Overnight

by Adele Griffin

  “You’re small, too. Like maybe you’re stunted, huh? Where were you adopted from?” Drew leaned in on his elbows. “Some malnourished country?”

  Gray used her pinkie to flip over the cracker. It was soaked with vinegar and its shape bloated. She could tell that it was not going to taste very good. “I don’t know. Not from very far away. Not from another continent or anything. I’m American.”

  “You sure?” Drew took another sip. Gray wondered if he was trying to provoke her on purpose. “You were adopted in America,” he continued, pointing his finger at her. “That’s all you know for certain. Right? But you could have come from anyplace else. Originally.”

  “My birth mother lives in America, in the Southwest. I’m allowed to contact her when I turn eighteen,” Gray explained. “And, for your information, practically everyone in the United States comes from someplace else, originally.”

  “Everyone comes from someplace, sure. But you could come from anyplace.” Drew sat back and winked. “Chew on that.”

  “I know who I am,” said Gray. She was not upset, not really—Drew was being a bully, like how Topher sometimes acted to Caitlin and Ty—but she felt her eyes sting a little, as if to remind her that she could be sad if she wanted. “What about you? What’s your last name?”

  “Doe.” Drew smiled as if this were a joke. “Brothers, sisters?”

  “I’ve got a younger brother. He’s seven.”

  “He’s adopted?”

  “No.”

  “Yep. That happens all the time.”

  “What? What happens?”

  “You know, folks try to have a kid and they can’t and so they adopt and then they’re relaxed and that’s when they end up having the kid they want. Their real kid.”

  “I’m their real kid.”

  “Okeydoke.”

  “I am!”

  “Whatever you say. Whatever you say, whoever you are, Gray Rosenfeld.” Drew smiled. His teeth looked mean. They were too square, each one identical to the next one over, like teeth soldiers at attention against her.

  Gray decided she did not want to talk to Drew Doe anymore. He was sort of a jerk. Also, he was a stranger. She shouldn’t be talking to him at all as a rule.

  She lifted the dripping cracker and balanced it on the flat of her hand. Then she shook a little bit of salt on top. The cracker dissolved on her tongue. When she swallowed, it was as if it had never been there.

  “How is your snack, by the way?” Drew asked. “Looks retarded.” After a second, he said, “Oh, you’re ignoring me now?” He sounded annoyed.

  Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to anger Drew.

  “No. It tastes okay.” She would be nice, but calm. Drew did not need to know that she was too-scared of him. “What’s wrong with Kat?” she asked.

  The question startled Drew more than she thought it would. “What did she tell you?”

  “I’ve been around lots of sick people since my mom got cancer,” said Gray honestly.

  “Sorry to hear.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry.” Gray disliked when people said they were sorry and made pitying eyes at her. “She’s getting well. She’s in remission.”

  Drew opened his mouth to say something. Then he seemed to decide against it. He took a carrot stick and twirled it like a pen in his fingers.

  “Kat’s been my girlfriend so long that I can’t remember when things were different with her, or even if they were. She’s a nice girl, a normal girl, you know? I’m tired of everyone telling me what’s wrong with her. Everyone’s a critic. Let me tell you—there’s a million things right with her! The situation is never black or white. I’m good for Kat. I take care of her.”

  “Has she been in the hospital? Is that why her hair’s so short?”

  “Naw, she’s not sick that way. She tangles it when it’s longer. Twists it in her fingers and before you know, she’s got a knot in there the size of a rat. I bought her that wig for fun, see. To show it doesn’t matter to me. ’Cause long or short, she’s always my girl.”

  Drew eased back in his chair. He was speaking to Gray and yet he seemed to have forgotten she was there. “When I visited her last time, we put on the radio and danced. She loves music. That’s when it hit me, how right we are, us. She’s always better when she’s with me.” Drew pointed a finger on Gray. “I got what we need for a fresh start. Away from the critics.” His hand winged the air. “From now on it’s me and Kat and nobody standing in our path. We’re taking off.”

  “Okay.” Gray squared her shoulders. “As long as you drop me home before you go. I live less than half an hour from here. But I could walk partways, if you’re in a hurry. I really want to go home, see. I need to. Please.”

  Drew smiled wide, a wolf smile, and shook his head. “Little Gray Rosenfeld, you’re the last thing I need to slow me down.” He stood up, tipped back his head to finish the beer, and then shook free a carrot stick from the bag.

  “Maybe you could drop me home now?” she asked. “People are wondering, I think.”

  “Don’t worry your little head about it. You let me do the planning. I’m gonna check up on Kat,” said Drew. “Meantime, sit tight. Those are orders. Do not wander off.”

  She would not wander off. Where was she supposed to go?

  Drew was intimidating, though, the way he liked being the boss so much, showing off.

  Saying those are orders holding rules over me for the fun of it just to be nasty to be a bully.

  Martha

  TOPHER SEEMED RESTLESS. HE had finished his phone calls and he wanted to go up where the action was. Martha could tell. She was restless, too.

  “Rugrats!” he said finally. “I’ll be right back. You know the drill. The three magic words are…?”

  Nobody answered him. Everyone was absorbed in the end of the movie. Topher frowned and muttered, “Everybody stay put.” Then he took the stairs, two at a time.

  Martha waited a few minutes, then stood.

  “Drink of water,” she murmured with a yawn. “Does anyone want anything?”

  Nobody answered. Were they playing a game on her? Martha’s pulse quickened. Everyone was acting weird tonight. Probably it didn’t mean anything. Probably it was because of Gray.

  Martha crept quietly up the stairs, across the hall and into the pantry, her spy nook. Through a chink of opened door, she had a view of the kitchen. Still crowded. Some neighbors. Officer Bird Eyes and Officer Mustache. The Donnelleys. Mr. and Mrs. Rosenfeld were sitting at the table. Gray’s little brother, Robby, was flopped like a sack of potatoes on Mr. Rosenfeld’s lap.

  “She might have needed some time to be by herself,” Mrs. Rosenfeld was saying. “Gray does that. This past year has been a challenge for us, but Gray, poor thing, she’s taken it very hard. I could understand if she wandered off. Gray isn’t irresponsible. Emotional, but not irresponsible. But truly, Officer, I don’t think forgetting her coat means—no, no, I don’t think it means anything.”

  Mrs. Rosenfeld’s sickness had stretched lines across her forehead and pressed folds into the sides of her mouth. Her eyes were sunken into fleshy skin flaps. If people had not known Mrs. Rosenfeld before she got sick, thought Martha, they might have thought she was a grouch.

  Mrs. Rosenfeld did not look like Gray, but Gray had inherited other things from her, Martha decided. Gray possessed her mother’s tame manners; the same way of sitting with her hands cupped over her knees, the same way of lifting the end of a sentence so that it sounded like a question. Anyone could see that Mouse and Mrs. Rosenfeld belonged to the same family.

  “Listen,” Officer Mustache answered. “We’ve got a search on, but we can’t do as much as we want until daybreak. Tomorrow’s weather is forecast for clear, and by then we’ll have an aerial watch, the best dogs. We’ve got precincts eleven through fifteen combining forces. If she’s run off, we’ll find her…”

  “For God’s sakes, where were you, Patsy?” asked Mr. Donnelley, turning on Mrs. Donnelley as if she
had invented this problem all on her own. “When she left. Where were you?”

  “I was…I was upstairs.” Mrs. Donnelley cleared her throat.

  “Upstairs? For how long? Did it ever cross your mind to go downstairs? Any one of those girls might have—”

  “Whoawhoa. No need to get into that.” Now Officer Bird Eyes stood. She was walking straight toward Martha. “Coffeepot is out here, right, ma’am? Mind if I help myself?”

  The coffeepot was in the pantry.

  Quickly, Martha ducked and fled on tiptoes into the living room. Hiding by the front window, concealed behind a curtain, she pressed her palms, nose, and forehead against the cold glass. She looked over the smooth lawn, at the pink balloons bobbing from the mailbox like baby-doll heads, at the strong, alarm-coded, motion-sensored stone columns at the base of the driveway.

  Right there, that was where she had seen the lady. That was where her secret happened.

  She could walk into the kitchen and tell them about the lady right now.

  No, not now. It’s my secret, she told herself. Another thing had started to bother her, though, ever since Zoë had brought up kidnappers. Maybe the secret was too big? Maybe she had held on to it too long? What if she got in trouble? That was no good. Martha did not want to be trapped shamefully in the Donnelleys’ kitchen, making excuses to police and parents, while Leticia led the party without her.

  She would wait until the other girls had gone to sleep. Then she would let the police in on her secret and deal with all those questions. Yes, that’s what she would do.

  Martha moved from behind the curtain and tipped her head back to gaze at her own reflection in the window. In the darkened glass, her freckles did not show. Her face appeared to float in mist, ghostly, like a drowned girl.

  What if something bad already was happening to Gray?

  “You!”

  Martha turned. Topher was standing at the door, pointing at her. “Get yourself downstairs, runaway rugrat. Everybody stay put, remember? You gotta understand, kid, this isn’t a game.”

  Zoë

  “WHERE IS SHE? NO kidding, I mean. Where do you think Gray went?” asked Zoë as they hopped around Caitlin’s bathroom and bedroom, taking turns brushing their teeth and changing into their pajamas. The question had begun to bother Zoë. She had been so sure she would find Gray. She had been so sure that Gray would be there in the night, waiting for Zoë to scoop her up like another prize.

  Now it was too late. The movie was finished and it was bedtime. And with Serena gone, they were down to a Lucky Five.

  “Hmm, I bet she went for a long walk and got lost,” said Caitlin airily. “I really hope nothing, y’know, happened to her. But if it turns out she went for a walk, I guess we’re going to be pretty mad at her on Monday at school.”

  “Maybe she got taken by something,” said Zoë. She chewed on her pinkie, her last nail left. Her parents would be upset to see her nail nubs tomorrow. Tonight she had undone two full weeks of not biting them. “A friendly something. Like a space alien. Or a shape-shifter. A friendly shape-shifter, though.”

  “Or maybe she went outside and she met somebody interesting in the neighborhood, and she’s watching a movie over at her—over at that person’s house,” said Martha. “Gray has body odor, anyhow. Did anyone ever notice that?”

  Kristy started to giggle.

  “Oh, that’s a super-cool thing for you to say, Martha, if something terrible happened to her. If she’s dead or something,” said Leticia.

  Kristy stopped giggling.

  Zoë looked at Leticia, whose eyes sparked with outrage. But Leticia knew how nasty Martha could be, Zoë thought. Everyone did. Why did Leticia seem ready to pounce on Martha for every little thing tonight? The others could feel it, too. Zoë was sure. Leticia’s thrusts against Martha had thrown an uncertain voltage into the air.

  “She’s not dead,” said Martha. “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “Listen. Caitlin’s right. Gray went for a long walk is all,” said Kristy smoothly.

  “Everybody better quit talking about it or I won’t be able to fall asleep,” Caitlin added. “I’m too wide-awake as it is. I know! Let’s listen to one of my new CDs. We’ll put it on quiet so people don’t hear.”

  “And I’ll be the judge,” said Martha. “I’ll rate the best dancing.”

  Zoë liked that idea. It was time for a new game.

  Caitlin tore open with her front teeth one of her vacuum-packed birthday CDs and dropped it into her sound system. Soon the music had everyone dancing. All around the bedroom and in and out of the bathroom. Crowding and pushing and twirling and laughing and shoving and bumping and toppling against one another, leaving footprints on the fluffy pink carpet.

  “Pretend you’re at their concert!” cried Kristy. “Pretend you’re at their concert and you’re in the front row where they can see you!”

  Like butterflies, they bounced and flapped their hands and watched themselves in Caitlin’s large dressing-table mirror and her floor-length closet mirror and her bathroom mirror, pretending.

  Zoë used her first-place breaststroke movements and kicked her legs. She was strong, she would dance with the most energy even if she wasn’t the best. Endurance was how she won against Shelton—holding her breath the longest or staying in the pool the longest, right up until the moment he said how stupid this was, how it was just an immature kid game, which was his way of giving up. Shelton was a sore loser. Zoë guessed she was, too, but she couldn’t help it. Winning got all the attention.

  Martha sat cross-legged on Caitlin’s bed and watched and judged.

  “What are you girls doing?” Mrs. Donnelley’s voice was so low that she hardly sounded like herself.

  Zoë froze, startled. She watched as Mrs. Donnelley dashed across the room and snapped off the music.

  “Mom! Don’t! Every time my party starts to get fun, it’s ruined!” Caitlin wailed. “Gray wouldn’t want my party spoiled just because she’s not here to enjoy it!”

  “No, no. No, no.” Mrs. Donnelley shook her head. She went to Caitlin and hugged her. “Now is not the right time for fun, not while Gray is missing. Everyone must cooperate. Let’s get you girls in your sleeping bags. Kristy and Zoë, your parents will come for you tonight, but I don’t know what time exactly. Until then, I think that the best thing to do is to settle down.”

  Something in Mrs. Donnelley’s eyes scared Zoë, and the truth hit her hard, the way it always did. Gray had disappeared outside of people’s reach, outside of rescue. This was not a game to give up when everyone got tired of looking. Gray was gone, really gone, and she might be in real trouble.

  Zoë counted back. Five hours was too long a time to be lost. “I guess I am tired,” she said suddenly. It seemed like a helpful thing to say.

  “That’s right, Zoë, thank you, yes.” Mrs. Donnelley looked grateful. She tucked Caitlin into her bed as the others followed Zoë’s lead and zipped themselves up into their sleeping bags. “Good night and sleep tight, girls,” said Mrs. Donnelley, giving Caitlin’s bed a final pat. She went to the door and put her hand on the light switch. “Of course I’m certain that Gray is perfectly safe and fine, but she is…misplaced right now, and she might be scared. Why don’t each of you say a loving prayer for her? Asking her to find her way home. I know it would mean a lot to Mr. and Mrs. Rosenfeld and Robby.”

  She clicked off the light and left the room, closing the door behind her. After a few seconds, Caitlin slid out of her bed onto the floor.

  “I’ve got my flashlight right here.” She snapped it on. The others sat up. Their shadows pulled up like dark flames against the wall.

  “Arrr-oooh!” howled Kristy softly. She used her hand to make a shadow-puppet wolf. “Hey, Martha. Who won the dancing?”

  There was a moment of silence. “Leticia did,” said Martha.

  Zoë scowled. Unfair! Martha only said that to get on Leticia’s good side. Which was strange, actually, considering how Leticia had been acting
awful to her tonight.

  Was Martha scared of Leticia or something?

  “No, I didn’t. Kristy won. For real,” said Leticia as if it were obvious. “She’s the best dancer of us by a million. I mean, Kristy’s been taking ballet since she was, like, five years old!”

  Kristy coughed. “Since I was three,” she said.

  “If I won, that would be called cheating,” said Leticia. “Right, Martha?”

  “Cheating, like how Kristy wanted to cheat so Caitlin would win Enchanted Castle?” countered Martha.

  “What are you talking about, Martha?” asked Caitlin.

  “Yeah, what are you talking about?” echoed Kristy.

  “Nothing. Forget it,” said Martha. Leticia shrugged.

  Zoë stayed quiet, but her mind whirled.

  Leticia against Martha. Martha against Leticia.

  The Lucky Seven was breaking up.

  If it’s Leticia against Martha, thought Zoë in a sudden pull of panic, which side am I on?

  “This is bad for Gray, I guess,” said Kristy, turning to Caitlin and changing the subject, “if your mom wants us to pray for her.”

  Caitlin nodded. “Yeah, my mom’s not really into praying except at Thanksgiving and stuff.”

  “Can a not-Jewish person say a prayer for a Jewish person?” asked Leticia.

  “I think you can say a prayer for anyone as long as they’re American,” answered Kristy.

  “And Gray isn’t really Jewish, stupid,” said Martha. “She was adopted.”

  “Don’t say Leticia’s stupid,” Caitlin reprimanded. “Besides, everyone knows Jewish parents only adopt Jewish babies.”

  “Yeah, I’m not stupid, Meow,” said Leticia.

  “Leticia, why are you calling me Meow?” asked Martha, her voice casual but cold.

  “Because you’re the little kitten who lost her mittens!” Leticia answered gleefully. Kristy and Caitlin burst into shrill peals of quickly smothered laughter.

  Zoë chewed her pinkie nail nub and glanced at Leticia. Why? Why was she doing this?

  In daylight, Leticia was so dark that Zoë could always spot her first. In the cafeteria, in the gym wearing her white-and-gold Fielding Athletic uniform, tall Leticia’s black skin seemed to make anybody who stood next to her appear that much paler.