“A version of suicide by cop,” Alex murmured. Kiko was already back. This time, D.D. got the ball. She did her best.
“Sad,” she commented now. “He was just a kid, not to mention as much a victim as Roxy and Lola in all of this. I think he really did believe he was doing what had to be done to save Roxy. That her family, far from being a support for her, was more like an anchor, dragging her down.”
“Tough.”
“Yeah. And too harsh. Because Juanita Baez might’ve made her mistakes, but she really was on the right track. And she was fighting for her girls. Had she gotten a little further with her own investigations, maybe her lawyer would’ve been able to put together a case, and real justice would have been served.”
“Kids don’t think of adults that way,” Alex said. “Especially not teenagers.”
Kiko whined. Alex got busy.
“Shooting Roberto,” D.D. listed off, “then murdering Roxy’s entire family before going after Hector, who’d once abandoned her, and taking on Las Ni?as Diablas, who’d threatened her. So many wrongs done in the name of right. Poor kid. Mother Del volunteered to pay for his funeral.”
Alex slid her a look. “Least the woman could do.”
“Exactly.”
“And Roxy?” he asked.
Kiko was back. D.D.’s turn again. She didn’t have her husband’s arm, but she did have her son’s enthusiasm. Who could’ve known this was exactly what she’d needed: Alex, Jack, and now the best spotted dog in all the land?
“Roxy and her dogs have moved in with Hector, believe it or not. I think they’ll all help each other heal. And she does still have Flora and Sarah. I’m not sure what I think of this merry band of survivors. And yet, after everything Roxy has been through, I’m grateful she has that kind of support. Certainly, I can’t imagine being in her shoes right now and facing everything alone.”
“So Flora Dane really is useful?”
“On occasion,” D.D. granted.
“And Phil and Neil?”
“They’ll come around,” she stated, not convincingly.
Alex grinned at her. “Just what you need, a little more chaos in your life.”
“Actually,” she said, as Kiko once again returned with her prize, “I think I’m handling this chaos just fine.”
“And working with a vigilante won’t rub off on you at all?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” D.D. winked at her husband, then launched another tennis ball into the air.
? ? ?
I FOUND SARAH ALMOST EXACTLY where I expected to: standing inside the historic college square, staring straight ahead at some Gothic monstrosity that must’ve cost a fortune to build in its day and had lasted the centuries since. Wearing a brown leather jacket, Sarah had her arms wrapped tight around her waist and was eyeing the collection of buildings with grim determination.
“I’m going to do it,” she said when I walked up, never taking her gaze off the college hall.
“Okay.”
“It’s like getting back on the horse, right? Everyone’s gotta do it sometime.”
“If you say so.”
“Besides, it’s not like I was attacked on campus. There’s nothing in these classrooms, the library, that should trigger me. Cramped apartments, sure. Roommates, fine. But I have my own studio place now. Not exactly close to here, but that’s okay. Long bus rides, T transfers, are a small price to pay for peace of mind.”
“I would keep your apartment,” I agreed. “It’s your safe zone.” Then I added: “For now.”
She finally looked at me. “Do you think I can do this?”
“I think you’re not the person I met a year ago. I think you’ve already proven you can do most anything.”
Her face collapsed a little, her eyes growing a sheen. “Flora, I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been standing here thirty minutes already. One step. Then another. I need to take them. And yet . . .”
“It’s okay to be scared, Sarah. You, of all people, know how scary the world really is.”
“What if I do it,” she said abruptly, “and it’s not so hard. I graduate. I get a job. I fall in love. I’m happy. What then?”
“Then I think your roommates will be very proud of you.”
She started crying, silent tears rolling down her face. “I’m scared,” she said again.
“I know.”
“Why haven’t you done it? Gone back to school? Something.”
“I am doing something.” I shrugged, tugged her hand away from her waist till I was holding it. “I’m doing this. Maybe it’s not for everyone, but it works for me. Besides, I’ll have you know I’m now a bona fide member of law enforcement, a confidential informant for the esteemed Sergeant Detective D. D. Warren, no less.”
Sarah rolled her eyes at me. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I like it. It’s another way to help. It’s another way . . .” To not be locked in a coffin-sized box all alone anymore. I didn’t say those words out loud, but Sarah nodded, as if she understood. One survivor to another, I bet she did.
“Show me your hands!” she ordered.
I dropped my grip on hers long enough to hold out both palms.
“You’re not wearing a bandage anymore.”
“I’m taking some steps of my own.”
She regarded me somberly. “If I do this, move forward, we won’t see each other so often.”
“I’ll be your friend for as long as you’d like,” I said. But I knew what she meant. Our relationship was more teacher to student. Me, showing the ropes of the whole survival business; her, learning how to thrive again. Which, if she continued on this path, would be mission accomplished. “Know this, I’ll be the one cheering the loudest at your graduation.”
More tears. I started to feel my own eyes well, which surprised me. Four hundred and seventy-two days later, I often felt I had no tears left. And yet this emotion didn’t feel so bad. It felt . . . right. Pride in my friend, and her own bravery, and a job well done.
“Roxy?” she asked now.
“Sadly, our group never runs out of members.”
“But you’ll be there for her.” A statement, not a question.
“You will, too.”
“I’ll do my best. But you know, going back to school . . .”
“Roxy will be okay. You’ve been there. You know what it’s like. She’s not magically going to feel better today or tomorrow, but day after day after day . . . Before we know it, she’ll be standing on a college campus of her own. She’s too bright, too determined, to do any less.”
Sarah took a deep breath. She held out her hand on her own now.
I smiled. Took it. Gave it a squeeze.
“Together?” she asked.
“Absolutely. On the count of three. One, two—” I tugged her forward before she expected it, catching her off balance and forcing her to advance. She laughed, a little breathlessly, and just like that we were crossing the college green.
I thought again of that first night. The scared young woman standing in her apartment, covered in sweat, armed with bear spray, that wild look in her eyes. And I saw Sarah now, composed, chin up, as she strode forward.
Here was the truth of my life: If Jacob Ness had never kidnapped me, I would never have known what it was like to be starved and terrified and abused and isolated. Yet if Jacob had never grabbed me, I would never have had this moment either. Helping this person. And having this day when all felt right.
Was it enough? A gain worth the price? Or did it matter? Because the price had already been paid. At least I’d been able to find this path, make this life from the ruins. And maybe that was the best any of us could do.
“Thank you, Flora,” Sarah was saying.
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
Epilogue
Name: Roxanna Baez
Grade: 11
Teacher: Mrs. Chula
Category: Personal Narrative
What Is the Perfect Family? Part VIII, Final Installment
This is my family:
I had a mom, Juanita Baez. When I was first born, I was all she had. No husband, no boyfriend to write in on the birth certificate. Just her and me. I like to think she held me close. I like to think she loved me very much, and the first time she heard me cry, she promised me the world, the stars, the moon at night.