Bigger than a Bread Box Page 11

  I looked up at her. I forgot about my teeth. She didn’t want to have to worry about me? I was just one more thing to deal with? Did she think this was all just happening to her? Did she really think she hadn’t made this mess herself? Had she forgotten all about me and Lew? I wanted to stand up and yell at her, but I reminded myself that “less is more” and tried not to get upset. If I started trying to explain, I’d talk myself into a hole. I’d just look like a big baby.

  So I sat on my hands and said, “I am fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  Mom laughed in a weird, bitter way. “Don’t worry? How am I supposed to manage that? You stole, Rebecca. That is not fine!”

  I shrugged and bit the inside of my mouth to keep from saying any more.

  “Don’t you think you owe me a little more than that?” she asked.

  I shrugged again.

  “You are infuriating,” said my mom, standing over me. “Talking to you is like talking to a … a wall. How can I help you if you won’t talk to me?” Her voice was cracking again. Her hands were spread out in front of her, and her back was bent over so she could peer down into my face, like someone in a police show on TV.

  I looked up into her eyes, but I still didn’t answer her.

  “How?” she said again. This time she just sounded defeated. “How. How. How.” She was just repeating the word until it didn’t sound like a question anymore. Then she seemed to give up and fell into the chair beside mine. She said, “Please? Please, help me understand, Rebecca? Can you?” She didn’t sound mad anymore. More tired. “Look … I don’t really care about Hannah’s jacket, but what’s wrong with you? On the inside. Are you okay? I’m worried. And when you don’t talk to me, it’s like … it’s like I’m dealing with your dad all over again!”

  I knew she was trying to make me feel bad, but it made me kind of proud. I’d rather be like Dad, if I got to choose. I looked down at my feet on the floor. I didn’t know what there was to say.

  Mom took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s start over. You cut school,” she said. Her forehead was all wrinkled, but she seemed to be done yelling at me.

  I nodded.

  “Honestly, we knew that already. We figured that part out. We were letting it slide.…”

  I thought about thanking her, but it didn’t seem like the right time, and anyway, she kept talking.

  “But what on earth is this about you stealing a leather jacket? Since when are you a thief? And since when do you care that much about fancy jackets? Is this all a cry for attention? We’re confused.”

  I shook my head.

  I wanted to know who “we” was. Had she talked to Dad? Did Dad know what I’d done? I felt panicked at the thought.

  I stared back at her. A teeny tiny part of me actually wanted to tell her what had happened, as crazy as it all was—about the magic and Becky and the money and everything else. But a bigger part of me didn’t want to tell her anything. I wanted only one thing from my mom. “I don’t … know,” I said. “I just want to go home. I guess that’s all there is. I guess I don’t have anything else to say. I just want to go home.”

  Mom stared at me for a long, long time. It was like a standoff. I tried not to blink. I wondered what she was thinking.

  When she finally opened her mouth, she said, “Can’t you think about anyone but yourself?”

  And that … I couldn’t stand. Sitting there like that with her leaning over me, pelting me with those wrong words. As if I were the selfish one. As if I were the one doing pretty much whatever I wanted, even if it tore my family apart. As if I had made all this happen. I stood up and faced her. That was when I realized suddenly, staring into my mother’s eyes …

  I was as tall as she was.

  “Can’t you?” I asked as calmly as I could.

  She might still have been able to make it better then. I would have let her. She could have apologized or hugged me. Right then and there, she could have listened and agreed to go back home. I wanted it all to be okay more than I wanted to win.

  But Mom didn’t apologize. Instead, in an angry, grown-up voice, she said, “I am in charge of this family, young lady, and what I do, I do for you. I only want what’s best for you—”

  Hearing those words, I didn’t feel bad anymore. I felt justified. “That’s a lie,” I said. My voice was rising, and I couldn’t help it. “Because what’s best for me is home, and Dad. Anyone could tell you that, even Gran. But you don’t care about that, not at all. You aren’t thinking about me, or Lew. You’re thinking about yourself, and what you want and what you need.” I spat this last part in her face. I couldn’t believe I was talking to her this way. I meant to keep my cool, stay calm, but I couldn’t. I forgot about “less is more,” and the words just flew from me like fire—and exploded into loud, angry sounds.

  “Oh, Rebecca,” said my mom. Then she sat down in the chair, slumping into it, and I was left standing above her.

  I had hurt her, but I didn’t care. I was full of being angry now. Once the meanness started, I couldn’t stop it. “So what if I stole a jacket?” I said. “You’re worse than that. You stole us!”

  “Oh, Rebecca,” my mom said again. Now she was going to cry. She reached out her arms to me.

  “I’m not going back to that place, that school,” I said. “I’m going home. I’ll run away. I’ll take a bus. I’ll live with Dad. I’d rather live with him than with you anyway.”

  My mother’s face crumpled. I had gone too far. I could tell. We both had. She wasn’t even crying. She was just sitting there.

  “Mom?”

  She buried her face in her hands and didn’t move.

  Somewhere off in the distance, a police siren wailed. Then it was gone.

  “Mom?”

  Silence. She just sat there in the kitchen, like she was sleeping in that chair, her face in her hands, swaying a little. It scared me.

  “Mom?” I said one more time.

  This time my mother stood up and walked past me, grabbed her keys off the counter, and walked back through the house. I heard her open the front door. I heard her march down the steps. Then she was gone.

  Slowly I headed back through the house, looking for Gran and Lew, but the house was empty. They’d probably gone out for a walk when Mom and I started yelling. So I went back to the kitchen. Mom had left her phone on the counter when she stormed out. Suddenly I really needed to talk to Dad.

  He picked up on the first ring.

  “Hi, Dad?” I said with a flutter in my chest.

  “Becks!” he said. “Been missing you. You okay? You don’t sound like my girl.”

  “I don’t feel like your girl,” I said. “I feel … bad.”

  “Oh no,” he said. “I wish I could be there. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Or … everything. It’s just … I hate Mom.”

  He sighed. “No, monkey. You don’t. I don’t either. We love her like hell.”

  “I don’t,” I said. “Not anymore. She lies. She says she wants what’s best for us, but she”—I choked—“she doesn’t even care.”

  Dad took a second before he said, “She does, Becks. She’s just upset. I know that in the end, she’ll be ready to help me fix this. She’ll make it right.”

  Wow, I thought. She has him fooled. He had no idea what was going on. Maybe he was just too far away to know. I guess I took too long thinking about it, because then Dad said, “Hey, Becks? I have to run. Sorry. I know this is a bad time, but I need to go. We’ll talk real soon, okay? And I’ll see you soon too. I promise. I’ll see you real soon.”

  “Okay,” I said, “I guess—”

  The line went dead.

  I felt blown out and hollow, like the painted shells on the bottom of the hermit crab cage in the gift shops on the boardwalk. The ones no crab is living in. I walked from room to room, wishing Lew and Gran would come home, but it was just me, alone, all by myself, in a silent house.

  I went to my room and stood in f
ront of the bread box.

  “Please,” I said. “Please? Please send me something, anything, that might get me home to Dad. Please help me find a way home.”

  I opened the door: another bus ticket. I sighed. I knew now that the bread box couldn’t give me anything to fix my parents, because I hadn’t broken them.

  I looked at the ticket, and for a heartbeat I thought I could do that—go home by myself. But it was a long way, too far, and besides, I didn’t think I could ever leave Lew behind.

  CHAPTER 16

  That was a lonely day—just me, by myself in that quiet house. Gran and Lew stayed gone, and I missed them. I would have called them to find out where they’d gone, but there was no way to do that, since I’d stolen Gran’s phone. I reminded myself that I needed to return it. Now that Mrs. Cahalen had busted me, there was no reason not to give it back.

  I watched hours of television, because I had no idea what else to do with myself. It was boring. I turned on Gran’s computer, but there wasn’t really anything I wanted to do with it. At lunchtime I made myself a turkey sandwich. That was about all there was to the day. No distractions. Plenty of time to feel bad about everything, plenty of time to feel worse.

  Finally, around five o’clock, Gran and Lew came home. When I heard them, I went to my room and got Gran’s phone from its hiding spot under the mattress. I walked into the kitchen and set it on the counter in front of her. There were grocery bags all over the place. It looked like she was going to make tacos for dinner. Lew was on the floor, drawing a picture on a paper bag with crayons.

  “I found this,” I said, pushing the phone toward her.

  “Found it, huh?” She stared at me very steadily.

  I couldn’t lie anymore. “No, I took it,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  Gran seemed to think about that for a minute, while I waited for her to be mad. At last she put the phone in her pocket and said, “Rebecca, I thank you for the truth. In light of the fact that you’re already in deep doo-doo, you can consider this misdemeanor forgotten. Okay?”

  I nodded.

  “You and your mom get everything sorted out?” she asked.

  “No.” I bent down and picked up an orange crayon that had rolled over to my feet. I started to pick the paper off it.

  Gran sighed. “That’s too bad.” Then her tone changed, and without missing a beat, she asked, “Hey, how many tacos can you eat?”

  “Three. Where’d you go all day?” I asked, watching her stir.

  “You know, just some places. Errands. The mall. We walked around the greenhouses at the botanical garden.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know there was a botanical garden. That sounds fun.”

  “It was fun,” she said. “And there are a lot of things you don’t know.” Then she stopped talking, reached for a big knife, and started chopping onions. My eyes began to water.

  I sat down on the floor next to Lew. “Hi, you,” I said.

  “Hi, Babecka,” he said. “I dwawing a mast.” He didn’t look up from whatever he was drawing on his mask. It looked a little like a mustache and a little like a star. He unfolded the bag and put it over his head. I couldn’t help smiling at him.

  We ate dinner, just the three of us.

  I was doing the dishes while Gran made herself a cup of tea when we heard the front door open. I glanced up. Gran looked over at me and said quietly, “Be. Good.”

  I nodded.

  Mom stormed into the room, moving quickly. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She didn’t actually look at me, but she said to the room in general, “I will be taking Rebecca to school tomorrow before I go to work. I am the head of this family, and there will be no discussion about it.”

  Gran said, “Yes, ma’am!”

  I kept my eyes on the dishpan.

  Mom picked up Lew and carried him off to take a bath, and I could hear them laughing in the bathroom together, all echoing and splashy, singing the rubber-ducky song. I guess she was okay in general. It was just me she was mad at.

  The next morning I couldn’t seem to get dressed. I woke up early and stared at my clothes, and nothing seemed like the right thing to wear. I could just imagine how this was going to go—Mom walking me into the school in person, holding my hand like a baby, marching me through the halls while everyone snickered behind my back. What was the right shirt for dying of embarrassment?

  Eventually I settled on an old green sweater. It was a Rebecca sweater, not a Becky sweater. My dad had bought it for me at a yard sale last year. It made me feel better wearing something that had come from Dad. After I put it on, I pulled my locket outside the sweater so that it showed. I could imagine him saying, “Chin up, monkey!” I opened the locket and made sure that the scrap of paper was still inside.

  In the bathroom, I brushed my teeth extra hard. I brushed my hair extra hard too, until it crackled. I washed my face with Ivory soap that stung my eyes, in the hottest water I could stand. Then I took a deep breath and marched down the hallway to the kitchen, where my mother was waiting for me.

  “Ready?” she asked right away, though I obviously hadn’t eaten breakfast yet.

  “I’m hungry.”

  She handed me an apple. “Don’t want to be late on your first day back,” she snapped.

  We stepped out onto the porch together, and I stomped down the stairs. So did Mom. When we got to the edge of the walk, there was a funny moment. Mom hesitated. She paused just a little too long.

  “What?” I said, turning to look at her.

  Her brow was creased and she said, “It’s just … I don’t know where the school is. Which way do we go?”

  In all the weeks we’d been here, she’d never once walked me to school. That’s how little attention she’d been paying to me. Now that I thought about it, I realized that Mom and I hadn’t walked anywhere together since the day we went to the zoo.

  For a minute I was tempted to take her on a wild-goose chase, head off in the wrong direction, but that would only make her mad and make me late. I’d have to walk in alone, after the bell, with my mom at my side, and that would be worse than getting there on time, when at least I could melt into the sea of bodies.

  “This way,” I grunted, and turned right to trudge the four blocks to the school. She followed close behind.

  Mom surprised me again when we got to the corner across from the school. She hung back.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I asked her as meanly as I could.

  “Won’t that just make it worse?” she asked, looking genuinely concerned.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll stay here,” she said. “You go ahead.” She nodded.

  “But I thought the whole point was to—”

  “The point was to make sure you got here, Rebecca. To make sure you didn’t run off, that you faced the music. I’m not trying to punish you any more than I have to. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s true. I just didn’t want you to run away from this.”

  That’s a laugh, I thought, coming from the queen of the runaways. But I didn’t say anything. I just stared at her.

  She sighed and said, “Honey, I mean this in a good way. If you have apologies to make, you should make them. If you have apologies to accept, I suggest you accept them. If you’re in the middle of a fight, finish it. Trust me—you’ll feel better once you do.”

  Half of me could tell she meant well and wanted me to hear what she was saying. But half of me could only think what a huge hypocrite she was. I didn’t say goodbye. I just crossed the street quickly and walked up the stairs. I didn’t look back and I didn’t look around. I kept my eyes on my feet and moved fast. No good could come of eye contact.

  Someone called out “Becky,” but I just kept going. I wasn’t Becky anymore. Becky was gone. I went straight to class. I didn’t stop at my locker. I kept my eyes down and my mouth shut and I just breathed, breathed.…

  I made it through homeroom. I made it through math.

  Of course, I wondered the whole ti
me if people were staring at me, if they were passing notes about me, but I didn’t look up, not once. I didn’t see any point. I just had to get through the day. I could—I realized—suffer through just about anything if I didn’t look at anyone.

  Then came Mrs. Hamill’s science class. I ran through the halls to be there first, figuring if I could get to my seat before Hannah got to hers, I might be able to avoid the painful moment of walking past her perfect knees. I could just imagine having to ask her to move her bag so I could get past—our eyes locking, her mouth in a mean smile, her eyelashes aflutter.

  I was the first one to class. I walked into the room and murmured something like “Sorry” to Mrs. Hamill as I made my way past her desk. I slid into my seat and opened my book. I pretended to read, but the words swam, so I just sat there staring at the unreadable page, waiting for Hannah.

  Then Mrs. Hamill decided to leave the room, just as everyone else filed in, so there I was, without a teacher to protect me, when Hannah marched over and stood above my desk with her little flock all around her. Maya was there, and Cat too. I could feel them staring down at my head. I could tell who they were by their feet, and that bothered me—the realization that I’d cared enough about these people to memorize their shoes. I didn’t see Megan’s shoes in the circle. I tried not to think about what was happening. Instead I pictured Lew, because it was the only thing I could think of that I knew would make me feel better. Lew laughing. Lew with jelly on his nose.

  It didn’t work. I could barely breathe. I reached for my locket, clutched it like a charm.

  They stood over my desk, and I stared at the dirty tile floor for what felt like ten minutes before Hannah spoke. “Here’s the thing,” she said with a smug laugh in her voice. “I’m not even pissed you stole my jacket, Becky. I could forgive you for that and still be your friend, if only …”