“How will I know what to say?”
“All you have to say is the truth,” Deborah said. “Your truth. She’ll just help you practice the best way to say it.”
They sat in silence for a moment as Joey sipped her chocolate milkshake and pondered the difference between truth and your truth. The truth was that Ruby had stabbed Charles repeatedly. Joey had heard them arguing, because she’d been staying in his daughter’s bedroom down the hall.
But Joey’s truth was that she was glad Charles was dead.
“Also, Joelle … your mother would like to see you.” Deborah looked at her closely. “You can say no. It’s totally up to you.”
“I’ll see her.” As soon as she said the words, she felt her heart swell with happiness, and then shrink with fear. “I need to talk to her.” I have to tell her I’m sorry.
“I’ll arrange it,” Deborah said. “Hey, I saw a cute little bookstore on Main Street. When we’re finished here, let’s check it out before we head back.”
The trip to the bookstore was exactly what Joey needed, and for the first time since she arrived in Maple Sound, she felt a spark of joy. The store was having a two-for-ten-bucks sale on mass market paperbacks, and Deborah told her to pick anything she wanted. Joey selected IT by Stephen King and A Time to Kill by John Grisham. She had never read either author before, but they were the fattest books on the rack, which meant hours of reading time and escape.
When they got back to the house, Joey’s new bed was upstairs, already assembled. It wasn’t really an improvement, as the headboard and frame made the room feel smaller than it already was, but Deborah seemed pleased.
It was time for the social worker to head back to the city, and just like the last time, there was a knot in Joey’s stomach at the thought of saying goodbye. As she walked Deborah back out to her car, she wondered, and not for the first time, what her life would be like if Deborah were her mother. The social worker probably lived in a cozy house, maybe with her husband, whose name was … Ben. And maybe Joey would have a little sister and little brother to play with, whose names were … Stephanie and Michael. Maybe there was even a family dog, one of those roly-poly ones with a snuffly nose whose name was … Gracie. There would be laughter. Warmth. Affection. She would feel safe. She would belong.
I wish I was your kid.
“Where did you go just now?” Deborah asked gently, as they stood beside her Honda.
Home with you.
“Nowhere,” Joey said. She desperately wanted a hug, but didn’t know how to ask.
The social worker made the decision for her, wrapping her arms around Joey tightly. “Hide these,” Deborah whispered, placing a plastic bag in Joey’s hand. Inside were four packs of Starburst candies. “Put them in your special place.”
Joey did have a special place, in the back corner of the closet she shared with the boys. Using a mini hacksaw she found in Tito Micky’s toolshed, she pried up the carpet and cut open the floorboard. So far, there wasn’t much inside. Her candy stash. Her necklace. And a box cutter, which she’d also pilfered from her uncle’s shed. During the day, the box cutter stayed in her hiding spot. But before bed each night, she’d take it out from under the floorboard and slide it between the wall and the mattress.
Now she could hide the box cutter between the mattress and the new bed frame, where she could reach for it quickly, should Tito Micky ever decide to come into the bedroom in the middle of the night.
So far, all he did was stand in the doorway and watch her sleep.
* * *
In the late summer days leading up to both the trial and the start of school, Joey was beginning to realize that her opinion of Maple Sound had largely been crafted by her mother’s opinion of Maple Sound. While her aunt and grandmother never went out of their way to be nice to her, at least they fed her.
For the first time in Joey’s life, she wasn’t hungry.
There was always food. Nobody ever forgot to buy groceries. Someone was home every single day to cook. More often than not, Joey awoke to the smells of Lola Celia making breakfast in the kitchen. Longanisa had become her favorite, and her grandmother fried the small, fat Filipino sausages at least twice a week. Joey had gained ten pounds since she arrived in Maple Sound.
“Mangaon na ta,” Lola Celia would say to everyone when the food was ready. Let’s eat. She said this three times a day.
But what Joey gained in food, she lost in sleep.
Because her bed was right by the door, she could tell who was coming down the hallway by the sound of their footsteps. A light shuffle was Lola Celia, who was always up by six. A quick, even gait was Tita Flora, who was either leaving early or coming home late. Staccato steps were Carson going to the bathroom.