My mind whirred: what should I do? There was nobody in the park to help me, and if I stopped pedaling to dial the police on my cell, the driver could also stop, race across the lawn, and nab me before I was even done with the call.
Then I had a sudden insight. As I started to pass a large clump of evergreen trees, I reached down to click off my headlamp. I lost sight of the path and braked slowly until I came to a stop, huddling next to the largest tree in the cluster. Listening hard, I heard the slight squeak of brakes and then the low rumble of the truck in idle. I gathered my courage and stepped off my bike, running it in a straight line directly in front of the trees, keeping them between me and the pickup as I headed through the grass toward the street I’d been on when Donny had called.
It was then that I heard the rumble of the engine pick up and the truck moved on at a rapid pace again. I wanted nothing more than to jump on the bike and pedal for the street, but I couldn’t see the ground clearly. If I hit a log or a rock, I’d be toast. I settled for trotting the bike quickly across the open field, stumbling a few times as my feet met with uneven terrain.
At last I came out onto the street and quickly mounted the bike again. At the top of the street, I moved right over to the first house I came to and huddled in the shadows next to a garage. At the entrance to the park the truck appeared again, moving along slowly while the driver hunted for any glimpse of me in the park. After it passed, I stepped out of the shadows and raced in the opposite direction, which was also the way home. Once I was safely up the drive, I didn’t even put the bike away; I simply leaned it against the garage and bolted for the back door. I’d left it open because I didn’t know if Ma would be able to get her key into the lock if she came home, but once I was through the door I slammed it shut and threw the dead bolt, then I leaned against it and tried to catch my breath.
Finally, I pushed away from the door and was about to head to the front window, when I tripped over something on the kitchen floor. I heard a muffled grunt. Scrambling backward in the dark, my heart racing, I flicked on the lights and saw Ma sprawled out on the floor, her clothes bunched up around her. She mumbled something incoherent, then she settled into a soft snore.
I stared at her for a long moment, waiting to catch my breath. When I wasn’t so panicked, I turned off the lights again and made my way to the front window to peek through the curtains. The street was empty—no sign of the truck anywhere—and no black sedans parked on the street, either.
Next, I went into the bathroom and peeked out the small window on the side of our house. There was no one lurking outside, but I could see Mrs. Duncan in her kitchen doing the dishes. Seeing her helped calm me down, and at last I moved back toward the kitchen.
My eyes were adjusted to the darkness by then and I could see Ma’s sleeping form on the linoleum floor. I felt a sudden and unexpected surge of anger. I was so sick of all this that I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. Instead I dutifully got her to wake up enough to get her to the couch, and I put her to bed. “Luff you, baby,” she slurred after I tucked the afghan around her.
“Then why won’t you stop drinking?” I whispered. She didn’t answer, so I turned to the stairs.
In my room I tried to decide what I should do about the truck. I thought about calling Donny and telling him about it, but he’d only get upset and tell me to call the police. I knew I couldn’t do that because they’d come to the house, take one look at Ma, and then we’d have CPS to deal with, and didn’t I already have enough trouble on my hands? I shuddered at the memory of being so scared in the park, and not knowing who was after me. Downstairs, Dad’s clock began to chime and I sighed, wishing he were here and could chase the bogeyman away.
By the time I crawled into bed, I’d decided to tell Donny about it in the morning when Ma was sober. Maybe he could even be there when the police came to take my statement. That way they’d know there was a responsible adult in the house, and I could report the incident without worry. It seemed like the only way to go without bringing myself a whole lot of extra trouble.
The next morning I met Donny at the curb. I wanted to avoid having him go into the house, but he was onto me. He got out as I was trying to get into his car, and eyed me across the roof. “Where’s your mom?”
“She’s inside. Asleep.”
Donny’s lips pressed together, and he marched up the drive. I trailed behind him, wishing I didn’t have such a screwed-up life.
I stood in the kitchen by the back door while he had a look at Ma. “Cheryl,” I heard him say. I imagined him standing over her, that look of disgust on his face that he didn’t even try to hide anymore. I heard Ma mutter something, and I figured she was trying to roll away from Donny.
“Cheryl,” Donny repeated, more sternly this time. “We need to talk.” Ma didn’t reply, which was typical. “This is getting untenable, Cheryl. Scott would never want Maddie to grow up like this.”
I heard Ma then, loud and clear. “Go to hell, Donny.”
I bit my lip. I wanted Donny to come out of there. I wanted him to take me to breakfast and to tell me a story about my dad when they were kids. A story that maybe I hadn’t heard before. I didn’t want him to come back around the corner looking so disgusted and mean that he looked less like my dad and more like a total stranger.
Donny tried to talk to Ma a few more times, but she wasn’t taking the bait, and at last he came into the kitchen again.
“Come on,” he growled angrily, moving past me and out the door. I hustled after him.
Donny drove in silence to a local breakfast joint in downtown Jupiter. The place was crowded, but Donny flashed his smile at one of the waitresses and she got us a booth. After we took our seats he started in. “I want you to think seriously about coming to live with me.”
I stared hard at the menu.