I unsuccessfully take Julia’s temperature one more time and try not to wince every time she moans while Race is on his cell phone. “Yeah, Ma, Dusty’s sister is really sick, and his parents are at work. No, we can’t reach them. Could you give them a ride to the clinic? Yeah, thanks, Mom.” He hangs up. “She’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
At some point I start to think this might be the longest twenty minutes of my life. Julia’s whimpers are getting more and more pronounced, and Matt finally turns away from her a little. Race is sitting on the floor, staring at the ceiling. It’s horrible.
At least Race’s mom, Barbara, is great. She really likes Matt and Julia anyway, and she keeps Matt distracted in the front seat of the car while Race and I hold Julia in the back. At the clinic, she fills out all the paperwork for us so I won’t have to stop holding Julia at all. She does look concerned, though, and I don’t like that very much.
Julia’s still on my lap, and I’m glancing at the stupid signs around me—“Wash your hands to wash away worries”—when I notice the insurance information paper Barbara is filling out. I feel a spear of panic jab into my spine. I don’t even know what health care plan Julia has—I know it’s the state one, but I don’t know anything else about it, and I don’t have that much money from the stash Mom left. Are they going to refuse to see Julia?
Barbara is next to me, asking me questions about Jules as she fills out the clinic paperwork. “Uh, Barbara?” I mumble. “I think I have a problem. I don’t have any money with me.”
Barbara doesn’t take her eyes off the paperwork. “Don’t worry about it, Dusty. I’ll help you.” Maybe she sees a look cross my face, because she pats my knee and says, “I’ll talk to your mom about all this later.”
Her mouth gets tight when she says that. She’s never said anything to me, but I’m pretty sure Barbara doesn’t think too much of my mom. That’s fine with me—I don’t think too much of her either most of the time.
“Julia Porter,” a nurse calls from the hallway.
I hold Jules, who is sleepy and dazed, against me, and Race and I half-carry her into the room. I help her lie down on the padded exam table, where she curls up and starts sucking her thumb. Normally I hate when Julia sucks her thumb (she is six years old—it seems babyish to me), but this time I don’t try to stop her.
Race leaves the room to wait with his mom, and I stand there, my arms crossed tightly across my chest and my hands balled up into fists. The doctor is taking forever. Every time Julia cries, I want to run into the hallway and grab the first person I see in scrubs.
Finally the doctor comes in. He pokes and prods Julia and asks her all kinds of weird questions before he announces what I hear as my own death sentence: “You need to get her to a hospital immediately. Her appendix is close to bursting.”
Julia’s whimper is about the only thing that stops me from putting my fist through the wall. Julia will be okay once we got to the hospital, but this is the end of my family. The doctors there will notice that neither of our parents ever show up, and Matt and Julia will be taken away from me. I’ll never see them again.
The doctor must notice how shaky I suddenly look. “Now, it’s nothing to be that concerned about. It will require an operation, but you caught it in time. She’ll be just fine, I promise.”
Easy for you to say, doc.
I have a momentary flashback to Ms. Carlson’s lecture du jour. This must be what Zeb felt like when he realized the snow was only getting deeper… and the mountain was only getting higher.
Chapter 1
SEVEN YEARS Earlier
“Dusty, can you change Matt’s diaper?”
Dusty stared at his mother. She was on the phone, cigarette smoke hanging around her head like a fading halo, cackling and laughing over the sound of the crying baby in the next room.
Dusty hated changing his brother’s diaper, but he also didn’t want to listen to Matt scream anymore, so he put down the Transformer he’d been playing with and headed into the bedroom he shared with the baby.
Matt’s face was so red Dusty wondered if he might explode. Dusty found a clean diaper in a box next to the crib and started unsnapping Matt’s dirty onesie. It looked like his mother had forgotten to do the laundry again.
Matt finally calmed down and put his fist into his mouth. He studied Dusty as he chewed on his hand, and Dusty couldn’t help but smile. Matt almost always stopped crying when Dusty held him, which was something their mother certainly couldn’t say.
Now that Matt was quiet, Dusty could hear his mother’s loud voice traveling from the next room.
“Donna, I just can’t handle it sometimes! I swear, that man is driving me crazy… yes, he lost another paycheck. Poker, this time, I think. Well, he was drunk, of course.
“What do you mean, how do I let it happen? You’ve met Luke. You know how he can be. He said the incident at Lucky Dames was the last time he was going to let that happen….
“Oh God, I’d love to go with you. I can’t wait until Dusty’s old enough to take care of Matt all night so I can finally get away from here for longer than a few hours.”
She started whispering then, which always made Dusty nervous. What was she talking about now? He finished getting the new diaper on his brother and latched it as tightly as he could. The sounds from the next room suggested his Mom was finally off the phone and maybe even making dinner.
“Abby!”
The sounds of his father coming home filled the apartment. Dusty moved toward the doorway to say hello before he decided to wait a few minutes. It was usually better to see what kind of mood Dad was in before talking to him. He’d know it was a good mood if his father was laughing and calling his mother “Abbero;” growling and yelling meant a bad mood that Dusty would hide out in his room to avoid.
“Woman, I keep telling you not to worry about that! I got more money coming in, I swear.”
Uh-oh. A bad mood. Dusty lifted Matt out of his crib so he could play on the dingy apartment carpet. It was looking like they were going to be in here for a while.
His father’s yelling became so loud that Dusty was pretty sure the neighbors could hear. “Pregnant? What you do mean you might be pregnant again? You don’t need no stinkin’ test! We just had another kid.”
More yelling and some crying, but Dusty couldn’t make out words anymore. He was pretty sure it was his mom who was crying.
“Geez, I can’t even listen to you when you get like this! I gotta get out of here.” Then the door slammed again, and soon all Dusty could hear was his mother sobbing in the next room.
Matt giggled and held his arms out to be picked up. Dusty lifted him in the air and tried to pretend it was just the two of them in the apartment.
ON THE way to the hospital, Race’s mom chats with Matt in the front seat while Race and I conspire in the back. “Maybe you can tell them your Mom works nights,” he whispers.
“Stupid, Julia will be in the hospital for days.”
“Should we tell my Mom? Maybe she can help us,” Race whispers back.
“No way,” I answer quickly. That will blow everything.
I’m being taken down by a bodily organ that doesn’t even have a purpose—except, apparently, to destroy Dusty Porter’s life.
The hospital gets Julia into surgery quickly—the clinic must have called ahead. Then Race, Barbara, Matt and I are left alone in the waiting room, and I decide it is probably time to do something. Barbara keeps asking me if I’ve gotten in touch with our parents yet, and my whole “waiting for them to get home” story is starting to sound shady even to me.
Producing my parents isn’t all that easy. If it was, I probably wouldn’t have had to figure out what fabric softener is three years ago. Dad hasn’t lived with us in years, but at least he still lives in Colorado Springs, and I can usually find him if I really need him. Who knows where Mom is? When she disappears, she disappears. She once came home with a story of some friend who took her to Florida.
It
seems like locating Dad is my best option.
I ask Race if he wants to find a vending machine with me to get Matt some soda. We’re barely at the machine before I drop my plan on him.
“Look, I gotta go find my dad. Can you cover for me for a few hours?”
Race nearly chokes on the piece of gum he has in his mouth. “Are you crazy? A few hours? Where am I supposed to tell them you went for a few hours?”
I run my hands through my hair, hoping the plan I’ve been forming in my head isn’t going to sound incredibly stupid coming out of my mouth. “I’ll tell your mom that my mom still isn’t answering her phone. Then I’ll say I need to go back home and tell her what’s going on. Then I’ll just come back with Dad instead. No big deal. It’ll take me awhile to come back… just keep telling her that I must’ve had to wait for Mom or something.”
Race pinches his eyebrows together. “I dunno, Dusty… you really wanna do this?”
Is he crazy? “What else do you expect me to do? I have like ten minutes until your mother realizes something is up and starts questioning me hardcore.”
Race rubs the tip of his blue Converse sneaker into the vomit-colored hospital linoleum below him. “Maybe… tell her what’s going on?”
I stare at him, wondering if I’ve ever actually met this guy before. Maybe he has appendicitis too…. He must have a fever to be talking like this. “Are you serious?”
He stubs his toe a little harder into the linoleum and keeps his eyes on the floor. “Yeah. I mean, you can’t keep this up forever, Dusty. You’ve always known that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snarl, forcing him to look up at me. “I’ve done this for a long time, Race, and I can keep doing it. All I need is someone to cover for me.” I put as much emphasis on those last few words as possible.
I’ve known Race since the third grade, when we discovered we shared a common passion for Pokemon. We gave up on Pokemon a long time ago, but Race has stayed the one guy in the world I can trust. He’s cool to hang out with and yet still very rational and loyal—an awesome friend. It almost feels like the image I have of him in my head is fading, and it’s being replaced by a blurry, confused vision of the kid I’ve known since I was eight. Race looks around the room for a few minutes before he glances at me again.
“Fine, dude. I’ll cover for you.” I turn to walk out and he grabs the shoulder of my jacket. “Just… be careful, okay? And don’t take too long.”
“Sure. And hey, could you do me a favor? Make sure Matt and Jules know I’m coming back, okay?”
Race only looks puzzled by that for a second before it seems to connect in his head and he nods. “Course, dude.” I can see worry lines adding up across his forehead. “Where do you think your dad is this time, anyway?”
I shrug. “I’ll start with that apartment complex he was living in a few months ago. Who cares? I’ll find him. Just make sure you cover for me, okay? Especially to your mom, and to the school if anybody calls from there.” I don’t know if Barbara has gotten in touch with them.
“Sure. Man, it’s a good thing you guys all go to the same school.”
He’s right. There aren’t a lot of K-12 schools in the city, and Prescott Charter School is one of the few. If I had to go to a regular high school when I started my freshman year this fall, someone in administration would have noticed pretty quickly what was going on with our family. But Prescott is small enough for me to watch the kids and make sure things don’t look too sketchy with our parents. I’m always there to come up with some answer for why Mom and Dad can’t make it to a meeting or a field trip.
“You’re not gonna try to track down your mom?” Race asks, stubbing the heel of his wide sneaker into the linoleum this time.
“Nah. You know how hard she is to find. She’s probably not even in the Springs. At least Dad’s always around here somewhere.”
“You got any money?”
“What do you think?” I snap.
Race reaches into his sock and pulls out a ten, which he slaps into my hand. “Bus fare. No sweat. Take it, okay?”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “I bet there’s tons of sweat all over this.”
Race whacks me in the stomach. “Ya, beats whatever your socks smell like right now.”
I look down at the money in my hand, wishing I could hand it back and say I don’t need it. Race is always way too generous with his money. Once he bought Julia this brand-new Barbie she wanted because he knew I could never afford it. I hold that thought in my head for a moment before I curl the bill up into my pocket. I’ve got a limited amount of time to find my dad, and trying to do the whole thing on foot or hitchhiking isn’t going to help.
I grin at Race. “Thanks, Track.” I enjoy coming up with new ways of torturing him about his name. It’s his mom’s maiden name or something. It would be a complete liability to anyone else, but not Race. Somehow it works for him.
“Whatever, Dirt pile.” His nickname for me isn’t all that clever, but creativity is not Race’s strong suit.
“Look…,” I add as we walk toward the waiting room, “whatever happens… make sure the kids know I haven’t left them. That’s the most important thing.”
“Yeah…. I know.”
The picture of Race clears in my head again.
I look over at Matt, who is totally engrossed in a cartoon he’s watching with some other kids in the waiting room. That’s the most important thing.
“WHAT DO you mean you have to go wait for your mom at home? You still can’t reach her?”
Barbara isn’t swallowing my story as quickly and easily as I hoped she would. This is going to be harder than I thought.
“There’s no answer at her work, and she still isn’t answering her cell. And we don’t have a phone at home.” That’s true. It’s been shut off for months now.
Barbara rubs her face in exasperation. “Fine. Let’s go. I’ll drive you to the apartment.”
“You can’t!” Even I know my voice gets too sharp then, as Barbara looks up in confusion and Race gives me a warning glance. “Uh… someone has to wait here in case Julia wakes up or something.”
“Okay. You and Race stay here and I will go to your apartment to wait for your mom.”
Hmm. This is definitely going to be harder than I thought.
“Umm… no. That won’t work either.”
“Why not?” Barbara sighs.
“It’s just… my mom doesn’t know you all that well. She’s not gonna want to find you in her house telling her that her daughter has appendicitis.”
Barbara sighs. “Dusty, let me understand this. You want me to send you home—alone at night, and without a ride—to tell your mom where your sister is, while Race and I wait here with Matt?”
“Yes.” I try to pull out that same “upstanding” look I used earlier on Mrs. Sabring. “You don’t have to worry about me, Barbara. I know how to take the bus. And actually, it’s only like five thirty. It won’t really be dark for another hour.”
I’m actually a little surprised when she agrees.
I head for the hospital lobby, feeling apprehensive. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to find my dad, and I’m also pretty sure he’ll come back to the hospital with me once he knows how sick Julia is. But I can’t shake the gut feeling it might not be that easy. It sure wouldn’t be the first time my unpredictable and freewheeling father didn’t say what I wanted to hear from him.
I FIND my way to the bus stop outside the hospital and wait, staring down the Front Range mountains in front of me.
The Front Range is pretty impressive, even if you’ve been looking at it your whole life. It’s a span of enormous mountains, rocky and tree-covered, almost purple-colored. And yes, these are the “purple mountain majesties” from the song “America the Beautiful.” (Believe me when I say every kid who’s ever spent more than five minutes in a Colorado Springs elementary school can recite that song backward and forward.) Right in the center of them is good old Pikes Peak: fourte
en thousand feet of mountain that, apparently, its own namesake couldn’t even climb.
Who would think that right now I’d find Colorado History class to be a helpful distraction?
The thing is, I’ve grown up in Colorado Springs, and these mountains are part of my life, part of my existence. They’ve always been a constant in my life, and I appreciate that about them. Except for the coats of snow that sometimes cover them, they never change.
They are the one and only thing, I sometimes think, that never change. I’m still staring at them as the bus arrives.
When I last saw my dad, he was living in the Lakeview Apartment complex on Circle Drive. The name’s about as deceiving as it gets. The only water anywhere nearby is this tiny pond in the courtyard of the apartments. I figure the name needs to be deceiving because the apartments are so disgusting. All four buildings in the complex have peeling brown paint, carpet that is probably older than me, and month-to-month renters who’ve got to cheer the day they finally save up enough to move down the road to an apartment with an actual view of something besides brown grass. The upper central area of Colorado Springs, where the apartments are, is not exactly known for its quality living. The southwest area is really high-class, and the north end too. But the upper central part of the city tends to be known for its low-income housing and bars.
We live in the lower center of town, which isn’t much better than what’s directly above it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to go visit my dad. The last time I stopped by (it was less stopping by and more begging for grocery money), his place was packed with unemployed guys who apparently had nothing better to do than sit around a dirty apartment all day.
Here's to You, Zeb Pike Page 2
