“So,” Mrs. Murphy begins. “You two can hang out upstairs or watch TV since Jack is at the station tonight. Whatever you’d like!”
I know we’ll get no peace down here. “You want to hang out in my room?”
“Sure,” she says, and we head upstairs. “I’d forgotten this nice room, Connors!” Toni says when we walk into the fireman room.
I guess this would be a good time to tell her the truth, but I’m not in the mood to answer questions. The questions about why I’m here. What harm can it do to just pretend a little longer? “Well, my mom said I could have a bigger room, so I’m staying in Michael Eric’s while it’s being painted.” I feel bad about the lie.
“I say you fight to keep this one, Connors.” She laughs as she falls back on my bed.
“So what’s Rainer’s story, anyway?” I ask.
She bolts up. “Rainer? Oh my God! We’ve known each other forever. I mean forever. Our mothers are both totally caught up in the Junior Women’s League. Total do-gooders… on the outside, anyway.”
“What’s a junior woman?” I ask.
She cracks up. “Very funny, Connors.”
Except I was serious.
“So, what’s the deal? Why is he always giving you a hard time? Like calling you Oliver? And what’s a roll stuffer?”
“Who knows,” I lie.
“Maybe he stands too close to the ovens at his parents’ restaurant. They have him working there all the time. I mean, all. The. Time.” She laughs, retying her shoe. “He’s such an idiot! And he talks tough but you can put him in his place pretty easily. I even beat him up in the third grade.”
“You did?”
“And the fifth.”
“Really?” I crack up.
“Yeah, and he’s still nervous I’m going to hit him. I can tell.” Toni bounces on my bed. “So, enough about that twit, Connors! Ask me anything!”
“Uh… why do you always call me Connors?” I ask.
“I said you can ask me anything. I mean anything on the planet. And that’s the best you can come up with?”
“I’ll try to do better.”
She seems amused. “Well, speaking of names, here’s something interesting, Connors. Actually… I gotta tell you. My name isn’t Toni. Not really, anyway.”
“Huh? What is it then?”
“If I tell you, you swear on a thousand souls you won’t tell anyone?”
“It depends on the souls.”
“I’m not telling you then.”
“Okay, fine. A thousand souls.”
She looks toward the ceiling and attempts an angelic face. “Charity.”
“Charity? That’s your name? Charity Byars? Oh my God. No wonder you changed it!”
She sits up straight and her whole face lights up. “I’ve gotta tell you, Connors, when Idina Menzel won the Tony Award for Elphaba, I swore that someday I’d have a Tony Award with my name etched on the front. But I can’t have ‘Charity Byars’ etched on anything!”
“Charity? Really?” I ask.
“At least your last name isn’t Case.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” She laughs. “Anyway, my mother, the perfect one, had this idea that I would grow up to be her Mini-Me. She just about keeled over when I told her she could keep the name Charity. That I was going to be called Toni in honor of my future award. Not only that, I’m going to make millions on Broadway and keep every penny.”
“Somehow, I have a feeling you will make millions on Broadway.”
“Then split it with my best friend? Is that the next thing out of your mouth, Connors? Because you can forget it. I’m not giving you a dime!”
I guess she’ll think that I’m upset about not getting a cut of the millions when I’m really trying to believe that she called me her best friend.
CHAPTER 26
Walk Off Loss
I plop down on the couch. “So,” I say to Mr. Murphy. “The Sox are down by two points?”
“Yeah, but you say runs, not points.” He frowns at the TV.
“Oh.” I am nervous now. He sounds angry.
I’ve been wondering about him and the adoption book. I figure that if Mrs. Murphy took out the book, she must be okay with the idea, but I wonder if he will go for it. If he likes me at all.
He is sitting on the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. The Yankees have the bases loaded with no outs. The guy at bat has a “2” on his jersey; how intimidating can he be with a number like that?
Number two hits the ball and ends up with a double. Mr. Murphy slaps his leg. “You’re kidding me!” he yells. I’d like to ask what the attraction is of watching it if it makes him miserable.
The doorbell rings. Mrs. Murphy answers it, and Toni comes around the corner. I meet her in the kitchen.
“Hey, Connors! What’s up?” Toni asks, smiling.
“Ceiling,” I say.
Mrs. Murphy laughs.
“You think you’re pretty funny, don’t ya, Connors? Don’t get a swelled head ’cause your mother laughs. She probably thought what you left in your diapers was a masterpiece.”
With the word mother, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy look questioningly at me. It’s bothering me that I haven’t told Toni the truth. The more I like her, the more my silence feels like a lie.
Toni’s attention turns toward the TV. She walks in that direction, stepping just inside the family room. “Yup,” Toni says. “There is nothing better than baseball on a Sunday afternoon. My dad and I watch it whenever he’s home.”
Mr. Murphy looks like he’s ready to adopt her. Maybe she’ll win me some brownie points if she’s sitting around talking about the wonders of the blessed Red Sox.
“And there’s nothing better,” she continues, “than watching the Red Sox get pummeled into dust by the Yanks. Don’t you love a team that goes eighty-six years without winning a Series and, when they finally do, they act like they own baseball?”
Okay. In my mind, I see this whole thing as a car teetering on a cliff. Rocking back and forth.
“Losers,” she says. “Sox fans are nothing but losers.”
And the car goes over. Falling and falling.
Mr. Murphy’s head turns… slowly… and he glares up at her as if she has just pulled out a gun. She finally gets around to looking at him. Noticing his Red Sox hat and the Dropkick Murphys shirt. “Oh,” she says. “Sorry.”
I have never imagined Toni retreating from anyone, but she is out of there in a shot. Back in the kitchen with me and Mrs. Murphy.
“I have a few things to say about Yankees fans,” he yells at us.
“Now, Jack.” Mrs. Murphy is amused. “Remember you’re the adult here.”
“You really have a way with people,” I say to Toni.
“Well, I won you over, didn’t I, Connors? And you were pretty rough stuff that first day we met. Downright terrifying, I’d say.” She laughs. “Actually, you looked more like you were going to pee your pants.”
She’s right, and I hate thinking of myself as a coward. It bothers me how even though I act brave, things still scare me on the inside. “Listen, Byars,” I say. “I could take you any day of the week. And if I think back to the way things really happened, I did. Terrifying is right. You better believe it.”
“God, Connors. You’re beginning to sound like me.”
“I hear there are psychiatrists for that kind of thing.”
“Nice, Connors. Real nice.” Toni smirks.
Mrs. Murphy is at the sink now; sometimes I think she’s chained to it. Daniel comes in, dribbling his basketball, and his mother asks him to stop.
While Daniel goes to the fridge for a Gatorade, Michael Eric and Adam drag a bag of cars into the kitchen.
“Boys, can’t you find another place? I’m working here,” Mrs. Murphy says, cutting up green peppers.
“But Mom,” Michael Eric says, “you’re always working, and we need the lines for roads.”
At first I don’t know what he means and then I see Adam s
etting up Matchbox cars on the grout lines of the tile.
She sighs but lets it go.
“So, Connors,” Toni says. “Will your mom let you go for a walk or something before dinner?”
Mom? I panic. I have to cut this off before…
Michael Eric looks up. “Is Carley’s mommy here?”
Toni looks like she feels sorry for Michael Eric. Like he has oatmeal for brains.
“C’mon,” I say. “Let’s shoot hoops.” I turn to go, praying that she will follow.
“Well? Is she?” Michael Eric stands. “Is she here to take Carley away?”
Hearing him say that and looking at his big, blinking eyes gets to me, but I shake it off. “Michael Eric, you’re such a joker.” I look toward Mrs. Murphy. “So is it okay if I go?” I ask her.
She turns toward me and looks sad, and I want to be able to freeze everyone else in time and ask her why. Because I’m a liar? Or because she’d like me to be her daughter? Or because the thought is so terrible that it makes her cry?
“Don’t go far,” she says. And for her, that’s a perfect answer. It says yes, but I’m worried about you.
I turn to go and Toni does, too. I can tell she thinks something is weird, but what really shocks me is that Daniel hasn’t outed me.
I hear Michael Eric running, coming up behind me. Before I can say anything, he’s wrapped his arms around my leg and is laughing. “Carley! Carley! Your mom is my mom? And your dad is my dad, too? And you’re gonna stay here with us for always?”
Daniel finally lets out a small burst of laughter. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell her.”
“Daniel. Not your business,” Mrs. Murphy says. She is already coming toward us.
“Wait,” Toni says, with one eye practically closed. “She’s not your mother? Is she an aunt or something?”
Daniel folds his arms and laughs again, and his mother shoots him a glare that shuts him off.
“No!” Michael Eric says. “Carley is from the Fosters!”
“No, Michael Eric,” a red-faced Mrs. Murphy says. “Not from the Fosters.” She puts her hand on the side of his face and bends over to look him in the eye. “Go back to your cars now. Okay, pal?”
Toni’s face is red now, too, as if she’s been the victim of a practical joke.
I search my head for something. Anything. To explain. Because I wasn’t just silent. When I called the Murphys “Mom” or “Dad” I was lying; I just really liked the sound of it.
“End the agony already,” Daniel says. “Tell her you’re a foster kid.”
She turns to me. “You’re a foster kid? This isn’t your family?”
That hurts. “Toni, I …”
Her eyes narrow. “You lied to me? About who you are? Is your name even Carley Connors, or is that a big fat lie too?”
“I’m sorry, Toni. I never meant to lie. But being a foster kid…” I swallow hard and try to count as I speak. “Being a foster kid is just so… you can’t believe how… humiliating it is… and I…”
Daniel doesn’t look amused anymore, and his mother looks like she’s going to cry. And I want to run. But I know I can’t. I have to stand and take it this time.
“I didn’t know what you’d think of it,” I plead. “I’m still me… Please, Toni. You’re my best friend.”
“I’m so dumb!” She makes two fists. “I told you everything about me and you just…” She steps away from me. “See ya, Jane Doe, or whoever you are.”
As I’m trying to get my head around the Jane Doe comment, she spins and bolts out the door.
The Murphys all look at me. But I can’t look at them, so I study the white threads on my high tops. The last three letters in “friend” are “end.” If you take out the “n” you get “fried.”
Mrs. Murphy moves toward me, and I back quickly into the wall, hitting my head on the door frame.
I was right about being a foster kid. It is humiliating.
“Oh, Carley,” she says in that voice that I just can’t hear now. “It’s…”
“Yeah, whatever,” I say, cutting her off. And I run upstairs to the fireman room, close the door, crawl under the bed, say a prayer that she won’t come looking for me, and hope that Toni will forgive me.
For a few seconds, I even try to cry. But I can’t.
CHAPTER 27
Irish Abyss
Mrs. Murphy pops her head in to ask, “Hey, Carley. Got a minute?”
I’ve been lying in bed for two hours, listening to Ariel sing about how she doesn’t belong anywhere.
“Sure,” I answer, sitting up.
I can tell by her face that something serious is on her mind. I scroll through all the things it could be. Is she going to tell me I’m going to be adopted as a Murphy? Is my mother here? Is Toni dressed as Elphaba at the front door, waiting to turn me into a gnat?
“Carley?” Mrs. Murphy asks, pulling me out of my zone. She laughs a little.
I am on guard. “What’s so funny?”
“Jack goes off into those little dazes too. I call it the Irish abyss. Always deep in thought about something, you Irish.”
I like being labeled with something that has to do with the Murphys.
“Well, Carley, I’m wondering how you’re doing. That whole thing with Toni must be very upsetting for you.”
I nod.
“She obviously cares for you. I think she’ll come around. Perhaps you can talk to her?”
“I don’t think she’ll talk to me.”
“Well, you don’t know that until you try.”
“I don’t need to jump out of an airplane to find out what would happen.”
“You’re pretty funny, Carley. But I know this is serious to you. She’s a good friend and those are hard to come by. Perhaps it’s worth taking the risk. Talk to her when you can. I bet she’ll listen to reason.”
I hope she’s right.
I eat more chicken casserole than usual. Every time I get the feeling that I want to say something, I stuff my mouth with food.
Michael Eric has fallen out of his chair for the third time and I can tell Mrs. Murphy has had it. “Michael Eric, if you can’t sit at the table like a big boy, then you’ll have to leave it.”
“Okay,” he says, jumping out of his chair. “That cancer-role is yucky anyway.”
“Casserole,” Adam corrects him. “You’re so dumb.”
“Am not! You’re dumb!” Michael Eric screeches.
“Well, you smell like a butt!”
“That’s enough out of the two of you!” Mr. Murphy says with his mouth full. “I think Mom’s dinner is delicious and if any of you fellas don’t want to eat it, well, that means there’s more for me!” He smiles and winks at his wife across the table, but his forehead is covered with lines.
“Michael Eric, sit down,” Mrs. Murphy says.
“But Mommy, you said I could leave,” he whines.
“That’s not exactly what I said. Sit.”
“You did!” he yells. “I don’t wanna eat yucky dinner! I wanna play!”
Mrs. Murphy gets up and grabs Michael Eric by the arm and sits him back in the chair. He’s crying and his face is blotchy and red.
Mr. Murphy’s tone is even lower than usual. “Julie, calm down.”
She gets up and storms out. The downstairs bathroom door slams. Adam starts sobbing. Mr. Murphy stands up, wipes his mouth, and musses Adam’s red hair. “It’s okay, pal.” Then he drops his napkin on the table and heads for his wife.
Daniel says, “This is your fault, Michael Eric.”
Michael Eric screams, “Is not! It’s yours, dumb face!” I feel like I’d better get things calmed down somehow.
I look at Michael Eric and Adam with their blotchy, wet faces. “I tell you what. I’ll play superheroes with you guys if you can be quiet. And I’ll give my dessert to the one who’s the quietest.”
Michael Eric and Adam are happy about this, but Daniel says, “I don’t want your dumb dessert.”
Mi
chael Eric’s face scrunches up and he sticks out his tongue at Daniel. I can’t ignore the hushed words between Mr. and Mrs. Murphy in the bathroom.
“You know, guys, I’m gonna go see if everything is okay.” After all, they don’t know that I’m in their category and should stay put. “Remember. Quietest gets dessert.”
“Big whoop,” Daniel mumbles. He gets up, walks into the family room, and turns on the TV.
I tiptoe into the hallway and stand beside the bathroom door.
“I’m worried about you, Julie. You’re spread way too thin with this girl. Our boys need you to be their mother.”
I hear her crying.
“Look, Julie. I like Carley; you know I do. And I know how much you love her, but she isn’t ours…”
I lean against the wall. She loves me?
“She’ll be going back to her own mother. You have to accept that.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“Oh no, Julie. We do know she’s going back…” He moves toward the door, so I move away. Then, I can’t hear what else he is saying.
Then I hear her yelling. “Jack… Murphy! I’m so sick of the world revolving around you and what you need!”
I get away just before she barrels out and heads into the kitchen. She goes to the sink, leans her hands against the counter, picks up a mug, then throws it into the sink. Pieces fly everywhere.
The boys freeze, only moving when they look at each other. Michael Eric cries and holds Mr. Longneck to his chest. Then Adam. Things are going to go bad, I can feel it.
She turns to the boys. “Hey, guys. Everything is okay. Mommy is just upset, but everything is okay. I’m not upset because of you.”
It’s me.
Mr. Murphy comes back into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, but he stands kind of like one of the boys when they’re in trouble. A side of him I didn’t know about. “Julie?”
“Not now, Jack. Just leave me be.”
The boys freeze up again. So do I, but I can see she’s calming herself down. My mother couldn’t do that to save the world.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she says, and leaves. Soon, Mr. Murphy heads upstairs.
One for the Murphys Page 9
