One for the Murphys

by Lynda Mullaly Hunt

  I sit with the boys for a few minutes before they go play with Legos. I clear the table and have everything just about cleaned up when Mrs. Murphy appears.

  She has a soggy ponytail. She looks younger somehow.

  “Carley?” she asks, looking around the kitchen. “Did you do all of this by yourself?”

  “Yeah,” I say, worried.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she says, looking like she’s really glad I did.

  “I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do.”

  And I think about Mr. Murphy and how he doesn’t want to keep me here anymore. Although he never acts that way; he is always nice to me. I like him, and wish that he liked me more. I can’t take the thought of being sent away again, but I don’t think Mrs. Murphy would fight her husband to keep me here.

  CHAPTER 28

  Must… Get… Out… Now

  I can’t take it anymore. The Murphys. Julie Murphy, to be precise. I’ve hung a question mark on her, and I don’t know what to do. Seems like I’m afraid to trust her anymore. Or maybe I want to leave before I’m told I have to go. All I know is…

  I have to get out.

  I pick up the phone and dial the number on the card. Mrs. MacAvoy’s number.

  The phone rings one, two, three, four times. She must know it’s me.

  I get her voice mail, and I hang up.

  I redial. This time I’ll leave a message.

  The phone rings again, and I get a real voice. Oh no.

  “Hello?” she asks. “Hello?”

  “Uh, hi?” I say.

  “Yes? Who is this?”

  “Carley. Carley Connors. I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number.” I slap my forehead. That was so dumb.

  “Oh, Carley Connors. Of course. Is there anything wrong?”

  “I need to get out,” I say. I want to reach out and grab the words back, wondering if this is one of those times when I shoot myself in the foot and can’t explain why, or if I really want to leave the fireman room, chicken casseroles, playing superheroes with Michael Eric and Adam, or sitting on the kitchen counter, talking to Mrs. Murphy. I decide that I am an empty-headed twit.

  “What’s happening, Carley? Are you in danger?”

  “Uh, no. I just called to say hello.”

  “You did, did you?”

  “Yeah. So how are you?” I try to sound happy.

  “You just said that you had to get out. What did that mean?”

  “Oh. I… uh… meant that I need to get out more. You know. Fresh air. And stuff.” I shake my head. I sound like a moron. “Mrs. MacAvoy, everything is fine. Really. So, how are you anyway?”

  She takes a sip of something. “Assuming that everything is fine, I could be happier. Because with all the things that I have to do already, now I have to fit visiting you into my schedule.”

  “No, you really don’t have to do that.”

  “Our policy is that if a client calls, we need to make a home visit.”

  “Even if I just called to say hello?”

  “Yes, Carley. A child can call in crisis but not be able to tell the truth on the phone. Is that what’s happening? Are you in crisis, but someone is there watching you? I can send the authorities immediately.”

  Now I worry that I’ll get the Murphys in trouble.

  “Carley? Are you there?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

  “So is everything okay? Are you in any danger?” She actually sounds nice.

  I’m in all kinds of danger, but it’s my own doing. “No, everything is fine. Really.”

  “Okay, then.” She sighs. “I understand it isn’t an emergency, but I’ll have to see you soon nevertheless.”

  “Please don’t do that.”

  “Hey, Carley. You called me, remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll see you soon.”

  Soon? What’s soon? Just when I thought I couldn’t mess things up any more, I do.

  CHAPTER 29

  Friend or Fiend?

  At school Toni acts as if she’s never spoken to me ever. She sits in Ruben’s class in another seat, and when I call her name at the end of the period, she bolts.

  I’m surprised how much I miss hanging out with her. Even on the days she never shut up.

  I follow her out of Ruben’s room. I must be desperate because I know how this will end. But I have to try anyway.

  “Toni! Please wait!”

  She doesn’t turn around but does speed up. I jog past her and turn to stand in front of her. She stops, spins, and walks the other way. I drop my backpack and move in front of her again. “Just let me explain,” I plead.

  This time when she turns away, I reach out without thinking and grab her arm. She whips around. “Touch me again, and I’ll remove your fingers for you.” She sounds angry but looks like she could cry. I’m really shocked. And feel terrible.

  “Leave me alone, Connors.” She storms off, but I follow.

  She pushes open the door to the faculty bathroom. I hesitate and then follow. No one is in there, thank God.

  “You owe it to me to listen.”

  She whips around. “Oh, that’s ironic coming from you. Talking about what I owe you. What do I owe you, Carley? The truth? How about the truth?”

  “You’re right. I should have told you. But I was afraid.”

  “Afraid of what? I told you everything. Everything. I told you about my dumb name and my lousy mother and my father who doesn’t care enough to answer my e-mails half the time. I never kept anything from you.”

  I never knew her dad didn’t answer her e-mails.

  Her voice gets louder as the hallways empty outside. The bell has rung and everything is quiet. Toni stares at the floor, and the only thing I can hear is her trying to catch her breath. “Carley, I trusted you. Every day you talked about your mom and dad and brothers. Every day was a lie.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m so sick…” She holds in her crying; I know that look. “I’m so sick… of people telling me one thing and being another. When will someone just tell me the truth? I thought you were different.” She motions toward my clothes. “Even with this hopeless wardrobe of yours, I thought you were the real deal. I thought you were my friend.”

  “You’re right. I’m a jerk. A liar. I don’t deserve another chance, but please give me one. Please. I’ll never, ever lie to you ever again.”

  “Yes, you’re all those things. At least you’re being honest for once.”

  I yell. I’m surprised, but I do. “Fine, then. Great. Listen. You go on endlessly about Elphaba and how great she is and how everyone judges her on how she looks and it isn’t fair. You do the same thing, Toni! The same thing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You talk about my hopeless wardrobe as if I’m wrong because it’s different than yours. I haven’t seen that show, but I bet Elphaba would give Glinda another chance.”

  “None of that has anything to do with you. You’re a liar.”

  “Yeah? Well, you’re not perfect either. But you were still my friend.”

  “But I didn’t lie to you. That’s the difference.”

  “I’m sorry, Toni. So sorry. I wish I could take it back. Please give me another chance.” I feel silly for begging but decide it’s worth it.

  She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know, Connors. I just don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I have to go,” she says, leaving me standing alone, wondering how I can keep messing things up as much as I do.

  CHAPTER 30

  Sunk by the Bell

  The next morning, I come downstairs. I like these early mornings when the boys are all sleeping.

  I smell cake. Real, honest-to-goodness cake. Mrs. Murphy is covering yellow cupcakes with homemade chocolate frosting. A good, thick layer of it. I can’t wait to have one. I hop up to the counter.

  She h
olds up a wooden spoon. “Forget it. I’ll tell you the same thing that I’ll tell the rest of ’em. These are for Adam’s class today. There are twenty-four children in the class, so no, I can’t spare just one.”

  “Do you really think that a wooden spoon can keep me from two dozen cupcakes? Didn’t Family Services warn you of my violent tendencies?”

  She seems to consider this, shaking her head in light disapproval, and I wish I hadn’t said it, especially since Mrs. MacAvoy could be ringing the doorbell at any moment.

  “What?” I ask. “I was just kidding about the violent tendencies thing.”

  “I don’t like it when you describe yourself in a negative light. I don’t like to hear you say bad things about yourself. Even if you’re kidding.”

  God love the woman, but she’s just a bit over the edge. “I tell you what. I’ll tell you how beautiful I am if you give me a cupcake.”

  She holds up her deadly wooden spoon again. “Carley Connors. You really are beautiful. But beautiful or not, there will be no cupcakes for you or the rest of ’em.”

  She thinks I’m beautiful?

  She goes back to frosting. “So, did you get a chance to talk to Toni?” she asks.

  “Yeah, but it didn’t go that well.”

  “Sometimes people need some time. That’s all. It will be okay.”

  I hope she’s right.

  The doorbell rings. She goes to answer it while I plot how to steal some frosting.

  I hear Mrs. Murphy’s happy voice. “Oh, Mrs. MacAvoy. Please come in.”

  Oh no.

  “I’m sorry to be so early, but I added this to an already insane schedule.”

  “Oh, is there news?”

  There’s a pause. “Not that I’ve heard. I just need to make sure Carley’s okay.”

  “Carley?” Mrs. Murphy calls me like she’s confused.

  I appear in the foyer.

  Mrs. MacAvoy’s eyebrows jump. “Well, you look okay. Better than okay, actually.”

  “Is this something Family Services does routinely?” Mrs. Murphy asks.

  “Oh no. Actually, Carley called me, expressing an interest in leaving.”

  “Carley?” The pain in Mrs. Murphy’s tone rips into me. “Is that true?”

  I look at the floor.

  Mrs. Murphy stumbles over her words. “Are you? Are you here, then… to take her away from us?”

  Take her away from us?

  “No, I’m here to see if she’s doing okay. Make sure she’s in safe hands.”

  What have I done? I never thought of it like this. Well, I did… but I guess I didn’t. I look up and Mrs. Murphy stares at me with such sad eyes and I wish that she were just mad at me. Mad is so much easier than this.

  “Carley?” Mrs. Murphy asks me. “Do you want to leave? If you do, you’re free to go any…”

  “No! No!” I burst. “Don’t make me go! I’m sorry. I don’t know why I called. I just… I made a mistake. I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go!”

  “Well, normally I would take a look around,” Mrs. MacAvoy says. “But I have a feeling things are well in hand.”

  “Yes, they are,” Mrs. Murphy says, glancing at me. “I’m sorry that you had to come all this way for nothing.”

  Mrs. MacAvoy leaves with a softer face than I’ve seen before.

  I am such a jerk.

  After she leaves, Mrs. Murphy turns to me and shakes her head. “I just don’t get it. I don’t understand, Carley.”

  I want to cry, but my body won’t let me. “I just… it’s just that…” I can’t look at her anymore. “I don’t belong here. I’m not one of you and this whole thing is… it’s all just too… just too nice.”

  “You mean you don’t want it to be nice here?”

  “Well, not like that. No. It’s just too nice… for me, I guess.”

  I glance only long enough to see confusion. “Carley? Are you saying that you don’t belong here because it’s too nice? You asked to leave because we’re too good to you?”

  Yeah, maybe that was it. I think it was. I nod.

  “Oh, Carley. How can that be?”

  “I hate it.”

  Her eyes widen. “You hate it that we’re good to you?”

  “No. Well, I guess…” My voice drops. “I hate it… that I don’t hate it… that you’re good to me.”

  Her fingertips touch her lips, and her eyes fill with water. I just want to crawl out of my skin. “My God, Carley” is all she says for a long time. I stay, though. I guess I trust her enough to want to know what she’ll say.

  “You deserve everything good the world has to offer. You deserve a family that loves you and cares for you.”

  One… two… three… four…

  She touches my arm, which yanks me back.

  She continues. “Carley, look at the person you are! It’s phenomenal the strength you have.” She brings her hand to her forehead. “It just isn’t fair. But I know. I truly know…”

  Sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…

  “Carley?”

  “Huh?”

  “You deserve what we have to offer and more.” Her voice cracks again. “And so much more.”

  I stiffen. “How can you say those things?” I yell. “You don’t know those things!” I step away. The pain in my throat and the wetness in my eyes scare me. I don’t know why bad things make me stronger and nice things make me weak.

  “I do know, Carley. I’ve lived with you for six weeks now. I watch you with my boys and the sweet things you do for me. Don’t you think that I’ve been paying attention? Give me a little credit.” She tips her head and smiles a sad smile.

  And that’s the thing. Most of the time, it wasn’t like my mother told me I was anything—good or bad. But when Mrs. Murphy tells me I’m smart, I am. When she tells me I’m funny, I am. When she tells me how thoughtful I am, I become that way. I swear, if she told me I was a duck, I’d be checking in my high tops for webbed feet.

  “Carley,” she says. I wonder why she always says my name. “You’re so strong. Strong enough to hide all this pain that you hold on to.” She takes a breath. “But I think it’s time to let it go.”

  “It’s weak to cry. It’s for suckers.”

  “Oh, Carley. It isn’t weak, honey. It’s human.”

  My insides swirl as I try to deny my body its right to tears. I begin to tremble but fold my arms and stiffen my back, trying to keep it away.

  I count the spindles on the staircase, but it doesn’t seem to be helping this time. “I have to go.”

  “Oh, Carley. You don’t have to do this.”

  I hesitate, my feet wanting to run and my head wanting to wait.

  “Stay with me,” she says.

  Spinning away, I run, making thirteen stairs in only six steps.

  I go into the bathroom and turn on the water. I put my finger in the stream and watch as the stream becomes two. I count the splashes that land around the bowl of the sink. I close my eyes against the bright lights, willing my body to calm down. The swirling settles into my stomach with a thud.

  I wish I could feel like I matter to someone for real. I just want a place to belong. But I’m so different from the Murphys. From everyone here.

  And then something tells me—a part of me I don’t hear much—maybe you’re not.

  CHAPTER 31

  If You’re Going to Lie to Yourself, Be Convincing

  Daniel and I stand in the driveway again. Daniel stands with his arms folded, as usual, like he won’t listen to a thing I say.

  “Okay. I’ve been thinking,” I say, spinning the basketball on my pointer finger.

  “Is that why that stuff is oozing out of your ears?”

  “Funny.”

  Who knew the kid had so much personality besides mama’s boy extraordinaire. Still, I can’t help thinking of the story he told me about his dad and the baseball stuff. “You know, you actually have talent,” I lie.

  “For what?” he asks.

&nbs
p; “Basketball, idiot.” I give him a shove—an experiment to see how he’ll react. He takes it okay. “But you have one major setback. I know what it is, but you won’t like it.”

  “That I can’t get the ball through the net?”

  “No, no. That’s going to work out great.” I lean toward him. “For the other… team!” I laugh and dribble the ball through my legs. “No, seriously.” I hold the ball and look at him. “You’re afraid.”

  “I am not! Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid of the ball. The players. Taking chances.”

  He doesn’t say anything.

  “Look,” I say, “my old coach used to say that forty percent of success in basketball is desire and another forty percent is confidence. You have the desire but no confidence.”

  “What’s the other twenty percent?” he asks.

  “Paying off the refs,” I say, deadpan.

  “Really?”

  I dribble the ball and smile. “You’re so gullible. Do you believe everything people tell you, Murphy?”

  “Fine.”

  “Now, don’t get all wound up again. I’m trying to help you, remember? Besides, we basketball morons have to stick together.” I smile, hoping this will make him laugh.

  “I still don’t think I’m afraid.”

  “Then why do you act like you are?”

  “Like when?” he asks, stepping back.

  “Like when you have a perfect shot but you pass it instead of taking a shot yourself. Or someone is coming by you with the ball and you let him go right by.”

  “I guess.”

  “Do you know what courage is?”

  “Give me a break. Listening to you?” He folds his arms.

  “No, that would be dumb.” I wink even though it feels unnatural. “Tell me what it is.”

  “Not being afraid of something.”

  “No! It’s being afraid and doing it anyway. Like when your father runs into a burning building to save people. I’m sure he’s afraid, but he does it anyway.”

  “Maybe you should run into a burning building.” He smiles, and I wonder if I don’t actually like him a little.