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ALEX IS SITTING UP in bed when Gloria lets me into his room. He tells me hi and pats the side of his bed, so I sit there.
“How did you like the book?” he asks.
“It’s pretty good.” I hope he won’t ask how much I read. I only got through a couple of chapters. “That boy in the story...” I try to remember his name.
“Joe Rantz.”
“Yeah, Joe. He was really poor, and his family treated him so mean.”
“They did,” Alex agrees. “Back during the Depression, everybody was poor, and parents didn’t even get in trouble for neglecting their kids.”
I’ve heard of the Depression, I think. It reminds me of how Mom always complains about being depressed. Maybe that’s why she ignores me and Jaden so much. Like Alex said, depression makes parents neglect kids. I shouldn’t complain when Alex has it so much worse. At least these days I get to see Dad without Robin. I just wish he and Jaden wouldn’t keep bugging me about going to see that therapist.
“You have a good mom,” I tell him. “She doesn’t neglect you.”
He mumbles something and looks over my shoulder. When I turn, Gloria’s holding a glass of water and a prescription bottle.
“Time for your medicine, dear.”
Alex screws up his face. “Aww, Mom. I hate those pills.”
She passes him the glass. “But you need them.”
He takes the water, and she opens the bottle, shakes a pill onto her hand, and holds it out to him.
“Can’t I wait? Amber and I are talking.”
“You know the rules.” She moves her hand so the pill is right by his face.
I can tell he’s unhappy. Maybe the medicine tastes bad. One time my mom made me eat liver because it was good for me. Poor Alex.
“Is that the medicine from Robin?” I’ve been praying, like I promised Gloria.
Gloria sighs. “No, dear, not yet.”
Alex opens his hand for the pill. As Gloria drops it, he pulls away, letting it fall onto the bed.
“Very funny,” Gloria says, only she doesn’t laugh. She puts the pill bottle on Alex’s night table and feels around his bedcovers then holds the pill between two fingers. “All right, Butterfingers, down the hatch.”
For a moment, Alex keeps his mouth shut tight while his mother offers him the pill. Then he opens up, and Gloria pops it in. He takes a gulp of water and washes it down. I realize I’ve been holding my breath, waiting to see if he’ll swallow the pill, kind of hoping he won’t.
The phone rings in the other room. Gloria goes to answer it, leaving the pill bottle sitting on the night table. I stare at it but can’t make out the writing on the label. I wonder what medicine Alex takes while we wait for Robin to help him.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the story about Joe Rantz.”
I almost jump when Alex speaks because I was busy trying to read the medicine label. I shrug. “Yeah, sure.” I don’t want to tell him I only read books when I have to for school. Again, I picture the library book I drew in and got in trouble over. “Actually, I like art better.”
Lucky for me, Gloria comes back into the room before I have to make up more stuff to impress him. “Your mom just called, Amber. She’s running a little late.” She glances at Alex. “What’s wrong, dear?”
I turn and see he’s gone pale, like the last time. Uh-oh.
“Do you need to be sick?” Gloria asks.
Alex nods, his lips squeezed tight. Gloria rushes over, and I barely make it off his bed before she pulls him out of it.
“Let’s get you to the bathroom.” She hurries him away, and in a minute, I hear barfing noises. Ugh. Throwing up is the worst.
While I’m alone, I pick up the medicine bottle from the night table. The first thing I notice is that the prescription’s under Gloria’s name, not Alex’s. It seems strange that she would give him her pills. Maybe it’s because they’re waiting for the real medicine from Robin. I take a closer look at the label and see a long word that starts with “O,” and has the letters “HCL” after it. Then it says “Aspirin” next to that. I wonder why he would need a prescription for aspirin. Maybe it’s a special kind or something.
I hear Gloria talking to Alex in the bathroom, so I go ahead and open the medicine bottle. I take out one of the pills. It’s round and white with a line down the middle and numbers on it, 117. I can’t remember any numbers on the aspirin we have at home, so it must be a special kind.
The toilet flushes. I hurriedly close the medicine bottle and put it back on the night table. I still have the one pill in my hand, so I shove it into my pants pocket just as Gloria and Alex come into the bedroom. Close call, but I don’t think she noticed.
She helps Alex back into bed then closes the blinds. “He needs to rest now.”
“Okay,” I say. It’s the usual routine, almost. “Bye, Alex.”
As I follow her out, I run my fingertip over the pill in my pocket. I sure hope she didn’t count them.