Книга - The Original Ginny Moon

The Original Ginny Moon
Benjamin Ludwig


‘Brilliant’ Graeme Simsion, author of The Rosie ProjectGinny sees the world differently.Now you will too.‘Funny and wildly moving’ Daily MailMy name is Ginny Moon now.Ginny is fourteen years old and has autism. She likes the colour red, making lists and knowing exactly what time it is. She doesn’t like hugs, surprises or people telling lies.After years in foster care, she has finally found her forever family. She has a new house, new parents and even a new name. But Ginny also has a Big Secret Plan of Escape.Every day she wakes up at nine o’clock and eats nine grapes for breakfast. Because when she was nine years old something terrible happened. Something only Ginny knows. And she’s the only one who can put it right…The Original Ginny Moon is a poignant story of love and family, inspired by the author’s own experiences. Perfect for fans of A Boy Made of Blocks and Shtum.







Meet Ginny Moon.

She’s mostly your average teenager—she plays flute in the school band, has weekly basketball practice and reads Robert Frost poems for English class. But Ginny is autistic. And so what’s important to her might seem a bit...different: starting every day with exactly nine grapes for breakfast, Michael Jackson, taking care of her baby doll and crafting a Big Secret Plan of escape.

Ginny has been in foster care for years, and for the first time in her life, she has found her “forever home”—a place where she’ll be safe and protected, with a family who will love and nurture her. Though this is exactly the kind of home that all foster kids are hoping for, Ginny has other plans. She’ll steal and lie and reach across her past to exploit the good intentions of those who love her—anything it takes to get back what’s missing in her life. She’ll even try to get herself kidnapped.

Told in an extraordinary and wholly original voice, Ginny Moon is at once quirky, charming, bighearted, poignant and yet also heartbreaking and a bit dark. It’s a story of a journey, about being an outsider trying to find a place to belong and about making sense of a world that just doesn’t seem to add up.








ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

A lifelong teacher of English and writing, Benjamin Ludwig lives in New Hampshire with his family. He holds an MAT in English Education and an MFA in Writing. Shortly after he and his wife married, they became foster parents and adopted a teenager with autism. GINNY MOON is his first novel, which was inspired in part by his conversations with other parents at Special Olympics basketball practices. His website is available at www.benjaminludwig.com (http://www.benjaminludwig.com).


Praise for (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)






“Ludwig is a fine observer of human dynamics.... I was mightily impressed—this novel has all the elements for critical and popular success!”

—GRAEME SIMSION

“You will love this novel.... Ludwig paints in every color with ferocity and ultimately, joy.... This is a book to savor and share with everyone you know.”

—ADRIANA TRIGIANI

“Ludwig gives us a remarkable heroine in Ginny Moon, writing poignantly and yet starkly believably from an autistic girl’s point of view.” —MELANIE BENJAMIN

“There is no guessing where Ginny Moon is going to take us in this page-turning, surprising, funny, heartbreaking, at times disturbing, and ultimately morally complex story.”

—EOWYN IVEY

“Ludwig’s novel is a genuine and touching debut; Ginny Moon is a wonderful and memorable heroine.”

—DAN CHAON

“Ginny had me wrapped around her little finger from the first page, and I’d have stayed under her spell for a book twice as long.”

—REBECCA MAKKAI

“A heartwarming but refreshingly honest story about the making of an American family, told by a character who is, indeed, original—and impossible not to love.”

—RUMAAN ALAM

“Ludwig does such a wonderful job of conjuring Ginny onto the page and of making us turn those pages at breathless speed.”

—MARGOT LIVESEY

“Ludwig creates a startling, powerful voice in Ginny Moon, a character who lingers well beyond the pages.”

—ERIKA SWYLER

“Artfully rendered, heartbreaking, funny and suspenseful, Ginny Moon is a veritable smorgasbord of a read.”

—JOHN LESCROART

“Ludwig shares a story that will have readers cheering for Ginny, fearing for her and wanting to reach inside the pages of this poignant novel to guide and protect her.”

—LORI ROY

“Ginny Moon is both honest and raw. Ludwig gives voice to the voiceless.”

—ALEXI ZENTNER


For my wife, Ember,whose heart was open.


Contents

Cover (#u145b2a1f-5498-5374-a5cd-5df5ec95eb74)

Back Cover Text (#u168c95d3-c726-5f70-b0ad-9428cf6e2ba3)

Title Page (#ua8365238-2690-5095-9541-2c7797397885)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u7cf6239b-db9a-5824-8182-43bcce49116f)

Praise (#ue847d7c2-cce4-5fb7-8851-0fe1c840aee6)

Dedication (#uafe28bd8-a14b-58b3-a29c-65b0aea88b2d)

6:54 AT NIGHT, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7


(#u47cdffac-4156-5cbe-aa02-58921f9bda07)

7:33 AT NIGHT, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7


(#u7fe58388-cbd9-595a-a81e-71a08ee863e9)

2:27 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8


(#uc46c0117-2de5-50fd-8ec1-4e895447620a)

2:50 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8


(#uf13f0b5a-77d0-5fb9-ad8f-22c8e09c64f3)

2:45 IN THE AFTERNOON, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 9


(#u3a776215-05c8-5772-9564-14c770d22454)

6:45 IN THE MORNING, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 10


(#u794d370e-0080-5e66-b9c8-921d8dc47ea4)

7:04 IN THE MORNING, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 10


(#u69d4ce8d-4d1d-5f2d-9fa2-4a09f0b85b29)

9:08 IN THE MORNING, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11


(#u1d03198d-e79c-5767-83b0-257198338d22)

11:03 AT NIGHT, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 12


(#u25662c11-737e-5027-8fb7-2634a599f74a)

11:32 IN THE MORNING, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 13


(#uf2a81667-0b80-53ac-ae55-9e4d13b389cf)

EXACTLY 6:57 IN THE MORNING, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14


(#u2c295a4e-5924-5e3c-ba6c-82de2854f189)

EXACTLY 3:31 IN THE AFTERNOON, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14


(#u8b9e2ed4-fe50-5e90-a0d3-73bbedf8b3c6)

EXACTLY 10:05 IN THE MORNING, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15


(#ue0eaaeb6-a285-550c-b660-2427513aeb77)

EXACTLY 6:52 IN THE MORNING, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 17


(#u11c3a9cd-467a-5a15-ab20-073ab4eae7e1)

EXACTLY 10:33 IN THE MORNING, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18


(#u5a6acc1b-dd6b-59d3-b200-6e67d3ebf554)

EXACTLY 9:10 IN THE MORNING, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 20


(#uf9b9b6bb-363c-53ea-933b-f396831ebb56)

EXACTLY 3:05 IN THE AFTERNOON, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21


(#uabc49d1d-6776-5d7b-9349-233e76f98661)

EXACTLY 4:08 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22


(#u9848aae9-3147-583f-9cff-0d511b1ff758)

EXACTLY 5:29, MONDAY, OCTOBER 18


(#u5b39a0ea-b5f9-52da-baf2-eb5f31de0b27)

EXACTLY 5:43 AT NIGHT, MONDAY, OCTOBER 18


(#u97b4ef5d-f2c5-5d69-8f3d-25da899430ff)

EXACTLY 5:27 IN THE MORNING, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 6:23 IN THE MORNING, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 7:02 IN THE MORNING, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 7:09 AT NIGHT, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 6:50 AT NIGHT, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 20


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 6:22 IN THE MORNING, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:33 IN THE MORNING, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:40 IN THE MORNING, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 2:48 IN THE AFTERNOON, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 12:08 IN THE AFTERNOON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 2:08 IN THE AFTERNOON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 6:44 IN THE MORNING, MONDAY, OCTOBER 25


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:28 IN THE MORNING, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 4:14 IN THE AFTERNOON, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 29


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY HALLOWEEN—2:05, SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 2:52 IN THE AFTERNOON, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 2


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 9:08 AT NIGHT, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 2


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 4:17, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 3


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 8:05 IN THE MORNING, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 4


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 3:31, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 5


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 8:24 IN THE MORNING, MONDAY, NOVEMBER 8


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 5:53 AT NIGHT, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 10


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 6:44 IN THE MORNING, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 12


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 10:37 AT NIGHT, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 16


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 6:22 AT NIGHT, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 17


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 10:55 IN THE MORNING, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 20


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 12:41 IN THE AFTERNOON, MONDAY, NOVEMBER 22


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:41, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 26


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 4:17 IN THE AFTERNOON, MONDAY, NOVEMBER 29


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 12:41 IN THE AFTERNOON, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 30


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 2:48 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 1


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 1:58 IN THE AFTERNOON, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 4


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 3:55 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 8


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 2:51 IN THE AFTERNOON, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 16


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 3:03 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 22


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:56 AT NIGHT, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 24


—CHRISTMAS EVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 6:16 IN THE MORNING, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 25


—CHRISTMAS DAY (#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 4:00 IN THE AFTERNOON, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 25


—CHRISTMAS DAY (#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:05 IN THE MORNING, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 26


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 8:23 AT NIGHT, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 31


—NEW YEAR’S EVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 7:07 AT NIGHT, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 5


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:33 IN THE MORNING, FRIDAY, JANUARY 7


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 9:08 IN THE MORNING, SATURDAY, JANUARY 8


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 4:08, MONDAY, JANUARY 10


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 6:32 IN THE MORNING, TUESDAY, JANUARY 11


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 8:58 IN THE MORNING, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 12


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 3:02 IN THE AFTERNOON, THURSDAY, JANUARY 13


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 3:12 IN THE AFTERNOON, FRIDAY, JANUARY 14


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 9:18 IN THE MORNING, SATURDAY, JANUARY 15


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 9:44 IN THE MORNING, SUNDAY, JANUARY 16


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 3:50, MONDAY, JANUARY 17


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 5:14 AT NIGHT, TUESDAY, JANUARY 18


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 5:28, TUESDAY, JANUARY 18


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 5:36, TUESDAY, JANUARY 18


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 3:31 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 19


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 9:32 IN THE MORNING, THURSDAY, JANUARY 20


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 4:48 IN THE AFTERNOON, THURSDAY, JANUARY 20


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 2:10 IN THE AFTERNOON, FRIDAY, JANUARY 21


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 2:58 IN THE AFTERNOON, FRIDAY, JANUARY 21


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:19 IN THE MORNING, SUNDAY, JANUARY 23


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 4:03, SUNDAY, JANUARY 23


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 10:47 IN THE MORNING, MONDAY, JANUARY 24


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:02 IN THE MORNING, MONDAY, JANUARY 24


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 7:02 IN THE MORNING, TUESDAY, JANUARY 25


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 7:57 IN THE MORNING, TUESDAY, JANUARY 25


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:28 IN THE MORNING, TUESDAY, JANUARY 25


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 10:58 IN THE MORNING, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 26


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 11:07, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 26


(#litres_trial_promo)

EXACTLY 4:35 IN THE AFTERNOON, THURSDAY, JANUARY 27


(#litres_trial_promo)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


1 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

6:54 AT NIGHT, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

The plastic electronic baby won’t stop crying.

My Forever Parents said it’s supposed to be like a real baby but it isn’t. I can’t make it happy. Even when I rock it. Even when I change its diaper and give it a bottle. When I say ush, ush, ush and let it suck on my finger it just looks dumb and screams and screams and screams.

I hold it close one more time and say, Nice and gentle, Nice and gentle, in my brain. Then I try all the things that Gloria used to do whenever I went ape-shit. After that I put my hand behind its head and move up and down on my toes. “All better. All better,” I say. From high to low like a song. Then, “So sorry.”

But still it won’t stop.

I put it down on my bed and when the crying gets louder I start looking for my Baby Doll. The real one. Even though I know it isn’t here. I left it back in Gloria’s apartment but crying babies make me really, really anxious so I have to look. It’s like a rule inside my brain. I look in my drawers. I look in the closet. I look in all the places a Baby Doll might be.

Even in the suitcase. The suitcase is big and black and shaped like a box. I pull it out from under my bed. The zipper goes all the way around. But my Baby Doll isn’t inside.

I take a deep breath. I have to make the crying stop. If I put it in the suitcase and put enough blankets and stuffed animals around it and push it back under the bed then maybe I won’t hear it anymore. It will be like I put the noise away inside my brain.

Because the brain is in the head. It is a dark, dark place where no one can see a thing except me.

So that’s what I do. I put the plastic electronic baby in the suitcase and start grabbing blankets. I put the blankets over its face and then a pillow and some stuffed animals. I’m guessing that after a few minutes the noise will stop.

Because to cry you need to be able to breathe.


2 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

7:33 AT NIGHT, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

I’m done with my shower but the plastic electronic baby is still crying. It was supposed to be quiet by now but it isn’t.

My Forever Parents are sitting on the couch watching a movie. My Forever Mom has her feet in a bucket of water. She says lately they have been swollen. I walk out into the living room and stand in front of her and wait. Because she is a woman. I’m a lot more comfortable with women than I am with men.

“Hey, Ginny,” my Forever Mom says while my Forever Dad presses the pause button. “What’s up? It looks as though you might have something to say.”

“Ginny,” says my Forever Dad, “have you been picking at your hands again? They’re bleeding.”

That was two questions so I don’t say anything.

Then my Forever Mom says, “Ginny, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want the plastic electronic baby anymore,” I say.

She brushes her hair off her forehead. I like her hair a lot. She let me try to put it in pigtails this summer. “It’s been almost forty minutes since you went into the shower,” she says. “Did you try to make it stop? Here. Hold this until we can get you some Band-Aids.”

She gives me a napkin.

“I gave it a bottle and changed its diaper three times,” I say. “I rocked it and it wouldn’t stop crying so I s—” Then I stop talking.

“It’s making a different sort of sound now,” my Forever Dad says. “I didn’t know it could get that loud.”

“Can you please make it stop?” I say to my Forever Mom. And then again, “Please?”

“It’s great to hear you asking for help,” my Forever Mom says. “Patrice would be proud.”

Far away down the hallway I hear the crying again so I start looking for places to hide. Because I remember that Gloria always used to come out of the bedroom in the apartment when I couldn’t get my Baby Doll to stop. Especially if she had a man-friend over. Sometimes when it cried and I heard her coming I used to take my Baby Doll and climb out the window.

I grab the napkin tight and close my eyes. “If you make it stop I’ll ask for help all the time,” I say and then I open them again.

“I’ll go have a look,” my Forever Dad says.

He stands up. When he walks past me I recoil. Then I see that he isn’t Gloria. He looks at me funny and walks into the hallway. I hear him open the door to my room. The crying gets louder again.

“I don’t know if this idea is working,” my Forever Mom says. “We wanted you to see what it was like to have a real baby in the house, but this is not turning out like we planned.”

In my bedroom the crying gets as loud as it can get. My Forever Dad comes back out again. One of his hands is in his hair. “She put it in her suitcase,” he says.

“What?”

“I had to follow the sound. I didn’t see it anywhere at first. She crammed it in there with a bunch of blankets and stuffed animals, zipped it shut and then forced it back under her bed,” he says.

“Ginny, why would you do a thing like that?” my Forever Mom says.

“It wouldn’t stop crying,” I say.

“Yes, but—”

My Forever Dad interrupts her. “Look, it’s going to drive us all nuts if we don’t put an end to this. I tried to make it stop, but I couldn’t do it, either. I think it’s at the point of no return. Let’s just call Mrs. Winkleman.”

Mrs. Winkleman is the health teacher.

“She said she gave the emergency phone number to Ginny this morning,” my Forever Mom says. “It’s on a piece of paper. Check in her backpack.”

He walks into the hall and opens the door to my bedroom again. I cover my ears. He comes out holding my backpack. My Forever Mom finds the paper and takes out her phone. “Mrs. Winkleman?” I hear her say. “Yes, this is Ginny’s mom. I’m sorry to call so late, but I’m afraid we’re having a problem with the baby.”

“Don’t worry, Forever Girl,” my Forever Dad says to me. “This will all be over in a few minutes, and then you can get ready for bed. I’m sorry this is so intense and nerve-racking. We really thought—”

My Forever Mom puts the phone down. “She says there’s a hole in the back of its neck. You have to put a paper clip into the hole to touch a button and shut it off.”

He goes into the office and then he comes out again and walks down the hall into my bedroom. I start counting. When I get to twelve the crying stops.

And now I can breathe again.


3 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

2:27 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

When I was in Period Four which is social studies Mrs. Lomos came into the classroom to give me a message. She is my guidance counselor. She has big circle earrings and wears lots of makeup. “Your parents are coming to school for a meeting,” she said. “They’re going to bring you home afterward, so when we hear the afternoon announcements and the bell rings, just stay in Room Five with Ms. Dana. You can work on your homework for a little while. They’ll call you in at some point. They want you to be part of it.”

So right now I am in Room Five which is where I go for part of language arts with all the other special kids. Because I have autism and developmental disabilities. No one told me yesterday that there was going to be a meeting today. I’m guessing it’s about the plastic electronic baby.

Ms. Dana is at bus duty. I see her out the window wearing her orange vest. She is standing next to Bus Number 74. Which is my bus. Behind it and in front of it are other buses. Lines and lines of kids are getting on them. In the hallway all the sports kids are getting ready for practice. Alison Hill and Kayla Zadambidge are already gone. They are the other two kids who go to Room Five with me and Larry.

The buses usually leave by two-thirty but three minutes is not enough time for me to get on the internet. I’ve been trying for a long time to get on by myself but I’m not allowed to use it without an adult. One time when I was with Carla and Mike I put Carla’s laptop under my sweater and brought it into the closet. I was typing Gloria LeBla—in Google when the door opened and Carla found me. She took the laptop and when I stood up she got in my face and yelled and screamed.

And that made me scared, scared, scared.

So once at school when I was doing a report about big cats I tried to Google Gloria mostly sells Maine coon Cats because that is what Gloria does to make money. But my teacher caught me and when I came to this new school at my new Forever House my new Forever Parents said I can’t go on the internet, ever, because they need to keep me safe. Then Maura said that both she and Brian love me and that the internet just isn’t safe. Just isn’t safe because we know you’re looking for Gloria is what she really meant even though she didn’t say that last part.

And my Forever Mom is right because Gloria is back at the apartment with my Baby Doll. I don’t know what town the apartment is in. I need to know if she found my Baby Doll or if it’s been too long and now I’m too late. If I’m not too late I need to pick it up out of the suitcase fast and take excellent care of it again because Gloria sometimes goes away for days and days. Plus she has a lot of man-friends come over. And she gets mad and hits. Plus Donald, when he’s in town. I really wish I could be here more often, but I can’t, Crystal with a C used to say to me when I told her the things Gloria was doing. So make sure you take excellent care of your Baby Doll, just like your mom says. She’ll always be your little baby, no matter what.

I come up out of my brain and start picking at my fingers.

Larry walks in. He puts his backpack down on a desk and leans his arm braces against the wall and sits. Arm braces are like crutches except they attach to your body. They make Larry look like a grasshopper. Larry has brown hair and brown eyes. My eyes are green. Plus he sings all the time and doesn’t like math the way I do. “Hey, babe,” he says.

So I say, “Larry, I am not a babe. I am thirteen years old. Don’t you know that yet? This is tedious.”

Tedious means when you say something over and over and people get irritated like when Patrice used to tell me all the time that I was a little like a baby doll myself when I was in the apartment with Gloria. That was what she said when I tried to tell her that I needed to go check on it. She didn’t understand at all.

Larry stretches out his arms and yawns. “Man, am I tired. It’s been a long, long day,” he says. “I have to stay until my mom picks me up to go to my sister’s volleyball practice.”

“You should do your homework while you wait,” I say because that’s what Mrs. Lomos told me to do. I take out my language arts book and turn to page 57 which has a poem on it by Edgar Allan Poe.

“Nah,” says Larry. “I’m going to check my Facebook. I just got one yesterday.”

He gets up and puts his arms in his arm braces again and goes to the computer. My eyes follow him.

“Do you have a Facebook?” Larry says when he gets to the computer. Without turning. He types.

I look down at my hands. “No,” I say.

“Then, babe, you’ve got to get one.” He looks at me. “Here, let me show you. All the cool kids are on it, you dig?” Larry says you dig? all the time. I think you dig? is mostly an expression.

“I’m not allowed to use the internet without an adult,” I say.

“Right. I remember,” says Larry. “Why won’t your parents let you?”

“Because Gloria is on the internet.”

“Who’s Gloria?”

“Gloria is my Birth Mom. I used to live with her.”

Then I stop talking.

“Is she easy to find?” says Larry.

I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I tried to find her three times on the internet when I was in different Forever Homes but I keep getting interrupted.”

“What’s her name again?” says Larry.

“Gloria,” I say. I feel myself stand up. I feel excited and ready because I know Larry is going to help me.

“Gloria what?”

I lean forward and look at him sideways over the top of my glasses. I push my hair out of my face but it falls back. I wish I had a scrunchie. “Gloria LeBlanc,” I say. It’s been a long time since I said the name LeBlanc with my mouth. Because that is what my name used to be. It’s like I left the original me behind when I came to live with my new Forever Parents. With Brian and Maura Moon. My name is Ginny Moon now but there are still parts of the original me left.

So it is like I turned into the original Ginny Moon.

“Spell it,” says Larry so I do. Larry types and then he steps away and points to the chair. I sit.

And I see her.

Gloria, who hit me and gave me hugs afterward and cried. Gloria, who left me alone all the time in the apartment but gave me fancy drinks when we sat on the couch watching monster movies, who said she was a smart cookie no matter what anyone says because she passed the GED with flying colors which in my brain made me see a parade of girls in pretty skirts twirling batons with streamers and cheering.

Gloria, the second-scariest person I know.

Gloria, my Birth Mom.

Gloria’s shirt and hair are mostly different but at least she has pictures of Maine coons all over the page. And Gloria still has glasses and is really, really skinny like me. I haven’t seen her or talked with her since I was nine years old. That was when the police came and she said, “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, Ginny!” I’m thirteen years old right now but I’ll turn fourteen on September 18th which after today is in nine days because:






Plus nine is how old I was when the first Forever started. The two months cancel each other out, mostly.

“Babe?” says Larry.

He is talking to me. I come up out of my brain. “What?” I say.

“Do you want to see if she’s around to chat?”

I am excited. Because chat means talk.

Larry points to part of the screen. “Here,” he says. “Just click here.”

So I click and then I see a place where I can type.

“Type what you want to say to her,” says Larry. “Just say hi and ask her a question.”

I don’t want to say hi. Instead I type the question that I keep asking everyone and that no one ever, ever, ever understands:

Did you find my Baby Doll?

And then I wait.

“You have to click Send,” says Larry.

But I don’t really hear him because the pictures of the police and Gloria and the kitchen are moving so fast that I can’t see anything else. I am going deep in my brain again. I see Gloria with her face squished against the wall and the police holding her there. I see the broken-down door and the light coming in from outside and two cats running out. I don’t remember which ones.

“Here,” I hear Larry say. “I’ll click it for you.”

In front of me I see the arrow move on the screen. It touches the send button and then I start counting because when something might happen I need to see how high I can count before it gets here especially when it’s the answer I’ve been waiting four whole years for.

Six seconds pass. Then some words appear on the screen under the ones I typed. The words say,

Is this you Ginny?

But that isn’t an answer to my question. I want to pick at my fingers but I can’t do that because there’s a question on the screen and it’s my turn to type. So I type, Yes this is Ginny. You did not answer my question. And click Send like Larry showed me.

Then one more word blinks onto the computer screen. It is in capital letters and it is screaming. The word is:

YES!

And then,

YES WE FOUND YOUR BABY DOLL WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!

I want to write Are you taking good care of it? but my hands are shaking so hard now that I can’t make them do what I want. Plus Gloria asked a question. I open and close my hands three times and put them between my knees and take them out again and type, In Room Five with Larry.

And then she writes,

WHO IS LARRY WHAT IS YOUR ADDRESS?

Now I am picking at my fingers. I have to because I don’t want to talk about Larry or what my address is. I only want to talk about my Baby Doll. Because even though Gloria said YES! and WE FOUND YOUR BABY DOLL I don’t know if she’s telling the truth or if my Baby Doll is okay. Because Gloria is unreliable and inconsistent and she’s the one who lies. So I open and close my hands two more times and remember to breathe and then I type, Larry is my friend. 57 Cedar Lane Greensbor—

I stop typing because I hear Ms. Dana in the hallway. I hear her talking to someone else. Another teacher, I’m guessing.

Which means in a minute I’m going to get caught.

“Babe?” says Larry. He is standing behind me. His voice is anxious.

So I type, I have to go, but as soon as I click Send I want to go back and also say Can you please, please, please bring my Baby Doll to me? but my turn is gone and Ms. Dana will come in any second now.

I stand up fast to move away from the computer. Then someone touches my shoulder so I recoil.

I almost fall. When I see that it is just Larry and no one is hurting me I lower my arm and look at the screen again where I see another word. It says,

MANICOON.COM

Then,

THAT’S WHERE TO FIND ME JUST IN CASE.

Then,

FUCK IT I’M ON MY WAY I’LL BE THERE TOMORROW.

I look away. I don’t see Gloria or the apartment or my Baby Doll. I see only Larry with one of his arms out of a brace and his hand up in the air. “Whoa, dude,” he says. “Are you all right? Come on. We need to sit down and get our books out.” Then he bites his lip and says, “I’m going to shut the computer. Don’t freak out on me, okay?” He reaches and puts one hand on the mouse and clicks the words Log Out and then clicks the X up in the corner of the screen. He goes to his desk and sits. I push the chair back and get up and rub the dirt off my hands and look at the picture of Edgar Allan Poe.

Ms. Dana walks in. “Ginny, your parents are ready to see you,” she says, “in Mrs. Lomos’s office.”

I stand up and take my backpack and leave the room. When I get into the hallway I start running. I run with my fingers touching the wall. I feel like I might fall if I don’t keep touching something so I run and run and run. I am still excited but I am also scared.

Because Gloria is coming. Here to my school.


4 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

2:50 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

My Forever Parents are outside the door of Mrs. Lomos’s tiny office. “Let’s step into the conference room, Ginny,” says Mrs. Lomos.

We take five steps to get to the conference room which is across the hall. My Forever Parents sit at the table so I sit too. “Hi, Ginny,” my Forever Mom says.

“Hi,” I say back to her. She sits with her hands on her big round belly which is as big as a basketball. My Forever Dad’s belly is big too and his face is round but he doesn’t have a white beard or a nose like a cherry.

“Ginny, your parents came in to talk about what happened last night with the electronic baby,” says Mrs. Lomos.

I sit and wait for them to talk. But they don’t.

“They let me know that you put it in a suitcase,” says Mrs. Lomos. “Is that true?”

“Do you mean the plastic electronic baby?” I say.

She looks at me funny. “Yes, of course,” she says.

“Then yes,” I say.

“Why did you put it there?”

I make sure my mouth is shut so no one can see inside my brain. Then I look at her over my glasses. “Because it was screaming,” I say.

“So you decided to hide it under all your blankets and zip the suitcase shut?”

“No,” I say. “I kept my quilt out.” Because my quilt is the only thing I have left from the apartment. Gloria’s own Frenchy mom helped her make it when she ran away to Canada with me after she had me in a hospital. They made it together for me and for no one else. I used it all the time to wrap my Baby Doll in.

“All right, but why didn’t you try to comfort the baby?” says Mrs. Lomos.

“I did try to comfort the plastic electronic baby,” I say. “I said ush, ush, ush like you’re supposed to and I tried to give it my finger but the hole in its mouth didn’t open. I gave it a bottle too.”

“And that didn’t work?”

I shake my head no.

“Did you do anything else to make the baby be quiet?” my Forever Dad says.

I make sure my mouth is closed again so no one can see inside. I shake my head a second time.

Because lying is something you do with your mouth. A lie is something you tell.

“Are you sure?” he says. “Think hard.”

So I think hard. About keeping my mouth closed.

“Ginny, there’s a computer inside the electronic baby,” says Mrs. Lomos. “It keeps track of how many times the baby is fed and changed, and how long it cries. It even keeps track of strikes and shakes.”

Everyone is looking at me. All of them. My Forever Mom next to my Forever Dad on the other side of the table with her hand on her big round belly. I don’t know what strikes and shakes are but no one asked a question so I keep my mouth shut very tight.

My Forever Dad takes out a piece of paper. “The computer said the doll was hit eighty-three times and shaken four,” he says. He puts the paper down. “Ginny, did you hit the baby?”

“The plastic electronic baby,” I say even though it’s a rule that We do not correct.

“It doesn’t matter whether the baby was real or not,” he says. “We asked you to try taking care of the baby. We can’t—”

“Brian,” says my Forever Mom. Then to me she says, “Ginny, it’s not okay to hit or shake a baby. Even if the baby isn’t real. Do you understand that?”

I like my Forever Mom a lot. She helps me with my homework every night after supper and explains things when they don’t make sense. Plus we play Chinese Checkers when I get home from school. So I say, “When I was in the apartment with Glo—”

“We know what happened in the apartment,” she interrupts. “And we’re very, very sorry that she hurt you. But it’s not okay to hurt babies, ever. So we need you to start seeing Patrice again. She’s going to help you get ready to be a big sister.”

Patrice is a therapist. An attachment therapist. I haven’t seen her since the adoption in June. I lived with my Forever Parents at the Blue House a whole year before that. That was when I started going to my new school too.

Which reminds me again that Gloria is on her way right now. I don’t know how long it will take her to get here. I don’t know if she’ll get here before I go to see Patrice. And that’s important because I need to know when things are going to happen so I can count and check my watch and make sure everything works the way it’s supposed to.

I pick hard at my fingers.

“When will I see Patrice?” I ask.

“We’ll call her on the phone today and see when she’s available,” says my Forever Mom. “Probably early this next week, if she has some time in her schedule. I bet she’ll find an opening, for you.”


5 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

2:45 IN THE AFTERNOON, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

Gloria didn’t come to school today. I waited and waited and then my watch and all the clocks in all the rooms said 2:15 and we had the afternoon announcements. Then the bell rang and I went outside with all the other kids to get on the bus.

So I am confused.

But right now I’m confused about something more pressing. Patrice says that more pressing means something more important than something else. The more pressing thing is that someone is angry here at the Blue House. I have to figure out who it is.

That’s why I’m standing here on the front step of the screen porch. I’m still wearing my backpack and carrying my flute. I see that our mailbox is knocked over and there are tire tracks on the ground which means someone peeled out. Peeling out is what people do when they’re in a car and they’re really mad. I stand there wondering who made the marks and when I look up I see my Forever Dad’s car in the driveway next to my Forever Mom’s. Usually he’s at work. He’s the guidance counselor at the high school.

With one finger I straighten my glasses. I look at the tire tracks again. In my brain I remember that at 2:44 right before the bus stopped in front of the Blue House I saw two police cars coming the other way. They were driving slowly so I took a deep breath and held it until we were past.

I don’t like police officers. They all have the same head.

Then I got off the bus and saw the mailbox and the tire tracks.

I open the door to the screen porch. Right away I smell cigarette smoke. No one at the Blue House smokes. The smell makes me think of Gloria’s apartment.

I go inside. My Forever Mom is standing in front of the kitchen sink holding a glass of water in one hand and holding her belly in the other. Her hair looks like she didn’t brush it and there are dark, dark lines under her eyes. Without looking she says, “Hi, Ginny. Come put your things down. We need to talk with you in the living room.” Her voice is quiet.

I put my backpack and flute case in my room and come back out.

“Hello, Forever Girl,” my Forever Dad says. He is standing near the window. “Did anything interesting happen at school today?”

“No,” I say, “but I would like to know which one of you is angry.”

They look at each other.

“Angry?” says my Forever Dad.

I nod my head yes.

“Why would one of us be angry?”

“Because there are tire tracks on the front lawn. Which one of you peeled out?”

“Wait,” he says. “You think that because there are tire tracks on the front lawn, one of us is angry?”

I nod my head yes again.

My Forever Mom makes a little smile and then a long breathing sound. “Well, I guess this is going to be easier than we thought,” she says. “Ginny, neither one of us made those tire tracks.”

I am confused so I stand there thinking.

“Let’s get back to the first question first,” says my Forever Dad. “Did anything interesting happen at school?”

“No,” I say again.

“Did you make a phone call?”

“No.”

“Did anyone come to visit you?”

“No.”

“Did anyone ask for your address?”

“Do you mean today?”

My Forever Dad looks at my Forever Mom quick and then looks back at me. “Yes. Of course we mean today.”

“Then no.”

“Then no?” says my Forever Dad. “What about yesterday, then? Did anyone ask for your address yesterday?”

But that was two questions in a row and I’m not sure which one to answer. Plus it’s a rule that I can answer only one question at a time. Because I have only one mouth and I don’t know which question is more pressing. So I shake my head and keep my mouth shut tight, tight, tight. Just in case.

My Forever Mom looks at my Forever Dad. She puts her hand on her chin. “Well, then, how the hell did she track us down?” she says.

So I say, “How the hell did who track us down?”

“The person who peeled out on the front lawn,” my Forever Dad says. “But don’t worry, she’s gone. The police made her leave.”

“So you’re not still angry at me about the plastic electronic baby doll?”

He looks at me in a funny way again. “Angry isn’t the right word,” my Forever Dad says. “We’re concerned, is all.”

I wonder if they are lying. Gloria lies all the time. Then I start wondering if maybe they found out that Gloria is on her way because angry is what everyone would be if they knew. I pick and pick at my fingers and close my eyes and say, “Will someone please, please, please tell me which one of you is angry?” because you have to be careful around angry people. They get mad and hit.

Then my Forever Mom says, “Ginny, we already told you. No one here is angry. You’re safe. We can talk about the tire tracks some other time. What’s with the frowning face? Now, go wash up and get dressed. You’re going to the apple cider farm next week, and you’ve got a birthday coming up! And you’re going to see Patrice on Wednesday! We already talked with her and made the appointment. Maybe you should mark it on your calendar.”

But that wasn’t a question so I don’t say anything. Plus what she said about the apple cider farm wasn’t true. My class is going there on September 21st, not next week. And now I can’t remember what I was worried about but when I look up I see my Forever Parents looking at me and smiling. I smile back.

“Ginny, would you like a hug?” my Forever Mom says.

I would so I let her give me one. She has to lean forward because her belly is so big.

“Now go change your clothes,” she says.

I go into my room and change into my play clothes. I look out the window at the yard and see the tire tracks again.

And I remember.

It’s hard for me to figure things out sometimes. I get distracted and forget to look at what I’m supposed to look at. Or I go so deep in my brain that I forget what I’m supposed to know. But I know now that no one here at the Blue House is angry. No one yelled and no one hit me. Someone else made the tire tracks but she’s gone now so I can get ready for Gloria. When she comes to school I’ll run out to the Green Car to see if my Baby Doll is with her. If it isn’t then I’m going to have to get in the car and go back to the apartment. Even though I don’t want to. Even though I know what will happen to me. Because I have to see if my Baby Doll is still in the suitcase. If it is and I’m not too late then I need to take it out and take excellent care of it. I can tell that Gloria hasn’t changed a bit. I remember all the drugs and cats and the strange men at night. I remember what she used to do to me when I made too much noise. But the worst part is Donald. He’s going to be really, really mad when he finds out what I did. He’s going to make me dead. Gloria said so.

And I believe her even though she’s the one who lies.

Whenever Gloria left to get more Maine coons or see her dealer I had my Baby Doll to keep me company but now my Baby Doll is there by itself. I don’t know if you can hear anything when you’re zipped up tight inside a suitcase. Waiting.

So I have to go back.

Maybe when I run out to the Green Car, Gloria will be in a good place. Maybe she’ll get out and give me a big hug and say, “Holy shit, Ginny! You have really grown! Your eyes are still green? Even though you got adopted and changed your name, you’ll always have green eyes. Just like us!”

I hope she is right.


6 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

6:45 IN THE MORNING, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 10TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

It is 6:45 which means it is time for school. I have my backpack on and my flute case and I am wearing my watch. I wear my watch everywhere I go except the shower.

My Forever Dad is with me. Usually he stands in the screen porch while I go out to get on the bus but today he wanted to come along. We are walking across the grass to where the bus comes which is at the end of the driveway. We pass the tire tracks. On the ground near one of the tracks I see a white plastic box so I pick it up. It is a Tic Tac box with five white Tic Tacs inside. I hold the box up and count the Tic Tacs two more times. I shake them. They rattle.

“What’s that?” my Forever Dad says.

I don’t answer. Gloria always had Tic Tacs. She always smelled like Tic Tacs and cigarettes. White ones were her favorite.

Then I remember that the curtains in the screen porch smelled like cigarettes too.

I look at my Forever Dad and shake the Tic Tacs. I point to them. “These are from Gloria,” I say.

My Forever Dad makes a breathing sound with his mouth. He nods. “Yes, they probably are,” he says.

Then he takes them because he says they might be dirty even though I promise not to eat any.

“How did they get here?” I say.

“Well...” he says but then he doesn’t say anything else.

What this means is that Gloria came here to the Blue House. Yesterday. That was where the tire tracks came from. She was the angry person. She came when I was at school. Then she peeled out and left. Which means she came to the wrong place. Which means I won’t be able to run out to the parking lot to see if my Baby Doll is in the Green Car with her. I won’t be able to go back to the apartment and check inside the suitcase.

To make sure I say, “Did Gloria come to the Blue House yesterday?”

“Yes,” my Forever Dad says. “Gloria came to the Blue House yesterday.”

“Did she bring my Baby Doll?”

He gets a funny look on his face. “No, she didn’t bring your Baby Doll. Ginny, I know you don’t like us to even say it, but if you want a new doll, we’ll get you one. Do you want to go to the toy store this afternoon?”

“No, thank you, I don’t want to go to the toy store.” I use my friendly voice even though it makes me really mad when people ask that question. “When is she coming back?”

“She isn’t coming back. She scared your mom pretty badly and made quite a scene. She even ran over our mailbox.”

I don’t know what quite a scene is but I know that when Gloria is angry she yells a lot and fights. She breaks things and hits.

I look at the mailbox. It is lying on the ground with its side all bent and its door open. Like a mouth, not moving.

“Ginny?”

I come up out of my brain. “What?” I say.

“I said she isn’t coming back. The police came to tell her she isn’t allowed to visit.”

But I know that Gloria never does what the police tell her. She is very sneaky. I know she wants to come back and I know I have to help her. I have to find out if I’m too late. Even though I’m scared. Even though Gloria gets really violent and is completely unreliable which is what one of the social workers said. I have to know what happened to my Baby Doll.

I hear the bus coming from around the corner.

“We can talk about this some more after school,” my Forever Dad says. “Would that be good?”

I see the bus so I start counting.

“Ginny?”

“I see the bus,” I say.

“Yes, I see it, too,” my Forever Dad says. “We’ll talk some more after school, if you want.”

The bus takes thirteen seconds before it pulls up to the side of the road. My Forever Dad gives me a squeeze on the shoulder. I don’t recoil because it’s okay for him to do that. Because once he asked me if he could give me a hug and I said no so he asked if a squeeze on the shoulder would be all right and I said yes it would be. My Forever Mom can give me a hug if she asks but my Forever Dad is a man so it has to be a shoulder squeeze.

My brain is moving too fast. The pictures in it are like hands flying up at my face.

“Ginny?” he says.

“Goodbye,” I say. And then I get on the bus.


7 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

7:04 IN THE MORNING, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 10TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

When I get to school Mrs. Lomos is there waiting on the sidewalk right next to the bus. Today her earrings look like silver pears. “Good morning, Ginny,” she says when I step down off the bottom step.

“Good morning,” I say because that’s what you say when someone says Good morning to you. Sometimes I also like to say How are you today? after I say Good morning but I am thinking about when I can ask Larry to get on the internet again so I can tell Gloria where to meet me. Because she didn’t come to school like she was supposed to. I need to help her get it right. I’m guessing the library is a good place for me to get on the internet because sometimes there aren’t any teachers there.

“I want you to meet Mrs. Wake,” says Mrs. Lomos.

I look up from my hands to see a lady standing next to Mrs. Lomos. She is an old lady with glasses and a white sweater. She isn’t wearing a Michael Jackson shirt. I love Michael Jackson because he isn’t like other men. He isn’t big and loud. He isn’t scary. He’s the nicest person in the world and when I hear his music I feel like I’m standing in a circle wearing small white shoes and when I feel that way I want to jump high and kick my feet back and spin when I land and put my shoulders up high and say, “Oooh!”

But I have a hard time talking about how I feel. Patrice says it’s part of my disability.

“Mrs. Wake is going to walk with you to all your classes,” says Mrs. Lomos.

“Is she going to go with me to the library?” I ask.

Mrs. Lomos gets a funny look on her face. “I don’t think your class is going to the library today, Ginny. What do you have to do in the library?”

“There are books in the library,” I say even though there are computers there too.

“Yes, there are. Maybe Mrs. Wake can help you pick one out.”

Mrs. Wake smiles at me. I do not smile back. “Hello, Ginny,” she says. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

Period One is language arts again. Mrs. Wake sits next to me the whole time and tries to help me with questions about a man named Nathaniel Hawthorne. Then at the end of Period Two I go to Room Five with Larry and Kayla Zadambidge and Alison Hill. When I get to the table and sit down Mrs. Wake finally leaves to go to the bathroom so I say, “Okay, Larry. I need to get on the internet.”

And he says, “Dude, there’s a computer right there,” and points and starts singing a song that says if I want it, here it is, I can just come get it. “But won’t you get in trouble?” he says when he finishes.

I am about to tell him that he can get on the internet for me but then Ms. Dana walks in. She sits down at the table and starts reminding us how to use an agenda book. I decide not to tell Larry right now that I won’t get in trouble if he goes on the internet instead of me. Later I’ll tell him that I can just look over his shoulder while he looks at Facebook or Manicoon.com. But Ms. Dana keeps talking and talking and then Mrs. Wake comes back so I keep my new secret plan in my brain and shut my mouth so no one will see it.

At 9:42 I go to homeroom for Break. Mrs. Wake comes with me.

At 9:55 I go to band practice. Mrs. Wake comes with me.

When I get to the band room she sits down near the door and I go to my music stand and take out my flute. Mr. Barnes the band teacher says that the Harvest Concert will be on Monday, October 18th. He says that we’ll play two songs about autumn and one about Halloween and one about the harvest moon.

At eleven o’clock it’s time for social studies. Mrs. Wake follows me down the hall past the cafeteria and the lockers. She follows me all the way to the social studies room and sits down next to me on my left.

I make sure my mouth is closed so no one can see what I’m thinking.

Ms. Merton the social studies teacher is writing notes on the board. She does that every day. We’re supposed to copy down the notes in our notebook.

I look at Mrs. Wake. “I don’t have my notebook,” I say. And it’s true because my science notebook isn’t with me.

“Where is it?” she says.

“In Room Five.”

Mrs. Wake looks at the board. Ms. Merton has already written three sentences. All the other students are copying them.

“Do you have to write the notes in your notebook?”

“Yes,” I say.

“All right,” she says. “I’ll run back to Room Five to get it. For now, copy the notes on a blank piece of paper. We can staple it into your notebook when I get back. Can you tell me what color it is?”

I think hard again. “Green,” I say. “It’s on my shelf.”

Mrs. Wake leaves. As soon as she’s gone I raise my hand. Ms. Merton sees me and says, “Yes, Ginny?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?” I say.

“Go ahead and sign out,” says Ms. Merton.

So I stand up and go to the doorway and sign out on the sign-out list. I start walking down the hallway toward the library. It is three rooms away. I am almost there when I hear my name. “Ginny?”

I turn around. It is Ms. Merton.

“The eighth-grade bathroom is the other way,” she says. “We’re not supposed to use the one near the library because that one is for teachers.”

I want to say Well dang! Because I’m not going to be able to get on the computer to chat with Gloria. Teachers and Forever Parents have stopped me from using the internet for four whole years. For a while I gave up and tried running away and looking in the phone book but none of those things worked. I have to be a smart cookie and make this work. I’m so mad I want to hiss.

But I don’t. Instead I walk back down the hallway. I pass Ms. Merton and then I pass Mrs. Wake coming out of Room Five.

“Ginny, where are you going?” she asks.

“Ms. Merton said I could go to the bathroom,” I say.

“All right,” she says. “Let’s go fast so we can get back to social studies. Oh, and I found your notebook.” She holds it up so I can see. “It seems to have only your science notes in it, though. Let’s check your backpack to see if the other one is in there.”


8 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

9:08 IN THE MORNING, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

On weekends I get up at nine in the morning. It takes me only two minutes or sometimes three to stretch and put on my glasses and my watch and have a drink of water before I come out to go to the bathroom. Then I walk into the kitchen. I am standing in front of the refrigerator listening. I hear nothing. In the refrigerator there are grapes and milk. There are a lot of other things too but grapes and milk are what I need. I need to have nine grapes to start my breakfast and a glass of human milk but it’s a rule that We do not open the refrigerator. And We ask for food when we’re hungry.

I stand there waiting. If my Forever Parents were here they would say I was hovering which is when I stand really, really close to something. And wait.

My Forever Mom walks in. Her hair is still wet and she is wearing makeup. She never wears makeup in the morning unless she’s going somewhere. “Good morning, Ginny,” she says. “Someone is coming to visit today.”

Or if someone is coming to visit.

So I say, “I don’t like surprises.”

“Oh, it’s not a surprise,” she says. “It’s Patrice.”

Patrice understands mostly everything that I tell her. She even understands some things that I don’t say. I like her a lot but she knows how to see into my brain. I have to be careful around her and keep my mouth closed when I’m not talking.

“When will she be here?” I say.

“In about an hour,” my Forever Mom answers. “Around ten. She’s making a special weekend trip to spend a little time with you.”

Patrice has never been to the Blue House. I always went to her office but I would like to show her my room and all my Michael Jackson things and I want to tell her about Gloria and the tire tracks and the Tic Tacs. I will not tell her about my secret plan to go on Facebook or on Manicoon.com at school because she might tell my Forever Parents.

At ten Patrice’s car pulls into the driveway. Patrice gets out. She has her purple fuzzy sweater and her hair is short again. I run out to her car. I give her a hug and neither of us recoils.

“And how is my adventurous friend?” she says.

She is talking about me. She calls me my adventurous friend because she saw me every time I ran away and after what happened with Gloria at the apartment and after I tried to escape from my other Forever Homes. She says I have a lot of adventures.

So I say, “I am fine, thanks.”

I stand there looking at her.

Then Patrice says, “Why don’t you walk me inside, and we can talk with your Forever Mom for a little? Then you can show me your room. And did I hear that you’ll be going to see the tall ships tomorrow?”

I bring Patrice inside and she says hello to my Forever Mom. They talk about the baby in my Forever Mom’s belly. Patrice says to me, “Ginny, are you going to help your mom take care of Baby Wendy when she arrives?”

I don’t know what Baby Wendy will look like but I’m guessing it will wear little overalls. My Baby Doll didn’t have overalls but I wanted to get some for it. Gloria said we couldn’t afford them. Michael Jackson had a chimp named Bubbles who wore overalls just like a real baby. Because when Michael Jackson was little he wanted a chimp so bad that he asked his mother over and over and finally I’m guessing she said yes, okay, fine, Michael Jackson, you can get a chimp. Michael Jackson used to pick Bubbles up just like I used to pick up my Baby Doll. Only Bubbles got so strong that Michael Jackson didn’t have to hold him under his bottom anymore. He tucked Bubbles into bed every night but Bubbles got too big so Michael Jackson had to give him away. Because Bubbles might attack. He gave him away to a zoo and now Bubbles lives in a big cage where he can’t hurt anyone. I saw him on television.

“Ginny?”

“What?”

“Do you think you’d like to help your mom take care of Baby Wendy when she gets home from the hospital?”

“Yes,” I say.

“That’s great!” says Patrice. “You can help pick things up when your mom is holding her. And when the baby is bigger, the two of you can learn how to play together. She’s going to want to be just like you, you know. She’ll want to do all the things her big sister does. Won’t it be fun to be a big sister?”

“Mostly,” I say.

“Good,” says Patrice. “Now, do you know why I’m here, Ginny?”

“Because you want to look at my room?” I say.

“Not quite. I’m here because I want to talk with you about some things. I understand that Gloria came here to the Blue House a few days ago.”

And I say, “She came on Thursday, September 9th, while I was at school. She is completely unreliable.”

I stop talking and make sure my mouth is shut tight. There’s a lot in my brain that I don’t want Patrice to see.

Patrice looks at me in a funny way. “That’s an interesting way to put it,” she says. “Did you see her?”

I shake my head no.

“I wonder how she managed to find you,” Patrice says. “Do you know?”

I shake my head once more but then my mouth opens and I say, “She left tire tracks in the yard and wrecked our mailbox which means she was either really pissed or really loaded. Plus she made quite a scene. I didn’t see her when I got off the bus but my Forever Dad said she didn’t bring my Baby Doll.”

Patrice laughs but it is a friendly laugh. Sometimes people laugh in a way that is mean. Mostly it’s like teasing. I can’t always tell which is which. “Wow,” says Patrice. “It sounds like you’ve had an exciting time.”

I nod my head yes but she didn’t ask a question so I don’t say anything.

My Forever Mom makes a breathing sound. “Why don’t you bring Patrice to your room and show her around?” she says.

So I bring Patrice to my room and show her all my things. She looks at the pictures on my dresser and all the birthdates and holidays I wrote on my calendar. Then she says, “Did your Forever Parents tell you that Gloria isn’t coming back to the Blue House?”

“Yes,” I say. “They said the police told her she can’t.”

Patrice turns around and around in the middle of my room looking at all my things. I am in the doorway. “That’s right,” she says. “Gloria got in a lot of trouble when she came here. She tried to get in the house and really scared your Forever Mom. So your mom called your dad and the police, and when the police arrived, they had to force Gloria to leave. Your Forever Dad came right from school. And then the two of them called Social Services, and the judge got involved, and—well, let’s just say Gloria isn’t allowed to visit again. That’s why I came to talk with you. How do you feel about all this?”

I remember the judge. The judge is a lady who wears a big black cape like the teachers wear in Harry Potter. The movies, not the books. I like movies better than books because in movies the pictures move. I met the judge on June 21st at the adoption. It’s a rule that you have to do what the judge says. The judge said I couldn’t go back to Gloria’s apartment and that Gloria isn’t allowed to come find me. But the judge doesn’t know how sneaky Gloria can be. Neither does Patrice.

“Ginny?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I should have asked a clearer question. How do you feel about Gloria coming here the other day?”

Patrice talks about feelings all the time. She taught me how to do it too. So I say, “I feel really bad. My Baby Doll is all alone.” Then I look at Patrice over my glasses to see if she understands.

“I know your Baby Doll was important to you,” says Patrice. “Do you remember what we said last time we met? We said that you were a little like a baby doll when you were in the apartment, getting left by yourself all the time. But you’re safe now. Don’t you feel safe?”

“Yes,” I say but I don’t care about being safe. I don’t care if Gloria hurts me or Donald gets his gun. I have to find out what happened to my Baby Doll after the police took me away. I need to know if anyone found it in the suitcase or if I’m too late.

“Good. And the best way to stay safe is to make sure you never, ever get in the car with Gloria if you happen to see her. No matter what she says. Can you make me that promise?”

I make sure my mouth is shut tight and then I nod my head yes.

“I know I’ve said it before, but you’re lucky you got out of that apartment alive. But if she were to come here and then get you to get in the car with her, it would be considered kidnapping. Do you know what that means?”

I don’t so I shake my head no.

“Kidnapping is when someone steals a kid. If you go with Gloria, Gloria will be stealing you. And stealing is against the law. Does that make sense?”

It does so I nod my head yes. Three times because I think getting kidnapped is a great idea. That way I can go straight back to the apartment and run into my room to check the suitcase.

“And I need to ask you about what happened with the baby doll from school.”

“You mean the plastic electronic baby,” I say.

“Yes, that’s the one,” says Patrice. “I understand that you hit it, and then you put it in a suitcase. Why would you do that?”

“Because it wouldn’t stop crying.”

“But there are other ways to calm a baby down, aren’t there?”

“Oh yes,” I say. “You can give it some milk or pick it up and rock it. And if there’s no milk or food you can give it your finger to suck on. You can sing it ‘The Eensy-Weensy Spider.’ You can change its diaper or give it a bath. Or just let it rest on you.”

Patrice is looking at me funny. “You sure seem to know a lot about babies,” she says. “Where did you learn all those things?”

So I close my eyes and yell, “From taking care of my Baby Doll!”

Then I look at her to see if she understands.

“You don’t have to shout,” she says. “But remember, your Baby Doll wasn’t a real baby. You had to have learned those things somewhere else. From television, maybe?”

I shake my head no. “My Baby Doll was a real baby,” I say.

“Ginny, that’s not true,” says Patrice. “Gloria didn’t have any other children. I’ve been over your case file a thousand times, and you were the only one in the apartment. Did you have a baby cousin, maybe? I remember your aunt used to come visit you sometimes.”

“Crystal with a C,” I say.

“Right, Crystal with a C. Did Crystal with a C have a baby?”

I shake my head no. I am too mad to say anything else with my mouth now.

“At any rate,” says Patrice, “I need you to know that your parents and I have come up with a new rule. It’s the most important rule we’ve ever given you. When Baby Wendy is born, you’re not allowed to touch her. We have to make sure you learn the right way to act around babies first. It’s a scary thing when someone hits a doll and puts it in a suitcase, even if the doll isn’t real. Suitcases aren’t good places for putting babies at all, right?”

I pick hard at my fingers. So hard a dark drop of blood comes out. I watch the drop get bigger and bigger until it breaks and drips down my thumb.

“Ginny?”

I look up and at the same time put my hands behind my back. Where neither of us can see them.


9 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

11:03 AT NIGHT, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

I am in bed now breathing fast and trying to calm down. We went to Portland today to see the tall ships. Plus the fireworks. It’s the last fun thing we’ll do before my Forever Mom starts getting ready to have the baby, she told me. I left my watch at home because I got poison ivy on my hands and wrists yesterday. I thought it was okay to leave my watch at home because there’s usually a clock nearby to tell me what time it is but I got distracted because the fireworks were loud and made lots of smoke and everyone kept saying “Ooooh!” when they saw them. It was like they were all ghosts. And the smoke was like the ghost of the fireworks. Then I learned that you can keep fireworks and smoke in your brain if you just close your eyes afterward. The pictures stay there with you.

Which was what I was doing when we got back to the car. That was why I didn’t see what time it was right away. I sat in my seat with my eyes closed and leaned my head against the window and kept looking at the blue and green and red and white sprays of fireworks in my brain. Only the music was different. At the fireworks there were big speakers playing music with flutes and drums. In the car my Forever Parents had the radio on instead. Someone was singing about a girl whose name wasn’t even Billie Jean or Dirty Diana. It was Caroline or something. So I opened my eyes and said, “Can’t we get some flutes and drums? I’m trying to watch the fireworks.”

And then my Forever Mom said, “Honey, the fireworks are over.”

Which was when I saw it was 10:43. It was way past nine o’clock.

I started picking at my fingers. “Do you see what time it is?” I said.

“It’s 10:44,” said my Forever Mom.

I looked and she was right. The clock had changed. It wasn’t 10:43 anymore. It was 10:44 so I said, “Well dang!”

I started biting the skin on my lips. “It’s past my bedtime,” I said and in my head I wrote,

Bedtime = 9:00 at Night

“That’s okay,” my Forever Dad said. “It’s okay to stay up late once in a while, isn’t it?”

“But it’s past nine o’clock,” I said.

“That’s right,” said my Forever Mom. It sounded like she wanted to say something else but then she didn’t. She just sat there quietly in the front seat while someone on the radio sang about the numbers twenty-five and six-two-four. And now the numbers on the clock said 10:45. None of those numbers were like the numbers in my head which were still nine and zero and zero.

“I have to go straight to bed,” I said.

“Do you want to stay up a little to watch some TV? Just to decompress?”

Decompressing is like deescalating. It means let’s take a little time to calm down. I shook my head no. “I have to go to bed now,” I said because nine o’clock is my bedtime and I have to have nine grapes with my human milk in the morning. Nine years old is how old I was when the police came. It’s how old I was before Forever started.

“What about brushing your teeth?” said my Forever Dad. “Don’t you want to brush your teeth first?”

It’s a rule that We always brush our teeth before going to bed. And I like rules. “Okay, yes, fine,” I said. “After I brush my teeth. And after I go to the bathroom and wash my hands. And after I get a drink of water to put on my dresser and put on jammies. Then I’ll go straight to bed.”

“Which jammies will you wear tonight?” my Forever Mom asked. “The ones with the cats, or the ones with the sock monkeys?”

“The ones with the cats,” I said. “The ones with the sock monkeys are for Mondays.”

Then I thought about my Baby Doll and decided to sing it a lullaby. Even though it couldn’t hear me. Because I could still see the fireworks in my brain which is where I see my Baby Doll. I started singing “I’ll Be There” for it. My Forever Dad turned off the twenty-five or six-two-four and my Forever Mom put her hand over the clock. When it came to the part about looking over my shoulder I said, “Oooooh!” just like Michael Jackson which is not the same way a ghost says it but still. Then I looked over my shoulder and inside my eyes I saw Little Michael Jackson giving Bubbles a great big hug through the bars at the zoo.

“You’re doing great, Forever Girl,” my Forever Dad said. It’s all right for them to call me that for now because it’s still true. I like being their Forever Girl and I’ll miss them both but it’s already way, way, way past my nine. Past nine o’clock and nine years old. I don’t want to go back to that scary place but I have to, have to, have to.


10 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

11:32 IN THE MORNING, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

In science we are studying hurricanes. I am working with Alison Hill on our project. We have to make a poster and write a report about how hurricanes work. We have to type a list of facts too. But my job is to make the poster. Mrs. Wake is helping me put dots of glue on a big piece of white poster board so that I can attach cotton balls to it. I’m not allowed to use the glue because Ms. Dana told her what happened last year when I memorized the combination to the supply cabinet in Room Five.

But in a minute I’m going to need the glue. It’s part of my secret plan.

“That’s very good, Ginny,” Mrs. Wake says. “Now let’s put some on the bands of clouds on the outside of the hurricane. Those outer winds are the most destructive, so we need to make sure they stand out.”

I put two more cotton balls on the poster board. Alison Hill is near the window at a long table typing the list of facts. Alison Hill is good at typing. She is faster than Larry and faster than me but she gets really mad sometimes when you try to make her go as fast as she can.

I put down the cotton ball I am holding. “Alison Hill, are you done yet?” I ask.

“Not yet, Ginny,” she says.

I look at my watch. The time is 11:35. I put my pencil down on the table hard so that it makes a slap. Then I make a loud breathing sound.

Alison Hill keeps typing.

I pick up the scissors and start cutting out the curved arrows that Mrs. Wake drew for me. I make the breathing sound again. “I am almost ready for those facts,” I say.

Alison Hill slams her hands down on the keyboard. “Ginny, leave me alone!”

“Ginny,” says Mrs. Wake.

But her voice didn’t go up so she wasn’t asking a question.

“I bet the facts would be done if Larry was typing,” I say.

Then Alison Hill throws her paper and pencil in the air and stands up. I look at her. She has her fingers curled up like claws. Mrs. Wake walks over to her and starts to deescalate the situation. They start talking loud and fast.

So I grab the glue and squeeze it all over Mrs. Wake’s chair. I squeeze and I squeeze and I squeeze. Then I put the bottle on the ground and move it under the table with my foot where she can’t see it.

When Mrs. Wake is finished helping Alison Hill calm down she comes back to help me some more. She sits down. “Let’s let Alison get her work done,” she says. “Don’t talk to her right now. She needs to focus.”

So I say, “I can’t find the glue.”

Mrs. Wake looks around. “It was here just a minute ago,” she says. “Ginny, did you eat the glue? Ms. Dana said—”

Then she gets a funny look on her face and puts her hand under her bottom.

I make sure my mouth is closed.

“Did you do this?” she says. And stands up. She is wearing a nice gray skirt. She tries to look at her bottom but her neck isn’t long enough so she puts her hand there instead. She looks at her hand. She looks at me. Her eyes get big and wet. “Ginny, I can’t believe you!” she says. Then she runs out of the library.

I start moving toward the computer where Alison Hill is working. Then I remember that Alison Hill knows I’m not allowed to use the internet without an adult.

I stop and start picking at my fingers.

On the other side of the library I see a fifth grader get up from a computer. I walk to the place where he was sitting and sit down in his place. Then I type Manicoon.com into the white space at the top of the screen. And click Enter.

On the screen I see Maine coon cats. I see their long ears and bushy tails. Their faces look at me like Fire’s and Coke Head’s. Above them I see tabs that say Information and About Me and Contact Me. And I see the words A Message for My Daughter. Under the words A Message for My Daughter I read,

So I came to the address you gave me and those fuckers called the police. But they can’t shut me down. I have rights too, I told them. No one can take away freedom of speech. Four years ago they took you away and I’ve been trying to find you ever since. Thank God for the internet. Don’t tell anyone about this blog though. I can’t come back to the house where you live because the judge issued a restraining order. G., I love you so much. I want you back so we can be a family again. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been without you? I’ll do anything to get you back. You should see the new cages I put in. We’re moving lots of tail. I’m clean now too. Rehab and everything. Crystal says I should lie low and cool it. But I can’t cool it. She helped out a lot after you left but I have to see you. So name the time and place and I’ll be there. Leave a comment and as soon as I read it I’ll delete it. Ha. That almost rhymes.

I don’t know what Leave a comment means but then I see the word Comment under Gloria’s letter. So I click it and I see a place to type. I write, You can come to the Harvest Concert on October 18th. Please get my Baby Doll from the suitcase under my bed. Don’t leave it there alone.

Then I click the word Submit which I’m guessing is like Send and then the X to make the screen go away and I go back to the table to wait for Mrs. Wake.


11 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 6:57 IN THE MORNING, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

Before I went outside to get on the bus I counted the five slices of bread that were left in the bread bag and my Forever Mom said the word approximately means close to but not exactly. And that the bread is approximately gone. So if today is September 14th then tonight when I go to bed it will be approximately the 15th. Then at midnight the 15th will be exactly here.

Approximately is a good word to use when you can’t get to a watch or a clock. It’s also good for thinking about your Baby Doll if you don’t know exactly if anyone found it or exactly the time Gloria might bring it to the Harvest Concert.

But I can’t think about what time she might come because the bus is pulling into the school parking lot and I see a parked car that looks approximately like the Green Car. My watch says it is exactly 6:59. The car I see is green like I remember but it doesn’t have the thick piece of plastic Gloria taped to the back window when it broke. And standing in front of the car is someone who looks approximately like Gloria but not exactly. She is far away but she is really, really skinny and mostly she has the same kind of hair but she isn’t wearing the shirt from the Facebook picture. I stare and stare at her out the window until we stop in front of the school. Then I get off the bus. I want to walk around the bus to see if it is her but Mrs. Wake is right there on the sidewalk waiting for me. She brings me inside.

Plus yesterday I told Gloria that she should come to the Harvest Concert so it can’t be her.

Mrs. Lomos called my Forever Parents yesterday and told them about the glue. I had to write a letter of apology to Mrs. Wake. I take it out of my backpack and hold it out to her. “Here,” I say.

She takes it.

We go to homeroom and then to language arts. Now it is exactly 7:45. Mrs. Wake reads the letter when she sits down. All she says is “Thank you, Ginny.” Her mouth is a thin line and she is not talking as much as she did yesterday. I’m guessing she is angry but she isn’t yelling so I don’t have to be careful. But still I don’t argue when she tells me to take out my homework. We are working on the hurricane project both in science and in language arts.

My homework was to make a list of things to take with me in case there is a hurricane and I need to seek shelter. I made a list of exactly twenty-three things with a line between number five and number six. Everything above the line is what Mrs. Wake helped me with yesterday. Everything under it is what I did on my own.

1. A cell phone (to call family and friends)

2. A flashlight (to look at things in the dark)

3. Food (to eat)

4. A radio (to hear news about the hurricane)

5. Batteries (for the radio and the flashlight)

6. Some books about Michael Jackson (to read when I’m not listening to the radio)

7. My iPod (to listen to when I’m not reading books or listening to the radio)

8. The headphones to my iPod (to plug into my iPod)

9. My iPod charger (to charge my iPod)

10. Some games like Uno, for example (to play)

11. My hairbrush (to brush my hair)

12. A scrunchie (to hold my hair up)

13. My toothbrush (to brush my teeth)

14. Some toothpaste (to put on my toothbrush)

15. Deodorant

16. New underwear (just in case)

17. Socks (if my feet get wet)

18. Flip-flops (if my feet get wet again)

19. A blanket (for everyone to sit on)

20. Drinks (for us to drink)

21. A cooler (to keep our drinks cool)

22. Bendy straws (for our drinks)

23. Popcorn (to have with our drinks)

“Come with me, Ginny,” says a voice.

I look up from my paper. It is Mrs. Lomos. I am surprised she is here. I am surprised by her earrings too. They are little white masks.

“Come to my office for a minute,” she says. I tell her that I am checking over my homework before I pass it in. She says that I need to go with her now. So I do.

The time is exactly 7:52. I follow Mrs. Lomos into her tiny office. She asks me to sit down. She shuts the door and says, “Ginny, when was the last time you saw Gloria?”

“I saw her four years ago on April 18th when the police came to take me away,” I say. “She cried and cried and said, ‘I’m so sorr—’”

“Are you sure that was the last time you saw her?” says Mrs. Lomos.

“You interrupted me,” I say.

“I’m sorry to have interrupted you,” says Mrs. Lomos. “It’s just that you’ve told me how Gloria cried and said, ‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,’ a lot of different times already. But right now it’s important that you think very hard and tell me if you’ve seen Gloria recently.”

I’m not sure if Mrs. Lomos is asking a question so I don’t say anything.

Then Mrs. Lomos says, “Let’s try again. When was the last time you saw Gloria?”

So I say, “Do you mean exactly or approximately?”

Mrs. Lomos’s face looks surprised. “Exactly,” she says.

But I’m still not exactly sure that it was Gloria who I saw in the parking lot so I say, “The last time I exactly saw her was on April 18th four years ago.”

“Did you approximately see her after that?” she says.

“Yes,” I say. “I approximately saw her this morning.”

“How can you be sure it was her?”

“I said it was only approxi—”

“Ginny, what did you see?”

“I saw a person near a green car and her head was mostly the same but her shirt was different.”

“Thank you,” says Mrs. Lomos. “Now, I have to make a phone call. While I’m doing that, I’m going to give you a very important job. I want you to write down everything that you did this morning.”

She hands me a pencil and a pad of white lined paper. The pencil is not my Snoopy pencil which is the only pencil I like to use.

“Everything?” I say.

“Everything,” says Mrs. Lomos. “Start with what happened when you woke up, and end with what we just finished talking about.”

So I look at the tip of the pencil which is very, very sharp and I get ready to write. Then I start thinking about how Gloria came to the Blue House and what it might mean that I saw someone who looks approximately like her when I got to school.

I think and I think and I think.

And now I see that it is 8:06 and Mrs. Lomos is back in her office with me again. She says, “Hi again, Ginny. Your mother and father are coming to school so that we can all have a talk. A police officer will be with them. Now, I know you don’t like police officers.”

Sometimes I see police officers on television or in a picture and I am fine with that but when police officers are in places where I don’t expect to see them I get surprised. Like when there’s one around the corner or when one comes to school to be a guest speaker and no one told me. But I don’t say any of that. I don’t say anything because I want to know why my Forever Parents are coming here to talk with me and why a police officer is coming too and mostly I want to know if I approximately or exactly saw Gloria when the bus was pulling into the parking lot. Because if I exactly saw her then I need to get outside and jump in the Green Car quick. Before the police officer gets here.

Because four years ago when I was nine years old a police officer stood in front of Gloria while the other police officer carried me away. While one of the policemen was holding me the other one pushed Gloria back and then Gloria tried to get past him so he grabbed her arm and pushed her face against the wall and her cheek got flat and her eyes got round and white and she yelled my name and said, “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, Ginny!” over and over while I kicked and tried to fight and Gloria yelled, “That’s my daughter! That’s my daughter!” and then “Ginny, you belong with me!” and then the one who was holding me started carrying me toward the door so I went ape-shit.

Because they didn’t know where I hid my Baby Doll and when I tried to tell them they didn’t listen. They put me in the back of the police car and brought me straight to the hospital.

I stand up from the small, hard chair in Mrs. Lomos’s tiny office. I put the pencil down and pick it up again. It is still very sharp. I haven’t written anything. I open the door.

“Ginny?” says Mrs. Lomos from somewhere behind me.

I don’t listen. My feet start moving and I hear the swish-swish of my pants rubbing together and now I am running to the library which has a window where you can see the parking lot where I approximately or exactly saw Gloria leaning against the Green Car.

I pass Mrs. Wake. She opens her mouth to say something but I keep going.

I throw open the library doors and run past the computers. To the window. I look outside.

And see her. She isn’t holding my Baby Doll. I look hard to see if I can see into the Green Car. I jump to see if I can see into the backseat but I don’t see a car seat or a baby carrier or anything.

A police officer stands in front of Gloria pointing at the Green Car. He shakes his head. Gloria’s mouth opens and I know she is angry. Even though I can’t hear her. The police officer points at the Green Car again. Then two more police cars come driving up fast but their lights aren’t on. I hear their engines through the glass. Two more police officers get out of each police car. Now there are five.

Gloria spits.

One of the police officers steps really, really close to her. She puts her hands up and turns her head down and away and reaches for the door of the Green Car.

There is a radiator in front of the window. I climb on top of it and put my arms up against the glass. Then I put my face close to it and hit the glass again and again with my hands and start to scream.

Gloria looks up. At the window. I lean back to hit the glass as hard as I can. Then I hit it again and again. And again and again. I can’t make it break.

I jump off the radiator and grab a chair. I lift it up high above my head and run.

Someone grabs me. The chair comes out of my hands and I fall. It is the principal and Ms. Dana. I am going ape-shit because I need to tell Gloria not to go. I need to tell her to come help me escape but Ms. Dana pulls me down and puts me on the floor. She is on top of me so I can’t get up. I kick and fight. I bite her in the arm. She yells and lets go.

“Ginny!” I hear someone say. “Ginny!”

It is Mrs. Lomos. I see her feet.

I stand. “It—” I say. “It was exa—” But the words don’t come and then the principal grabs me from behind. I am falling but as I go down I look out the window and see the Green Car driving away. Now I’m on the floor again next to a book rack with Julie of the Wolves and Island of the Blue Dolphins. My eyes want to cry but they can’t because my breath is catching and catching and I can’t breathe. I see Ms. Dana and Mrs. Lomos and Mrs. Wake and the librarian and now it feels like I’m under water or a blanket and then everything is dark.


12 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 3:31 IN THE AFTERNOON, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

My Forever Parents are home. Both of them. They are in the living room talking with a police officer who is not wearing a uniform. Not the one who came to school. I know he is a police officer because my Forever Parents told me. I am standing up in my room and I will not sit down again until he leaves.

I am angry because Gloria came to school and I didn’t get to go with her. I told her to come to the Harvest Concert but she came today instead. When I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t see if my Baby Doll was in the backseat. She is completely unreliable. I wish she was like Crystal with a C. Crystal with a C knows I don’t like expressions. I’ll always tell you the truth, Ginny, she used to say to me. Even if it’s hard to hear. I believed her 100 percent and I try to always tell the truth 100 percent too. Or also which is mostly the same as too but spelled different.

At exactly 3:40 the police officer comes into my room with my Forever Parents.

I hiss.

My Forever Mom puts her hand up like she is going to touch my arm.

I snarl.

I am one of the Maine coons now. All my fur is up. If anyone touches me—

“Ginny,” my Forever Mom says, “the police officer isn’t going to hurt you. He’s here to help.”

Police officers are never here to help even though my Forever Mom doesn’t lie. If they were here to help they would bring me right to Gloria’s. The police officer talks and talks but I don’t listen. Then he says, “Do you understand?” And smiles.

His name is Officer Joel but his name doesn’t matter because all police officers are exactly the same.

The police officer says that if I see Gloria again I should tell my Forever Parents or a teacher immediately. Immediately means now, no matter what. He says that I need to stay here at the Blue House with my Forever Family because they are my family now. When I tell him that I need to see if my Baby Doll is okay he says that Gloria is not a safe person. He says it isn’t safe to go back to the apartment because she used to leave me alone too much and she hurt me. And all the strange men and the drugs. And didn’t I remember what happened to the cat? The police officer says the same thing could have happened to me. “We wouldn’t want something like that to happen to a little kid, would we?”

So I scream, “Then why won’t you let me go get my Baby Doll?”

He shakes his head and keeps talking. He talks about unsanitary conditions and abuse and the cat. Snowball. He is wrong about what happened to it but I am so upset that all I can do now is say the word wrong, wrong, wrong over and over in my brain and put my hands over my ears because he doesn’t understand. He knows only approximately what happened.

And I know exactly.


13 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 10:05 IN THE MORNING, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

I am in Patrice’s office. I didn’t go to school. Patrice’s office has three soft chairs in it. One has flowers all over it. She has a skinny black-and-white cat named Agamemnon who likes to make bread on your lap. Making bread is an expression because Agamemnon doesn’t know how to bake. It doesn’t hurt when Agamemnon makes bread because his claws were removed when he was little. He doesn’t remember the operation, Patrice says. But right now I don’t see Agamemnon. I look for him every time I come here because I really like cats. I want to get a cat but my Forever Parents won’t let me. They say it isn’t appropriate. Not appropriate means that something doesn’t belong. Even though I think it really does. Especially after Snowball.

Patrice is in the kitchen. “Ginny, do you want to help me put together a snack?” she says. I stop looking for Agamemnon and go to help her. Patrice says that food and drinks help people relax. Today’s snack is Hershey’s Kisses and milk. I pour a whole bag of them into a bowl and bring it out into the room with the chairs. Then I sit down and start eating.

“So what’s all this drama I’m hearing about?” says Patrice.

I don’t know what drama is so I say, “I don’t understand the question.” Patrice taught me that. I’m supposed to say I don’t understand when there’s something I want to know or when I don’t understand. Patrice says asking for help is part of self-advocating.

“Drama means a lot of feelings and loud actions,” says Patrice. “When someone says there was some drama, it means there were some crazy things going on.”

“I didn’t see any crazy things,” I say and put another Hershey’s Kiss in my mouth. And then I look up because it’s a rule that You should make eye contact when you talk with someone.

“I’m sorry,” says Patrice. “I shouldn’t put it that way. It’s not drama at all, really. It’s just that a lot is going on all at once. Can you tell me about what happened yesterday with Gloria? Your parents tell me she came to school.”

I crinkle the silver wrapper between my fingers into a ball. “That’s right,” I say. “Gloria came to my school. I saw her in the parking lot yesterday when I got off the bus. She had the Green Car.”

“When you first saw her, what did you think?”

“I wasn’t sure if it was her.”

“Why weren’t you sure?”

“Because she had a different head.”

“If you had been sure it was her, what would you have done differently?”

I don’t answer because I don’t want Patrice to know what I would have done. I close my mouth tight and start counting.

Then Patrice says, “No one knows how she managed to find where you live, but she wasn’t supposed to come see you. It’s not allowed, Ginny. It’s just not safe. She’s still completely impulsive. She hasn’t changed at all. Well, maybe I shouldn’t go that far, but she still flies off the handle.”

“Did she peel out?” I ask. Because Gloria gets really, really mad when someone says she isn’t allowed to do something.

“I’m not sure,” says Patrice.

“Did she make quite a scene?”

“From what I was told, yes, she did. She tried to get into the building. The doors were locked and she wouldn’t go away. She asked if she could see you, but since no one at school knew who she was, they called the police. Then she used a rock to try to break through the door. The police walked her back to her car, and that’s when you climbed up to the window.”

I sit and I think. I am glad Patrice is telling me what happened. Patrice always tells me the truth. She calls it telling it straight because a lot of people keep things secret from me.

“Ginny?” says Patrice.

“What?”

I am picking at my fingers again.

“It’s extremely important that you never go with Gloria. If you do, you could get hurt. Your Forever Parents already have a restraining order against her so she can’t come to the Blue House, and now they’re going to have one that says she can’t come to school. Do you know what a restraining order is?”

I shake my head no.

“It’s like a rule, only bigger. It’s like a law. A law for one person. I suppose we could say that it’s against the law for Gloria to see you now. It’s just not safe. I really don’t understand why you want to go back to see her again. It bothers your Forever Parents, too. You almost died when you were there. Can you help us understand?”

“I want to see if my Baby Doll is okay,” I say.

“Oh my goodness, Ginny, I know you’ve been through a lot—more than anyone should ever have to go through—but we’ve been over this so many times!” says Patrice. “Remember, we decided that the reason you want to take care of a Baby Doll is because you were like a little baby when you were in the apartment. And we don’t want to see what happened to the plastic electronic baby doll happen to you again. Do you see what I’m saying? Gloria hurt you pretty badly, Ginny. Do you remember what you looked like when the police took you out of the apartment? Do you remember how thin you were? And all the injuries? You were lucky to be alive. I know she’s your Birth Mom, but Gloria just isn’t capable of taking care of young children.”

She keeps talking and asking me questions about all the bad things Gloria did and every time I tell her yes, I know, I get it, Gloria isn’t a safe person which is why I need to go back to get my Baby Doll. But Patrice just keeps shaking her head and saying no, Ginny, I’m sorry, your Baby Doll isn’t a real baby, I checked the records.

So finally I make my hands into tight, tight balls and squeeze my eyes shut and yell, “It’s not in the records. It’s in the suitcase.”

She stops. “Ginny, I know you think that no one listens to you, but we checked the suitcase. The police went back to look after they brought you to the hospital. There was nothing inside.”

“There was nothing inside?” I say.

Patrice shakes her head. “Nothing. There was a suitcase under the bed, but it was empty. And the social workers visited you quite a few times before you were taken out of the apartment. Don’t you think they would have known if there was a baby?”

I blink. If the suitcase was empty then I told Gloria to look in the wrong place when I wrote to her on September 13th. But I don’t know where the right place is. I don’t know where to tell her to find my Baby Doll.

“Ginny?”

Someone must have taken it out of the suitcase after the police took me out of the apartment. But who?

“Ginny?”

“When did they go back to look?”

“As soon as they left you at the hospital.”

It was a short drive to the hospital in the police car. I didn’t have a watch yet so I don’t know how long but it couldn’t have been a long time.

Which means I might not have been too late. Or I was too late and someone—

“Ginny?” Patrice says again. “Do you need a beverage?”

I look at her but I don’t see her face. I don’t see anything because my brain is working hard to figure out what happened after the police took me to the hospital.


14 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 6:52 IN THE MORNING, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

Who took my Baby Doll out of the suitcase?

I am on the bus thinking about things I don’t like to think about. Deep in my brain. Most of the time I keep them locked away in the dark but now I have to bring them out because the police checked the suitcase when I was at the hospital and they didn’t find anything in it.

I think about Donald. Could it be him?

Donald had pants but mostly he didn’t wear them at night when he came out of Gloria’s room to see me. It was always easy to tell if the man in Gloria’s room was Donald because Miller was there. Miller was the cat’s name and he belonged to Donald. Miller used to run in front of the cages and meow at all the Maine coons.

Miller really liked me. Maybe it was because we both got our names the same way. He didn’t like to go away with Donald when Donald left in the mornings. I used to watch him pick Miller up like Miller was a baby and put him in the cat carrier. Then he would bring Miller out to the car and drive away but he always brought Miller back with him when he came to sleep in Gloria’s room which was where they went to play a game called Hide the Cannoli. I spent a lot of time looking for the cannoli when no one was home but I never found it. I’m guessing it was in a secret drawer or maybe they took it with them when they went away.

But one time I didn’t want Miller to go so I picked him up and put him in a suitcase with a lot of blankets and pillows to keep him quiet. He scratched my arm and hand while I was holding him down but then I put a sweatshirt over his head and got the lid closed.

Then I zipped the suitcase and put it under my bed. Donald looked for him but couldn’t find him and finally he said, “I’ll just leave the damn cat here. You don’t mind, do you?” And Gloria said, “No problem. Your two little cats will be right here waiting for you.” Then he slapped her on the bottom and kissed her and went away.

And Gloria found some money and ordered pizza while we watched a vampire movie. The pizza was bacon and onion. It is my favorite. We had our fancy drinks. Soda in a can with a bendy straw for me and gin and tonic for Gloria. That’s why she named me Ginny. Because gin and tonic is her favorite.

So I got to keep Miller. Only I didn’t take him out because I didn’t want Gloria to know I had him and I didn’t want Donald to take him away again. Donald was away for five days and when he came back no one could find the cat. He must have gotten out somehow, they said. Donald was mad and he yelled and yelled at Gloria but then they went out to see Gloria’s dealer and it was quiet. So I put my Baby Doll down on the bed and with the arm that didn’t hurt I pulled the suitcase out and opened it and Miller was dead. Dead means you’re asleep but you aren’t going to wake up. And you smell really, really bad. I took my Baby Doll out into the living room and we stayed there until it was dark. Then Gloria came home by herself later and opened the door to my room because of the smell. She saw Miller and said, “Holy shit, Ginny! You killed Miller!”

And I said, “I did not kill Miller. I just tried to let him out of the suitcase.”

“What did you do, suffocate him? Or did he starve?”

Gloria touched him with her foot but he didn’t move.

“We have to do something. If Donald finds out about this, he’ll kill you. You know, make you dead. I’m not kidding.”

Then I got very scared because Donald has guns. And once he threw Gloria all the way down the hallway and kept kicking her. He likes hurting people and mostly I’m guessing he likes making them dead too.

That was when Gloria took the suitcase outside and turned it upside down so that Miller fell on the porch. Then she took out her gun and said, “I love you, kiddo,” and gave me her Diet Cherry Coke. She shot Miller in the face so that he had no head anymore. He was just a furry body with legs and a dark black spot where the head used to be.

After Gloria shot him she said, “Now Donald will never know it was you who killed Miller.”

“Who will he know it was?” I asked.

“Ha!” said Gloria. “He’ll know it was me. There’s not a lot of time to get rid of the evidence. It’ll stink if I put it in the garbage. If I can find something to dig with, maybe I can bury it. Just give me a hug and let me look at my beautiful girl before my eyes are so swollen I won’t be able to see you anymore. Donald will be here any minute.”

But Donald didn’t come. Instead the police came. The neighbors must have heard the gun and called the cops, Gloria told me before she went upstairs to hide. I heard them coming. I saw the blue lights. Someone was knocking. Loud. Gloria ran fast. I grabbed the suitcase and dragged it inside. Even though it hurt my arm really bad. Then I picked up my Baby Doll from the bed and put it in the suitcase. I put all my pillows and blankets around it even though the suitcase still smelled really bad. I saw its green eyes get big like round circles and blink when I put my quilt over them. Then I pushed the suitcase back under my bed and put more blankets around it and some clothes too. Then I climbed into the cabinet under the sink in the kitchen. And the police broke open the door to the apartment.

That was the day the first Forever started.

But I remember the day exactly. I know I put my Baby Doll in the suitcase. If the police didn’t find it where can it be?

The bus stops. I come up fast out of my brain and take a deep breath through my nose. We are at school. I have to find a way to make Mrs. Wake leave me alone again so I can get back on a computer. I have to ask Gloria what happened.

“Hey, babe,” says a voice.

I look up. It is Larry. He is standing up in the aisle with his backpack on. We are on the bus.

“It’s time to go. But ladies first,” he says with a big smile and sweeps his hand out. Then his face turns red and he looks at the ground. I stand up and walk in front of him and hurry out the door.


15 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 10:33 IN THE MORNING, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

My Forever Parents are outside right now walking around the yard. My Forever Mom walks all the time now because she wants the baby inside her to descend. That means it is almost ready to come out.

I am in my room holding my quilt and crying. Because I am fourteen years old. Right this minute. Right now. And I’m not supposed to be. I’m supposed to be nine years old and keeping my Baby Doll safe. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be nine years old.

My Forever Dad knocks on my door and opens it.

“Ginny, why don’t you come outside with us? I thought you’d like to play catch.”

“I don’t want to,” I say.

“All right,” he says. “Then how about basketball? We could shoot some hoops.”

“I want to stay in my room,” I say.

“Ginny, it’s your birthday. I know a lot has been going on and you’re confused, but this should be a happy time. We’re going to have presents and cake after supper.”

He keeps trying to get me to come outside but I won’t go. I need to be alone inside my brain right now. Even though it’s my birthday. Even though there will be presents and cake after supper. At 10:36 he finally leaves.

Manicoon.com. Manicoon.com. I say the website over and over with my mouth. Quiet in a whisper. It is the only thing that matters. I tried to get on it yesterday but I couldn’t get away from Mrs. Wake. I have to get on the computer one more time to ask Gloria where my Baby Doll went and to tell her to wait. And she has to wait for the Harvest Concert like I told her. She can’t be impulsive and try to come sooner. She has to, has to, has to wait or she’ll get caught and ruin everything.


16 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 9:10 IN THE MORNING, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 20TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

We are in language arts writing poems about picking apples. Tomorrow we are going to the apple cider farm and the apple poems are helping us get ready. To help us write the poems we read one by Robert Frost. It has apple trees and a ladder in it. If I had a ladder right now I would climb out of this classroom. I have to escape from it so that I can go to the library and get on a computer.

Which means I have to find something new to glue Mrs. Wake to.

When you write a poem you have to talk about things that mean something else. The ladder in Robert Frost’s poem means heaven, Mrs. Carter said. So in my poem I put a ladder that means I am climbing out of my bedroom window to go with Gloria. We have to draw a picture to go with our poem so I draw the Green Car and the Blue House and me on the ladder climbing out of my room. Next I will draw a picture of my Baby Doll in the Green Car but Mrs. Carter is standing next to my desk looking down at what I’m drawing. She says it isn’t appropriate.

“No, I’m afraid it isn’t,” says Mrs. Wake when she sees the picture. “And I think we should probably show this to Mrs. Lomos.”

So Mrs. Wake brings me down to Mrs. Lomos’s office. We pass the water fountain and the bathroom and the janitor’s closet. I think about pushing her in there and locking the door. I run ahead and jiggle the door handle. It is locked.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Wake asks.

“Jiggling the door handle,” I say.

I think about locking her somewhere else but it would have to be somewhere really, really quiet. Otherwise someone might hear her banging to get out.

Mrs. Lomos says Mrs. Carter was right. It wasn’t appropriate to draw pictures of Gloria and the Green Car. Or me escaping. When I ask why not she says because Gloria isn’t safe and the picture means I want to go with her.

Which makes sense. So it isn’t appropriate for me to draw what I really want because people might find out about it. I am surprised that Mrs. Lomos told me that but I’m glad because now I can do a better job at keeping it secret.

“We’re going to keep you safe in spite of yourself, young lady,” Mrs. Wake says when we are in the hallway going back to class. I don’t know what that means so I ask her.

“It means we know what you’ve been up to,” she answers. “We’ve finally got your number.”

“I’m fourteen years old,” I say.

“That’s right,” says Mrs. Wake. “Your birthday was two days ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I say.


17 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 3:05 IN THE AFTERNOON, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21ST (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

I am at the kitchen table eating nine grapes for my afternoon snack.

“Ginny, we have to talk about the computers at school,” my Forever Mom says. “We know about Gloria’s Facebook page and her blog. She’s been pretty quick to delete the comments you left for her, but we know the two of you have been in touch.”

I put the first grape in my mouth and wait for her to keep going.

“The police can’t make her shut the pages down, but we’ve been watching to see what she posts. The police have, too. So you can’t talk with her that way anymore.”

I don’t know if she read any of my Comments. I don’t know if Gloria had a chance to read it and delete the last one. I don’t know if my Forever Mom knows that I told Gloria to come to the Harvest Concert.

“Ginny?”

“What?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, how do you feel about it?”

I think hard and make sure my mouth is shut. I want to be good and tell her but I can’t.

“How did you feel about the apple cider farm?” she says. “And how about the fact that you’re in a safe place and have plenty to eat? How do you feel about knowing that no one is going to hit you? And what about becoming a big sister and staying at the same school for two years in a row? Or staying at the same house?”

She isn’t yelling but her voice is getting louder. Plus she asked five questions all at once. I don’t say anything. I eat two more grapes and wait.

And then she yells.

“Why the hell are you doing this, Ginny? Why the hell are you telling Gloria to keep coming back? She beat the hell out of you! You had a fractured arm and were starving! You almost died! I’m supposed to have a baby in two weeks—we can’t have this kind of insanity in the house with a newborn baby! Ginny, don’t you see? This all has to end! We can’t—”

She stops. I squeeze my eyes shut just in case. Then I hear her walk out of the kitchen. I hear the bathroom door close. She is crying.

Which means I’m not going to get hit.

I take a deep breath and finish my grapes. The last six.


18 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 4:08 IN THE AFTERNOON, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22ND (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

“It works like this,” says Patrice. “When a Forever Girl gets adopted, it’s forever, unless she makes her new Forever Home a dangerous place. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Within the past two weeks you beat up a plastic electronic baby and arranged to have Gloria try to kidnap you twice. You tried to throw a chair through a window, and you bit one of your teachers. Now, does that sound like a good environment for a baby sister?”

“No,” I say.

“Do you know what could happen to you if you don’t stop it?”

“If I don’t stop what?” I say.

“If you don’t stop trying to contact Gloria.”

“No,” I say.

“Then I’ll tell you,” says Patrice. “You could get yourself unadopted. Ginny, your parents love you, but they aren’t going to let you make the Blue House a dangerous place for Baby Wendy. So if you don’t stop trying to get Gloria to come see you, you’re going to have to leave the Blue House. Forever.”

“Does that mean I’ll have to go to another Forever House?”

“Actually, it means you’ll probably end up in a facility for girls who aren’t safe.”

I think hard. Gloria won’t know where I am if I go someplace else. Gloria won’t be able to find me again. I’m guessing she doesn’t know the address of the facility for girls who aren’t safe. It took four whole years for me to get on a computer and tell her where the Blue House is.

Which means I have to be good. I have to behave. I can’t try to escape or contact Gloria again. I have to wait until the Harvest Concert.

“Ginny, this isn’t a time to be inward. How do you feel about what I just told you?”

I look at Patrice. “I want to stay at the Blue House,” I say.

Patrice smiles. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say in a long time. Now, let’s talk about what we have to do to keep you there. You’ll be seeing me three times a week for a long time, so we’re going to work on this a lot.”


19 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 5:29, MONDAY, OCTOBER 18TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

It is the night of the Harvest Concert but it isn’t night yet. The sun is going down but it is still day.

I have been very, very good at the Blue House and at school so that I wouldn’t get myself unadopted. Even though the things in my brain keep trying to pull me into dark places. I have been picking at my hands a lot and keeping them in my lap so no one sees. I didn’t try to get on the computer or to have Larry get on the internet for me. I told Patrice three times each week that I wanted to be a good big sister. And it’s true. If I wasn’t going to get kidnapped tonight at the Harvest Concert I would try very hard to help take excellent care of Baby Wendy when it’s born.

In my backpack I have my flute, my quilt and a half gallon of milk. I’m all set to take care of my Baby Doll as soon as I find it.

Mrs. Wake is bringing me to the band room to warm up and practice with the rest of the band. The musicians have to be in the band room at five-thirty. The concert starts at seven.

We pass through the lobby and by the three glass doors that go to the front bus loop and the parking lot. I look outside. It is hard to see because it is so bright. The sun is shining right in my face. I wonder when the Green Car will come. I squint.

After the lobby we pass the office. Coming the other way I see some chorus kids. They are dressed in white shirts and black pants and they are carrying water bottles and black folders. Behind the chorus kids is a man with a blue coat. Someone’s dad, I think. Then a lady wearing a red vest with a sweater under it. Someone’s mom.

I turn around. Behind us I see two ladies talking and walking. Behind them I see another lady. She has her hair pulled back tight in a ponytail. She has a big brown unzipped jacket. She has a purple-and-brown flannel shirt. She is not heavy but she isn’t skinny like Gloria. She stops next to the first lobby door and smiles and puts her finger on her lips.

It is Crystal with a C.

I don’t know why Crystal with a C is here. It should be Gloria. But I am very, very happy. It’s good that Crystal with a C is here instead of Gloria because Gloria is unreliable and impulsive. Plus she made quite a scene. Twice. And my Forever Mom said that everyone knew I was contacting her on the computer.

“Ginny?” says Mrs. Wake.

“What?” I say.

“Let’s watch where we’re going,” says Mrs. Wake. “The band room is this way.”

I look behind me one more time. The other two ladies are gone now. Crystal with a C is still near the first lobby door. I turn around to keep walking but I hear her footsteps. She is following us.

We pass the gym. There is a bathroom in there so I stop. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say.

Mrs. Wake looks into the doorway. It is dark in there except for a small light. Mrs. Wake looks inside. “It looks like the girls’ locker room is open,” she says. “Go ahead in, but then come right back out. I’ll wait right here for you.”

Before I go in I look back. Crystal with a C is at the last lobby door. She smiles. She points at me. Then she points to the door. I see her take out a cigarette and walk outside.

So I walk into the gym. The doorway to the girls’ locker room is right inside. I walk in and pass all the lockers and benches and come out on the other side of the gym. I see the exit sign above the door. It goes out to the fields. I push it open.

And run.

I run across the back of the school. It still isn’t dark yet but it’s getting hard to see. I run past the janitor’s car and the Dumpster. I run past the back door to the cafeteria. The loading dock. Then I get to the corner of the school where the teachers park. I slow down and look. No one is here either. I hurry past the empty parking spaces and now I am at the front of the school. I look down the long sidewalk to the lobby. I look out at the parking lot again. I don’t see Crystal with a C.

So I look both ways very carefully and then I cross the bus loop. I stand between two empty cars looking. I walk down the rows of cars and I look and I look until I see a shape near a gray car. It is a person. With a red dot next to its mouth.

“Hey, Ginny,” she says. “Ready to go on a little trip?”

I nod my head yes. And smile. Because Crystal with a C is the one who’s going to kidnap me and she’s the one who tells the truth. She opens the door to the car for me and I get in.


20 (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

EXACTLY 5:43 AT NIGHT, MONDAY, OCTOBER 18TH (#u2655f8b1-f89c-52e2-9201-fd25df3e1507)

Crystal with a C gets into the driver’s seat fast. She starts the car. She has a metal ball in the side of her nose that wasn’t there before. And purple pointy glasses. Also new.

I smile big with my teeth and make my shoulders go up to my ears.

“Wow, that’s a nice smile!” she says all at once. “I’d love to give you a hug, kiddo, but we need to get out of here quick as we can. Okay?” The tires make a tiny squeal and she pulls out of the parking lot. Crystal with a C winces which is what you do when you hear something loud or someone is going to hit. She looks in the mirror and then back to the road.

“Did you find my Baby Doll?” I ask. “Gloria said she did but—”

Crystal with a C glances in the mirror. I see her eyes there.

“I had a feeling you were going to ask that. You haven’t changed a bit,” she says. “Yes, we found your Baby Doll. I did, actually. Gloria called me from the police station, so I went over to the apartment right away. She didn’t know where you put the baby, but I put two and two together and found the suitcase.”

“Was it a—” I start to say but I can’t finish the sentence. “Is it a—”

She looks at me. “Is it alive?” she says. “Is that what you’re trying to say? Holy shit, of course it was alive! What did you think, that you killed your baby sister?”

I want to answer her question. I want to say Yes, thank you, thank you for finally telling me but my throat hurts and I can’t move my mouth anymore but then it opens all by itself and my chest moves up and down fast. No sound comes out but hot, hot tears fall on my face and pants. I cry and cry and shake while Crystal with a C looks at me and looks back at the road and says something and looks back at me but I can’t hear anything at all.

Then I stop. And breathe. I am better.

“—all right?” I hear Crystal with a C say.

I don’t know what she asked but I nod my head yes anyway.

Crystal with a C makes a breathing sound. “Ginny, I just can’t believe it. It’s been five years. Five frigging years. I know your mom is a real piece of work and that you needed to be away from her, but it’s just awful to imagine what you’ve been through, not knowing what happened to your sister. But right now I need to get us out of town, okay? You’ve got to let me drive for a while. We have ten minutes at the most, I’m guessing, before someone calls the police. I’ve got to take some back roads. We can’t take the highway because the police will put up a blockade.”

“What’s a blockade?”

“It’s a roadblock. You know, a place where the police park their cars across the road and stop everyone from driving. They’ll be looking for you. They’ll have an Amber Alert and everything.”

“Is my Baby Doll with Gloria?”

“Yep, she’s with your mom.”

Crystal with a C pats my arm and makes a happy face. Her shoulders go up to her ears and come down again. Then she looks back at the road. “She was in pretty bad shape when I found her. I guess you were right to be worried. I was really scared for a while because she’d been in there so long. At least an hour, easily. I thought she was...sleeping at first, but she was just unconscious. She came right back when I gave her mouth-to-mouth.”

Then Crystal with a C is quiet.

“Where did she come back from?” I say.

“Back from—Shit, I don’t know. She’s fine, okay? She’s really fine. But if I hadn’t gotten there when I did, things might have turned out differently.”

“She’s fine,” I say. To help me remember.

“Right. So, to make a long story short, I brought her home and got her all cleaned up and fed. She was way too skinny. Not as bad as you, though. Do you remember when the judge described how you looked? In the decision papers? I’m not sure if you read them. Actually, you were way too young, so you couldn’t have. He said you looked like you came out of a concentration camp, you were so thin and beat-up. I feel bad to this day. I was out of the picture for a while that first year when Gloria was taking care of the two of you. But what that judge said—he really nailed it.”

Crystal with a C is talking too fast. I nod my head yes even though I don’t know why.

“Anyway, she was suffering from malnutrition. The doctor I brought her to said she was surprised she made it so long. You kept her alive, Ginny. You saved your sister’s life.”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/benjamin-ludwig/the-original-ginny-moon/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.