But the smoke alarm is still going off and it’s hard to see and I am coughing so I go outside and stand in the driveway. I look toward the road and start counting.
When I get to 537 Crystal with a C comes home. She gets out of the car and looks at me and then looks at the Little White House. I look too. Because I wasn’t looking before. A lot of black smoke is coming through the screen door.
Crystal with a C runs inside.
When she comes out she has the garbage can with her. Smoke is pouring out of it. She dumps all the garbage on the ground. I see fire. She jumps up and down on the flames and on all the garbage. The fire goes out.
Then Crystal with a C hits the top of the car with her hands. “Ginny!” she screams. She is crying. She cries and cries and then she says, “The police are in town talking with everybody they see. They’re showing your picture to everyone. Someone saw you, goddamn it! You’ve been seen! And now I come home to this?”
I don’t say anything.
“Get in the car,” she says. “Just get in the car! I’ll go get your backpack. We have to leave!”
29
EXACTLY 2:48 IN THE AFTERNOON,
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21ST
We are driving.
The backseat is filled with all of Crystal with a C’s clothes. She threw them in fast before we left the Little White House. I am holding my backpack on my lap. When I asked where we were going she said she didn’t know yet. She said we just need to be moving.
Crystal with a C cried three times while she was driving. Once at 11:53, once at 12:28 and again at 1:14. I do not know why she cried. When I ask her she says it’s because she doesn’t know what to do. We can’t go to Canada yet, she says, and we can’t go to her other apartment. And we can’t stay in the Little White House anymore because the police will find us.
We are driving on the highway again. It is the same highway we were on when we left school three days ago. I know because of the signs. The sign we just passed said Greensborough, Exit 33, 1 Mile. So I say, “Why are we here again?”
And Crystal with a C says, “Because we have to go back the other direction. The police know we went west, so we have to go east. And that means backtracking. You know what backtracking is, don’t you?”
I don’t but the word makes sense. Backtracking. So I nod my head yes.
“We’re going to have to take a little detour, too,” she says.
“Because of the blockade?” I say.
“Yes, because of the blockade,” she says. “We’re going to have to go straight through town. So I’m going to need you to get down. Just scrunch yourself down below the window. Right now. Get on the floor and make yourself as small as possible so no one can see you. And I’ll put a jacket over your head. That way the police won’t know you’re there when we go past them. I need you to hide, Ginny.”
“I’m a good hider,” I say. Then I get down on the floor and Crystal with a C puts a coat over my head. I can’t see where we are anymore but that’s okay because I know Crystal with a C will come through for me.
We turn and we slow down and turn again and drive for a little while. It’s too dark so I can’t see my watch. Then we turn three more times. Right, left, left. And the car stops.
I hear Crystal with a C’s voice. “Ginny, stay right where you are. I’m going to get out of the car for a minute. Be ready.”
The driver’s-side door opens and closes. Seven seconds pass. Then the car door on my side of the car opens. “Okay, Ginny, get out!” says Crystal with a C in a loud whisper. “We have to move to a different car! Get out fast. Keep your head down low!”
I throw the coat back and pull my backpack with me and get out of the car. I crouch low and tuck my head down. I blink in the bright light. It is 3:55 and I am scared, scared, scared.
“Stay close against the car! Don’t let anyone see you!” says Crystal with a C.
So I do. I am against the car in a tight, tight ball. Crystal with a C shuts my door. She runs past me. Behind the car. I peek to see where she’s going.
But across from me on the other side of the sidewalk I see a big yellow house I know.
I pick my head up all the way. Across the street is Cumberland Farms and the gas station attached to it. I see the post office too. We are in the middle of Greensborough right near my school. Down the street I see the road that goes down to the bus loop.
I hear a click. The sound of the car door locking.
Crystal with a C is standing on the other side of the car. “Ginny, I love you,” she says. Her face is different. “I tried. I swear I tried, but you’re just too much. A real handful. Now go straight to the school and tell your teachers you’re okay. But, please, don’t mention me to anyone, all right? Don’t mention the house or the fire or the color of the car or anything. Just tell everyone that you took a walk and got confused. You were perfectly fine these past three days, right?”
I am confused. “How will I get to Canada?”
Crystal with a C makes a breathing sound. “You’re not going to Canada. Not today, anyway. Just go back to school, Ginny. Go back and pretend that none of this ever happened. Pretend you don’t remember!”
But pretending would be the same as lying if I said it with my mouth. I want to explain that I just can’t do that but then Crystal with a C gets back in the car and the engine turns on. The car pulls away. I want to run after it because Crystal with a C is the only person who can help me get back to my Baby Doll. There are other cars coming now and I know it isn’t safe to run into a busy street but I am going to chase it anyway. I have to. I take one step forward. Then I hear a siren.
Blue lights come up the road fast. They come so fast I think they will rip the road in two pieces. Then there are more blue lights and a police car slides sideways in front of Crystal with a C’s car. The noise is louder than the smoke alarm. I see police cars with policemen getting out of them and people running and more police cars and policemen running at me. I turn to run but someone grabs me so I recoil and cover my face and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.
30
EXACTLY 12:08 IN THE AFTERNOON,
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23RD
My new Forever Sister was born on October 19th which was the day after the Harvest Concert. I saw it for approximately one minute yesterday. My new Forever Sister has blue eyes and small hands and feet. It mostly sleeps and cries. I stood watching it for exactly thirteen seconds in the living room while my Forever Mom held it. Then she said, “Welcome back, Ginny. Do you think you could back up a bit?” And then she said, “We’re glad you’re back from the hospital.”