Not now,” I said. But the look on her face….
“Alex, I’m dying. Please… it didn’t go well, did it? I can tell. I could feel it.”
Surrounded by screaming kids, I felt exposed, like something under the microscope. No superhero at all, just a scared kid with a more scared little sister.
“Tell me,” she pleaded.
“Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed Alice’s book bag and we all headed north on Mott. I needed a change of subject. “So why do you get in trouble for drawing?” I asked.
Jerod’s easy mood had vanished. His voice sounded ragged. “Tell you what… you answer your sister’s question, and I’ll tell you.”
“Please, Alex,” Alice pleaded. “I’ve felt sick all day. What happened at DSS?”
I looked at Jerod and then at Clay. “We should go,” I said.
“So you don’t even want to walk with us?” Jerod said. He sounded hurt and a little angry.
“It’s….”
“You don’t think we can be trusted.” He filled in the blank. “I get it….” He kicked the ground with the tip of his high-top. “I showed you my art. I don’t do that. Not ever.”
“He doesn’t,” Clay said. “My mom and dad say it’s a waste of time.”
“Shut up, Clay,” Jerod said.
“Alex.” There were tears in Alice’s eyes.
I needed to get her alone before I could tell her. But… why the hell is he looking at me like that? Like he actually cares. “Alice, you don’t care if they know?”
She looked at Jerod and then at Clay. “No. They’re both good with secrets.”
Clay’s mouth gaped, and Jerod gave Alice a questioning look. The little boy blurted, “How do you know that? It’s true, but how do you know?”
Alice seemed perplexed, as though he’d asked her why she had two hands or blonde hair.
“She just does,” I said. I looked at her, knowing that when she made these odd pronouncements, which she’d done ever since she could form words, they were true. Like when we’d been taken from Mom’s custody and put into the McGuires’ House of Horrors. The first thing that came out of her five-year-old mouth when we’d walked up those front steps with our garbage bags full of belongings—“These are bad people.”
“Mom’s in the hospital,” I said. “The lady at the DSS meeting called the ambulance on her when she got loud.”
“There’s more, isn’t there?” Alice asked.
I felt Jerod’s eyes on me but couldn’t look at him. “They’re opening an OCFS case. Lorraine’s at our place in case a worker shows up.”
Alice started to tremble. We were on the south corner of Canal, surrounded by hundreds of people and four lanes of snarled traffic inching forward with the sluggish changing of the lights. She knew what this meant, and there was no way to sugarcoat it. I hugged my little sister; she was shaking. “We’ll get through this. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. Not now. Not ever.”
She pushed her head against my chest. “You can’t stop them, Alex.” Her teeth started to chatter.
“I can. Listen, Alice, nothing is going to happen. Lorraine told them we have an adult in the house, and tomorrow she’ll get Mom released.”
“But they’re going to come. They’re going to see what she’s like. They’re going to say she’s not fit. And there’s no one else. They’re going to take us… they won’t let us stay together.”
I had to stop her. “That’s not true… we’ve got some time. I called Sifu, and he thinks that maybe Thomas would be willing to help out. You’ve got to pull it together, Alice.”
She nodded but couldn’t stop trembling. “What do we do?” she asked.
The walk signal came on. “Come on,” I said, and caught Jerod looking at us. He was holding Clay’s hand. We crossed the street in silence, the two of them a couple feet in front of us.
On the north side, Jerod turned back. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t know.”
I wondered how much he understood. He looked so sad. “Glad you asked?”
“I am.… I think you’re amazing.”
I didn’t know how he’d arrived at that. I just felt desperate and had the familiar sense of trying to run through quicksand.
Alice squeezed my hand and wiped her face with the back of her cardigan sleeve. I thought of Jerod’s anime version of her—Precious Alice—and realized he wasn’t far off. I could see the effort as she pushed away her fears, kind of like the way I could block out Nimby. “We have our own reality show,” she said.
“Really?” Clay asked.
I shook my head at her. “Don’t. They think we’re weird enough.”
She laughed, and like clouds swept from the sky, her blue eyes lit over a smile. “Yes, it’s called Sadly.”
“Don’t.” I was relieved that she’d managed to hold it together but not sure how I felt about sharing one of our twisted little games.
“Today on Sadly—” She looked at Clay and then at Jerod. “—we find Alex and Alice having to deal with their crazy mother being hauled off to the nuthouse.”
“Can we be on your show?” Clay asked.
“It depends,” Alice said. “Our viewers insist on a steady stream of bad news. So what you got?”
Clay pondered as we meandered through the touristy restaurant-lined blocks of Little Italy. He looked up at his brother. “Today on Sadly, Clay and Jerod have to go to dinner with their dad and his new girlfriend, Amber.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Alice remarked. “At least you get to go to a restaurant.”
Jerod shook his head. “She’s twenty-two, my dad is fifty-four….”
“Still,” Alice said. She looked at me. “You shouldn’t judge who people choose to love.”
“Fair enough,” Jerod said. “Today on Sadly, Jerod will have to deal with his father’s twenty-two-year-old girlfriend after she gets drunk and tries to stick her tongue down his throat.”
“Ew.” Alice made a retching noise. “Okay, you can be on our show.”
I knew they were trying to lighten the mood, but talking about reality shows…. I pictured May and her Technicolor kitchen and Mom with her demo spot on pill art. It fell under the header of “speak of the devil.” My cell phone buzzed, and then the harp.
I let go of Alice’s hand, gave her back her bag, and pulled the cell out of my front pocket. I checked the caller ID “It’s the hospital,” I said.
“Maybe they’re letting her out,” Jerod offered.
I took the call. “Hello?”
“Is this Alex Nevus?”
I recognized Kevin the crisis worker’s voice. “Yes.”
“I don’t know how to say this, other than we’re really sorry.”
I braced for it. “What’s happened?”
“Your mother left.”
“What? How? She’s in a locked room, inside a locked ward.”
“They wanted to see how far along she was in the pregnancy. They took her for an ultrasound. There was a sitter with her, but… she got off the table and left.”
“How long ago?”
> “Half an hour.”
“You’re certain she’s not there. Maybe hiding.”
“Security filmed her leaving through the front door. She was wearing scrubs and a lab coat.”
I stood frozen. I thought of the hurriedly put-together plan that had a chance in hell of working. Get her released, Lorraine would vouch for us, and I’d do the song-and-dance I did so well to keep them from taking Alice. With a single—and very typical Marilyn Nevus move—that had been shot to bits.
“Alex?” Kevin’s voice in my ear. “You still there?”
“Which way did she head?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ask security, then call me back. Please.”
“Of course.… I’m really sorry.”
“Not your fault,” I said, knowing they’d seen my mother, passed out from their medications, and never considered she could make a run for it. I hung up.
“She’s gone.” Alice was searching my face.
I nodded.
“We have to find her,” she said. “You did it yesterday. You can do it again, Alex.”
“I tracked the GPS on her cell phone. She doesn’t have it with her.” I pictured the revolving tree sculpture in May’s kitchen. Mom’s cell phone and dozens of others, slowly rotating. I’d not told Alice about yesterday’s trip down the rabbit hole. She had enough to worry about. Having her brother follow in Mom’s footsteps was not something I’d add to her list.
Jerod and Clay had heard it all. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Jerod’s voice was in my right ear where Nimby normally hung out. “Where did she go yesterday?”
“Fort Tyron,” I said, hyperaware of the gentle pressure of his hand.
“You think she’d go back there?”
“It’s possible.” I actually thought it was the odds-on favorite. Unless….
As though reading my thoughts Alice said, “Maybe she went home.”
I pressed our number. “Lorraine?”
“What’s up, Alex?”
“Is Mom there?”
“No. What’s happened?”
I told her.
“This is bad. She could be anywhere.”