I quickly gather that he’s a medieval history freak, his screws aren’t loose but missing altogether, and he thinks that he’s fourteen. Still, though, I like him.
CHAPTER 13
You Have the Right to Remain Silent
So, tell me how your first day was.” Mrs. Murphy sits at the kitchen counter and seems like she has nothing to do but listen to my answer. She is so odd. But it is nice. I remember how my mother never stopped talking long enough to listen to me. How I figured out that silent and listen are made of the same letters.
“Nothing too eventful. Social studies teacher is… uh… unique to say the least.”
“How about the kids? Did you meet anyone?”
“Well, I learned a valuable lesson about karma.”
“How do you mean?” she asks, leaning forward slightly.
I can’t tell her about Rainer; she’d probably shatter. “Nothing. Just kidding.”
“Well, I have no doubt you’ll make friends before you know it.”
“You know, there’s only one letter difference between friends and fiends.” Then I look up to see that she has a dopey smile. I mean, she’s nice and everything, but give me a break.
The doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” I say. Wow. Actually saved by the bell.
I swing the front door open and find a police officer.
Mrs. Murphy comes from the kitchen. She stops suddenly when she sees him and holds her breath.
The officer looks past me at her. “Hello, ma’am. Are you Julie Murphy?”
Mrs. Murphy puts her hand to her mouth. “Oh God. Is this about my husband?”
“Ma’am?”
“My husband, Jack Murphy. He’s a Glastonbury firefighter. Is he hurt?”
The officer holds his hand up like he’s directing traffic and shakes his head. “No. No, ma’am. I’m sure he’s fine.” He softens a bit. “I’m actually here about a foster care child you have. A Carley Connors?”
Mrs. Murphy’s shoulders droop as she looks over at me.
The officer’s name tag shows that his name has thirteen letters. How unlucky for him.
I hear the clamor of four feet running in our direction. Adam says, “I’m tellin’ ya I saw a police car in the driveway!”
“Aw, wicked cool!” Adam says when he sees the officer.
“Hey there, little man.”
Michael Eric steps up. “Do you shoot people a lot?”
“Of course he shoots people, dummy,” answers Adam. “Why else would he have a gun?”
Mrs. Murphy puts her hand on Adam’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Officer.”
Michael Eric speaks again. “My daddy says policemen are brave.”
“Well, you thank your daddy for me.”
“My daddy’s a firefighter,” Adam says. The boys stand taller. “He’s brave too.”
“He must be.” The officer nods.
Mrs. Murphy holds up her pointer finger. “Would you wait just a minute? I’m going to get them busy.” She disappears with the boys. I look at the officer and decide to say nothing. I must be in trouble.
She returns quickly. “Nothing like television and lollipops in a pinch.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m sorry, Officer. Now, what can we do for you?”
“Would it be all right if I asked Carley a few questions?”
She steps back and waves him into the living room. Waves in someone who probably wants to drag me away in handcuffs. Nice.
I fold my arms. “I know my rights. I don’t have to answer anything.” I’ve heard people say that on television a million times. Half the battle in these things is letting them know you’re not afraid.
“Look, miss. You’re not in any trouble.” He flips through the pages of his pad. “I am investigating an incident involving a Dennis Gray.”
I freeze. I remember telling my mother his name spelled backwards was “sinned” and she laughed at me. Back when she first brought him home and I had a sick feeling about him.
He leans forward slightly. “You know him?”
I nod as my insides fold over and over.
“He’s your stepfather, correct?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Okay.” His feet move farther apart. “So I guess you don’t like him much?”
“No. Not much.”
“Well, there are some things we need to clear up about the night you ended up in the hospital. Do you remember that night?”
“Not really.” I only remember the beginning. Besides, I don’t believe that I’m in no trouble at all.
“Now, Mr. Gray is under arrest for two counts of assault and battery, resisting arrest, and assaulting a police officer, among other things. He had quite a night for himself.”
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“The prosecutor was looking at two counts of attempted murder, but it’s hard to prove intent to kill without hard evidence.”
He was trying to kill me? And my mother too?
“We’ve been questioning him along this line. But Mr. Gray claims that your mother… well… that she helped him in the beating. So the prosecutor is considering charging your mother as well.”
I look at Mrs. Murphy and stand straight. I say, “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
She sits down and leans forward with her elbows on her knees. She bites the inside of her cheek and I can see she’s trying hard not to cry.
“His report of the incident is that she held you down while he kicked your abdomen, chest, and back.”
I remember. I remember how she did that. I’ve been trying to tell myself that I must have remembered it wrong, but here he is to tell me that my mind wasn’t fooling me. I didn’t think anything could hurt more than that beating.
I was wrong.
I don’t want Mrs. Murphy to hear anything else, so I say again, “You don’t have to stay.”
She clears her throat and brushes her cheek with the back of her hand. “No. It’s okay. I want to be here for you.”
“I don’t need you here. It’s okay.”
She takes a deep breath and stands. I look away.
“Carley.” She says my name like it’s a command. “There isn’t anything… anything… that he can say that’s going to change how I feel about you.”
I think two things: One, I want to die, and two, how does she feel about me?
She leaves, and I miss her.
“So, Carley,” the officer says, “is there any truth to that? Did your mother contribute in any way to your situation that night?”
Situation? Good word. “What did my mother say?”
“Your mother is heavily sedated. She will remain so for quite some time.”
Great. So I have to decide. If I tell, will my mother end up in prison? She’d never forgive me for that. Would the Murphys keep me, or would I bounce around foster care like the kids in those TV movies? I don’t seem to have a choice.
“I can’t believe that you would believe a jerk like Dennis about anything. My mother would…” The rest of the sentence sticks in my throat. “My mother would never… hurt me.” I force myself to look at him.
He nods slightly. “And you’re sure that you’re telling me the truth?”
“Why would I lie?”
“Well, frankly, I don’t believe you. I need to know what happened that night, Carley, and from where I stand, you’re the only one who can straighten things out. We can either talk this out here, or we can take a ride to the station.”
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.
He steps toward me, and I look up. “You said I wasn’t in trouble.”
“You won’t be if you don’t impede my investigation. We’ll get more resolved at the station, away from distractions. Why don’t you get your coat?”
I try to breathe through my nose and think of what to do. I can usually think my way out of anything, but this seems like a tall wall to climb. I know I can’t turn my mother in.
&nb
sp; “Now, Miss Connors. If you’d like to pull yourself together…”
I am together. Jerk.
“. . . and answer a few questions right here, we won’t have to go. But I do need answers.”
I nod. Not like I have a choice.
“Good.” He flips open his pad. “Okay, then. The only people in the home at the time were you, your mother, and Mr. Gray, correct?”
I nod.
“Mr. Gray was in the kitchen, and you and your mother were in the dining room.”
I nod.
“You and your mother had some sort of an argument?”
“Some sort.”
He glares at me. “Just answer the questions.” He writes something in his pad. “What sort of argument did you have?”
“She tripped and blamed me.”
“I see.” He gives me a long, hard stare. “How did the violence begin? What was it that you did to get Mr. Gray so upset?”
I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched. It was me that made Dennis mad. The biggest mistake ever. I count the crisscrosses on his thin black shoelaces. One, two, three… I can’t hear what he says exactly, but I hear something about my coat and taking a ride.
“Carley?” His tone makes me jump.
“Huh?”
“You must have said something? Or done something to get him going?”
“Well… I…”
Just then, Mrs. Murphy slides in between the cop and me. She reaches back with her right hand and takes mine. She gives it a firm squeeze.
I move closer to her.
Mrs. Murphy’s tone is quiet, but boy, does she sound mad. “How… dare you… come in here and insinuate that she had anything to do with what that monster did. It wouldn’t matter what she did; he was the adult, and he should be held accountable for his own actions. I, for one, hope he rots in jail.”
I move even closer to her.
“And you! You’d think an officer of the law would have a drop of sense… or compassion. What do you hope to accomplish by badgering her? She’s a child and a victim, and you’re treating her like a criminal. And furthermore, since she isn’t a suspect, I know that you can’t take her anywhere. She’s staying right here… with me.”
I step forward again, and the front of me almost touches her back.
His left eye squints as he stares Mrs. Murphy down. “Listen, ma’am. If you impede my investigation—”
“You listen,” she interrupts. “You’re not dealing with a child anymore.”
He slips his notebook into his pocket but doesn’t break eye contact with Mrs. Murphy. Finally he looks away first. A little thing like her stares down a guy like that.
“I’ll let myself out then,” he says.
“You do that,” she says. We watch him open the door and leave.
She takes a deep breath and turns toward me, still holding my hand. “Are you okay, Carley?”
I try to pull my hand away, but she won’t let go.
“Carley? Tell me if you’re okay.”
The way she stuck up for me and how she looks at me slips inside. I want to thank her. I want to ask her if my mother really held me down for that whack job. I want to ask her why she cares. I want to ask her if everything’s going to be okay, because a part of me whispers that she has the answer.
“It’s okay,” she says, as if reading my mind. “You know he was wrong, right?” She continues. “It wasn’t your fault. Not any of it.”
I nod on the outside.
“Oh, that must have been so painful for you to hear, Carley.”
I shrug. “Naw. It’s not a big deal.”
She half smiles. “Well, I guess some people would believe that line if you fed it to them.”
A tiny jolt in my stomach rattles me. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I said I’m fine.” I force a smile.
“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “You’re always fine.”
And with that, I peel my hand away and I am gone.
I walk into the fireman room. The bed is made perfectly with little fire truck pillows. In my mind, I can see her fixing it just right. The way she lines up all the corners and makes sure the bed is straight and neat. I want to curl up on it, but it seems like a world I can never fit into.
I walk around to the other side of the bed and lie on the floor. I bring my knees to my chest and hug them. I know I will keep thinking about the horrible visit from the policeman just so I can think about how Mrs. Murphy stepped in and took my hand and wouldn’t let go.
CHAPTER 14
There’s No Crying in Baseball
It’s been almost week since Mrs. Murphy turned that cop to dust. I have been drawn to her more, but I’m more afraid, too. Careful not to get too close.
At school I try to avoid Toni, who hates me for existing, and Rainer, who actually has a reason to wish me dead. Every time he sees me now, he calls me Oliver.
Here at the house, I pretend to do homework but really just read since I went with Mrs. Murphy and the boys to the Glastonbury library. The most amazing library ever, in a huge old white-brick house.
Mrs. Murphy has gone upstairs to tuck the smaller boys into bed, and I’m left alone with Mr. Murphy. I think he’d pack me up and mail me somewhere if he could. I watch him watch the game.
It’s boring until a cute guy with dark hair and eyes comes up to bat. He looks like he plans to knock the ball into next week; I like that. He hits it by the pitcher and runs to first base. He’s fast. Like me.
I’m a little startled when Mr. Murphy speaks to me. “So, you like baseball?”
“Well, I like him,” I blurt out.
He smiles as he looks back to the screen. “Well, I like him too, but somehow I don’t think in the same way you do.”
I’m embarrassed.
A while later, a player from the other team hits a ball over a big green wall called “The Green Monster.” I watch Mr. Murphy.
“That’s just wicked great!” he says. “I knew it was time to go to the bullpen.”
“Well, it makes sense to me that he hit it over that wall,” I say, studying the Citgo sign that fills the sky right behind the monster.
He looks at me as if I’ve betrayed him.
I point at the screen. “Well, look. There’s a big invitation right there. The letters in Citgo say ‘See-it-go.’”
He stares at the screen for only a second before cracking up, which I like. He shakes his head. “Julie tells me that you have an interesting take on the world.”
I must look worried.
“I mean it as a good thing, Carley. She says you’re clever.”
“She does?” I mumble.
“Yes, she does. And you know, a smart man doesn’t argue with his wife!” He winks before seeming to laugh to himself.
And I decide that maybe baseball isn’t so bad after all.
CHAPTER 15
Birds of a Feather
Today will be both my sixteenth day here and my birthday. I’ve figured that God was trying to tell me something by having me come into the world on April Fools’ Day. Now, I know He was.
I was born at 9:32 a.m. Exactly at that time last year, my mother called me at school, telling the secretary it was a family emergency and that she needed to speak to me immediately.
When I got to the phone, I heard the “Happy Birthday” song sung to Carley Cakes, which was pathetic enough. But then she went into “our song,” as she has called it forever.
We’re pals together
Rootin’ pals, tootin’ pals
Birds of a feather.
I loved it.
Today, there will be no calls. I doubt she knows where I am, but I wonder if she’s awake and better and thinking of me today. She used to say it was the day she met her most favorite ever person.
I hear Mrs. Murphy scream downstairs, followed by laughing and then complaining. Mr. Murphy and the boys are laughing too, so I hurry to the kitchen. For April Fools’ Day, Mr. Murphy had put an e
lastic band around the hand sprayer on the sink, so when Mrs. Murphy turned on the water, she got shot in the chest.
He was falling about laughing at her, but she was laughing too. She smacked him on the arm, kissed him on the cheek, and vowed revenge. A strange combination of things to do. They seemed like little kids. Something about it has stuck in my head all morning since.
I guess the Murphys don’t know it’s my birthday, since there were no juggling clowns in the kitchen. I’m happy and disappointed at the same time.
I’m in Ruben’s class a fifth of a second when that fool Rainer asks, “Oliver? Do you want more rolls?”
I’m so sick of him that I say, “So, Rainer, what’s your last name anyway? Is it Shine? ’Cause if your name is ‘Rainer Shine’ you could be a great mailman or maybe even a meteorologist!”
His friends laugh, but he looks mad, and I wonder if he’s not going to out me when Mr. Ruben starts hitting his own desk with a pointer. “Call to order, ye peasants!”
Mr. Ruben wears a suit today. He brushes his lapel and says, “As you can see, it’s a special occasion. On this most glorious morning, I will explain the details of your term projects, which will comprise thirty percent of your final grade. I will also assign you partners.”
Collective groan.
He holds up his hand. “Now, now. Hear me out.” He begins to pace, rubbing his palms together. “Although everyone changes the world around them—you know, immediate family, et cetera—there are few people that have changed the world globally.” He spins toward us. “Now, these people have tended to be intelligent, tenacious, and good communicators, but the attribute that helped them truly succeed in their endeavors was the inclination and ability to kick some major backside.”
There’s hooting and howling.
He puts his hands up. “Yes, yes. I knew you’d like that.” He points to himself. “I dressed up today in honor of these people. People like Nicolaus Copernicus, who went around spouting off silly ideas about the sun being the center of the universe—not the earth. He was criticized and thought a fool for his refusal to back off of what he believed to be fact. But now, hundreds of years later, he’s known as the father of modern astronomy.”
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