Jo chuckled. “He’s always been a nice looking boy.”
I swatted her shoulder. “I’m telling him you have a crush on him.”
She turned her head to look at me. “No, don’t do that.” Turning back around she whispered, “Because he looks just like his grandfather and I did have a crush on him.” Her gaze panned her room. “Look where that got me.”
I looked, too, at the abundance of landscapes and the absence of faces. She didn’t even have family pictures scattered around like a normal person.
“Do you want to talk about that?” I unbraided half her hair so I could braid it again, giving her time to talk. I was extremely curious about this love triangle involving Henry’s grandparents.
“I shouldn’t. We never know when the Whitmires will show up here. And you’re practically part of that family now.”
“But I’m your friend,” I said. “And if you need to talk about anything, you can trust me.”
We were quiet for a long moment. And then she gasped like she was strangling.
“At night,” she started. “At night, I feel like I’m going to float up out of here. And my mind….” She held a shaky hand up to her temple. “I feel so dizzy even lying there on my back. Like my head is filled with sand and it’s draining out of my ears.”
She turned and held my hands. “One of these days, you’ll come by and I won’t know who you are. I feel it coming and, as hard as I try to concentrate, things just dissolve right in front of my eyes. They just swirl away like mist. I’m not sure where I am sometimes in my own house.” She leaned toward me like she was sharing her deepest secrets.
My heart twisted inside me. “Jo, maybe you need to hire someone to stay here with you. All the time now. All the time—”
But she ignored me and rushed on. “Sometimes, I go to my studio and I paint things I can’t even imagine. And I feel so hollow. Like I’m hungry. I swallowed some dry paint pigment because I thought it was food. I had powder all over me and in me. And it’s poison, Meg. But if I told someone else, they’d think I wanted to die and they’d put me in a straightjacket.” She swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t be able to paint.”
I thought of the dream I’d had after I met Jo—the one where she’d been reaching for me, her lips covered in brown dust. Paint pigment.
“Let’s go to town,” Jo said. “Take me to eat dinner at the hotel.”
I sucked in a breath and stared at her for a minute. Here she sat, her hair still wet, although neatly braided, wearing an old Kiss sweatshirt, the one with the red mouth and tongue, red sweatpants, and ridiculous red pumps with black scuffs on the toes and heels.
And she wanted me to take her to the Hotel Wyoming, where the rich tourists hung out. I smiled. Because it was possibly the greatest thing I’d ever heard. “Yeah, let’s go to the hotel. Grab your purse and I’ll find your coat.”
***
While Jo locked up, I sat in the Jeep blasting the heat and texting Thanet—
Meet me at the hotel dining room for dinner with Jo. You’ve GOT to meet her. She’s wearing KISS.
He texted back quickly—Abby and Quinn are here. Hold on.
My stomach lurched a little. Quinn’s invitation to the winter formal had blown me away. Who asks a girl to a dance this far in advance, anyway? I hadn’t responded then and he hadn’t given up. He’d left notes in my locker and bugged Thanet about it. He’d even pulled out the big guns and convinced Thanet to ask Abby. Now we’re all supposed to go together.
I’d reminded Thanet that he was Henry’s best friend.
“We’ll check it out with Henry,” he’d said. “It’ll be okay because you’re just friends with Quinn and it’s your senior year.”
My phone vibrated as Jo sat down in the passenger seat—Good news. We’re all meeting you there. Booyah!
***
My dad greeted us at the front desk, where he’d been talking to the night manager.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “I saw Thanet and your friends at one of the back tables.”
“Okay,” I said. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Jo Russell.”
Dad took her small hand in both of his and smiled his most charming smile, complete with one dimple. The one that probably melted my mom’s heart the first time he used it on her. “Ms. Russell, it’s a pleasure. I’m Jack Kavanagh.”
Jo actually looked ten years younger as her face softened into a… flirt. I looked away before my eyeballs ignited.
“Meg’s a good girl, Jack,” Jo said, feisty as always. “Lousy in the kitchen. But a good girl otherwise.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Have you tried her PB&J?”
Jo’s laugh sounded like a wheezy cartoon dog. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand. I shook my head at Dad, took Jo’s arm, and steered her toward the dining room. Dad chuckled as we walked away.
Thanet, Quinn, and Abby watched us as I tried to send a silent message to Thanet and Quinn about minding their manners. When we got closer, the boys surprised me by standing up.
Thanet looked awkward, but Quinn seemed comfortable being the irresistible 1940s gentleman. He lifted his chin at me, grinned, and pulled Jo’s chair out for her. He waited patiently for her to sit before he slid her closer to the table.
Flustered, I took the other empty seat and smiled at Thanet, who seemed happier than I’d ever seen him.
“Show of hands,” Jo said. “Which one of you asked Meg to the dance?”
I elbowed her for opening her big mouth. Now Quinn knew I’d given it enough thought to discuss it with Jo.
One corner of his mouth tugged up in a cocky grin. “That’d be me, Ms. Russell. Is she excited?”
“Hey, Meg,” Thanet said. “Quinn and I are renting a limo for all of us.”
I must have looked horrified because Quinn jumped in to explain. “He’s kidding. It’s a joke.”
Quinn scooted his chair away from the table a little and crossed one long leg over the other. He caught my gaze and shook his head the tiniest bit. “Kavanagh,” he said. “Relax. I asked you to the dance as a friend. I have a girlfriend in Rhode Island, anyway.”
Abby cleared her throat and looked at Quinn like he was crazy.
“What, Abby?” he said. “Reed and I are talking again.”
“Reed stole your favorite CastleLights shirt and burned it in our front yard the night before we left,” Abby said. “She’s half the reason Mom and Dad wanted to move. If you’re talking to her again, I’m telling.”
Thanet nudged my leg under the table and mouthed, “See? He has Reed.”
I frowned at him, wishing he could hear what I was thinking. Like the fact he has a stalker girlfriend back home makes this hunky dory?
I tugged Thanet’s hand from his mouth and said, “Stop chewing on your fingernails.”
Thanet, red-faced and frustrated that I’d called attention to his nasty little habit in front of Abby, glared at me while pointing at Quinn. “He likes you.”
Jo’s crooked smile grew bigger.
“Can we do this again tomorrow?” she whispered. To all of us.
TWENTY
henry
Laundry duty depressed the heck out of me. I didn’t mind the work. I didn’t even mind the mounds of stinking socks and underwear. My thoughts went south during the folding because I got to see how thin and full of holes the clothes were. No matter how clean I got things, they were still stained. These were clothes Americans would toss in the trash immediately or use as cleaning rags, but we had to make them last a bit longer.
Back home, kids at my high school were plugging in their electronics every night and putting on their Hollister t-shirts every morning. Not that I could talk. I had everything I ever needed plus a hundred thousand acres of Wyoming ranchland.
But every day here was full of need and hunger and, as hard as I worked to keep the wolf from the door, I knew I was nearly out of ammunition.
I heard a squeal from the playground that mad
e me search through the window to make sure it was a happy one and not a fight breaking out. The kids were taking a break from their schoolwork, unaware of anything lacking in their lives at the moment.
My back pocket, where I’d stashed my phone, buzzed with a text.
I love you, Henry Whitmire.
Ah, Meg. I’d been so swamped here that our conversations had been reduced to one-liners. She deserved more.
Babe. I love you, too. Call me when you get out of school.
I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and took an envelope from another pocket. This morning, when I was beginning to wonder how I would make this Christmas meaningful, we got a check in the mail from a church in Tennessee that wasn’t one of our regular supporters.
I made sure Sam and Janice had things under control and then I left for Casa Magna Mercado in San Isidro to buy presents for the kids. I chose that market because it had a little of everything and because Raf had recently started a job in one of the shops. I could do a little ghosting to make sure he’d picked up a work ethic worthy of a Quiet Waters kid.
Men loitered around the opening to the market, either out of work or waiting for their wives. They tipped their hats at me as I walked toward the entrance.
“It’s too hot to shop for Christmas,” I said to an old guy. He just smiled and nodded so I tried again. “Hace mucho calor en su bonita ciudad.”
“Ah, sí,” he said.
Earlier, I’d scrawled a list of what I wanted to buy each kid and, after two hours of shopping, I’d found nearly everything I’d wanted for them. I decided to lock it all in the truck cab and find Raf in the jewelry shop where he worked.
I could see him from a distance, so I paused and watched him. He cleaned the glass cases, head down, face blank and bored. I chuckled a little at the sight of Raf being all responsible. He’d probably relieve me of my face if he knew I was watching.
Thirty seconds into the show, a man, who appeared to be el jefe, shuffled up behind Raf, watched him work for a second, and slapped the back of his head. Raf hardly flinched. He had this look on his face that told me this wasn’t the first time it had happened. He stopped what he was doing and listened to what the man said, then disappeared into the back of the store at a fast clip.
The boneheaded boss leaned back against the glass counter, putting greasy palm prints all over what Raf had just cleaned, and stood waiting. After a second, Raf reappeared, this time carrying a push broom which he started using, scrubbing down the concrete floor from the back of the store to the front door.
The only sign he’d been pushed nearly to his limit was a tic in his jaw I could see clearly from this distance. That was the sign of an intelligent guy holding himself under control.
I started moving swiftly across the mall corridor to the jewelry shop. Raf saw me coming, stopped sweeping, and let his mouth fall open like it was unhinged. He must have seen the don’t even try to stop me heat flashing in my eyes because he actually stepped aside, blending himself right into the wall.
El jefe cabrón stepped forward when he saw the American enter, all smiles and jacked up charm, ready to empty my pockets of every last cent.
“¿Cómo puedo ayúdele, señor?” he said.
“Do you speak English?” I said, close enough now to be in his grill. Nicaraguans use an odd measure for personal space, though, so my crowding didn’t seem to bother him.
“Un poco.” He rocked his hand and smiled wide enough to show too many gold caps.
“You get a kick out of hitting kids? Smacking around the people that work for you? ¿Entienda?”
I’d assumed I’d be able to intimidate an apology out of him. Or get him to grovel a bit at Raf’s feet. What happened next was a blow to my system. El jefe, whose nametag read Carlos Vallejos, straightened to his full height, possibly five-foot-ten, and laughed. It took him several seconds to rein himself in. When he did, he started the fast snapping gesture Latin American males did when they felt cocky.
“I know you, Mister Whitmire,” he said. “I know about your home here. I know you will not be here much longer. And I know this boy comes from nothing and he’s heading nowhere.”
He turned his icy glare onto Raf and cut his hand through the air. “Estás despedido,” he said, waving Raf out of the store like an annoying gnat. Raf untied the apron he’d been wearing, then laid it and the broom across a counter. He ducked out of the store and I turned my attention back to Vallejos.
“You don’t know anything about Rafael, where he’s been, or where he’s going.”
Vallejos smiled again and shook his head. “El niño messed up when he bothered mi hija. You ask him about that, okay? My daughter is a sweet girl. You have sweet girls staying at Quiet Waters, no?”
What the heck had Raf stirred up this time? The physical markers of anxiety came online in my body. I had to get back to Quiet Waters, find out what Raf was involved in, and shut things down. I shuffled Raf to the truck without saying much and drove like the hounds of hell were on my tail.
Halfway home, I started looking for answers. “Tell me about the man’s daughter, Raf.”
“What about her?”
Slowly, with each word threaded through gritted teeth, I repeated my question.
“She’s just this girl. I met her one night and I didn’t know she was the boss’s daughter.”
He glanced at me, nervously, before he continued. “I liked her. She’s nice and we met a couple of times. He caught us together and got the wrong idea. I never touched her. Vallejos didn’t believe me and made me his chico. Said he’d make trouble for us. He knew I’d been in a gang.”
“What did he do to you?” I needed to know because the possibilities floating through my head were killing me.
“He said if I complained he’d have me charged with rape.”
“I thought you didn’t touch her,” I said.
“I didn’t touch her, man. But look at him and look at me. Who are the police going to believe? I didn’t want to get taken away.”
I sucked in a breath and let it out in a slow hiss, trying to calm myself down.
“I’m sorry that happened, Raf. You could’ve told me, though. I would’ve taken care of it. You’re not on your own here. Not anymore.”
Raf mumbled something unintelligible about my plans for Vallejos.
Anything I wanted to say to him left my mind as we drove into the parking lot and saw Sam standing in the middle of the courtyard talking to two Nicaraguan men in the sky blue shirts and navy pants of la policía local. Sam raised a hand to wave, appearing as calm and collected as always. I parked, took a deep breath, and told Raf to go inside.
I could feel Sam watching me, willing me to get out of the truck and be in charge of the situation. My heart raced and my palms were damp as I braced my hands against the steering wheel.
These men were either here for Raf or they were here for all the kids and I had no defense. I wasn’t ready yet. I reached for my phone on the console and hit Meg’s number. It rang once before going to voice mail. She never turned her phone off. It was a deal we made with each other when I left. Phones on all the dang time.
Hi! It’s Meg. Sorry I missed you! The cheer in her recorded voice stung.
“Meg.” I started a message and paused to clear my throat. “I wish you had answered. I think they’re taking the kids now. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why this would be okay on any level. I needed your voice tonight.”
Rubbing my temples with one hand, I looked at my phone like she might actually say something. She didn’t, so I finished my message. “Don’t call back for a while. Just wait. Wait for me to call. I’m gonna be busy.”
TWENTY-ONE
meg
“Are you awake, Meg?”
I stared at my cell phone trying to place the male voice. Rubbing my eyes to clear the sleepy blur, I looked again. Quinn’s name was on the screen. Actually, it said Quinnly O’Ballivan because Thanet had messed with my phone when I wasn’t looking las
t night.
In fact, he’d turned it off and I hadn’t noticed until I plugged it in to charge before bed. I’d missed a call from Henry.
“It’s three in the morning, Quinn. What’s wrong?” Then, lowering my voice, I asked, “Have you been drinking?”
“My mom just got a call that someone found Jo Russell asleep on a bench downtown,” he said.
I felt my heart kick. “What?”
“She’s home now. Mom headed over there to help calm her down. She’s probably rubbing Ativan on Jo’s gums as we speak.”
I tucked my quilt tighter around me. “Sounds like your mom has it under control.”
Quinn cleared his throat. “She’s asking for you.”
“Who?” I said.
“Jo. My mom told me to let you know. She thought you’d want to come over.”
“At three in the morning? My parents would kill me.”
Quinn laughed. “You can stop telling me what time it is, Kavanagh. She said to tell you Jo is ‘altered’ and since she’s asking for you, specifically, your presence would help. Her words. Not mine.” He got quiet and then said, “I can drive you.”
“But I’m in bed,” I said.
“You’re goofy when you wake up, aren’t you?” he said. “Listen, relax. Put on some sweats and a coat. Or, if you’re wearing a really small tank top and tiny shorts, you can skip the sweats. Then meet me in your driveway, where I’m currently sitting in my car.”
I hung up on him and wrapped my quilt around me like a beach towel. It felt like he was in my room and I was wearing a tank top and shorts because my parents blast the heat in our house. I saw the back of his car through my window, taillights glowing and the warm engine making fog in the cold night air.
Quinn O’Neill was sitting in my driveway at THREE IN THE MORNING. My dad would freak out. Henry would…Henry just couldn’t know about this.
Quinn texted—Don’t overthink it and come on! You are NEEDED.
Five minutes later, dressed in my rattiest sweats and one of Henry’s hunting jackets, I wrote a quick note for my parents, pulled the front door closed silently behind me and jogged to Quinn’s car. He leaned over and pushed the passenger door open for me and I slid into the spicy, warm, black leather, boy car interior.
Perfect Glass (A Young Adult Novel (sequel to Glass Girl)) Page 14