“Time to wake up.”
I opened my eyes and saw a strange woman looking down at me. I had fallen asleep on the floor.
My grandmother stepped over me, walked to a closet and opened it. “I hope you found the floor comfortable,” she said. Her voice was muffled as she leaned over and yanked out a couple of cardboard boxes. “I saved some of Alice’s old things. You’re pudgier than she was, but I think some of these bigger items might fit.” For a moment her voice trembled.
“I can wear my own clothes,” I said.
“You will not wear those scruffy-looking things,” she said, pointing at the faded jeans my mother had embroidered with moons and stars. “Not while you’re staying in this house,” she added.
This time, I heard my father’s voice. Pick your battles, Colette, it said. It was as if I had developed some kind of antennae.
“You look like a fish,” Grandmama said sharply. “Close your mouth.” She flapped a sweater and a pair of pants at me. “Here, try these. Breakfast is in ten minutes. You will want to shower and wash your hair before you get dressed.”
Her face softened for a minute, and she seemed about to say something else; then she changed her mind. “Don’t dawdle,” she said. She went out and closed the door.
I stared at the clothes. There was a red-polka-dot sweater with brown lace at the cuffs and a pair of brown corduroy pants. My mother couldn’t possibly have worn boring clothes like that, and neither would I! Instead of getting dressed, I went to the window. The backyard sloped away to a giant ravine. Last summer my parents had taken me bicycle riding in the ravine. They had told me that there were ravines that ran all through the city. Climbing along a fence at the back of the yard was a family of raccoons.
A gnome-like woman was bending over a vegetable garden in the yard next door. She reminded me of Auntie Graves. I tried to open the window, but it was locked. I knocked on the pane, but the lady didn’t look up. I banged a little harder, and she paused in her digging and cocked her head like a sparrow. Then she moved toward the ravine. A small black dog darted out from behind a tree and trotted after her.
“What on earth is that racket about?” said a voice from behind me. I swung around. My grandmother was standing there. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Who’s that?” I asked, pointing at the woman.
“That’s Miss Ethelberta Jarvis.” My grandmother sniffed. “She’s got to be eighty-five if she’s a day. Getting much too old to live in that big house by herself. Her family wants to put her in a home, but she won’t go.”
The gnome lady was kneeling down, feeding a gray squirrel out of her hand. The little dog was sniffing the base of a tree. “She makes pets out of all the vermin in that ravine,” my grandmother said. “Always feeding the raccoons and the squirrels. Making them more of a nuisance than they already are. And that dog. What a pest he is.” She looked down at me. “Now get moving. You need to eat something.”
I showered and dressed in my own clothes. She was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and, when she saw me, her mouth went all tight, but I didn’t care. I followed her into the kitchen, where she’d put a boiled egg in an eggcup shaped like a chicken. I hate boiled eggs, but something told me I’d better not say anything.
“Where’s Grandpapa?” I asked.
“Whatever would you want to know that for?”
“He promised to take me to see my mother today.”
“No, he didn’t. He told me what you said, and of course I told him that it would be completely unadvisable. Your mother is unconscious and wouldn’t recognize you. You’d just upset yourself.”
“I have to see her!” I shouted. “You can’t stop me!”
“Well,” my grandmother said. “I will be going to the hospital today and will speak to her doctor. If he thinks there is any reason for you to visit your mother while she’s in this condition, we’ll discuss it. Until then, I think it is best that you stay here.”
We stared at each other. She didn’t blink.
Finally she said, “I tried everything with your mother. I gave her every advantage, and she threw it all away.” She looked out the window, and her lip trembled. “Enough of this! I have things to do. I’m sure you can amuse yourself for a few hours.” She thrust a piece of paper at me with two phone numbers on it. “Here is Grandpapa’s phone number and the number of my cell phone. You can call if you need to. In the meantime, the television’s in the den and there are books in the library. Elena, our housekeeper, will take care of you while I’m at the hospital.” She paused and let her hand brush against my hair before pulling it back as if burned. “I’m sure everything will be all right,” she murmured. “Grandpapa is doing everything possible to contact your father.” She cleared her throat and hurried from the room.
I threw my egg at the wall, where it exploded into a waterfall of yellow scum. Then I put my head on the table and cried until I heard her car back out of the garage. A large woman with black hair in a bun came into the room, took one look at the wall and handed me a damp cloth. I wiped up the egg, and she nodded sympathetically before pulling a vacuum cleaner out of the closet. “Go out and play,” she said. “Fresh air make you feel better. Come back in little while and I make pizza for lunch.” Then she went into the hall. I sat on the back porch and stared at the house next door.
I decided I would go back to my apartment and make Mr. Singh tell me what hospital my mother was in. Then, if he wouldn’t take me, I would go by myself. I was nine years, three months and nineteen days old. I would figure out what to do all by myself!
“Help,” said a voice. “Please help me.”
I followed a brick path to the back of the yard, where it disappeared into a little house. I’d seen something like it once, and my mother had told me it was called a gazebo. High-pitched barking came from the other side of a stone wall. Spike and his long yellow teeth popped into my head.
I grabbed a fistful of dried ivy and hoisted myself to the top of the stone wall. Where was the dog, and why was he barking?
And who was calling for help?