I don’t want to answer so I wait. Because sometimes if you don’t answer then someone will answer for you or someone will say something else to help you know what to say.
“It’s going to be hard for us, too,” says Maura. “Like I said the other day, we’ve had some good times together. But I’m glad that you’ll be in a place where people can give you what you need. You’re going to be very happy.”
“What was the question?” I say because now I don’t remember.
“I asked how you feel about going to live at Saint Genevieve’s,” says Brian.
“I feel like I would like to go to my room now,” I say.
He nods his head. “All right,” he says. “You can go to your room. I understand.”
I get up from the table.
“I’m really looking forward to the tournament,” he says. “Aren’t you? It will be like one last good time.” His eyes are wet.
“Yes,” I say. “It will be the last good time.”
73
EXACTLY 5:28,
TUESDAY, JANUARY 18TH
There are woods behind the Blue House.
I can’t see them because it’s dark outside. I can see only myself. My reflection is looking back at me from the dark, dark window. I see a skinny, skinny girl with long hair and glasses. She is wearing her hat and coat and boots. She is wearing her gloves and scarf. She is a big girl, not the little girl she used to be. Not the little girl she’s supposed to be. She isn’t nine years old anymore. She is (-Ginny) and she has a lot of work to do. She has to be really, really smart and not be a cave girl at all.
I open the window as quietly as I can. The screen is already up because I got it ready before I put on my gloves. I put my backpack out the window and drop it in the snow. It falls only thirty-two inches to the ground. I know because I measured the distance two years ago when I first came to the Blue House.
Next I put my leg out the window and let it hang there. I think.
Because there isn’t a ladder.
When I read the poem by Robert Frost about apple-picking there was a ladder and Mrs. Carter said the ladder meant heaven. Then when I drew the picture of me climbing out my bedroom window there was a ladder. Because when I escape and find my Baby Doll it will be like everything is good and okay and safe.
But thirty-two inches is easy to jump, no problem. I don’t need a ladder at all. So if I don’t need a ladder and a ladder means heaven then maybe it won’t be like heaven when I call Gloria and tell her to come pick me up. Or maybe no ladder means someone will stop me. Maybe someone will grab my arm right now and say, No, Ginny! Don’t climb out that window! Don’t try to call Gloria!
I look back fast at my door. It is shut and everything is quiet. Then I look outside. It is dark and there are no more reflections. No more (-Ginny) looking at me while I get ready. Instead I see the dark woodpile and the darker trees behind it. The open space of the yard under my feet. Empty and white. With or without a ladder I need to do this.
I need to go.
The snow is clean and waiting. I hop down and pick up my backpack and walk across the snow.
74
EXACTLY 5:36,
TUESDAY, JANUARY 18TH
Kayla Zadambidge’s phone tells the time when I push a small button at the bottom of it. It also shows the exact date. It is all charged up now. Sometimes I wonder if I love dates and numbers because when I’m deep in my brain they help me remember where I really am. They are like handles I can use to pull myself back up.
The time right now is exactly 5:37 and I am on a path behind the woodpile.
I put the phone back in my coat pocket and keep going. The path is easy to see even though the sky is dark. Because the snow is bright. I walk for exactly nine seconds and then take the phone out and press the button and slide to the main screen. I touch the words Address Book.
I don’t know the names of the people listed there. One of them says “Mom” but I know that that isn’t Maura. One says “Dad” but I know that that isn’t Brian. One says “Grandma” but I know that that isn’t Grammy. I don’t see “Gloria” or “Rick” anywhere.
I put the phone away again. I have to go deep into the woods to call Gloria quickly because I don’t want them to see me. Brian and Maura won’t go in my bedroom right away but I think they might if they call me and I’m not there to answer. So I keep walking. The path turns. When I look behind me I don’t see the Blue House anymore. I don’t see the woodpile or anything.
In my backpack I have my videos. I have my DVD player too but nothing else. It’s all charged up just in case someone finds me. It is part of my secret plan. When I call Gloria I will have my movie playing. That way if someone finds me and says, “What are you doing in the woods, Ginny?” I can say, “I am watching a movie.”
That way I will be telling the truth. That way I will still be a good girl.
The snow comes up past my ankles. The air is so cold that the inside of my nose hurts and my eyes are watery. I walk over old tree trunks. I walk between rocks. I walk for nine seconds.
I put my backpack down in the snow and take my DVD player out. I put it on top of the backpack and take out The Sound of Music which is about a lady with short hair named Frogline Maria. I put the DVD in the DVD player and press the power button. The screen lights up. I see words on the screen but I’m so distracted and anxious that I can’t read them.
The moon is high up in the sky above me. It is as bright as the screen. I take out the cell phone. The time is exactly 5:39 now. I look inside my eyes and see Gloria’s number: 555-730-9952. I press the numbers and then I press the green button but I don’t hear a ringing sound. I press the red button and try again but I still don’t hear anything. Then I see that the phone says No Signal.
So I say, “Well dang!”
And slam the DVD player shut. I grab it and throw everything in my backpack. I pick my backpack up and put it on and start walking. Back the way I came.
But not to the Blue House.
Because I know that sometimes people walk on the road past the Blue House talking on their cell phones. I saw them do it when the weather was warmer. In the spring and summer and fall. I’m guessing they had a signal.
The time is 5:42.
I follow the path until I see the woodpile and the lights from the Blue House behind it. I walk around the house and up the driveway. When I get to the road I go left.
There are no streetlights because we live out in the woods. I see the sky and the moon above the road. I walk fast for another nine seconds and turn around.
The Blue House is still too close.
I walk fast for nine seconds more. The road turns. I go around the corner and look back. I don’t see anything. I take out the cell phone and call.
This time the phone is ringing. It rings four times and then Gloria picks up. “Hello?” she says.