When

by Victoria Laurie

  The next day was a half day, and third period had just started when Mr. Chavez got a call on the phone next to the whiteboard. The room fell silent—the phones never rang unless something awful had happened.

  I knew that from personal experience.

  After answering, Mr. Chavez muttered softly into the phone, his back to us; then he turned and surveyed the room, his dark gaze stopping on me. With a mocking smile he pointed at me, then toward the door. “Go to the principal’s office, Fynn. There’s a police officer waiting for you.” I could tell he took some pleasure in saying that to me in front of the whole class.

  I felt the blood drain from my face. I was so stunned that for several seconds I couldn’t move. “Fynn,” Chavez repeated, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Did you hear me? Get your butt out of that chair and down to the office.”

  I could feel all eyes on me, and I knew exactly what they were thinking. I was finally being arrested. I’d be spending Thanksgiving in jail, but I was terrified that the police could also be here to tell me something bad about Ma.

  As fast as I could I gathered up my things and hustled out the door. The officer met me at the principal’s office and Mrs. Richardson (2-29-2050), the vice principal, was standing next to him. “Maddie,” she said softly as I hurried over to her. “This is Officer Bigelow. Dear, your mother has been in an accident.”

  I looked at the officer (1-17-2062) and cried out, “Is she hurt? Is my mom hurt?!” I was shaking head to toe and I felt like I was about to pass out. I knew Ma wasn’t going to die for another six years, but what if she was injured so bad that she ended up a vegetable or paralyzed or something equally awful?

  Officer Bigelow laid a hand on my arm to calm me. “She’s bruised but not broken,” he assured me.

  I blinked hard, but the tears still came. God, I was crying at everything these days. “Can I see her?” I asked in a squeaky voice.

  “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “Come on. I’ll take you to her.”

  Officer Bigelow drove me to the police station, which, ironically, was only a bit down from the FBI offices. Once we were out of the patrol car, he walked me to the elevator and we took that up to the fourth floor. Stepping out into a crowded hallway, I followed him until we reached a wooden door. He opened it and motioned me through. I came out onto an open floor with half a dozen cubicles that looked a lot like the setup at the bureau. “Over here,” he said, leading me over to another door. He opened it for me and allowed me to enter first.

  The room was spacious, with a square oak table and several chairs. Sitting in one of them was a female officer, and next to her was my mom, slumped in her chair with her head on her arms, sobbing.

  I blinked. This hadn’t been what I’d been expecting. “Ma!” I called out, rushing to her side. But she was so drunk and distraught that she could barely speak.

  Belatedly, I noticed that she was in handcuffs. “Madelyn?” the female officer asked me, getting to her feet. “I’m Officer Dunn. I had my partner pick you up. Cheryl says she’s your mom…Is that true?”

  “Yes. What happened?”

  “She ran a stop sign, and before we could pull her over, she plowed her car into a tree.”

  “She was driving?” I’d had no idea she’d taken the car.

  Officer Dunn (6-3-2054) nodded. “She was behind the wheel of a black Thunderbird, registered to her and a Scott Fynn.” I winced. That car had been my dad’s pride and joy. “She was muttering when we pulled her from the car,” Dunn continued. “Something about finding money in the cookie jar, and taking the car out to celebrate.”

  I put a hand over my mouth. Ma had found the money Donny had given me. “How bad is the car?”

  Officer Dunn shook her head. “I’m no insurance adjuster, but I’d say it’s totaled.”

  She didn’t have to be an expert. We had no insurance, because with Ma’s record, we couldn’t afford even the most basic policy. “Can you let me take her home?” I thought I might be able to coax Ma onto the bus if Officer Dunn would take pity on us and let Ma go.

  “Afraid not,” said Dunn. “Your mom’s going to be staying with us for quite a while.”

  I bit my lip and looked at the officer. She had such a look of compassion on her face that it hurt. “It was my fault,” I told her. “Ma never drives, and I was the one who hid the money in the cookie jar.”

  The officer shook her head sadly. “Madelyn,” she said, “I’m the daughter of an alcoholic, too. It took me years of therapy and two failed marriages to realize that it’s never our fault. Your mom’s sick. She has a disease, and she needs help.”

  I felt a lump form in my throat. “Then let me take her home! I promise, I’ll get her some help!”

  But Dunn wasn’t budging. “I’ve asked your mom for your dad’s number, but all she’d give me was your name and where you went to school.”

  “My dad’s dead. He died in two thousand four.”

  Dunn winced. “Oh,” she said. “Sorry, honey, I didn’t know.”

  I wanted so bad for her to give us a break and let Ma go, and I thought maybe she’d feel extra sorry for me if she knew that Dad had also worn blue. “He was Brooklyn PD. He died in a shootout with some drug dealers.”

  Officer Dunn eyed me sadly, then turned to look at Ma, who muttered something and shifted in her seat. I could see she had a fat lip and a cut above her cheek, but otherwise she didn’t seem to be physically hurt. Just very, very drunk. Turning back to me, Dunn said, “Yeah, I think I remember that. Let me guess, though: your mom started drinking after your dad died?”

  I nodded.

  “Mine started right after my grandmother died. They were really close and Mom didn’t know how to deal.”

  “There’s nobody else besides us,” I told her, pointing back and forth between me and Ma.

  “No grandparents?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Aunts? Uncles?”

  “My Uncle Donny. But he lives all the way in Brooklyn.”

  “Can he take you in?”

  And then I knew. I knew they weren’t going to let Ma go, no matter what I said. “No,” I said. “I’m not supposed to leave town.”

  Her brow furrowed and then she really seemed to look at me. “Hold on,” she said. “You’re the girl the feds have been looking at along with that Schroder kid, right?”

  I hung my head in shame. Now she knew everything. Now she would judge me, too, and next she’d probably be on the phone to CPS setting up some foster care for me. But when I looked up she was eyeing me curiously. “I’ve heard about you,” she said. “My best friend went to see you about a year ago. She was worried about her dad. He was sick in the hospital, and the doctors were telling her to prepare for the worst. They said he wouldn’t make it through the night. You told her that her dad was going to live another ten years. Damn if that old man didn’t make a full recovery, and he’s been running circles around the rest of us ever since.”

  “I didn’t do it,” I whispered. For some reason I was desperate for her to believe me. The rest came out in a rush. “I didn’t hurt anybody, and neither did Stubby—Arnold. Mrs. Tibbolt came to see me, and she showed me her kids, and I only tried to warn her. And then we saw Payton at a football game, and I saw her deathdate, and I told Stubby about it, and he wanted to save her. That’s why he tried to talk to her. He was trying to save her. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and neither would I. I swear!”

  Dunn’s eyes widened a little at the tumble of words, but she was nodding. “I haven’t worked the case, but from what I hear, the feds are far from having an airtight case. How old are you, Madelyn?”

  I swallowed hard and wiped my eyes. “Sixteen.”

  The officer sighed. “Well, technically, you’re old enough to be on your own with a guardian’s consent, but personally, I think it’d be better for you to stay with someone else.” I stared at her in disbelief. Could that really be true? Had all my worry over CPS taking me away been for no reason? “Do you
have any friends who might take you in while we get this sorted out with your mom?” Officer Dunn continued.

  “Not really,” I said. I knew that Stubby’s mom would let me stay with her if I asked, but I hated to be a burden on her now that her son was in jail because of me.

  Dunn sighed and stood up, hooking an arm under Ma’s shoulder she lifted her to her feet and managed to get Ma to shuffle toward the door. “Call your uncle, honey, and tell him you’ll be home alone and that your mom needs a lawyer. A good lawyer because this is her third DUI, and she’ll be facing some serious jail time. Then tell him to move here if he can. You need support and probably some good counseling. Leaving you on your own while you’re trying to juggle the investigation and school is a little much, and I’d hate to see you end up like your mom someday.”

  She moved Ma out the door, and I had to suppress a shudder. I’d never end up like Ma. Never.

  But then, did Ma ever think she’d end up like this?

  I called Donny and got his voice mail. I tried his office, and his secretary told me he was in court. She promised to get the message to him the moment he checked in, and I was left to pace the floor. And then I couldn’t take it anymore. I called Mrs. Duncan, and she told me she’d be right there. True to her word, she arrived at the police station within twenty minutes, carrying a brown paper lunch bag and a thermos. She’d made me a meatloaf sandwich and hot chocolate. I wanted to hug her.

  Midway through lunch, Donny called me back. When I told him about Ma, he hit the roof. I’d never heard him so angry, and even though I knew he wasn’t mad at me, I found myself getting defensive. Finally, he seemed to rein in his temper and he told me to sit tight, that he’d get to the station as soon as he could.

  Donny arrived around three, and then we waited some more while he dealt with Ma. He came into the conference room looking stressed out to the max. “With the holiday, I can’t get her out until next week,” he said, sitting down and yanking at his tie to loosen it. “But truthfully, Maddie, I don’t know that I want to.”

  “What?” I cried. “Donny, we have to get her out!”

  But Donny only shook his head. “Maddie, given your mom’s blood alcohol content and the fact that this is her third strike, the judge might not even set bond. He’s far more likely to keep her in jail and force her to dry out until her trial, at which point I’ll be lucky to get her sentence down to under five years.”

  I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Mrs. Duncan took my hand and squeezed it tight. “Let’s focus on staying positive, shall we?” she said.

  Donny’s gaze flickered to her and he sighed. “You’re right, Cora. But Maddie needs to know that her mom’s not going to be coming home anytime soon. Which means she’ll have to move in with me. I’ll clear it with Faraday the day after tomorrow.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?” Donny asked sternly. “Maddie, you can’t stay here on your own.”

  “Why not?” I challenged. “Donny, I’ve been taking care of Ma for the past couple of years. I’m the one who gets the groceries, does the laundry, makes sure Ma gets something to eat! I can manage okay.”

  Donny tapped his fingers on the table. “What’s wrong with moving to the city?”

  I sighed and stared down at my hands. “I can’t go back there, Donny. I can’t breathe when I’m there.”

  Donny was silent for a long moment. I knew he understood. And then Mrs. Duncan spoke. “I could look in on her,” she said. “I live right next door and could easily make sure Maddie’s getting enough to eat and being taken care of.”

  I eyed her hopefully, but Donny was shaking his head. “Thank you, Cora, that’s very kind of you, but we couldn’t.”

  “Why not?” I snapped. My uncle could be such a stubborn pain in the butt sometimes.

  Donny looked sharply at me. “We don’t impose, Maddie.”

  “Oh, but it’s no imposition!” Mrs. Duncan insisted. “Maddie’s a lovely girl, and frankly, I’m an old woman who could very much use a bit of company and a reason to get out of my old house.”

  I smiled gratefully at her before turning back to Donny. “Please, Donny? I’ll call you every day to let you know I’m okay.”

  Donny tugged again at his tie. “I still feel like it would be too much of an imposition.”

  “Oh, bah,” Mrs. Duncan said with a wave of her hand. “Maddie’s a wonderful girl. She’s no trouble.”

  I almost laughed. I’d been nothing but trouble the past few weeks.

  Donny sighed, then nodded and tried to put on a good face. “All right, Cora. Thank you. Thank you very much. I’ll take Maddie for Thanksgiving and bring her back on Monday morning.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Mrs. Duncan said, clapping the table with her fingertips and giving him a broad smile. “You’ll come to my house for Thanksgiving. I insist.”

  “Aren’t you going to your daughter’s house?” I asked. Mrs. Duncan always spent Thanksgiving with one of her daughters.

  “No,” she said, lifting her chin a little, and I could see it was to cover the hurt in her eyes. “Janet’s not very happy with me at the moment. We’ve decided to spend the holidays apart and give each other some space. And Liz is spending the day with her in-laws, so unless you two want to let an old woman spend Thanksgiving alone, you’ll come over and keep me company.”

  I turned back to Donny. I knew that without the invitation from Mrs. Duncan, Donny and I would spend the next day at some restaurant where the turkey was dry, the stuffing tasteless, and the mashed potatoes lumpy.

  “Okay,” Donny relented with a smile of his own. “But I’m paying for the groceries.”

  MRS. DUNCAN COOKED ENOUGH FOOD to feed an army, and we ate like kings. It was the best Thanksgiving I could remember since before my grandma died. Well, besides the fact that I tried to call Ma at the jail, but I was told she wasn’t feeling well enough to come to the phone. That really bummed me out, but Mrs. Duncan assured me that once my mom had a few days of rest we’d be able to talk. I knew she really meant once Ma got all the alcohol out of her system, she’d be well enough to come to the phone.

  Donny spent the holiday with us, but early Friday morning he told me he had to get back to the city for an emergency with one of his clients, leaving me with a day to fill the best I could.

  Feeling bored, I looked out the window and saw that Mrs. Duncan’s yard was still covered with leaves. Wanting to pay her back for all the kindness she’d offered us, I headed downstairs and rummaged around in the garage for a rake and one of the big plastic garbage cans that we used to put the leaves into when we used to care about having a neat and tidy lawn.

  Pulling the rake and the bin over to Mrs. Duncan’s house, I got to work. She came out after about a half hour. “Oh, my!” she said from her front porch, her hands clasped together over her chest as she beamed at me. “Maddie, what’re you up to?”

  “I’m getting up some of these leaves for you, Mrs. Duncan,” I said.

  “Well, aren’t you sweet?! Have you had lunch?”

  “I’m not hungry, ma’am,” I told her. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to rake every single last leaf up off that lawn and make it look pristine.

  “When you’re ready for a break, dear, come inside and I’ll fix you a hot turkey sandwich, all right?”

  I nodded and kept raking. I was a raking machine.

  “I’m expecting some furniture today,” Mrs. Duncan added before going back inside. “The truck should be here soon. Tap on the window when you see them, will you, dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I promised.

  The furniture truck rumbled up shortly after that, and by then I’d cleared a nice path to the front door.

  Rick Kane got down off the truck and came over to me with a broad smile. “Hey, there, Maddie,” he said. “Happy Thanksgiving to you.”

  I stopped and wiped my brow. “Thanks, Mr. Kane. You, too.”

  He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. �
��Hey, call me Rick,” he said, and put his hands on his hips, surveying my efforts. After giving the lawn an appreciative whistle he said, “You’re hauling some major butt here, girl. You on a mission?”

  I grinned. “Mrs. Duncan’s been really nice to us lately, and I wanted to pay her back some for looking out for me.”

  Rick cocked his head at me. “You okay, sweetie?”

  There was something in his kind face that undid me a little. “Yeah,” I said, quickly looking away. “Ma’s been having a tough time, and Mrs. Duncan’s been watching out for me while Ma gets herself together.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek before I could say anything more. Why I was telling this total stranger all our troubles, I didn’t know. Rick was simply a really nice guy. The kind of guy I imagined my dad would’ve been if he lived to be Rick’s age. Also, Rick didn’t have long to live—maybe that’s why I’d confided in him. All my secrets would die with him.

  He squeezed my shoulder again. “That’s rough, Maddie. I’m sorry.”

  I swallowed hard and shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “Rick!” his partner called. I saw that he’d already opened up the back of the truck.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Rick said, his voice thick with irritation. “Coming, Wesley.” Thumbing over his shoulder he said to me, “Wes gets his panties in a wad if he thinks he’s gonna have to lift something heavy by himself.”

  That made me smile.

  “How about today, Rick?” Wes complained, disappearing into the back of the truck.

  Rick rolled his eyes. “That kid’s a pain in the butt and always in trouble. I’d get rid of him, but he’s my wife’s cousin and he needed the job, so what’re you gonna do? It’s family, you know?”

  I nodded because I really did know, and with one last squeeze, Rick let go of my shoulder and moved off to help Wes while I got back to raking.

  I kept out of their way as they carried in Mrs. Duncan’s items. She seemed so pleased by the new furniture that it warmed my heart to see her so excited.

  As I was loading a big bundle of leaves into the garbage bin, however, I felt a prickly sensation on the back of my neck, and I glanced up to see Wes coming toward me, carrying a small chair. He was staring straight at me. And it wasn’t a nice stare. It was a leer. He licked his lips as he passed by in a way that made my stomach turn.