As soon as I got home, I realized I should have gone to the kids’ house first to get my stuff.
I went downstairs to the den. I shed my jacket as I waited for Dad’s old pc to power up. I found nine emails from Selena. Four from Josie. And they’d posted frantic messages on Facebook too, using caps. WHERE ARE YOU? EARTH TO D!
I was still mad. With Selena especially. But I was so used to telling them everything. I started an email to explain what was going on. But it sounded lame. Then melodramatic and whiny. I rewrote it, deleted that, then started again.
I checked the clock on the corner of the screen. They would be at one of their houses. Or at the Little Chef Café.
I deleted the last message without sending it, grabbed the phone from the kitchen and headed upstairs.
I dropped onto my bed and adjusted the pillows with one hand as I dialed with the other. I might as well be comfortable if this was to be the last time I ever got to talk to them.
As soon as Josie answered, I told her about having my phone confiscated.
I kept my voice low, even though I knew it would be ages before Mom got home.
Josie and Selena passed the phone back and forth between them. “Are you kidding?” “That can’t be right.” “That’s child cruelty.” “They can’t do that!”
At last they left enough breathing space for me to tell them why Mom and Dad had confiscated my phone. And why I wasn’t allowed to email. “It’s because one of the kids I was babysitting had an accident while I was on the phone. That’s why I couldn’t call Josie back yesterday,” I said.
“Daria,” said Selena. “I’m mad at my mom, you know. It’s all…”
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter,” I told her. It seemed so unimportant, compared to the memory of Caden, dead-white, not moving, with a pool of blood under his head.
But I didn’t tell them about the blood. I didn’t tell them about the hospital. And I didn’t tell them what Dad had said. About me not being there with the kids while I was on the phone.
Until now, Selena, Josie and I had always told each other everything.
I turned toward the clock radio on my bedside table. “I’ve got to go,” I said. “I’ll catch it if they hear me on the phone.”
“So we really can’t reach you for a month?” asked Selena.
“That is SO brutal,” said Josie.
“I’ll try to connect with you later.” Maybe I could squeeze in a call or two after I’d picked up my phone from the kids’ house.
In the kitchen, I replaced the phone on its base and grabbed a snack. As I opened a can of juice, I thought of Caden running around the house yelling “Vomitvomitvomit” and giggling like a maniac. I longed to hug his wiry little body and nuzzle his neck to make him laugh. So I went downstairs, grabbed my jacket and headed out again.
Emmy opened the door, swinging her homemade phone by its string. “Mommy!” she called behind her. “Daria is here.” She frowned at me. “My mom is real mad with you. We have to find another sitter.”
Caden pushed in front of her. “I had to stay in the hospital,” he said. “I got shaved and they gave me twenty-one stitches in my head.” When he turned around, I could see a white bandage taped across his scalp.
Ms. Clarkson appeared behind him. “I thought I told you not to run around.” She put a hand on Caden’s shoulder and looked at me without smiling. “I expect you are here for your backpack.”
“And my phone.”
“You’d better come in.” Ms. Clarkson stepped aside to let me pass.
“I nearly bleeded to death,” Caden boasted as we headed for the kitchen. “The ambulance people saved my life. I was asleep,” he told me. “If I had been awake, I could have drived in the front with Emmy.”
“Don’t keep telling it over and over,” said Emerson.
Caden ignored her. “I had lots of stitches. It hurt so much. But I was very brave. Right, Mom?”
“You were very brave.” His mother smiled at him. “Now, how about you and your sister go and play?
“But I want to show Daria my new LEGO,” whined Caden. “It’s a fire truck!” he told me.
“Do as you’re asked.” Ms. Clarkson steered the kids out of the room.
“I just came for my things,” I said.
She handed me my backpack. “It’s all here.”
I itched to find the phone and stuff it in my pocket, where it belonged. Instead, I wrapped my arms around my bag. “I really am sorry about Caden’s fall.”
“I expect you are.” I felt a flash of hope until she added, “But I trusted you to take care of my children.” She blinked away tears. “We’re just lucky it wasn’t much worse.”
“Can I say goodbye to the kids?” I asked quickly before I started crying.
“Of course. Take care of yourself, Daria.”
I could feel her watching as I ducked into the living room. “Bye, guys,” I said. “I’ve got to go now.”
Caden was lying on his stomach on the floor stacking LEGO blocks. “Bye,” he called without looking up.
“I finished my project,” Emerson told me. “I wanted to show your friend.”
“Maybe another time.”
I stumbled out of the house and down the front path without looking back.