When (24 page)

I felt a rush of anger. Ma wasn’t some animal at the zoo. “When are you getting her out?” I demanded.

“Her pretrial is set for Wednesday. They’ll try her in drug court.”

“Drug court?” I repeated. “She wasn’t on drugs, Donny. She just had a little too much to drink.”

Donny barked out a laugh. “Kiddo, both legally and scientifically alcohol
is
a drug, and your mom had quite a bit more than, ‘a little too much to drink.’”

I felt like Donny was rebuking me, and it ticked me off, and then, suddenly, all of the anxiety and tension I’d felt the past several weeks came bubbling up, and I began to yell angrily at
him. “It’s like you’re happy she’s in jail!” I told him. “And why wouldn’t you be? You never cut her a break, Donny. You always give her a hard time about
everything! There’s nothing she can do that’s good enough for you! Even when she tries, you put her down!” I railed some more insults at my uncle, accusing him of never liking Ma,
of wanting to get me away from her just to hurt her, of never being there for us. All lies, and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop. At last I fell silent, squeezing the phone, not sure if
he’d hung up or not.

“You done?” he said curtly.

My lower lip trembled. I knew I’d gone way over the line and I should apologize, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I didn’t say anything, and the silence stretched out
between us.

At last Donny said, “I’ll be up on Wednesday. We’ll talk then.” There was a click, and he was gone.

I moped on the couch after that, trying to work up the courage to call Donny back and tell him that I was sorry, but I didn’t. Belatedly, I realized I’d forgotten to tell him about
the truck. That seemed a stupid thing to bring up now in light of our fight.

I went out to the kitchen and rummaged around in the fridge for something to eat. Mrs. Duncan had sent me home with so many leftovers that I wouldn’t need to go shopping for anything more
than milk for at least a week. And while I was taking out a container of leftover turkey, I noticed the pecan pie she’d given me as I was leaving her house the day before.

It was encased in plastic wrap, and Mrs. Duncan had tied a sweet plaid bow around it to make it look like a gift. Stubby loved pecan pie, and in that moment I missed him so much that I could
barely stand it. I knew I couldn’t visit him, but maybe I could visit his mom and his brother and sister. Maybe hanging out with them would take a little of the guilt I felt for yelling at
Donny away.

A few minutes later, I was out the door, pecan pie in hand.

Mrs. Schroder (5-11-2052) answered the doorbell before the echo had faded away. “Maddie!” she said when she took me in. Before I knew it I was wrapped in her arms and she was
squeezing me tightly. “Oh, Maddie. I’ve missed you so much!” And then she was crying. Like, seriously crying. I felt so bad for staying away as long as I had. After pulling me
inside, she cupped my face and said, “I’m so glad to see you!”

I held up the pie. “My neighbor baked it,” I told her. Then I noticed how puffy Mrs. Schroder’s face was and how swollen her eyes were. She’d been crying for some
time.

“It’s beautiful, sweetie,” she said, accepting the pie. “Come in, come in!”

I followed her into the kitchen, and through a doorway that led to the playroom I could hear Stubby’s younger twin brother and sister arguing over a video game they were playing. “I
thought about calling you so many times,” Mrs. Schroder said, putting the pie on the counter at the same time she reached for her coat and purse. “I’m so sorry I didn’t. But
you’re here exactly when I needed someone, like an angel sent to me this morning.”

I was super confused. “Did something happen?” I asked.

Mrs. Schroder shrugged into her coat. “An officer from the jail called me fifteen minutes ago.”

I sucked in a breath. “What’s happened?”

“He said that Arnold has been involved in some sort of disturbance, and they’d like me to come down there.” Her voice became hoarse as she said the words.

I bit my lip. “Disturbance? What does that mean?”

Stubby’s mom wiped her eyes. “I’m not sure. I’ve called your uncle several times, but it keeps rolling right to voice mail. So I’m heading downtown to see if I can
find out what happened. I didn’t have anyone to watch Sam and Grace; would you mind staying with them for a bit?”

I blinked, “Oh! Sure, I’ll watch them, Mrs. Schroder, don’t worry. Please go see Stubs and tell him that I said hi and I miss him, okay?”

Mrs. Schroder stepped forward to hug me again. “Thank you. I will.” And then she was rushing out the door.

I spent most of the afternoon with Stubby’s younger brother and sister. Sam (4-25-2092) and Grace (3-17-2048) were nice enough kids, but they were also a little bit of a handful. By the
time Mrs. Schroder got home I was pretty relieved. Until I saw her face. “Is it bad?” I gasped.

Stubby’s mom was crying, but trying to turn her face away from Sam and Grace so they wouldn’t see how upset she was. I had the sense that she’d held it together until she
walked through her own door, and it all came crashing down on her. I coaxed her to a chair, got her a box of Kleenex, and waited for her to collect herself. Finally, she seemed to settle down, and
I asked, “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Arnold was taken to the hospital,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “The disturbance was that his cellmate assaulted him. He broke his nose, re-fractured his hand,
and he has a severe concussion. Enough that they’re keeping him overnight for observation.”

I bit my lip, near tears myself. “Did Donny call you back?”

Mrs. Schroder nodded. “He’s trying to get Stubby moved to solitary confinement—which sounds awful and extreme, but it would keep him separated from the general population and
he’d be safe there. Still, your uncle says the warden is in tight with the FBI, and they’re pushing to keep him in that same cell block with all those murderers and drug
dealers.”

Mrs. Schroder’s voice pitched up high again, and she had to reach for another tissue. “Donny thinks they want to make Arnold as miserable as possible so that he’ll eventually
point the finger at you.”

I sucked in a breath. All of this was my fault. Stubby was in the hospital because of me, and he’d be thrown back to the wolves again because he was my best friend and he wouldn’t
lie and say I had something to do with Tevon and Payton’s murders.

“It’s the notebook, Maddie. They can’t seem to get past it. They really believe you’re involved.”

I dropped my chin. Stubby’s mom hadn’t been accusing me, but I still knew that I had to shoulder all of the blame. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Schroder, but I
swear
:
neither of us had anything to do with the murders.”

I felt her reach out and pat my shoulder. “I know, honey,” she said, and I wondered if she really did. She was quiet for a bit, and then I heard her get up and move away. When I
looked up she was bringing me a small frame. “Will you look for me?” she whispered.

My brow furrowed. “At what?”

She put the frame into my hands, and I realized it was a photo of Stubby. “Has his…has his date changed?”

I stared down at the round pudgy-cheeked image of Stubby grinning ear to ear. He was always happy. Always looking at the bright side. I missed him so much in that moment that for a time I
couldn’t see the photo through my tears. Wiping at my eyes I focused on his forehead. “He’ll be okay, Mrs. Schroder.”

But she wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easily. “What’s the date, Maddie?”

I lifted my gaze back to her. Did she really want to know?

“Please tell me,” she begged, and looking into her pleading eyes, I couldn’t deny her.

“Eight nineteen, twenty ninety-four.”

I was hoping that would bring her some comfort, but Mrs. Schroder only bit her lip and turned away. “The DA told your uncle that they intend to pursue a life sentence without the
possibility of parole. That means Arnold could spend the next eighty years in prison. That’s no life for my son, Maddie. No life at all.”

THE FOLLOWING TUESDAY I FEIGNED
a stomachache and cut my last two classes. I was so depressed and sad about Stubby and Ma that I couldn’t
concentrate; all I wanted to do was go home and curl up into a ball.

As I was pulling my bike out of the rack to head home, I saw a gleam of black out of the corner of my eye. The next thing I knew, Donny’s BMW had pulled up next to me. “Oh, good, you
got my message,” he said, getting out of the car to come over to me.

I was so surprised to see him that I simply stood there stupidly. “Message?” We weren’t allowed to have our cell phones on in school, and I’d forgotten to turn mine on
when I left.

Donny took hold of the handlebars and began to push the bike toward the car. “Come on, kiddo. Traffic was bad, and we’re gonna be late as it is.”

I shook off my surprise and moved to his car. As we set off I asked, “What’s up?”

“It’s your mom.”

I stiffened. “What happened?”

“She collapsed this morning at the jail. I tried to get them to put her through a detox, but nobody over there wanted to listen to me, and now she’s in the hospital. Her liver and
kidney functions aren’t good.”

I was so stunned and afraid for Ma that for several seconds all I could do was stare at him.

Donny put his free hand over mine. “Hey,” he said. “Don’t look so scared. She’ll be okay, Maddie. But I wanted to take you to see her before her court
date.”

We parked in the garage across the street from the hospital, and I followed dully behind Donny as he led me inside. We paused at information before heading up to the fourth floor and inquiring
at the nurse’s station. From there we walked the length of the corridor and stopped in front of an armed guard, stationed outside Ma’s room. He held the door open for us and came inside
to stand with arms folded across his chest. The message was clear: we’d have an audience for the visit, like it or not.

Ma was so pale she looked gray. There were tubes snaking down from IV stands into her right wrist, and the sharp edges of her collarbone were sticking out. She looked so thin and frail. It was
hard to believe this was my mom lying there.

There were also straps across her body, tethering her to the bed, but she seemed so frail and sick that I doubted she’d be able to fight her way out of bed, much less out of the room and
past the guard.

As we stood there and took stock of Ma, a nurse came in, nodded to us, then went over to change a bag on the IV stand.

“Why do they have her strapped down like that?” I asked Donny.

“It’s to help with the seizures,” the nurse answered for him.

“Seizures?”

“Maddie,” my uncle cautioned as Ma stirred but didn’t open her eyes. “Keep your voice down, kiddo.”

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Why is she having seizures?”

The nurse looked to my uncle first before answering. He nodded, and she focused on me. “Your mother is going through alcohol withdrawal. When long-term addicts are forced to go cold
turkey, their bodies often can’t handle it. Your mom should’ve been admitted to a detox facility instead of a jail cell.”

The nurse shifted her gaze to send an angry look at the cop guarding her, and he in turn rolled his eyes and looked away.

“Will she get better?” I asked.

The nurse collected the old IV bag. “She should. We’ll need to keep her here for at least the next forty-eight hours to make sure her kidney and liver functions come back to normal,
but she should be well enough to be released back to the county in another day or two.”

“I’d like to speak to her doctor, if that’s okay?” Donny asked, smiling at the nurse. I could tell he thought she was cute.

“Sure,” she said, with a hint of a smile in return. She apparently thought he was cute, too. “Come on. Doctor Aruben is on rounds right now. I’ll take you to
him.”

“Stay here till I get back,” Donny said to me. I nodded, and he kissed the side of my head and followed after the nurse. The guard didn’t budge from his post right inside the
door, so I did my best to ignore him.

I moved to the bedside in order to hold Ma’s hand, but it was twitching so much that it scared me, so I set it back down. “Ma?”

Her eyelids fluttered.

“It’s me.” She didn’t respond. “It’s Maddie.” Still nothing. I bit my lip, trying hard not to cry, but she looked so bad lying there all pale and clammy
and twitchy. Even when she was in her worst blackouts she didn’t look this bad. “Ma,” I said again. “You gotta fight, okay? You gotta get better so you can come
home.”

Ma’s eyelids fluttered again and then they flew open, as if suddenly being released from a latch. “What’re you doing here?” she demanded, her voice rough as
sandpaper.

“I…I came to see you.”

“I don’t want you here.”

I reached for her hand again, but she pulled it away. “Get out, Maddie.”

Her words hit me like a slap. “Ma—”

“Get out!”

I backed up from the bed but didn’t leave the room. “Ma,” I tried again. I couldn’t keep the waiver out of my voice.

“Go!” she snapped, her eyes black and hard as iron.