I tried to shoot laser beams out of my eyes at Mary Majors then. Like this:
But it didn’t work. Mary Majors stayed in one piece. And we all started walking downstairs together.
Then, suddenly, I remembered a problem. And I asked Violet, “Can I say goodbye to your mom?” Because I needed her to take us home!
“Sure,” Violet said. Together we found her mom, who had two other women with her now. They were sitting around the dining room table with papers set out in front of them. Obviously having a meeting.
“That was a fast visit,” Violet’s mom said, when Violet told her I was leaving. “Is everything okay? I thought I heard some commotion up there.”
“We’re fine,” Violet told her. “It’s just time for Celie to go.”
“Oh—are your parents here to pick you up?” Violet’s mom asked. “I’ll come say a quick hi. I was sorry not to see them when they dropped you off.”
“They didn’t bring us,” I told her. Very honestly. “Mary Majors’s older sister did.”
“How nice to have a sibling old enough to take you places,” Violet’s mom said. “We’re counting down the days.”
Then, before I could say anything else, one of the other women handed Violet’s mom a sheet of paper and said, “What do you think of the first two paragraphs, Betsy?” And Violet’s mom said to Violet, “You’ll see them out, right?” She gave me a quick hug and said, “So good to see you, Celie.” Then she started reading that paper. And I didn’t say anything like, “Would you please stop reading that paper and leave these women here and travel more than an hour to take me home and more than an hour back?” Because she obviously could not do that.
Instead I followed Violet, who led me and Mary Majors to her front door and opened it for us. I thought she might say, “Where is that older sister?” Since there was not a single person there to pick us up. But she didn’t.
Maybe she was still thinking through what had happened upstairs, and she didn’t even notice. Or maybe she just assumed the older sister was waiting somewhere nearby. Like a normal, responsible person. I don’t know.
All I know is, the only thing Violet said to me was, “Bye.” Then she locked the door behind us.
So I stood at the top of her stoop. Feeling pushed out by one of my very best friends, with the door locked forever behind me.
I don’t want to write any more right now.
A little later
Granny came to visit me! She brought me a big slice of sour-cream coffee cake because she heard me ask Mom and Dad for one earlier. At first I thought maybe she didn’t realize that I was in trouble. But before she left, she raised a finger to her lips then pointed at the cake and whispered, “Our little secret.”
It’s the best secret in the world.
I hope this means she doesn’t think I’m bad. I HATE the idea of Granny thinking I’m bad.
After a little digesting
It’s NOT going to be easy to see Mary Majors at school on Monday. For one thing, after Violet locked us out, we had a big fight on the sidewalk.
“You ruined everything!” I told her.
“I did not!” she told me. She actually looked really surprised. “I SAVED everything. I found out what Jake was doing! And it’s good for Jo! She’s going to be so happy.”
It was true that she’d been good for Jo. But in such a bad way!
“I wish you’d done it differently,” I told her.
She looked like she had no idea what I was talking about. Which was annoying!
“We don’t even have a way home now!” I told her. “HOW ARE WE GETTING HOME?”
She bit her lip instead of answering, and I wanted to cry. I didn’t have money for a taxi, so I couldn’t even try to figure out how to take one without a grownup. And I knew it was a five-hour walk. And I didn’t know the way. And I needed my parents, and I couldn’t stand how upset and disappointed in me they were going to be when I reached them.
“Can you call your parents? Or Layla?” I asked Mary Majors. She shook her head and said, “They’re all working.”
“My parents will be SO MAD that I went this far away without asking permission,” I said. “I should’ve called my mom before we left!”
“We could take the subway,” Mary Majors said.
“I’m not allowed to take the subway by myself!” I said. “I’m ten! Jo isn’t even allowed to take the subway by herself!”
“But nobody will ever know,” she said. She sounded a little excited—like it might be even better to secretly ride the subway alone. I did not agree with that! But I couldn’t figure out what to do.
“You know how to get to the subway station, right?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “But I’ve never been on a subway without a grownup! What if there’s a crazy man on the train? Talking to himself and lying across a bunch of seats and not wearing shoes? That happens.”
“You were just on the subway with Shayna,” Mary Majors said. “She’s not a grownup. She didn’t sit with us—she barely even looked at us! Plus we can check for crazy people before we get on. If we see something scary, we’ll go to the next car.”
“I don’t know,” I said. I imagined myself on a subway platform, running away from a crazy person, trying to get into the next car before the doors closed, and then getting stuck in the doors.
Mary Majors kept talking. “We only have to take two trains,” she said. “The F and the A. I paid attention. I have a little money, too. Enough for a MetroCard for both of us. It’ll be great!”
I definitely did not think it would be great. But she was making it seem okay.
“Besides,” she said, “the only other option is to call your parents, and it would take them at least an hour to get here. What are we going to do for an hour? They wouldn’t want us just standing here on the street. It’s cold!”
I didn’t say anything.
“It’s going to be JUST THE SAME as it was with Shayna!” Mary Majors said. “Except better, because she won’t ruin it with her grumpiness.”
I had to admit—Shayna hadn’t helped us at all. Plus I didn’t want to call my parents. And it was freezing out. And it was just getting later and later, and I wasn’t getting anywhere!
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We walked back to the subway station, to get on the F train. I didn’t like walking down the steps alone. I kept noticing things I’d never focused on before. Like the bits of ceiling hanging down, and the peeling paint, and the flickering of the yellow lights, and the shadows. I knew there were rats in the subway sometimes—what if one came out of the shadows?
I wanted to say, “Stop—this is a TERRIBLE idea.” But Mary Majors had already fed her dollars into the MetroCard machine and was pressing buttons. Soon it spat out a card, and Mary Majors walked to the turnstiles and swiped the card twice very smoothly, and said, “Let’s go!” So I went.
I wasn’t even sure which stairs to take next. But we followed the big black sign that said “Manhattan & Queens.” What if we end up in QUEENS? I thought. I don’t know anything about Queens!
Then we heard the sound of a train roaring in, and Mary Majors said, “Hurry!” And I followed as she ran down more flights of stairs.
By the time we got to the bottom, we heard the conductor announce, “Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” Mary Majors RACED into a car, without checking first for crazy people! I had to race after her. We couldn’t get separated!
Before I could even say, “You didn’t check!” Mary Majors scared me for ANOTHER reason. Because she said, “Wait, is this an F? It could be a G.” But the doors were closing! The train was moving! It was the wrong time to figure out whether this was an F!
“How do we tell if it’s an F?” I cried. Then Mary Majors turned to a COMPLETE STRANGER and said, “Is this an F?”
Fortunately, the stranger said, “Yes.” And also, the stranger was a nice woman with a cute baby in a stroller. So we sat close to them. Then Mary Majors
asked the woman, “Do you know how we get to the A?” I almost yelled, “YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO GET TO THE A?!” Because she’d told me she’d paid attention!! We were going to end up in Queens!!
But the woman knew all about the A. She told us we needed to transfer at the Jay Street-MetroTech station, and she made sure we got off there. We waved goodbye from the platform as the doors to the F closed, and the nice woman and her baby rode away.
And then, DISASTER!!! Because as we were following signs for the A train, we kept hearing announcements like this: “Due to a blah-blahblah-something, Manhattan-bound A trains are not stopping at Jay Street-MetroTech. Please use alternate service.”
“We need alternate service!” I told Mary Majors.
“I don’t know any alternate service!” she told me.
We asked one woman, but she couldn’t help, and there were scary men EVERYWHERE in that station—some of them with no teeth! We couldn’t ask THEM! And the station was huge and dark and weirdly wet and crumbly, and I didn’t want to just stand still, staring at a route map.
I started following exit signs, and Mary Majors followed me; and we finally got out of that terrible place.
“Where ARE we?” Mary Majors said, when we came out of the station.
“I have no idea!” I said.
“But you’re from Brooklyn! We’re still in Brooklyn!” she said.
“Brooklyn is HUGE!” I cried. Then I said, “I’m calling my mom.”
I took out my phone and saw that I had five missed calls from Jo and about fifteen texts—also from Jo. Texts like this:
“mom and dad at movies, to celebrate finishing move. asked me to come pick u up. answer ur phone!”
and
“where r u?”
and
“looked up Mary Majors in school directory. no one answering at her house. WHERE R U?”
and
“call me right now!”
and
“I AM FREAKING OUT!”
I wasn’t paying enough attention to people around me as I read those texts. When I finished, I realized that Mary Majors was trying to hide behind me and whispering, “That guy’s staring at me. I’m scared.”
Many VERY LARGE boys were pushing each other and shouting bad words at a corner near us. And one of them was STARING in our direction.
AAAAAAGH! I thought. I hid my phone behind my back for second—I didn’t want them to steal it! Except, I needed to use it!
“Come ON!” I said to Mary Majors, and I PULLED on her until I got her around the corner. She was weirdly frozen. And the block felt too deserted—I wanted more people! I tried and I tried and I tried to call Jo, but I got voicemail every time. I kept thinking, What’s the MATTER with her?! SHE SHOULD BE PICKING UP!!!
“Who else can I call?” I asked Mary Majors.
She didn’t answer. She was looking behind us, waiting. “They might follow us,” she whispered. “One of them pointed at me. I saw it!”
“I just have to figure out who to call!” I said. Part of me definitely thought, Call Mom and Dad! You need them! But another part thought, Is there ANYONE else? Because Mom and Dad are going to KILL me!
Then I remembered—I did have the number for someone else. Someone who lived in my new neighborhood and would know about the trains to get there.
“I’m calling Charlie,” I said. “Charlie’s smart. He can help us.”
“He hates me!” Mary Majors said.
“He doesn’t hate you,” I said, as Charlie’s line started ringing. “He just wants you to stop being mean.”
Then Charlie said, “Hello?”
“It’s Celie!” I said. “You have to help us!” I told him as quickly as I could what had happened.
“I tried to warn you!” he said. “You can’t let Mary Majors tell you what to do! She’ll get you kidnapped!”
“I KNOW!” I said. There were BOY voices getting louder on the street—I worried that group was about to turn the corner. “You have to HURRY!” I told Charlie. “We need another A stop! NOT Jay Street-MetroTech, but near it. NOW!” Then I told him the names of the streets on the street sign from that corner.
I started pulling Mary Majors farther down the deserted street. There was an empty parking lot on our right now, and a boarded-up building on our left.
“This isn’t fun at all,” Mary Majors said. She kept looking over her shoulder. And she sounded like she might cry.
“OF COURSE IT’S NOT FUN!” I told her.
“I’m on Google Maps,” Charlie said. “I’m trying to figure it out—hold on—wait—”
Then those boys did turn the corner! One of them RACED toward us, and another RACED after him, and the second one LEAPT on the first one, and they both landed on the sidewalk near us, and then there was hitting, and the rest of their group started hollering, and I yelled at Mary Majors, “GOOOO!”
We were both running when Charlie started saying things like, “Left at the next corner. Now tell me where you are. Straight for three more blocks. Where are you?” Until we FINALLY got to another station with an A.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I told him.
I texted Jo to say I was on my way home, on the A.
Then I told Mary Majors, “From now on, you’re calling Charlie by his name. Or ‘Professor Larken.’ Absolutely nothing else.” Then we went into the station and got on the A.
I did NOT SPEAK to Mary Majors on that train. She’d talked me into everything, and I should’ve kept saying NO, but I didn’t, and we could actually have ended up DEAD!
Instead of talking, I mostly stared at a list of A train stops that was posted on the wall of the train, and I kept counting how many we had left until we got home. I wanted so badly to be there—and I worried, too. I hoped I could maybe convince Jo not to tell Mom and Dad that I’d gone missing. In my head I made a list of promises that might work. Like, “I’ll ALWAYS let you use our bathroom first, even if I really have to pee. Just, please, don’t tell Mom and Dad.”
I never had a chance to even try to persuade Jo, though. Because when we finally got off the train, Jo AND Mom AND Dad—and Charlie and both of his parents!—were all at the station entrance, waiting and watching for us.
“I’m going to KILL you!” Jo shouted, as soon as she saw me. Then she was hugging me, and my parents were hugging me, and we were all crying. And Charlie’s parents were saying things like, “I’m so glad they’re safe!”
We left the station together. They asked lots of questions about what had happened. And Charlie actually tried to apologize to me and Mary Majors.
“Sorry my parents are here,” he said. “It’s just—I couldn’t sit at home, not knowing if you’d made it. I HAD to come here and wait. But when I told my parents I had to go to the subway station for a while, they made me explain. Then they said they had to come, too, so they could help, if you ended up needing it. That’s just the way they are.”
He truly looked sorry.
“You are NOT ALLOWED to apologize about anything!” I told him. “You saved us!”
I expected Mary Majors to say something like, “You really did.” But she was watching both sets of parents, who at that point were walking a tiny bit ahead, with Jo. And she was very, very quiet.
I got even MADDER at her then. Because she should’ve thanked Charlie!
I didn’t say anything, though, because Charlie’s parents turned back to us and said they’d walk Mary Majors to her apartment. And we all split up.
Jo did NOT apologize for meeting me with Mom and Dad. “You scared me so badly, when you didn’t answer my calls or texts!” she said, as we walked home. “I kept trying and trying!” She’d finally gone to get Mom and Dad in the movie theater, to tell them I wasn’t answering. There’s no reception in the theater—that’s why my calls to her hadn’t gone through. They’d all seen my last text, though. The one that said I was getting on the A and coming home.
Of course they all wanted to know where I’d been. And when I s
aid, “At Violet’s,” they all started talking at once. “You went all the way to VIOLET’S?” Mom said, and Dad said, “How did you get there?” and Jo said, “Did you see Jake?”
So I told Jo quickly, “Jake’s working with Trina’s brother on a song for you. Trina’s brother writes songs. That’s why Jake’s being weird.”
“Ohhhh,” Jo said. And she seemed happy, which made me happy.
But my parents had lots of questions about how I’d gotten to Violet’s, and why I hadn’t called them for permission, and how I’d gotten back, and why I hadn’t called them for help before getting on the subway alone. Those questions did not make me happy. And my answers did not make them happy.
Dad got stuck for a while on the subject of Shayna. He kept saying things like, “She just left you there? Two ten-year-olds, by yourselves, so far from home and with no way to get back? Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I told him. “I am one hundred percent sure.”
As soon as we walked in our apartment, Mom and Dad said they wanted to talk to me alone in my room. That was NOT a good conversation. They talked a lot about having trust, then breaking it. I definitely started to cry.
Finally my dad said, “Trust can also be rebuilt.” And my mom said, “Let’s focus on rebuilding.” And I said, “Yes, please.”
“You’ll have to start rebuilding right here,” Dad said. “Because you’re not going anywhere except school and home for the next three weeks.”
Mom looked at him and nodded, and I could see they were making up my punishments right then.
“You’ll do plenty of chores, too,” she said. “And no shows on the computer or TV.”
“No cell phone, either, for those weeks,” Dad said, holding out his hand for it.
That last one was the worst! I didn’t care about staying home—I didn’t want to go anywhere else. Chores were fine—I deserved them—and I could do without shows. But how could I make up with Violet if I couldn’t text her? How could I keep in touch with Lula, too? I’d have no friends here—except for Charlie—AND no friends there. No friends anywhere at all.
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