I’m not sure why I’m here, but I couldn’t stand the silence of my house anymore. Or my parents’ questions about my non-existent road trip with Melody. I take a breath and walk up the driveway and onto the front porch. My finger stops inches from the doorbell, and I can’t bring myself to press it. Instead, I knock ever so slightly, wait a few seconds, then turn away.
I’m almost to the end of the driveway when the door opens.
“Yes?” Mrs. Dawson says. I pause, then take a few steps back toward the house. Mrs. Dawson is wearing a nightgown with pink slippers. It seems too early to be going to bed. I stop on the bottom step and grip the porch railing.
“Hi, Mrs. Dawson,” I say. It comes out squeaky, and I take a deep breath. “I’m Kelsey – we’ve, uh, met once before? I tutor Laura in the school program, and she, uh, forgot her notebook the other day. Is she here?” I take out my own notebook from my bag and give it to her, my hands shaking.
“Laura’s not here,” she says. She closes the door just a bit so I can only see the shadow of her face.
“Oh?” I say, swallowing. “Where is she?”
A sound comes out of Mrs. Dawson, but I can’t make out what she says. I climb the steps until I’m just a few feet away. She comes out of the doorway a little. Her eyes are red.
My heart races. “Is everything okay?”
She shakes her head, but finally comes out onto the porch. She sits on one of the wicker chairs. I wonder if I should leave, but instead I sit beside her. We watch the boy next door playing with a remote control car. It zips down the driveway and back again over and over. When it finally runs out of batteries and the boy goes inside, Mrs. Dawson turns to me.
“Laura got moved to a new home,” she says matter-of-factly, as if she wasn’t just crying. My lungs deflate, and I can’t get them to fill back up again. “We were just her foster parents. These things happen sometimes.”
I run my palms over the tops of my thighs. “I thought Laura mentioned you were adopting her?”
Mrs. Dawson purses her lips in a straight line. “Not anymore.”
I pull myself up off the chair and watch the boy come out again with his car, fully recharged with new batteries. It zips up and down the driveway, and I stare at it until I can’t anymore.
“Will you miss her?” I ask.
Mrs. Dawson stares ahead and nods. I walk toward the stairs, but she doesn’t seem to notice, so I give a half-wave and leave her there like that, her eyes tracing the movements of the toy car like it’s the only thing she can predict anymore. I walk as fast as I can until the sound of the car fades. My eyes are burning, but I don’t give them the relief they need. I swallow and blink until they don’t burn anymore. Until I’m too far away to see the look in her eyes.
I pull out my phone but I have no missed calls. Jay must know by now. Laura would have contacted him. Or the police. I wish he would call me. Let me know what’s going on. Yell at me, even. Tell me I screwed everything up. But my phone is silent.
****
I drag myself to school on Monday and take a different seat in the back row of World Issues. I didn’t bother to draw on my eyebrows, and everyone stares at me. The guy whose seat I took gives me a dirty look, but slides into my old one anyway. Taylor and Melody both glance at me when they walk in, but neither of them wave, and I slip out of class at the end before they can even stand up.
At lunchtime I walk to Laura’s school and watch the kids at recess. I sit down on a hill far enough away that no one will notice me and pull my knees up to my chest. I watch kids skipping double-dutch, playing on the swings, and talking in a group by a bench. None of them are Laura.
I push myself up off the grass and walk over to the group of kids by the fence.
“Hey,” I say. “Do you know Laura?”
“Which one?” a girl with short brown hair asks.
“Laura Miller.”
She shrugs. “I don’t think so.”
The teacher on duty starts walking toward me. I back up and walk across the parking lot. I mean to head back to school, but I end up at the empty lot of the house instead. It’s cleaned up already and the stakes are in the ground, marking where the new house will be. I sit down in the middle, and half the afternoon passes before I can bring myself to leave.
****
I go to Richmond House that night. It’s raining, but it’s a warm rain – the kind I used to love dancing in as a kid. I’d spin around and around until I eventually fell and scraped my knees, but it didn’t matter. I’d get back up and do it again anyway.
The lady at the desk signs me in and tells me to wait. I go in the familiar room with the too-small chairs, but I can’t sit down. I stand by the window instead, watching the rain float down in tiny streams against the glass. The pink and green bracelet hangs limply on my wrist, like it misses him too.
I wait for an hour, but Jay never comes. I want to ask if they forgot to call him down, but I’m too afraid of the answer. I don’t want to hear that he couldn’t even stand to look at me. That he doesn’t want to see me again.
Instead, I slip out of the room and stand in the parking lot until I’m soaked through. I drop my bag on the pavement and force myself to spin around, just once in the rain. It feels good, so I do it again. Soon, I’m spinning over and over until I can’t stand it anymore. Until the world looks like it’s going to crash into me.
I collapse on the pavement until it all comes into focus again, and then I get in the car and drive.
I go down every street in Sherbrook twice, glancing at each of the houses as I pass. Laura’s in one of them. I could knock on all the doors in this town until I find her. Make sure she’s all right and tell Jay how she’s doing. Tell him I didn’t mean to hurt him. Either of them.
Instead, I pull in the rental house driveway and turn the car off. I let the darkness sink into me. I picture Laura. Alone. Scared. Maybe in one of those group homes. Or with a family who doesn’t even know her.
I force myself out of the car and up the stairs, inhaling all the outside air I can before I open the door. My parents are in the kitchen, looking at house plans again.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I try again. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
They look up, concerned. I never ask to talk. Not like this.
“Sure, honey,” my dad says, pulling out a chair at the table. “What is it?”
I slide into the chair, finally letting out all the air. “There’s this girl. I think she needs help.”
“What kind of help?” he asks.
“I think…,” I say. I can’t get the words out. I imagined this conversation before. In Tulsa. About me. I imagined sitting at our table and pulling up my sleeves. Showing them what he did to me. I imagined crumpling in their arms, believing them when they’d tell me everything would be all right. That he wouldn’t get away with it. But I never did. And this time it’s not about me.
“This girl I tutor in the school program. I think she’s being hurt.” I get it out in one breath before I can change my mind.
My mom blinks. Once. Twice. She’s relieved it’s not me. “By who? A teacher?”
“Her foster family. The father.”
“How do you know?” she asks.
“She told me,” I say, the words sticking in my throat. I promised I’d never tell, and now I can’t stop.
My dad reaches for the phone. “We have to report this.”
“No,” I say, but it comes out as a squeak. I put my hand over his on the phone. “I already have.”
“You did? Why didn’t you tell us? We could have gone with you.”
I swallow. “It was just recently. I didn’t want to wait.”
“Did they do anything?” my mom asks. “Look into it at least?”
“They took her out.”
My mom purses her lips, almost into a smile. “Well, that’s good, right? You did the right thing. But next time, you can come to us first. Or a teacher even. You don’t have to deal with this s
tuff on your own.”
I nod, and follow a trail of crumbs off the edge of the table. Toast crumbs left over from my dad’s evening snack. “I don’t know if she’s okay though,” I say. I press my thumb down on the edge of the table, making the crumbs stick. “I don’t know where they took her.”
“I’m sure we could find out,” my dad says. He sees me studying the crumbs and grabs a dishcloth, and then they’re gone. Wiped clean.
“It’s not just that,” I say. “Even if she’s with a new family, they might not be good for her. Even if they seem nice, they might not be.”
My mom studies me like she’s trying to unlock a code. “There’s not much we can do about that. But if she’s being hurt again, we can report it. Get her some help.”
I push my chair out from the table. “I don’t want to wait until it happens again,” I say. My voice is loud. I almost don’t recognize it.
My dad reaches for my hand. Pulls me back down. I let him. “What do you want us to do, honey?”
I study the house plan on the table. The bedrooms. “I want you to be her foster parents. Or adopt her, even.” I let the words hang there. I didn’t know I was going to say it like that. They were supposed to suggest it. I was just going to agree.
My mom’s wearing that tight smile again and she exchanges a glance with my dad. “It’s not that easy, sweetie. I’m not sure we’re up for such a commitment.”
I slide out of my chair again, but this time I back up, away from them. “Not up for the commitment? And you think Laura is up for getting hurt again? For living with another crappy family who couldn’t care less about her?”
“Kelsey,” my dad says. A warning.
My mom stands and walks toward me. “We have job commitments right now. And your future to think of. We’re not financially set up for another child.”
“They give you money, don’t they? For being foster parents? You wouldn’t have to adopt her. Not right away,” I say. I’m not winning this one. I know it, but I can’t stop now. I’m like a loose tire, barreling down a track.
“We understand you want to help,” she says. “But maybe we can do it some other way. Find out where she is and make sure she’s okay. If you see it for yourself, maybe you’ll feel better.”
I stare at the table. It won’t help to see her there, wherever she is. Being okay is not a bright, shiny, glaring thing. Sometimes the bad parts are hidden in the spaces no one thinks to look.
I could tell them about Wes. Tell them why I care so much. If they knew, they might understand. They might take Laura in. Keep her safe. I can imagine it all there, laid out on the table. All the secrets I’ve kept. The pain I’ve hidden. They’d look at it, concerned, confused. Upset I hadn’t told them any of it sooner. I stare at the table until I can’t stand it anymore. Then I grab the dishcloth and wipe away the imaginary stains.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Don’t worry about it.”
****
On Saturday my phone rings, and I stumble across my room to grab it. But it’s not Jay’s name that comes up, it’s Julie, and I’m so disappointed I can’t bring myself to answer it. I wait until the message symbol pops up, and then I listen to Julie telling me Wes was charged. That Sadie has a restraining order against him. That he pleaded not guilty anyway. I listen to the message three times before I delete it. Each time I wait for Julie to tell me she misses me and to call her back. But each time there’s the same split second of hesitation, as if she can’t decide what else to say. And then the line goes dead.
I slide down onto the floor and lean against the end of my bed. I stretch out my legs in front of me and turn my music up a bit. I keep turning it up until I can no longer hear my thoughts. Until all I can feel is the music in my veins. I close my eyes until there’s a knock on my door.
“Kelsey, dinner’s ready!” The door opens and my mom pops her head in, wincing. “Can you turn that down a bit?”
I switch off the music completely and my own thoughts come rushing back again. I stand up and look down at my candy-striped pajama bottoms. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
When the door clicks shut, I sit back down on my bed and turn up the music just enough to hear it. When I can feel it in me again, I stand and try a pirouette. I lose my balance, my thigh hitting the bedpost. It takes me three more tries to do a perfect one, and once I do, I slip on new clothes and brush my hair before I go down for dinner.
****
I call Officer McCarthy on Wednesday from the student parking lot. I lean against Taylor’s truck while the phone rings. I know Taylor’s in the cafeteria with Melody. I know because I stood outside the door and tried to convince myself to join them, but couldn’t.
The line clicks on the other end. “McCarthy speaking.”
I straighten up against the truck. “Hi, uh, Officer McCarthy. It’s Kelsey Masterson.”
“Yes?” he says. I hear voices on the other end and he covers the phone for a second.
“Is this a bad time?” I ask.
“I’m sorry? What was that?”
I swallow and try to speak louder. “I’m Kelsey Masterson. I reported an incident of child abuse a while ago.”
“Okay,” he says. Papers rustle on the other end, and I push myself away from the truck.
“I want to know what happened. To the girl, I mean.”
“Cases involving minors are generally private.”
“I know,” I say. “But I reported it. Don’t I have a right to know what happened to her?”
He sighs. “I can’t tell you where she is, but she did get moved to another home.”
I hold my breath. “And Mr. Dawson?”
“He’s practically confessed and will probably plead guilty. The court date is in a couple weeks.”
“What day?”
“The seventeenth. But like I said, it won’t be –”
I hang up before he can finish. Taylor’s truck is unlocked, so I climb in and sit. Laura’s okay. Mr. Dawson will be charged. Just like Wes.
I should be happy, but I’m not. I count down the days until the court date as if it’s the answer to all my problems. I drag myself through school and tell myself after the court date, I’ll talk to Melody and Taylor again. After the court date, Jay and I will talk. I’ll know Laura is okay. After the court date, I’ll be nicer to my parents. I’ll help out with the dishes instead of moping around the house. After the court date, I’ll call Julie. We’ll start talking again. I might even start dancing.
But the closer it gets, the more terrified I am the court date will only make everything worse.
Chapter Twenty
I’ve been doing a good job of being the most anti-social person in existence until Taylor corners me by my locker after World Issues one Tuesday.
“Where have you been?” he asks. He’s leaning against the locker next to mine so when I open it, his face is blocked, but he doesn’t bother to move.
I shrug. “Busy I guess.” I stare at my locker door and force myself to make more of an effort. “How was your sister’s dance recital?”
“Good. If you consider nine-year-olds tripping over each other in pink tutus entertainment.”
“Did Melody have fun?”
“I think so.” Taylor pushes my locker door closed so I can see him again. “I think she’s ready to forgive you, you know. She asked me if I knew how you were doing. How the house thing is going.”
“Maybe she’s just curious.”
“Maybe. But Melody’s usually only curious about people she cares about. Plus, I think Victoria said something to her.”
I open my locker again to grab a book and take longer than I need to find it. “She knows where to find me.”
Taylor laughs half-heartedly. “You haven’t exactly been easy to track down. You practically sprint out of every class, and you’re nowhere to be seen at lunch.”
“Sorry. Like I said, I’ve been busy.”
“You should sit with us at lunch today.”
“I d
on’t think that’s a good idea.”
Taylor pushes my locker shut again, and this time, he locks it. “Why not?”
“You and Melody seem to be on good terms again. I don’t want to screw that up. You’re both better off if I stay out of your way.”
“That’s not true.” Taylor backs up from the locker and crosses his arms. “We’re going to Luigi’s tonight for pizza with Victoria and Ryan. Come with us.”
After the court date, I want to tell him. Maybe then I’ll be able to function like a normal human being. Maybe I’ll be able to sit and chat about normal things like who Victoria’s dating now or which guys made the football team.
Just not now.
“I can’t.”
“All right, suit yourself.” He spins the dial on my lock three times and opens it with a pull. I stare at him, and he shrugs. “Good memory,” he says. He gives a little wave and walks down the hall, whistling. If only life were as simple as Taylor makes it seem.
****
When the court date finally arrives, I wonder if I should even go. I probably won’t be allowed in. Jay might not want me there. I don’t want the Dawsons to see me. And I don’t know what I’ll say to Laura.
I sit on my bed and debate whether to dress for school or for court. I stare at my non-existent eyebrows in the mirror, but I don’t draw them in. In the end, I choose black pants and a blouse my mom picked up for me at the mall last week and head out, taking my usual detour past the empty lot. Only this time, it’s not empty. The foundation is in and construction people are already there, putting in time before the rain comes again. I watch them for a minute, laughing and joking as they push dirt around and wipe sweat off their foreheads.
A backhoe’s engine blocks out all the other sounds, and I turn away and walk toward the courthouse. I don’t know what time the hearing is at, and I’m too afraid I’ll be kicked out if I ask, so I sit by a bench in front of the two main courtrooms and wait. I watch lawyers and police officers walk by, and families talking quietly together.
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