That is the problem. Everyone wants to keep me safe but safe for me means not safe for my Baby Doll. Like this:
(Safe) for Ginny = (–Safe) for Baby Doll
But if I escape and go to Harrington Falls the police will find me. I need to come up with a new secret plan.
“We’ve seen each other every day since you’ve been back,” Patrice says, “and we’ll see each other all next week, as well. At home your parents say that you’ve been hovering too close to Baby Wendy, and of course that makes them worry. It freaks them out a little bit. They say it’s creepy. Your mom, especially. They say you keep trying to bring the baby different things to eat and drink. They say you’re trying to sneak up to the nursery all the time. Can you talk a little about that?”
“They aren’t feeding it,” I say.
Patrice looks at me funny. “What makes you say they aren’t feeding it?”
“Because they don’t give it milk.”
“Your Forever Dad mentioned to me on the phone that this might be confusing for you. You know your Forever Mom is breast-feeding Baby Wendy, right?”
I nod my head yes.
“Then why do you think she isn’t feeding it—I mean her?”
“Because milk doesn’t come from breasts.”
“Of course milk comes from breasts. That’s what breast-feeding is. No one ever told you how breast-feeding works?”
I shake my head no.
Patrice smiles. “Then I think you’ll be happy to hear what I’m about to tell you. Before I explain it, though, I need to ask if you remember the most important rule.”
“When Baby Wendy is born you’re not allowed to touch her,” I say.
“That’s right. And Baby Wendy is born. She’s here. So you have to make sure you never, ever try to feed the baby yourself. Trust your parents a little, will you? They know what they’re doing. Your Forever Mom is doing a great job of feeding Baby Wendy. Now, let’s talk about exactly how she does it.”
32
EXACTLY 6:44 IN THE MORNING,
MONDAY, OCTOBER 25TH
I don’t hear any noise on the other side of the door. My head and face are close, close, close to it. Because I am listening.
I know that my Forever Sister is in there with my Forever Mom. I know that my Forever Mom is taking excellent care of it because my Forever Dad and Patrice told me so. But even though I believe them I need to make sure. I need to see.
I close my eyes and listen harder. Now my ears are ringing. My ear is so close to the door that it sounds like listening to the inside of a seashell.
“Ginny?”
I come up fast out of my brain. It is my Forever Dad. At the bottom of the stairs.
“Come down here. Right now. If your mom finds you—”
The door opens right next to my face.
I jump back and almost run into the laundry basket. My Forever Mom is in the doorway.
“Ginny, go downstairs,” she says. Then to my Forever Dad she says, “It’s all right. I can handle this.” She looks at me again. Her eyes get skinny and her mouth turns into a short, short line. “Ginny, you’ve got to stop sneaking around like this. No more hovering outside my door. This is the second time today. Wendy is fine. Now go downstairs like your dad said.”
“Come on, Forever Girl,” my Forever Dad says. “I’ve got the car all warmed up, and it’s time to go.”
33
EXACTLY 11:28 IN THE MORNING,
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28TH
Halloween is in three days. On Sunday. I am in Room Five eating lunch with Larry and Kayla Zadambidge and Alison Hill because the teachers want me to have a smooth transition back to school. Plus my Forever Mom came downstairs for approximately three minutes this morning and said there was a media circus when I was kidnapped and all the kids at school will try to ask me questions. When I said I’ve never been to the circus and would like to go see it she said I didn’t have to because I was already the main attraction. When I said I didn’t understand she said a media circus is when a bunch of reporters come to your house looking for information about you and there are stories about you on television and the radio. She said that a media circus is understandable when there’s a kidnapping but when you’re coming home with a newborn baby and reporters are sticking cameras in your face and knocking on your door all the time it can make you pretty edgy. Especially when the kid who was kidnapped set the whole thing up and doesn’t show any remorse.
After that she went upstairs and shut the door. My Forever Dad brought me to school.
Only the kids who go to Room Five are allowed to eat lunch with me this week. Plus Ms. Carol. Ms. Carol is a new teacher who follows me like Mrs. Wake used to. She is not an old lady. She has long hair and glasses that make her eyes look too big. When I asked Mrs. Lomos where Mrs. Wake was Mrs. Lomos said, “The principal decided it was best for her to move on.”
“What are you going to be for Halloween?” says Larry to Alison Hill.
“I don’t know yet,” says Alison Hill. She is drawing a face on an orange pumpkin.
“Halloween is in three days, Alison Hill,” I say. “You’d better decide soon.”
“What are you going to be, Ginny?” Larry asks me.
I say, “I’m going to be a witch. Gloria always dressed me up like a witch and she was a witch too. We were witches together. We used to throw spells at each other in the kitchen and do spins on the floor in our socks so our costumes would twirl. Then we flew on our brooms in the living room and up and down the hall.”
“There’s no such thing as witches,” says Kayla Zadambidge. “I’m going to be a queen.”
Kayla Zadambidge has long hair. She is pretty and will make a great queen. So I say, “You will make an ugly, ugly queen, Kayla Zadambidge. Alison Hill, you should be Janet Jackson.”
“Ginny!” says Ms. Dana.
Alison Hill makes a funny face. “Who’s Janet Jackson?”
I put down the pieces of the candy corn that I am putting together. They are orange and yellow and white. I use a mean voice. “What the hell is wrong with you, Alison Hill? Janet Jackson is one of Michael Jackson’s sisters.”
Ms. Dana looks up from her desk. “Ginny, language!” she says.
Larry starts singing about the light fandango and cartwheels.
Alison Hill says, “Maybe I should be a werewolf.”
“Werewolves are scary,” I say.
“How about a vampire?” says Alison Hill.
“No,” I say. “Vampires are scary too. Plus they suck blood.”
“How about someone from Star Wars?” says Larry.
“You could be Queen Amidala!” says Alison Hill.
“Or you could be R2-D2! That little dude is the bomb!” Larry says.
Then I look at Larry and say, “No, Larry, R2-D2 is a robot. Don’t you get it? He’s a fucking robot.” I am angry, angry, angry.
“Ginny, let’s go,” says Ms. Dana. She stands up and points to the door. Ms. Carol’s eyes get really big for a second behind her glasses and then go back to their regular size.
“What’s with the language, babe?” says Larry.