CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Fee
Sunday
“Time-out,” Fee called, slapping her stick down on the carpet and fishing her phone out of her pocket. Dallas (or was it Denver?) seized the opportunity to sail the plastic puck past her head and into the goal. The Monroe twins were a hat trick of trouble: hockey players, trained merchants of pain, and six years old enough to know the difference between a cheap shot and a fair one. Dodging pucks while wearing a too-small face mask had to be worth a lot more than eight bucks an hour. Not to mention the World Wide Wrestling match during which she’d received a nasty rug burn—as referee. She had arrived tired and irritable, not yet recovered from Friday’s late-nighter. Since then, she and Cass had only exchanged a series of texts. Both had avoided any mention of anything outside the topic of soccer.
“Hello.”
“Fee, it’s Mom. I’m at the hospital. Booboo’s had an accident.”
Feeling the contents of her head drain down her spine, Fee listened in shock to her mom describe her grandmother’s situation.
Half an hour later, Mr. Monroe dropped Fee at the entrance to the emergency room.
“Thank you for the ride,” Fee said. “And I’m sorry to have ruined your evening.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Mr. Monroe said, implying—Fee couldn’t help but notice—that she had other things to worry about.
The waiting room was full of people and it took Fee a few moments to locate her group. It was Aunt Jocelyn’s leather vest, which seemed inappropriate in this somber place, that caught her attention. She was startled to see Keith sitting next to her mother, with Jocelyn in the seat facing them.
“What’s going on?” Fee rushed to her mother, who pulled her into a hug. “What happened to Booboo?”
“She fell, and hit her head, and maybe went into shock. They’ve been running some tests. We’re waiting for the doctor to update us.”
Fee backed out of the embrace. Her mom looked so small in the little pink golf skirt. “But she’s going to be okay, right?”
“We hope so, honey.” Jill patted Fee’s arm. “She was in a lot of pain, but I kept her awake and talking until the paramedics could get to her.”
“Could get to her?” Fee asked.
Fee listened as her mom explained the details surrounding Booboo’s fall and knew, somehow, she was getting an abbreviated version.
Jocelyn stood. “I’m going crazy waiting here.” She took Fee by the arm. “How about you and I check out the gift shop? We could buy Booboo a bunch of useless junk, like teddy bears, and mugs crammed with carnations, and foot-long chocolate bars.”
Fee didn’t have much choice, because Jocelyn pulled her to a stand. She looked back at her mom and Keith. She just hoped there wasn’t any more drama coming out of that department.
“Do you mind if I get a cup of coffee?” Jocelyn asked. “Don’t worry about missing anything. They took X-rays and now they’re running her through an MRI machine.” She stopped at the elevator and pushed the button. “And then they have to read the scans.” The door opened and they stepped in. “We could be here for a while.”
They found a table at the back of the cafeteria. Fee stared down at a Coke. “So did they find something on the X-ray? Is that why they need an MRI?”
Jocelyn waved her hand dismissively. “We’d have to water-board’em to get any real information. We’ll know more when the tests are in.” She took a sip of her milky-white coffee. The Styrofoam made a scrunching sound. “Let’s change the subject for now.” She set the cup down. “How’s your summer going?”
“Good. I guess. But school’s only been out two weeks.”
“And soccer?”
“Tryouts for the fall club team are over. The A and B rosters get posted anytime now.”
“You’re not nervous about that, are you?”
“No.”
“Any special guys in your life?”
“Nope.” Not unless Coach Yuri was special forces with the KGB.
“And your friends? How’re your friends?”
Fee had intended a simple exhale, but even she knew it came out as a collapse.
The shiny plane between Jocelyn’s eyebrows twitched. “Anything going on?”
“Just normal girl stuff.”
“Girl stuff, huh?”
“Yep.”
Jocelyn scrunched her cup across the tabletop. “You’re giving off something—I’m not sure exactly—I want to say ‘wounded.’ ”
Fee held up her elbow. “I do have this rug burn.”
“Not that kind of wounded.” Jocelyn traced her finger around the rim of her cup. “Emotionally wounded.”
Fee opened her mouth, as if to speak, but found her brain otherwise occupied. Of all people, Aunt Jocelyn had some nerve. She was a hound—a sniffing, slobbering, won’t-let-go she-wolf. All the more annoying that Fee was hurt, practically hemorrhaging: a nasty slash from Marjory, who chose a couple of Kotex pads over her and Cass; a gash—this one self-inflicted—of worry about the momentum-gathering missing-father story; and sucking air after the gut punch of gossip about Aunt Jocelyn being her real mother.
“Since you’re asking, there seems to be something—some secret—surrounding you, my mom, and Keith. People are talking.”
Jocelyn broke a chunk of Styrofoam from the cup’s rim. “Saying what exactly?”
“Calling me a mystery child . . .”
“Have you talked to your mom about this?”
“I tried, but—”
“No. No. No,” Jocelyn interrupted, shaking her head. “You need to talk to your mom. We are not talking about this.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a discussion you need to have with your mother.”
“But—”
“Look, all I’m gonna say is gossip is evil. Don’t listen to it. Beyond that, we either change the subject, or I get up and walk.”
There was a just-dare-me quality to Jocelyn’s voice that was new to Fee. Fee sat back and crossed her arms.
“Just trust me on this one. There are things better left as they are. If only . . .” Jocelyn wiped the fragments of white foam into what remained of the cup. “It’s not my place. And right now we need to focus on Booboo. So how about that gift shop? You wanna help me spend some money?”
Their chat had done squat to console Fee. The only thing Jocelyn had been clear on was Booboo. Now was the time to focus on Booboo.