I think. Then I nod my head yes.
“I bet you’ll miss the way he used to take you sledding, and all the fun you had going to the lake this past summer.”
That still wasn’t a question so I still don’t say anything.
“You won’t be able to do any of those things if you move to Saint Genevieve’s. How does that make you feel?”
I start picking at my fingers. I know what she wants me to say. There is only one answer that will make her happy and the answer is true even though I never have time to think about it. “It makes me feel sad,” I say.
Patrice keeps knitting. “I wonder if we could write down just how sad it makes you feel,” she says. “You know, on a piece of paper. I could do the writing for you, if you like. We could write a little note to Brian telling him how much you’re going to miss him. But Brian isn’t the only one in the Blue House who you’ll miss, I bet.”
“I’ll miss Maura and Baby Wendy too,” I say.
“Of course you will,” Patrice says. “Should we write to them all in the same note? Or do you think that we should write separate notes to each of them?”
But that was two questions. In my brain I see my Baby Doll on one side of the equal sign and on the other I see Brian and Maura and Baby Wendy. But one does not equal three at all. One is less than three, like this:
1 < 3
I can’t miss Brian and Maura and Baby Wendy as much as my Baby Doll because my Baby Doll needs me a lot more than they do. Because they’re safe. No one will hit them or hurt them. Brian and Maura and Baby Wendy don’t need me. So really one is greater than three this time even though the math isn’t right. Because taking care of my Baby Doll is greater than everything. Even math.
“What are you thinking, Ginny?” says Patrice’s voice.
“I am thinking about my Baby Doll,” I say without moving my head or eyes.
“Yes, well, I think we should probably talk about that a little, as well. I heard from my social worker friends again.”
I come up fast out of my brain. I look straight at her. Agamemnon grips my leg with his paws.
“They let me know that they’ve been having some meetings with Gloria, and the doctors who’ve been looking at Krystal with a K say she’s losing weight.”
“That’s because Crystal with a C is in jail,” I say. “She knows how to take care of it.”
“You may be right,” says Patrice. “The social workers are doing the best they can to help Gloria be a better mom. But—”
I interrupt. “Is she hitting it?”
“Not that anyone can tell. But—”
“Is she changing its diaper?” I say. “Is she staying with it at night?”
Agamemnon jumps down on the floor. He runs out of the room.
“Ginny, I knew this news would be surprising to you, but I need you to stay calm and listen. I have more to say.”
I grab the arms of the chair tight and wait.
“The social workers said that if Krystal with a K doesn’t stop losing weight, they’re going to have to take her out of the apartment. They’re going to have to take her away from Gloria.”
Everything stops. In my brain I remember the first time the police came. The day the first Forever started. The whole thing all at once. The knocking and yelling. The flashing lights.
I shake my head and look at my watch and come back up again. “When are the police coming?” I say.
“I don’t know yet,” says Patrice. “And remember, it’s not definite. It’s a possibility, if things don’t improve.”
“When will you know?”
“Again, I’m not sure,” says Patrice. “Probably sooner than later, though. We should know something by the end of this week. Maybe even this weekend.”
I pick at my fingers. I stand. Then I sit again. Then I stand up and stay standing.
“Ginny, do you want to have a beverage?” says Patrice.
“No,” I say. “I want—”
I stop talking. I shut my mouth tight, tight, tight.
“Brian and Maura wanted me to share these things with you,” says Patrice. “They think you have a right to know. And I agree with them. I know it’s hard to hear that Krystal with a K isn’t doing well, but I hope you see that people are doing something about it. The social workers are involved, and if it comes to it, they’ll do their best to place her in a good home.”
“Will I be able to go see it?”
“I’m not sure, but when you’re at Saint Genevieve’s, you’re going to be pretty far away. The social workers try to place children locally, when they can. If you’re in Connecticut, visits will be tough. Krystal with a K will be in foster care until a judge decides whether or not reunification is possible, and then—” She stops. “So it’s a big mess, and I know you’re going to want to be around to get updates. Now, if you tell me that you want to stay at the Blue House, I can help you work toward that. But we need to tell these things to Maura and Brian. So let’s write that letter, okay? We need to make it clear how much you’ll miss everyone. How much you care. And above all, we can’t have any more incidents. No more running off into the woods or running away. You have to stay put.”
I don’t know what stay put means. I don’t understand it at all but Patrice already has paper out and a pen. She tells me to say what I want to say while she writes it. So I start talking in my brain. I talk fast in my brain and then talk very, very slowly. So that I’m not telling any lies. It is extremely hard and tedious to do.
But I have to do it.
Patrice writes and writes and then she reads it back to me.
Dear Maura and Brian and Baby Wendy,
I don’t want to go to Saint Genevieve’s Home for Girls Who Aren’t Safe. I’m guessing I want to stay put instead even though I don’t really understand what that means. But I promise while I’m here I won’t tell any more lies with my mouth. I won’t have any more incidents. I won’t get into fights at school. I will not steal things. Every time you see me I will be a very good girl.
Love,
Ginny Moon
76
EXACTLY 9:32 IN THE MORNING,
THURSDAY, JANUARY 20TH
I have a lot of things to think about and it is making my head hurt. It hurts so much that I keep putting my hands on the sides of my head and squeezing. When Brian saw me that way this morning at the dining room table he asked me what was wrong but I just made an angry face. Because I’m supposed to get ready for the little rendezvous on Tuesday, January 25th, but the police might come to take my Baby Doll away from Gloria before that. Which means I have to call Gloria to tell her right away. I have to call her now.
But I don’t have a phone anymore.
“So your mom can’t go because of your baby sister?” says Kayla Zadambidge. We are in Room Five working on a puzzle together. The pieces don’t feel like pieces that go to anything. They feel like pieces of a broken sidewalk or broken glass.