The house is in an uproar when we get home from school. Mom hardly glances at us when we walk into the house. She’s in the living room searching for something. The strap of her tank top has fallen across her arm, and her hair’s coming loose from its elastic.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I can’t find Piper,” she says. She moves so fast, her voice trails her. The living room looks like dogs have been fighting in it. Furniture is turned over. Cushions are on the floor. She’s even managed to move the big potted palm from its corner. There’s a strong smell of earth in the room from some of it spilling out of the pot.
“Mom, calm down. She’s probably fallen asleep somewhere. It’s so hot. Have you looked in her room?” I speak slowly. I thought she was getting better. Seeing her like this again is scary.
“I’ve looked everywhere,” she says, and this time her words are more like sobs. This isn’t just Mom panicking because she hasn’t seen Piper for a few minutes. Her eyes are red, her mouth, a tight line. My chest constricts and I have to take a deep breath before I say, “Mom, slow down. Where have you looked? Have you tried the yard?”
“I’ve looked everywhere,” she says as she tugs at the curtains.
“Mom, Mom, slow down. She’s not hiding behind the curtains. Tell me where you’ve looked.” I try to sound calm, but the scent of her panic is sharp, and it makes my voice catch. She doesn’t slow down, and she doesn’t answer, and it hits me that Piper might really be missing.
“Gordo and I will help,” I say. Gordo hasn’t said anything, but his face is white, and he’s shaking.
“It’s okay, Gordo, we’ll find her,” I say. He nods, but I can tell he’s biting back tears. He slides his hand into mine, and his palm is slick with sweat. That freaks me out. Gordo the daredevil is scared. The possibilities flood into me, and I too feel tears bombard my eyes.
“Go check the yard,” I say to Gordo, mostly to get him away from Mom’s panic. He stares at me with wide eyes, but then lets go of my hand and rushes out the door. I follow him outside. Somewhere through my fear the thought comes that if Piper’s in the house, she’s probably okay, so I’ll let Mom look there. If she’s outside… I don’t want to finish that thought. Suddenly all the dangers Mom’s always going on about seem real, and I imagine spiders and biting ants and cobras and pythons and murderous germs everywhere.
Thomas is washing the car, but he stops when Gordo and I run out of the house.
“What’s the matter?” asks Thomas.
“Piper’s missing,” I say.
He creases his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do you mean?”
“Abena took her shopping. They’re down the street. Your mother didn’t tell you?” says Thomas.
The relief floods over me. “Oh,” I say.
Gordo flushes red, then laughs a crazy-edged laugh. “I’ll go tell Mom,” he says. He’s about to run into the house, but Thomas says, “Your mom already knows.”
“She does?” I say. The flooding of relief in my veins is replaced by something else. Something prickly. Fear. Gordo looks at me with big eyes.
“She must. I’m sure Abena told her,” says Thomas.
“Oh,” I say again. Maybe Abena didn’t tell her. Maybe Mom hasn’t totally lost her marbles. Maybe she really doesn’t know where Piper is.
“Gordo, you go in and tell Mom, and I’ll run down and get Abena and Piper,” I say, and then I dash down the drive.
Abena isn’t far down the street, so when I call, “Abena, Abena,” she waves and points me out to Piper, who grins broadly and waves too. My heart bounces in my chest at the sight of Piper happily waving.
She’s okay.
Really okay.
I’m hardly halfway to them when Mom tears past me, with Gordo close behind. The three of us race to Piper, and when Mom gets there she grabs Piper right out of Abena’s arms and hugs her so tightly that Piper cries.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Mom says to Abena. Her voice has a roughness I’ve never heard.
Abena says, “What did I do, Mrs. Johnson?”
“What did you do? You took off with Piper and I didn’t know where she was. Anything could have happened to her. She could have been stung by something or fallen into a ditch or been swallowed by a snake or kidnapped or who knows what!” Mom’s voice is hoarse.
Abena looks shaky, and she says, “Mrs. Johnson, I thought you knew she was with me.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Mom stares at Abena, and Gordo and I stand together and hold our breath.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson, I did tell you,” says Abena, looking at the ground.
“My husband will hear about this,” says Mom, and she spins around and walks back to the house with Piper. Gordo and I don’t move. It’s like we’re stuck to the ground, and we don’t know what to do until Abena picks up a basket lying at her feet and places it on her head, then slowly walks back to the house. Gordo slips his hand into mine. His fingers are cold. I grasp them tightly and we follow Abena.
That evening after dinner, when I’m supposed to be in my room doing homework, I walk down the stairs to get a glass of water from the fridge and overhear Mom and Dad talking to Abena. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can tell their voices are raised. Just as I’m about to turn around and go back upstairs, Abena walks out of the kitchen. She’s crying. I run into the stairwell and hold my breath until she passes.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the face. I’m not sure if I feel worse for Abena, for being yelled at for something she didn’t do, or for Mom, for being so upset about something that didn’t happen.
Mom and Dad come out of the kitchen a second later. I stay still because I hear Dad saying, “We’ll keep the kids close, Joanne. I won’t let anything happen to them.”
“Can you promise that?” Mom says.
There’s silence, and then Dad sighs. “Of course not, Joanne. But…” He doesn’t finish.
“I don’t want them going anywhere. Anywhere at all. At least here we have walls and a phone—some of the time,” Mom says.
“Joanne, the man’s in jail. What can he do?” asks Dad.
Mom storms away, leaving me and Dad standing on opposite sides of a wall.