A Million Ways Home

by Dianna Dorisi Winget

  But there was no miracle. The call came early that afternoon, when I was curled up on the couch, finishing a sketch of Harvey and trying not to think about Grandma Beth. The sound of the phone made my muscles cramp, and I bumped the volume down on the TV. I could tell it was Miss Austin from the hesitant way Marti spoke. “Yes, he was arrested last night. Yes, that’s right. Well, yes it’s good news … certainly.”

  After the phone call she came into the living room and sat beside me. I sighed. “Will I still get to see you?”

  “Of course you will. You want to keep going to the shelter with me, don’t you?”

  I perked up a little. “Can I do that?”

  “Absolutely. Miss Austin knows you’re training Gunner. And I don’t see why we can’t do other things together as well. Would you like that?”

  I bit the inside of my lip and looked down at my sketch of Harvey. “You know,” I said, “when Trey first brought me here, I couldn’t figure out why. I thought it was so weird. But now, I don’t know how I would’ve got through everything without you, Marti.”

  She scooted close and turned my chin toward her. “You listen to me, Poppy, because I’ve got news for you. You’re not through with me yet. Not by a long shot. Got that?”

  “Okay,” I whispered. And both of us started to cry.

  Trey came to get me an hour later. We didn’t talk on the drive over. I felt more numb than anything, at least until Trey inched through the center’s main gate and parked near the front entrance. Then it all started to feel sickeningly real. We both climbed out of the car and stood for an awkward moment. I started counting the spokes on the front passenger wheel. I got to sixteen before Trey cleared his throat.

  “We owe you a lot, Poppy. You deserve credit for breaking this case. I’m proud of you.”

  I nodded. I knew if I opened my mouth, I’d start bawling.

  Trey pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to me. “Keep this, it’s the number I can be reached at anytime. My cell phone is the one on the bottom. If you need anything, call me. Okay?”

  I nodded again and shoved the card in my pocket.

  Trey pulled me to him and gave me a tight squeeze.

  I wanted to hug him back, to bury my head against his shirt and beg him not to leave me. But I knew I didn’t have the right.

  “See you, Tiger. Keep your chin up, you hear? I’ll be checking on you.”

  I turned and headed for the double glass doors. I wanted to wave as he drove off. But I gritted my teeth and didn’t look back.

  Right as I reached to open the door, a woman pushed through, leading a smiling little girl by the hand. I couldn’t remember her name, but I knew it was the little girl who cried all the time. She wore bright red overalls, and her hair was done up in braids. She didn’t act like she recognized me. The woman held the door for me. “Go ahead, hon.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  Miss Austin waited inside. She told me I had another appointment to see the grief counselor the next day and then pointed me toward my old room.

  “That little girl who just left,” I said. “What’s her name again?”

  “Erin.”

  “Right, Erin. Who was that with her?”

  “Her mother. She and her husband were able to work things out.”

  “Oh,” I said as an odd mix of gladness and envy rushed through me. “A happy ending.”

  “The best kind,” Miss Austin said.

  I plodded down the hall and paused in the doorway to the room. I looked at the small window with its dirty white shade rolled up to the top, and at Sidney’s bed — unmade as usual, surrounded by clothes and Skittles wrappers. A pair of her jeans lay on top, bright pink underwear poking out. A shudder of fear passed over me. I still didn’t know the whole story of how Trey had gotten my cell phone back from her. She’d probably hate me even more than she did before.

  My bed had been stripped down to the mattress with sheets and blankets folded neatly — waiting for me. I didn’t have a pillow, but Sidney had two, so I took one of hers. I flopped on the bed and stared up at the dingy ceiling. I couldn’t quit thinking about that little girl, Erin. It was crazy to be jealous of a four-year-old who’d gotten her family back. I should’ve been happy for her, but my stomach burned instead. There was just something so unfair about the whole situation.

  A long cobweb floated from the light fixture, swaying in the air currents. I hated cobwebs. They gave me the creeps. I dug in my bag for a pair of socks and tossed them at the cobweb. It danced wildly, taunting me for missing. I threw a wadded-up T-shirt and missed again. Sudden hot rage surged through me. I yanked off my left tennis shoe and hurled it. The plastic light fixture flew off with a sharp pop, and the bulb burst into pieces. Hot slivers rained down.

  “Jeez!” I yelped, stunned.

  All I could think of was getting the broken glass picked up before anyone saw what I’d done. I gathered up the bottom of my shirt and raced around the room, scooping up shards of broken glass. Then I slunk down the hall to the bathroom and dumped the whole mess in the trash can.

  The little finger on my right hand throbbed. Blood seeped from a small gash, and the sight of it sent a new panic through me. Finally I rinsed my finger, wrapped it with several layers of toilet paper, and tucked it in as best I could.

  My finger still throbbed an hour later when everyone came back after school. Sidney stalked into the room, and a flicker of surprise crossed her ugly face. “You’re back.”

  “Not by choice,” I said.

  She dropped her backpack and sweatshirt on the floor. “Hey, what happened to my other pillow?”

  “I thought … one was mine.”

  “Well, you thought wrong. Go bum one off somebody else.” She strode over and yanked the pillow from my bed. “And don’t touch anything else of mine or I’ll break your face, got it?”

  I slipped into the crowded hallway and out the back door, to where the building’s walls met at an odd angle and created a little hideaway. I crawled inside and leaned against the cold cement. It was a lot like hiding in the culvert but without the mud. I could see part of the grove of aspen trees across the street. Grandma Beth called them dancing trees, because of the way their leaves shimmered and shook in the slightest breeze. Grandma Beth.

  I wrapped my fingers around the card from Trey and started to cry. I wished I’d waved good-bye to him. I closed my eyes. I’d hated the center even before I met Trey or Marti, but now it felt like death row. I knew if I stayed, I’d be smothered. Maybe I’d run away. I didn’t have any money, but there was still several hundred dollars in the envelope Grandma Beth kept at home. It would be enough to get me someplace warm where I could live outside, and then I wouldn’t need much money. Maybe California. California was warm. It probably had oranges and grapefruit and mangos year-round. It had Disneyland, too. Grandma Beth had always talked about taking me someday.

  The more I thought about it, the faster my heart started to pound. There was still food at home. I could pack enough for a week or so and then try to get a ride. I wondered how many miles it was to California. Probably at least a thousand.

  But then from someplace across the street a dog barked, and it made me startle. Gunner! How could I just run off and abandon Gunner? I saw his dark, trusting eyes and felt him leaning into me. What would happen if I stopped working with him? He’d never qualify for police training. And I heard Grandma Beth’s voice, just as clear as the day I’d stood beside her hospital bed. You make me so proud … You make me so proud. And it made me cry all the harder, because I knew if I ran away, I wouldn’t just be letting Gunner down, I’d be letting her down, too. I leaned my head against the concrete and wondered why doing the right thing always seemed so hard.

  That night I slept without a pillow. The next day I went to school, but I kept to myself and didn’t really talk much to anyone. Luke said hi to me and asked where I’d been. But I didn’t know how to answer him. I didn’t know where to even start. So I ju
st asked a question about his latest drawing — a strange-looking space creature with a square head and scaly skin. He answered my question, but after that he mostly shied away, like he realized something big had changed in the time I’d been gone.

  I spent most of my time in class staring out the window and longing for Grandma Beth and Marti and Trey. I could smell Grandma’s rose hand lotion and Trey’s jacket, and I could feel Marti’s arms around me. I missed them all so much it made my head throb.

  I called Marti that evening. She sounded so happy to hear from me. She promised to work things out with Miss Austin so she could take me to the shelter.

  The next day I didn’t bother with school. I spent most of it in my concrete hideaway texting with Lizzie and sketching Gunner in different poses. About the time everyone got back that afternoon, I blended into the crowd and slipped inside to my room. My whole body ached from sitting on concrete, and my cut pinkie still hurt. I knew I should probably put some clean toilet paper around it, but when I tried to unwrap the old paper, it stuck to the cut. I sat on the bed, trying to decide what to do, when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, dreading Sidney. My mouth dropped open when I saw it was Trey.

  I jumped up. “Oh, hey, you did come to see me.”

  His mouth turned up at one corner. “Hey, yourself. Are you sick?”

  “No. Do I look sick?”

  “How come you weren’t in school?”

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I started to laugh. “What makes you think I wasn’t?”

  “That’s a classic sign of deception, you know, when a suspect answers a question with a question.”

  “I didn’t know I was a suspect,” I said. But he didn’t smile like I’d hoped.

  “Why weren’t you in school, Poppy?”

  I dropped down on the bed again. “I dunno.”

  He came and sat beside me, and it made the mattress slope down. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. I breathed in the damp, earthy smell of his jacket, and even though I knew he wasn’t very happy with me, I had to fight the urge to lay my head on his shoulder.

  “What happened to your finger?” he asked.

  “I cut it.”

  “Don’t they have Band-Aids in this place?”

  “Probably. I never asked.”

  He lifted my hand for a closer look. “You know, when it bleeds through like this you need to change it.”

  “I just tried a few minutes ago, but it’s stuck to my cut.”

  “That’s why you shouldn’t use toilet paper.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and took out a bandage. “I always keep a couple in here. Let me see your hand again.”

  I reluctantly held out my finger, and he unwrapped it.

  The cut had turned into an angry red welt. Just looking at it made me wince. “This is a good cut,” he said. “How did you get it?”

  “I — it’s just a bad paper cut.”

  He opened a small pocket knife attached to his key ring and carefully sawed away the toilet paper right up to the cut. I gritted my teeth and tried not to whimper.

  “This is way too deep for a paper cut. My guess would be glass.” He tore open the Band-Aid and wrapped it around my finger. “So are you gonna tell me?”

  Heat warmed my face. “Okay, fine. I threw my shoe at the stupid light fixture and it broke.”

  Trey looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t say anything for what felt like forever. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I started feeling light-headed.

  “What were you so upset about?”

  “About being here.”

  “So, is that what your grandma would want? To hear about you skipping school, messing around?”

  My nose filled with the sharp sting that comes right before you start to cry. I gave an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know, Trey. I just don’t care about school anymore.”

  “No?” He reached behind me and picked up my drawing pad. He flipped through the four sketches of Gunner I’d drawn earlier. “This looks like the dog at the shelter. Gunner, right? You still care about him?”

  I sniffled. “Yeah.”

  “That’s what I thought. So here’s some motivation. No school, no animal shelter.”

  I caught my breath. “But your mom promised to take me as soon as she works things out with Miss Austin. I’m training him.”

  “Well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you skipped school.”

  I searched his face, sure he couldn’t mean it. “You don’t understand, Trey. I have to go to the shelter with your mom. She and Lizzie are the only ones I have left. Everybody else left me.”

  “Your grandma didn’t leave you, Poppy — she died. Big difference. Your parents didn’t leave you, either. They were killed.”

  I gaped at him. “They did, too, leave me. It was their choice.”

  Trey sniffed. “You’re telling me they went to Botswana with the express purpose of getting killed so they wouldn’t have to raise you?”

  All I could do was stare at him.

  “What?” he said. “That’s how you make it sound.”

  “But they made the decision to go,” I said. “They could’ve stayed with me.”

  He shook his head. “You know, Poppy, I don’t know much about botany, but I bet your parents put a whole lot of work and expense into earning their degrees. The chance to teach at a foreign university was probably like a dream reward. You really think it was wrong for them to go? They were victims, just like the cashier at the gas station. You think it was wrong of her to go to work the morning she got shot?”

  I gritted my teeth. “It’s not the same thing. That was her job.”

  “And your parents’ job was … what?”

  I didn’t want to cry in front of him again, but my bottom lip started to shake and I couldn’t help it. “To raise me,” I said. “Their job was to raise me.”

  Trey put his arm around me, and I fell against him. “Okay,” he said. “You’re right. All I meant is, we’re all faced with choices, and as bad as we might want to, we can’t always control the outcome. Some choices turn out in ways you never saw coming, and you get blindsided, you know? They change things forever.” He let out a long, slow breath. “Now I know you’ve had to deal with some tough stuff. Life stinks. But trying to cope by getting yourself in trouble is counterproductive. It’s like an alcoholic trying to cope by taking another drink. Know what I’m saying?”

  I looked down at the floor. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what counterproductive meant. But I did understand Grandma Beth would be furious with me if she knew how I’d been acting. “Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll try to do better, Trey. I’ll go to school. But I really need to go to the shelter with your mom.”

  He gave me a squeeze. “Fair enough,” he said.

  TWO weeks limped past. Marti got permission to take me to the shelter each Wednesday and Friday after school, plus Saturday mornings. School forced my mind onto other things and working at the shelter with Lizzie and Gunner gave me something to look forward to, but I still missed Grandma Beth every minute of every day. Nights were the worst. I’d scrunch down under the privacy of my flannel blanket and text Lizzie when I couldn’t sleep. She always answered, so I guess she had a hard time falling asleep, too.

  Our scary day at Manito Park had knocked down whatever wall was left between us, and it became a lot easier to share stuff with each other. I told her about Sidney, how she snored at night, and how hard it was to share a room with somebody you were scared of. I told her about the history test I’d failed because I didn’t study, and how I worried Gunner might not be trained good enough to pass his test with Officer Kinsley.

  She admitted that I was a better friend to her than Brett had ever been. She told me she was afraid to be nice to Kimberly or Jake, because it might make her dad think she was okay with the divorce — which she wasn’t. And she admitted that when people came to the shelter to look at kittens, she kept Garfield hidden. />
  Usually after an hour or so of texting, Lizzie and I would finally get sleepy, and I’d tuck the phone under my pillow and be able to rest.

  My nerves were all jittery the morning Officer Kinsley came back to check on Gunner’s progress. I waited with Gunner in his kennel, quietly stroking his head until I saw the patrol car drive up, then I took his muzzle in both hands and studied his trusting eyes. “This is it, boy. This is your chance to prove what a great dog you are. But it’s for me, too, and for Grandma Beth. It’s for all three of us, okay?” I kissed him on the nose. “Let’s do it, boy. Let’s go do it!”

  Officer Kinsley and Carol waited near the enclosure as I brought Gunner out on his leash. Marti and Lizzie watched from the back door of the shelter. Lizzie gave me a thumbs-up.

  I ordered Gunner into a sit position and he dropped neatly to his haunches. I raised the leash and gave it a crisp tug. “Come, boy.” I trotted around the enclosure, with Gunner at my side, his shoulder brushing my leg, just like Carol’s dog-training book said it should. Then I put him back in a sit, stood directly in front of him, and pointed my finger at his forehead. “Stay,” I said.

  I dropped his leash, not quite sure what to expect since this was the command we’d worked on the least. I stepped back several feet, keeping my finger pointed at him, pleading with him not to move. His big brown eyes fixed on me, waiting for any small sign from me to release him, but he stayed put. I walked in a 360-degree circle around him. Then I glanced at Officer Kinsley.

  He clapped his approval. “Good, now let’s see how he does with me.” He walked over and patted Gunner’s head. He gently raised his lips to check his teeth and ran his hands over his ribs. Gunner gave me a puzzled look when I handed over the leash, but as soon as Officer Kinsley said, “Gunner, come,” he obediently fell into step. They circled the enclosure three times before coming to a stop near us.