“Hurry!” I said.
The Chemist stared at the truck. But he wouldn’t move. He looked at the sky and a tear fell from his face. He took a big breath, like the air smelled better down by the fence, because it was closer to freedom.
That brain-shock feeling? The tight skull? It squeezed sound from my head. I could see, but I could barely hear. Everything sounded deep and slow and far, far away.
I tugged on the Chemist’s arm. He pulled away and punched the truck. He rubbed his fist with his other hand, and leaned his face against the truck like it was a warm shoulder. Then he turned around and slid into the grass. On his knees, he blinked tears and stared at the sky.
Sound came back to my ears. Somebody yelled and then a siren roared.
Was I spinning? Must have been because I saw everything around me. Ashley stood inside the fence, still holding the FREE THE CHEMIST sheet. She held it high and proud, but purple mascara and tears trickled down her face. Graham sat on the sidewalk with neighbors holding a towel on his face. Guards circled the fed-mates who pushed and shoved each other.
The Chemist scrambled to his feet and backed away. I grabbed his hand and pulled, but he snapped his hand from mine. He backed away from me. His Daisy girl.
I think I shouted, “Do you want out of here or not? Because I want you out of here!”
The speakers on the building said, “Intruder alert. Begin Code Three Lockdown. Repeat: Intruder alert. Begin Code Three Lockdown.”
From the hilltop, Aaron waddle-ran toward us. He yelled something like, “It ain’t worth it, Jacob. Just do your damn time—it’s not that long. If you run, you’ll be hiding forever. The guards are here—don’t make any funny moves. Don’t make your baby see the ugly stuff.”
The Chemist gazed at the blue sky, streaked with spring clouds, and a strange smile spread across his face. I think he whispered, “You are one gutsy kid,” but there was so much racket I couldn’t tell.
Then another voice: “Get your hands in the air.”
Then the same voice: “Stay nice and easy.”
A long gun pointed at the Chemist’s back. He didn’t move, just stared through me.
I’ve felt shame, felt it sink into my stomach and turn my face red, but I’d never seen it on another face until then. Especially not the Chemist’s face. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—look at my eyes.
The voice repeated: “I said, arms in the air. Nice and slow.”
The Chemist put his arms in the air, nice and slow, like the voice said.
“Do not make any sudden moves. We are authorized to fire.”
Fire what?
Aaron yelled, “I got the kid.”
The guards handcuffed the Chemist, and up the hill they went. From the back, the Chemist looked like all the other fed-mates, just a skinny guy, head hanging low, in an orange uniform.
Aaron got in front of me and blocked my view. I tried to look past him, but he held my shoulders tight.
“You don’t need to see this. C’mon. I’ll take you to my office.”
“See?” Ashley yelled. “Even hope can’t get through that fence! I told you: ‘What was dead was Hope.’”
“Who’s the crazy person?” Aaron asked.
“My friend.”
DEAR JUDGE HENRY,
I got crackers in Aaron’s office while we waited for a County person to come for me. My brain shock faded. I looked around at Aaron’s big metal desk, a bulletin board with official-looking papers, and shelves with official-looking books.
Aaron gave me a glass of water and sat down. He watched me eat for a minute, then he said, “The cops aren’t allowed to talk to you because you’re underage. But I’m not a cop. I’m security. What we tell each other stays in this room, okay?”
I pushed another cracker in my mouth and chewed.
“Daisy, what were you thinking? Do you realize a guard could have shot all of you?”
“We almost made it. We got so close.” I held back tears. I didn’t want Aaron to see me acting like a big baby.
“You sure did.”
“We could have been halfway to Canada by now.”
“At least to the edge of town,” Aaron said. “So, Canada? You know you need a passport to get into Canada?”
“A passport? Really?” Now that was a huge hole in the plan. But the Chemist would’ve figured a way around it. “Aaron, where are Graham and Ashley?”
“The boy that got hurt? The ambulance took him. And the girl? The one in all black?”
“That’s her,” I said.
“I think the city police were talking to her.”
There was a long pause. I put another cracker in my mouth and chewed and chewed, but I couldn’t swallow it. So I spit the mess in a tissue from Aaron’s desk.
Aaron put his elbows on his desk and leaned closer. “Daisy, we got a saying here, ‘You do the crime, you gotta do the time.’”
“But he didn’t do the crime!”
“I got a secret to tell you. Your grandma and I have gone to dinner a few times.” He blushed. “We talk a lot. We even use the email. And I keep telling her it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“To tell you the truth. And since your mom doesn’t know how to do it, and your grandma doesn’t know how to do it, I’m going to. Your grandma might not speak to me again, but I know what’s right and wrong, and they’re wronging you with this silence.”
I didn’t know his big truth, but his face told me it was bad. I sat as straight as possible, waiting for the punch.
“I know you think everything was an accident—the house blowing up, the firefighter getting hurt, your dad trying to put out the fire. But that’s kinda misleading. You know what misleading means?”
“Lying?”
“Not quite. It’s keeping out some information. You get a nugget of truth, but not the whole story. Your family is misleading you. See, your dad wasn’t doing some chemistry experiment. He mixed up a batch of drugs. Real bad drugs that hurt people. He was going to sell those drugs. It’s against the law.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re a guard. You’re paid to lie about the people here.” My voice sounded hoarse.
“Daisy, that’s not the way it is. The truth is in the police reports, the court reports, and even the fire department reports. Your dad stepped outside to have a cigarette at the perfect moment. He’s a lucky son of a gun. If he’d have stayed in that house, the explosion would’ve killed him. Yes, he tried to put out the fire, but—”
“But you can’t put out that kind of fire with a regular garden hose.” I sounded like a robot.
“That’s right, Daisy,” he said. “That’s right.”
There wasn’t much more to say. We looked at each other—me and my grandma’s secret boyfriend, the jelly-belly guard who watches over my father, the secret drug maker.
“You okay?” Aaron asked.
“I’m never calling him the Chemist again. Not ever. To infinity.”
THE FINAL PART
DEAR JUDGE HENRY,
Mom knew about the County. She knew about the court. She knew we better start looking like good, responsible kids. She called the church people right away, and three days later, we were headed back to the farm. Mom said it would make us look good to clean their house without being ordered to do it. This, she said, would improve our chances with the judge when we went to juvenile court.
Graham had spent a night at the hospital, but he was fine. Bruised and stitched and missing front teeth, but fine. Ashley had been whisked away by a County worker, but I wasn’t surprised to hear that. The County was in charge of Ashley’s life.
So Mom drove me, Ashley, and Graham to the church people’s house. Their names are Marv and Lillian Gunderson. Mom said to call them Mr. and Mrs. Gunderson so we didn’t sound like hillbillies.
Kari didn’t come with us. Graham said she had a headache. Mom frowned when he said that, and I wondered if Kari and Mom were best friends anymore.
Nobody talk
ed in the car. Mom had finally calmed down, and none of us needed to hear the yelling again. Let me tell you, I had about ten minutes of “Oh, God, you’re home—thank you, Lord—we were so worried, my baby, my sweetheart, my angel.” And about ten hours of “What were you thinking? You could have been hurt or worse—killed—and this is not shoplifting or cheating in school, it’s serious stuff and you are so grounded!”
Ashley didn’t have parents to yell at her, but she has to see the head doctor. Mom said the doctor would probably give her new head medicine, and the County would take away her car keys forever.
But that morning, on the way to clean for the church people, Ashley was all smiles and bright eyes. She wore a white sundress. How was she going to clean in that? Her wig had long red curls, and instead of working shoes, she wore sparkly sandals with spike heels.
Graham wore the same old jeans and flannel shirt he wore every weekend. His face was swollen and both eyes were circled in purple bruises. Stitches made a track across his forehead. He lost two teeth when he tripped on the leash and somersaulted over Fred. He couldn’t say the letter s right. It wath tho annoying!
Everything about him annoyed me. That day at the prison, I didn’t have any leftover energy to be mad about the Idea Coin. Now I had energy. If he hadn’t hypnotized me with that coin at the play dump, none of it would’ve happened. None of it.
* * *
Mrs. Gunderson answered the door. She was short with an old-lady belly bulge. Her hair was silver-gray and—here’s the coolest thing—her glasses were red! For some reason, this gave me hope. A lady with a church heart and Ashley fashion.
“Welcome! Or should I say ‘welcome back’?” Her voice was singsongy but it had an edge, like when Grandma’s mad at me, but she doesn’t want to show it because grandmas don’t yell. Ashley glided inside, hugged Mrs. Gunderson, and kissed her cheek. Ashley stretched out that hug until she’d said everything she wanted to say. “I am so, so sorry, Mrs. Sundergun. You are lovely, like a flower, and so is your house. It was a terrible, terrible turn of events. And I am so, so sorry. We were under terrible pressure, but we were wrong. So, so wrong.”
I could so, so tell Ashley was full of crap.
Mrs. Gunderson pried herself loose. “Thank you.”
“So, so lovely.” Ashley squeezed her hand.
“Well,” Mom said. “Let’s get started. I didn’t bring supplies, just people power, like you asked.”
Ashley leaned against the window. “Is that Mr. Sundergun?” A man in a baseball cap was trimming weeds along the old fence by the barn.
Mom tapped her own head and whispered, “She’s not quite right up here.” Mrs. Gunderson’s mouth formed a big O.
“I’m going to say hello. And apologize.” Ashley glided right out the door.
“The police couldn’t tell us much about the … the … offenders. There are so many privacy laws, you know.” Mrs. Gunderson tapped her own head and whispered to Mom, “Are all three of them not quite right?”
Mom sighed. “There are many, many days when I’d say yes.”
Judge Henry, I think everyone I know is not quite right. Myself included.
* * *
Two hours later, Ashley and Mr. Gunderson were sitting in lawn chairs, drinking lemonade in the shade. Fred sat next to Ashley while she stroked his ears. Mr. Gunderson came to the kitchen twice to get Ashley more ice. I guess her ice was too melty. Then he came back for a blanket because Ashley was chilly. Then he came back for a lemonade refill, with plenty of ice, and some cheese and crackers. His face was not grumpy at all. In fact, he had a smile from a denture commercial. Extra-white and extra-big.
When I got to the window upstairs, I saw Mr. Gunderson had brought Honey out of the barn so Ashley could pet her. I wanted to break the window and throw the bottle of window-cleaning stuff at her.
Graham stood next to me and looked at Ashley’s lovefest. “That ith a bunch of crap.”
Mom came upstairs and called Graham and me into a huddle. “Speed it up. No breaks. No complaining. When Mrs. Gunderson checks your work, look sorry. Really, really sorry.”
“Mom, you should go tell Ashley to get off her butt and help.”
“Ith not fair!” Graham said.
Mom thought about that and shook her head. “I’m not her boss or her County case worker. You two dragged her into this mess.”
Graham said, “Theth not a kid!”
Mom looked at me to translate.
“He means Ashley’s an adult.”
“Listen to me. And I mean both of you. Ashley’s an adult, but not exactly. Get this over with, and fast. I’m running out of things to say to the church lady and I need a cigarette.” Mom had started smoking again when we ran away. “You know, Ashley seems to like Mr. Gunderson. She doesn’t have many friends her age. Ashley’s very, very lonely.”
“First, why is everybody using words twice? It’s super, super annoying. And second—”
“There is no second, Daisy Bauer. Get your butt back to work.”
Mom went downstairs. I took the church lady’s chore list from my pocket. Her writing had big loops and would be pretty if it wasn’t listing the things we had to do.
“There’s not much left,” I said. “The bathroom and their bedroom. Let’s do the bathroom and get it over with.”
Graham cleaned the toilet and the sink. I scrubbed the bathtub, which was the worst job, worse than a toilet, because it had gunky stuff around the sides. A long hair by the drain made me gag.
Graham washed the bathroom floor while I went to the church people’s bedroom. I noticed right away. No sparkly white bedspread. In its place was an ugly brown-and-orange quilt. I sat on the bed and rubbed my fingers on the brown square. Rough. Rough and ugly.
I cried a little. Stupid. Why was I crying? I also cried when I saw the church people had a new refrigerator. I was sniffling a lot. When I peeked at Graham washing the bathroom’s small window, I could hear him sniffling, too.
Finally, the church lady—I mean Mrs. Gunderson—called us for lunch. This was the horrible part. Having to look at them. Having to talk to them. Learning they’re nice people. Feeling guilt, which burns and squeezes your tummy.
Ashley, Mom, and Mr. Gunderson were already at the table. Mrs. Gunderson brought out salad, lasagna, and garlic bread. It smelled delicious.
“Don’t fill up.” Mrs. Gunderson smiled. “I made apple pie this morning.”
“You really are thurth people,” Graham said.
Mr. Gunderson got all serious. “‘If you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.’ That’s from the Bible.” He took my hand in his right hand and Ashley’s in his left. “Let’s pray.” Everyone else grabbed a hand, too. I stared at the table because that’s how people pray on TV.
“Lord, thank you for the bounty on our table. And thank you, Lord, for sharing your wisdom with these children. Show them your light, and may they always look to you for guidance.” He lifted his head. “This is such an unusual moment. Let’s all say something we’re thankful for.”
He looked at me first. I had no time to think, and I wanted to say something smart. Mom’s frown said “Don’t screw this up.” All I could think of was, I’m thankful for being thankful. I couldn’t let those stupid words out.
An idea came slowly, but it was good. And it was true. “I’m thankful for my mom.” Mom’s eyes lit up, and she mouthed words across the table. I love you.
Mrs. Gunderson said, “I’m thankful for the gift of knowing how to forgive as our Lord Jesus forgives us.”
Mom said, “I’m thankful our children are safe. I’m thankful they’re learning what happens when you screw up.”
Ashley said, “I’m thankful for kindness, for joy, and for lemonade. You are both so beautiful, so, so lovely. I wish I had parents as perfect as you.”
Mr. Gunderson blushed.
And then
there was Graham. Mom pre-shuddered.
“I’m thankful we didn’t get thot.”
“Excuse me?” Mr. Gunderson said.
Ashley smiled and repeated, “He’s thankful we didn’t get SHOT.”
Everyone was quiet. Mrs. Gunderson said, “Why don’t you think of something positive?”
“I’m thankful we’re almost done cleaning. You know thomething? We’re cleaning roomth we never even went into.”
Mom nearly sucked her lips into her mouth. “Graham Hassler, you are rude. Try again.”
“Fine! Um … I’m thankful the County ith paying for me to go to a private thchool with more dithcipline so I don’t have to go back to our dumb thchool and Jethe Ellman.”
Suddenly he’s going to a new school? He learned that in just three days? His mom must have been planning that for a while. Or did he already have a County worker for something else? He hadn’t been in trouble for a long time, far as I knew, not since he shoplifted candy last year. Sometimes you don’t know the people you know.
Graham seemed pleased with his answer about private school, but nobody spoke or looked at him. Finally he added, “And I’m thankful for my mom.”
* * *
And that, Judge Henry, was our day with the church people. I’m thinking that if they could forgive us, and Jesus could forgive us, maybe you can, too.
DEAR JUDGE HENRY,
I have decided to like Aaron again.
I’m only telling you what happened because Aaron says you don’t rule the federal prison system, just the County. You can’t punish him for breaking a prison rule. Still, I sure wouldn’t mind if you kept this news to yourself.
Aaron let me see the ex-Chemist today, even though he’d lost visiting and phone privileges, even though I was still on the visiting ban. Aaron put the ex-Chemist in a secret room at Club Fed and told Grandma we’d have fifteen minutes.
I’d asked Grandma why she misled me about the ex-Chemist. I borrowed misled from Aaron because it’s nicer than lied to me. Grandma said, “There’s no reason to tell a turkey it’s almost Thanksgiving.” When I asked Mom, she said, “What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”
The Graham Cracker Plot Page 11
