Footsteps sound against the tile and Alex grabs the doorframe and pivots to lean in. I look up at him and he stares back a moment before coming to kneel in front of my chair, grasping the armrests on each side of me. He looks me in the eye. “Hey. You all right?”
I can't even talk, only whimper. I want to grab hold of his shirt and pull him in for a hug, a kiss, any contact, as much contact as possible.
I know I'm not thinking straight. My arms stay firmly folded.
“It'll be okay, all right? It will,” he says.
I try to inhale but instead a sob bursts from me. I tumble out of the chair to kneel with him on the floor and put my arms around his waist. I expect him to push me away, to recoil and reject me. Instead, he tucks my head under his chin and wraps his arms around me, strong and safe, just like he held his mother when she was scared. More sobs escape my mouth and I'm crying like a child, blubbering like a little girl with my face buried in his cotton shirt. He's all corded muscle and sinew, but his touch is gentle.
“Hey,” he whispers. I feel him stroke my hair. “It's all right. It'll be okay.”
And miraculously, I believe him. I nuzzle in closer. I've soaked the neckline of his shirt with tears and realize I'd better blow my nose.
He loosens his hold on me just enough for me to dig a tissue out of my pocket, then tightens it once more. “Thank you,” I whisper.
His fingers touch my cheek.
“Is she all right?” That's Carson's voice, coming from the doorway.
“She'll be okay,” says Alex.
I break out of his embrace and look up at Carson, who only says, “Well, okay. I'm gonna go back to Kailie.”
“Carson?” I say.
“See you.” He turns to leave.
Alex looks me in the eye, as if weighing what I decide to do next.
“How'd you know where to find me?” I ask through hiccupping sobs.
“I've been here before.”
“So what happens now?”
“Sounds like they're going to take Kailie from her parents for the next little while and work out a safety plan before they give her back.”
Kneeling on the floor feels a bit overdramatic now. I get back up into my chair.
He puts his hands on the armrests again. “CPS is going to investigate,” he says. “They're going to maybe build a case against her parents. And the police might bring criminal charges.”
“Really?”
“Sounds like it. You're safe right now. With these people. They aren't affected by the Pelican Bluffs Municipal Council.”
I never figured he was much for town politics, but maybe the Beales' absolute reign is known to everyone.
“It'll be okay,” he says. “You did the right thing. You saved her life. The hard part is over, all right?” His eyes still on mine, he reaches for my hand.
“Well,” comes Sonya's voice in the hallway.
Alex withdraws so that when she comes through the door, he's just kneeling beside me, one hand resting lightly on the armrest of my chair.
“Alex,” she says. “This girl a friend of yours?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“You talk!”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“Way to go, buddy. All right, I need to talk to Madison here.”
“You want me to stay?” Alex asks, his gaze directed at me, not Sonya.
I nod.
He gets up and moves to the chair next to me. Sonya sits across from me and starts to ask questions. First she wants to know how I found Kailie, what let me know she might harm herself. Then she starts asking questions about the last few days and weeks. I tell her about the impromptu sleepover, the estranged sister one street over from me, the way she almost never has her phone, the weird punishment where here parents took her furniture. I tell her about the smear campaign, though I don't mention Alex's role. He doesn't even shift his weight with discomfort. It's like he doesn't care. I guess when your mother sees ghosts, it takes a lot to rattle you.
I tell her about how my Facebook page got trashed and Kailie's partying ways. When she asks if Kailie is sexually active, I admit that all I know is that she isn't a virgin. “We don't talk about that kind of stuff.”
“Does she drink?”
“Yeah.”
“Do drugs?”
“I don't-”
“Yeah,” Alex cuts in. “Smokes weed, at least.”
“And you know that how?” says Sonya.
“I've seen it.” He doesn't bat an eye.
“And do you use drugs?” she asks him.
“People who use weed are 40% more likely to develop psychotic disorders, so no.” He is totally deadpan when he says this, but I find myself choking back the urge to giggle. Get a grip, I think. This is not a funny moment.
“And you're on probation,” she snaps.
“I'm more scared of psychosis.”
“I would be too,” I agree.
Sonya rolls her eyes and resumes questioning me. “Could Kailie be pregnant?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does she have any deep dark secrets that she doesn't dare tell anyone?”
“I don’t know.”
“How would her parents react to a teen pregnancy?”
“They disowned her sister over it.”
“Howabout to her coming out as homosexual?”
“Her family's really religious,” is all I can say.
“Which church?”
“Presbyterian? I think?”
“Could she be homosexual and if she is, would she hide it?”
I resist the urge to look at Alex. “I’m pretty sure she’s not.”
The shorter my answers get, the more general the questions become, until Sonya asks, “Do you know what drove her to suicide?”
“Feeling unloved,” I say.
“You think her parents’ punishments made her feel unloved?”
“She felt like not even they were on her side.”
Sonya makes a few more notes on her tablet and folds the case shut. “All right. Thank you, and you can go see your friend, then get home and get a good night's sleep. Here's my card.” She presses it into my hand. “Call me if you think there's anything else I should know.”
I curl my fingers around it and nod as Alex and I get to our feet.
“Where's Kailie?” I ask.
“Here.” Alex precedes me to the door. “Come, this way.”
I follow him out the door and down the hall. Two turns later, we reach her, lying on a hospital bed in a little cubicle that can be curtained off, but the curtains are open. Her head is elevated and a heart monitor pings. Her wrists are clean and bandaged. She is still deathly pale and I'm so distracted by this that I don't notice the other Mormons standing nearby until LaDell clears her throat. They all look at me, wide-eyed.
“How'd you guys all get here?” I ask.
“Wednesday night,” says Alex. “Mutual.”
“Oh. Right.”
“My dad called us from the restaurant,” says Carson. “And we were at the chapel, so it wasn't a very long drive to get here.
I nod.
“You saved her life,” says Wendy.
“I almost didn't.”
“She lost one and a half units of blood,” says Alex, “not enough to kill her. They'll probably do a transfusion, but she's okay. It just looks really bad poured out on the floor.”
“I am not going to ask how you know what one and a half units of blood looks like poured out on the floor,” I say.
“Well, your sense of humor's still intact at least.”
“Sure. That's just so funny.” My friend's eyes look sunken and her cheeks hollow. I remember all the food she scarfed down at my house and the burritos we ate this morning. “Where does she go after this?”
“Her family has seventy-two hours to find a relative to take custody of her, and if that doesn't happen, she'll be released to a foster family while CPS puts together a safety plan to reintegrate her with
her family. They may make her parents take some classes and things like that.”
I hear frantic whispering and look to see LaDell saying something I can't hear to Carson. Everyone stares at Alex like he's a freak.
Just because he knows the child protection system so well. Of course he would.
“It'll be a long process,” Alex continues. “Months. Did her dad really try to attack you?”
I nod.
Everyone gawks, except for Alex.
“Wow,” whispers Carson.
“But if I go home now, when will I see her again?”
“Does she have her cellphone? Call it.”
I do and her phone rings. It's on a table right by the bed.
Alex picks it up, looks it over, and sets it back down. “Should be fine. The nice ones sometimes get stolen, but that's a cheap one. The hospital number is on Sonya's card.”
“Alex,” says Wendy. “Since when did you talk this much?”
He shoots her an exasperated look. “I don't hear any of you helping out here.”
Carson steps forward. “Madison, not to be mean, but you look like a wreck, and Mrs. Beale is gonna come out any moment to see Kailie. You should get home.”
Alex puts his hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, I'll take her.”
Carson opens his mouth to object, then looks at Alex, and holds up a hand in surrender. “You need anything,” he says to me, “call.”
“Yeah,” I hear myself say. “Thanks.”
Carson shakes his head, but doesn't say anything as we leave. We walk through the featureless hallways flooded with light, or at least that's how they look to me. I don't bother to focus my eyes, just rely on Alex to guide me. After what feel like random twists and turns, we emerge in the lobby, cross it, and step out the sliding glass doors into a soft rain and dusky light. The air is muggy. Only then do I take stock of where I am, which is a street I don't recognize at all. “Where are we?”
“Crescent City.”
I look up at him in surprise. The ambulance drove much faster than I'd realized. “Oh, I thought we'd be in Sequoia Ridge.”
“They don't do 24-hour emergency. They close at six.” He turns me to face him. “You hungry?”
“No.”
“Did you get dinner?”
“No.”
“Then you need to eat. What do you want?”
“Nothing. Really.”
His gaze holds mine a moment longer, then he turns to lead me to his car, I presume. Now that I'm outside, in the fresh air, I feel foolish. “Look,” I say, “I'm sorry.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me and I explain, “For being all clingy. You know. Back there.”
He doesn't favor that with an audible response, just heads to his car and holds the door open for me and I inhale the scent of sandalwood and Tiger Balm.
I glance at my watch and am shocked to see that it's past nine. Where did all the time go? “Thank you,” I say when he climbs into the driver's seat.
He flicks his gaze to me, then turns to look out the back window as he reverses out of his parking space.
I feel doubly foolish now, like I'm babbling like a little kid while he takes care of me. I clasp my hands in my lap and look down.
“First met Sonya in eighth grade,” he says as he puts the car into drive. “Got taken to the emergency room with a nasty cut on my arm and my mom couldn't give a coherent account of what had happened. The caregiver didn't see it happen. Thing is, I cut myself by being stupid.” We turn out of the parking lot and onto the street.
“You whittle a stick towards yourself?”
He glances at me again. “I offered to hold a target while Ryan practiced knife throwing.”
“No way.”
“I was thirteen years old, too. How stupid is that? And try to explain that to someone without talking. I drew a picture.”
“Then what happened?”
“Ryan stepped up. When Sonya called him, he told the story just like I did, except with more words. Back then our police officer was Officer James, you remember her?”
I shrug. “Not really. I've never had much interaction with the police.”
“She told me it was too bad it didn't hit my face. Would've been an improvement.”
“No it wouldn't.”
“That's really the last time I had a run in with CPS. The older I get, the more willing people are to assume that I'm just an idiot.”
His insults about himself bother me, but I don't know how to say that without sounding petulant, so I hold my tongue.
“I shouldn't have mouthed off to Sonya, but I guess she still gets on my nerves. I should've said I don't do drugs because it's against the Word of Wisdom.”
“What's that?”
“It's in the Doctrine and Covenants. All the dietary restrictions and health... I dunno what you'd call it. Not a health code. Revelation on what's supposed to be healthy.”
“So it's a Mormon thing.”
“Yeah.” He flicks his glance to me and looks away again. “I'm going to get baptized.”
“When?”
“No set date yet. I kind of haven’t told anyone else.” The car slows with a tick of the turn signal flashing, and I see that we're at a fast food joint. As we pull up to the drive through, Alex says, “Okay, eat something. My treat. Just get something in your stomach.”
I am not hungry. “Your mom have this week's toy giveaway? Or does she even collect from this chain?”
“She has it. You want fries? Milkshake? What?”
“Sure. Either.”
“Two milkshakes,” he says to the intercom. “What flavor?”
Even that is too much for me.
“One chocolate, one vanilla. That gives you at least two minutes to decide. Put your wallet away.” He pulls on up to the window and hands the cashier his credit card.
“Thanks.”
“You need to eat.” He props his elbow on the open window and drums his fingers on the roof of his car, nonchalantly. A couple of minutes later our shakes arrive and he demands that I choose one.
I just grab the closest one, which turns out to be vanilla. Even though I'm really not hungry, he's right. It does feel nice to put something in my stomach. As I drink, I fidget with a piece of lint on the scrubs that I'm wearing, and it hits me. “I think I left my clothes in Sonya's office.”
“Yeah, I don't know if they'll want them for evidence or what,” says Alex. “I forgot to ask. She'll let you know. You've got other clothes, right?”
“Yeah. I'm not that poor.”
But he only shrugs.
Silence stretches between us. He barely looks at me, just drives. Fifteen minutes later and we're at my house. “Thanks for driving me.”
“Sure.” He gets out and walks me to the door. The night has cooled off and away from the lights of Crescent City, we can see the stars overhead.
“You've been a really good friend,” I say.
“Night,” he says, before he goes back to his car without another backwards glance.
The house is empty. Mom's still working, so I head back to my room, pull out my phone, and call John.
“I'm sorry,” I say when he picks up. “I know it's late.”
“What happened?”
“I think this was the worst night of my life.”
“Hang on.” I hear him talking to someone else, someone who does not sound like one of his guy friends. “Madison,” he says into the phone, “I'll call you back in ten, okay?”
I wince, but he's already said goodbye and hung up. For the next ten minutes I have a lightning quick shower, put on my pajamas, and brush my teeth. When he calls again I say, “You were on a date, weren't you?”
“I get major points for being a shoulder for my little sister to cry on.”
“I am so sorry.”
“Don't be. I figured you might call, and I even told Lisa that, so it's all good. What happened?”
“I just got back from the hospital. Kailie slit her wrists.”
> “Yeah, if you hadn't called me and disrupted my date, I'd have been mad. Talk to me. Tell me everything.”
“I have never seen that much blood in my life.”
“Did you see her do it?”
“No, I'm the one who found her.”
“She okay or-”
“I think so. It's all kind of a long story.”
“Black Bear and I are listening.”
So I tell the whole story all over again, but this time I cry and sniffle loud enough to make the line crackle. Finally I just break down and sob.
“Hey,” says John. “I love you. Thanks for calling me, okay? I'll stay on the line as long as you need. All night if you want. Black Bear wants to give you a hug.”
“Thanks.”
“You can say no, but you want me to say a prayer?”
“What? Over the phone?”
“Yeah. Only if you want to.”
“Um, I dunno.”
“Well, yes or no?” says John.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Kneel. I usually just kneel by my bed and fold my arms. You don't have to, but that's what I do.”
I feel a little silly, but I kneel down. “Okay.”
“All right, so, you always pray to God the Father, and you usually open a prayer with what you're thankful for. So I can say I'm grateful that you called and that I found you – I always say that I'm grateful that I found you – and then you ask for whatever it is you need. You need what?”
“For the nightmare to be over. I don't know.”
“'Kay, bow your head.”
I rest my forehead on my comforter as my brother starts to pray. While I do my best to listen, I only hear about half of it before my concentration starts to slip. My head feels heavy and my knees like they want to give out. I'm only dimly aware of him saying, “Amen,” and I mumble it back reflexively.
“How you feeling?”
“Really, really tired.”
“Like you can sleep?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. You do that. Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too. Sweet dreams.”
I wake up the next morning to Mom shaking my shoulder. “Honey, Greg Beale is here. He wants to talk to you.”
“What time is it?”
“It's seven.”
I roll over and sit up. Amber sunlight peers through the gap between my window and the drapes and paints the floor deep gold.
Shattered Castles 1 : Castles on the Sand Page 18
