But I wasn’t going to be a part of it, not anymore.
“。 . . not fair at all,” Junie was saying, her eyes glistening with tears, her hands bunched into fists on her lap. “Kids my age are babysitting, like actually taking care of babies, but I’m supposed to have a babysitter?”
“You’re right,” I said, surprising both of us.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, her messy bedhead making her look almost comical. “What?”
“You’re right,” I repeated. “You’re old enough to stay home alone.”
Those were hard words to say, but I’d realized the first step in escaping the Pantown rules required an adjustment in how I treated my little sister. She was almost thirteen. As much as I was frantic to protect her from the world, it was time I stopped coddling her like a pretty baby.
“But you have to promise me you’ll keep the doors locked and not let anyone in.”
She about squeezed the air out of me, she was so happy.
After I made her breakfast—Dad wasn’t home, which was fine by me—I biked to work, not at all sure I’d made the right decision. I might be changing, but it didn’t mean the rest of the world would start acting any differently. But Junie was old enough to be at home alone.
Wasn’t she?
When I arrived at the deli, I found our boss cooking in place of Ricky. He was a short, nervous man with round glasses. He managed the whole Zayre Shoppers City, so we didn’t see a lot of him except when there was a problem or he had to fill in for somebody, like today.
“Where’s Ricky?” I asked, slipping my apron over my head.
Arrested, I hoped the response would be.
“Didn’t say,” Mr. Sullivan said, pretending the deep-fryer knobs needed fiddling with. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your friends. I meant it about you taking the week off.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I don’t mind working. Claude coming in?”
“No,” Mr. Sullivan said, now messing with the freezer dial. He’d run out of stuff to twist soon, and he’d have to look at me, a girl whose two best friends were dead, whose mom was in the hospital, whose dad was a perv.
I suddenly, urgently wanted him to look.
I felt like if he didn’t, I would disappear and no one would know, like a big cartoon hand with a gummy Pink Pearl eraser was starting at my feet and working its way up, wiping me out in broad strokes. If someone didn’t see me, didn’t look right at me and see me, soon not even a shadow would be left behind. Just a pile of pinkish-gray crumbs that had been me.
“I made him the same offer of time off, and he took me up on it,” Mr. Sullivan continued, finally looking at me, his expression odd. “He won’t be in until next Monday.”
The rhythm of helping people was soothing. We were unusually busy, even for a hot summer day. The way people stared at me and then looked at the window that separated the kitchen from the counter area told me the rumors were flying. Ricky and Ant being taken in for questioning might have even made the news. I wanted to ask Mr. Sullivan, but I also didn’t want to know. It was taking all my effort to float above my feelings, to remain in that thin layer of fog where everything felt just out of reach.
I wondered if this haze was where Mom spent most of her time.
“You head out,” Mr. Sullivan said as three o’clock neared. “I’ll clean up.”
He didn’t ask, like he had about me taking the week off. He was ordering me to leave early. Was it contagious, the emptiness I felt? Was he worried he’d catch it? I dropped my apron in the laundry bin, punched out, hopped on my bike. I glided through the oppressive heat. Junie and I would have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Dad could figure out his own meal. Maybe I’d even take Junie to the Muni to cool off. She deserved it, boxed up in the stuffy house all day.
I’d realized during my shift that, for all the recent horror, at least Pantown was finally safe, as safe as it could be. Sheriff Nillson wasn’t having his parties anymore. Everyone was looking for Ed now, for real looking for him this time, so he couldn’t just skulk back like he had before. All eyes were on Ricky and Ant, too, if they weren’t already in jail.
I leaned my bike against the rear of the house and made my way to the back door, the one that entered through the kitchen. I spotted Junie on the phone through the gauzy orange curtain, twirling the phone cord in her hand. She was oblivious to my approach. I almost traipsed to the front door. She wasn’t expecting me home for at least another half an hour, and I didn’t want to scare her. It was too hot, though, to walk all the way around. I settled for calling out to her as I rattled the knob.