Eleven and Holding (11 page)

“So, is this your Dom?” I asked him.

He pointed a long, dirty fingernail at a sign across the sidewalk. It had a right-pointing arrow after the word “Domiciliary.” Left arrow to
“Medical Services.” Right arrow to “Chapel.” Left arrow to “Administration.”

Jerry wheeled up to me. Grabbed my hand and stuffed a sweaty ten-dollar bill into it. Pointed his chin down the way toward the corner.

I shaded my eyes against the glare as I looked up at a very tall building, probably ten stories high. Read the sign etched in its side.

LOS ROBLES VA MEDICAL CENTER

I looked down at the bill in my hand, then back at him. “So is this—” I started.

“The Department of Veterans Affairs,” he muttered, turning right and rolling himself down Sixth Avenue.

Dear Mr. Jimenez,

The Fifth Thing About Me: I come up with sensational ideas. Since my mom doesn't want me to stay back a grade, what if Twee skips a grade and comes to Kit Carson with me? She has already read
To Kill a Mockingbird
,
Treasure Island
,
Stargirl
,
Call of the Wild
,
Little Women
, and
Hoops
. She is a wiz at history and math, and I can help her with science. I already have a brilliant idea for a science project, but you need four hands to do it. I only have two, of course.

Twee also likes boys already, so she is way ahead of the game there. She will remind me to wear lip gloss and won't let me dress out of the dirty clothes hamper. I guarantee you I will be a much-better-adjusted seventh grader if I have her with me. If we are separated, and I am bored and unhappy, I could end up a juvenile delinquent, and my mom will be
so
mad. She might even think it's your fault for not challenging me enough in class.

Believe me, you don't want my mom on your case, Mr. Jimenez.

Yours very sincerely,

Macy L. Hollinquest

T
he glass doors swooshed open and a blast of air conditioning nearly knocked me over as I stepped into the Los Robles VA Medical Center. A swarm of people in white coats hurried by me with smartphones stuck to the sides of their heads.

I noticed the cops before they noticed me. A couple of them sat behind the information booth, and another one scanned people's stuff with one of those X-ray machines, like they have at the airport. They were big cops and didn't look as friendly as Officer Marley. These guys had big, bulgy muscles and tight pants. I scootched up next to a guy with crutches trying to balance a cup of coffee.

“Here, I can carry that for you,” I said. I gave him my most winning smile.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile missing most all its teeth. We cruised by the cops in the information booth, and the X-ray cops who were busy checking people through some secure area.

I helped my guy get settled in an oversize chair, then hurried over to a large directory sign and studied it. Looked like they had about a gazillion different departments. I didn't know where to begin. It was mostly hospital stuff, like laboratory, MRI, and radiology. I was all the way down to the S section when my heart leaped into a half gainer. There it was in black and white: “Special Projects: Ninth Floor.”

That had to be it! I bolted for the nearest elevator and then chewed down my last fingernail while I read the big sign on the wall: “An adult must accompany all children under the age of 14 on floors 2–9.”

I did a quick boob check. At my age I hear they can almost grow right before your eyes. I hadn't really looked at them for a few days. I sighed. Nope. My chest was still an elementary-schooler's. No way I'd be passing for fourteen with these puppies. Plus, no fourteen-year-old girl would be caught out in public with clothes as stained and stinky as mine.

I backed away, trying not to attract attention. As I hunted for the stairs, I found myself wishing for one
of those Harry Potter invisibility cloaks. It would come in very handy about now.

Nine flights of stairs is way more than it sounds like! I had a good sweat going by the time I got there. I followed the signs for “Reception,” which, turns out, should read “Reception and Nosy Guard.” He was leaning up against the counter, all eight hundred muscly pounds of him, talking to a girl working on a computer. His eyebrows lifted when he saw me.

“Lose your way, miss?” he asked.

I tried to straighten the front of my shirt, which was stiff with something gross from the Dumpster. “Uh, well, no, not exactly, sir. Not lost, I mean.” I hooked my hair behind my ear. “My mom sent me up. We're looking for my dad, and I think he works up here in Special Projects.”

“What's your dad's name?” the girl asked.

“Montgomery Hollinquest—but everyone calls him Gum.”

She shook her head. “No one by that name on this floor.” She looked over at the cop. “DeVaughn, does that name ring any bells for you?”

“Can't say that it does. You sure this is the right floor, young lady?”

I tried to pick my heart up off the ground while I reached for my pack. Pulling out the letter from my
dad, I showed him the return address first and then pulled out the letter.

“See? Says here he's working on a special project.”

While the cop read through the letter, I scanned it over again. My eyes caught on the last line, which I loved and had memorized.
I see your smile everywhere, even in—

“Is your dad a patient here?” the girl asked. A little too kindly, I thought.

“Nope, he's not sick or anything. He works here,” I explained.

“Hold on a sec, let me check our directory.” Her fingers raced over the keyboard.

“And your mom doesn't know what floor to find him on?” the cop asked, eyeing me over and reaching for his walkie-talkie.

I could feel a case of serious cop-itis coming over him quick. His nostrils twitched, like he might be smelling something fishy.

“Uh, yeah, she's looking on the fourth floor. Sometimes my dad works in a lot of different places. We never know when we come exactly what floor he'll be on. But we always find him,” I assured him. Hot beads of sweat popped up on my scalp. “Then we all go to the cafeteria together. My dad loves the pizza there! In fact, that's probably where they both
are now, so I better go. They're probably wondering where the heck I am.” I backed toward the elevator. “Thanks for everything, ma'am, sir!”

I lunged for the elevator, which had mercifully opened, like
presto
! just when I needed it. That almost never happened in real life. It was packed, and I ducked in and wiggled my way to the back. It was like a doctor convention in there, and it smelled like very clean hands. A few docs had turbans on their heads, and all of them had stethoscopes draped around their necks. There were a few nurses I noticed, too. Mostly, they just looked very tired.

I couldn't even reach the elevator buttons, because we were so squished. But it didn't matter because I was fresh out of ideas.

The elevator plunged downward, as if the cable had snapped, and I gasped. Everyone else kept talking, like they hadn't noticed. I turned myself to face a small tight corner. I tried to breathe into that tiny space. It was the worst elevator in the world! It took big swoopy plunges and made fast stops. I seriously was going to call my congressperson, maybe even the president, when this was all over to complain about the elevator at the VA. This thing wasn't an elevator; it was a plungevator!

I thought about getting off, but I was betting
Gorilla Cop would be waiting for me. He probably had all the floors covered with his buddies.

At last the mob exited, freeing up big pockets of air. Secondhand air, but air all the same. I took deep mouthfuls of it. I added elevators to my list of transportation systems I hate. It was stairs for me for the rest of my life. As I neared the front of the elevator at last, another VA cop came into view. His mouth was plastered to his radio, and he was checking the crowd that had just gotten off.

I fell back into the elevator and pressed myself against the side. I stabbed every possible button to make the elevator go
now
. The cop got a visual on me and started moving toward the door.

Ding, ding!
The doors slid closed, almost—

A hand shot through the opening, parting them. But not big hairy hands ready to grab me by the neck. A slim hand with light-blue nail polish and three silver bands stacked up a thumb. Then the rest of her stepped in. Thankfully, without a pair of handcuffs, a pistol, or a club. She gave me a nice smile. She pressed the nine button and then looked at me. “Going up?”

She didn't assume I was up to no good, so I loved her immediately. I stole a long glance at her. She had red, woolly hair and a delicate face. Her name badge read “Karen Eckstein” and then a lot of letters after
that. Like she had a lot of college degrees. Under that in large letters, it read “Project Evenstar.”

As if she felt me staring, she looked over at me. “Not a big fan of elevators, are you?”

I shook my head slowly, wondering how she knew.

“I saw you on the ride down in the corner,” she said. “Looked like you were having a tough time. I thought maybe your mom was on the elevator, and she'd get you off and you'd be okay.” She paused a moment. “But then everyone got off and you were all alone. You looked like you might need a hand, so I came back for you.”

I bit my lip.

“That officer looking for you?”

I let out a big shaky breath.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

I tried to talk, but I'd lost my voice in all the plunging.

“Macy,” she said, her voice soft as a pigeon's coo. “Are you here to see your dad?”

My mouth dropped open, like the tailgate of an old Ford truck.

“You look just like him, you know.”

My eyes dropped back to her name badge and burned a hole into it.

“Project Evenstar,” it read.
I see your smile everywhere, even in the stars.

My heart started to gallop. “Do you know where my dad is?” I asked, breathless.

“Yes,” she said simply. “He's with me.”

I
splashed a bucket's worth of water on my face in the ladies' room and tried to rub some of the stains out of my shirt with a wet paper towel. I hated to have Dad see me looking so awful. Dr. Eckstein came back a few moments later and handed me a soft, gray T-shirt. “I found this in my gym bag. It might be a little big, but you can tie it at the bottom. Want to wear it?”

I nodded, grateful, turned my back a second, and exchanged shirts. I stuffed my dirty one in my pack.

“I just tried to call your mom, but she's not home,” she said.

Uh. Oh. I tried to look nonchalant, but the tips of my ears grew hot.

Dr. Eckstein leaned up against the sink. “I just wanted her to know you had arrived safely.”

“Oh, she never worries when I'm with Twee and her mom. Twee's mom is completely responsible. She's been driving for years.”

She just stared at me, her head to one side, like she was waiting for something else.

That was it, I decided. I was going straight to hell someday. In fact, I was probably going to get elected president of hell. I hurried on to fill in the uncomfortable hole that my lie had dug. “Yeah, when I told Mom last night I wanted to come visit Dad before school started, she thought that was a great idea. Twee and her mom were headed here for some shopping, so it worked out perfect.”

“Macy, did you and your mom talk at all about why your dad is here?”

I had a feeling this was leading somewhere, but I couldn't tell where, so I played it supercool.

“Oh, yeah, we had a long talk about it,” I improvised. Well, we did have a talk, but not exactly about why he was here. It was more about why he wasn't at home, but that was a minor detail.

“So, how are you feeling about all this?” Her eyes were intent on my face.

Boy, I knew there were some right answers and wrong answers here, but which was which? “Well, I miss him a lot, but I know Project Evenstar is very
important. If it wasn't, he'd be home with us.”

She gave me a half smile, and I could tell I'd hit on a right answer.

“Well, then, let's head on over, shall we?” she asked, putting out her hand.

We left the big hospital building via the stairs, and Dr. Eckstein led me across a grassy park, surrounded by picnic tables, a horseshoe pit, and an old barbecue. We walked into a long, cool brick building disguised in ivy.

She parked me in a plain-looking lobby, with a few chairs, some bad magazines, and golden oldies being piped in overhead. “Macy,” she said, squatting next to me. “I need you to wait here for just a few minutes. I need to check and see if your dad is as ready to see you as you are to see him.”

I drew my eyebrows together, confused. “What—” I started.

She hurried to explain. “He's been missing you something fierce. I just want to be sure today is the right time for both of you. This is very important, this first visit.”

I tried to sit back in the chair after she left, but I was too nervous. I couldn't quite explain it. This whole Project Evenstar was a mystery, and kind of
a spooky one at that. Had they run freaky scientific experiments on my dad here? Changed his appearance, so he could run some black ops? Dr. Eckstein was definitely trying to prepare me for something. That much, I could tell. But what, I had no idea.

The minutes ticked by in slow motion. All the magazines were about two years old. They had a battered copy of
Highlights magazine
, but I stopped reading those years ago. I spotted a bulletin board on the wall across from me. It had the same prayer tacked up that Nana had stuck to the side of her cash register for as long as I could remember.

Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

I asked her about it once. She said it kept her sane.

There were some photographs under that, and I went over to look at them. Looked like a Ping-Pong tournament, with a bunch of guys cutting up about it. Didn't see my dad in any of the pictures, though. Next to that was an index card someone had written, looking to share a ride to Los Robles on visiting day. Then a big long schedule of AA meetings. Was AA the car-towing place? I never could remember. Either
way, you could pretty much find an AA meeting about any time of the day around here.

The lobby door opened, and a high school kid came in, with an attitude you could smell for miles. He looked like someone on my mom's caseload. He jutted his chin in my direction and sat down. Hung an unlit cigarette on his lip. After he cracked each of his knuckles and neck in each possible direction, he asked, “How come you're here today? You get a special visiting pass, too?”

“Um, yeah. Dr. Eckstein brought me over. I'm just here to visit my dad. He works here on the project,” I explained.

“Is he one of the docs?” he asked.

“No, he's not a doctor. He was in the army. But now he's been assigned to Project Evenstar.”

The kid took an imaginary hit off his unlit cigarette. “Yeah, well, my old man has been ‘assigned' here three times, and he never stays. He's got seven days in rehab this time, and I
ain't
holding my breath.” He stabbed a dirty finger in my direction.

The word “rehab” came at me like a rogue wave. I caught my breath and sailed over the top of it. “I'm, um, sorry— Uh, wull, I hope he makes it. I mean, does better making it . . . this time.”

“Is your dad getting out today? Is that why you're
here? 'Cos usually they only let families call or visit on Saturdays.”

“No,” I said, my windpipe getting narrower by the second. “He's not getting
out
— I mean he doesn't come here for that. He's not in for— He doesn't need rehab. He's working on a secret project for the government.”

My words hung there, in the air, for just a second. My heart twisted as I heard, suddenly, how stupid they sounded.

For one nanosecond, the kid flashed me a soft look, like he understood. But then a big, sarcastic smile took over his face. “That's a good one! Yeah, my old man's working on the secret project too. His code name is Agent Alvarez. What's your dad's secret name?”

I heard footsteps coming down the hall. Every step closer made my heart thump harder.

“Macy? You ready? Come on back.” Dr. Eckstein waved to me from the door. She spied the kid next to me. “Hey, Thomas. How are you doing today?”

He grunted and looked away.

My legs felt paralyzed under me. I willed them to get me up and walk me toward her. Right, left, right, left. Every step I took felt dangerous. Like if I wasn't very careful, my entire world might explode. I moved into the hallway with her.

She closed the door to the waiting room and
looked down at me. “Okay?”

I swallowed. “Does my dad, uh,
work
here?” I whispered. It all felt, suddenly, like some kind of bad dream.

She nodded. “Work is a very important part of the treatment. Your dad is assigned to the kitchen some evenings, and works in the garden, too.”

I licked my lips. Part of my brain tried to make sense of what I was hearing. The other part was trying desperately not to understand.

“Macy?” A figure stepped out of one of the rooms down the hall. The person was wearing sweats and an old T-shirt and was pretending to be my dad. He held on to the doorframe and looked at me. I took a few steps toward him. Dr. Eckstein had her hand on the small of my back, guiding me.

But it wasn't my dad, after all. No, I decided, it couldn't be.

My dad wasn't that skinny, and my dad didn't ever forget to shave. My dad didn't work in anybody's kitchen, and my dad didn't live in a redbrick building in a hospital. My dad didn't have messy hair in the middle of the day and clothes that hung on him and that empty, hollowed-out look in his eyes.

And
my dad definitely, 100 percent for sure didn't need any stupid damn rehab
.

Hot tears burned at the corners of my eyes. I jumped back before the land mine blew up in my face. I threw myself at the waiting-room door—almost pulled it right off its hinges.

I ran like my whole life was on fire, and I had to get away—or be eaten alive by it.

It was seven o'clock straight up at Boomtown Sounds, and no Switch in sight. I checked for messages so many times that the pink-haired girl behind the counter swore she'd personally come find me if he called. I couldn't sit; I couldn't stand. I could barely stand to be in my skin. And, mostly, I couldn't bear to be in my brain.

I didn't want to think about what had just happened. I
couldn't
think about it. But it was like a computer virus was trying to hack the inside of my mind. I knew if I didn't fight it, the virus would change everything I knew and everyone I trusted. It was
wrong, wrong, wrong
, and I would not let it in.

I walked in spirals through the store, starting with the perimeter, then one row in, then another, until I was one small spiral all alone in the middle. Then I'd start over again.

C'mon, Switch!

At fifteen past seven, I went to the pay phone
out front to call Twee. Pink Hair wouldn't let me make a long-distance call on the store's phone. Mrs. Melting Pot said Twee wasn't home. Said she was still babysitting over at my house. That didn't sound right to me, but I wasn't about to blow her alibi if that was what it was. My mom should be home by now.

I went and sat down on the curb out front. I couldn't take any more of Boomtown for a while. The music was so loud, I couldn't think. It was still plenty light outside. The sidewalk was warm under my shorts, and I wished I were sitting in front of Nana's with Twee.

I liked to think that as far as our friendship went,
I
was the brave one, the strong one. But the truth was, there wasn't anybody much stronger than Twee. Even though her adopted family was mostly pretty cool and they really loved her, I knew it was still hard for her sometimes. She had to live with so many questions that she couldn't answer. She had to live with the fact that her own mother had given her away—and she probably would never know why. Despite that, Twee was grateful for what she had, not what she lost. I fought and scrapped for everything I lost. Wouldn't give up anything without a good fight. Except for today.

I'd run right out on my dad. But that skinny guy in rehab wasn't the dad I'd come to get.

Now, I was really glad I hadn't brought Twee with me. What would she think if she knew he was in a place like that? It would have killed me to have her see Dad nearly locked up like some kind of criminal. Like some kind of addict.

Was that why he couldn't come home for my birthday? What was he
doing
there?

I reached into my pack and pulled out a swaybacked Chunky bar. Ripped the end off and took an enormous bite. I tried to chew it, but it tasted like a stick. Nothing was right today. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. I felt like I'd woken up in the wrong country to the wrong family. I wanted to get back in my old life. I wanted to lie on the floor with my baby brother and watch cartoons.

I swiped an angry tear away with my forearm. I had to think this through. I was over a hundred miles from home. I only had eleven dollars on me. I couldn't risk calling my house to talk to Twee, in case my mom was there with her. I had no idea what had happened to Switch. He could be buzzing his way merrily home, or he could be sitting in the slammer charged with grand theft auto—or grand theft motorcycle, I guess.

If Twee were here, I know she'd tell me to call my mom. But if I did, she'd come get me, and I'd be forced to ride home in the car with her. Trapped with her for
a couple of hours. Forced to hear stuff I didn't want to hear. Stuff that might just make my head explode. Stuff that wasn't true. Couldn't be true.

I rubbed Mr. McDougall's collar that I still wore around my wrist. I looked at Ginger's phone number on the metal tag. I could call her. At least I'd be able to find out if she'd reported her bike stolen. Then maybe I'd know if Switch was in big trouble.

“Can I buy you an iced double latte?” A large figure loomed, then squatted next to me.

“Chuck?” I gasped, my voice full of surprise. “What are you doing here?” I wanted to sound irritated, even though I would have been glad to see anyone I knew right then. But I didn't want
him
to know that.

“Switch called me. He asked me to come meet you here.”

“Switch? Is he with you?” I jumped up, excited, my head doing a quick 360-degree revolution.

“'Fraid not. He's kind of tied up right now.”

Dread reared up, and I closed my eyes a second. “Did he get arrested?”

“Yup.”

“But he's okay, right?”

“Well, he's safe. How about you, though? Are you all right? From what I heard of it, you've had quite a day.”

I wet my lips, studied my shoes. “M'okay.” Liar.

“Can I give you a lift home? Or did you already call your mom? Is she on her way?”

I shrugged my shoulders and shivered. There was a hot summer wind blowing, but I was chilled to my core.

He went on. “After Switch called me, I tried to get your mom on the phone, but she didn't pick up. I've left messages.”

I looked up at him. “You drove all this way to come get me?”

“That's part of it,” he said. “But I also wanted to check on Switch over in juvenile hall. He's refusing to go back to his foster parents. Again.” Chuck shook his head. “Did you know that he was a runaway? Apparently, he's been sleeping all week at the bus station.”

I remembered the brown bag I'd seen him with on the bus. I'd figured it was just food or something, but it must have been his whole life in a sack.

Chuck raked his fingers through his hair. “After they picked him up at the drive-in, the cops called Ginger. She verified he hadn't stolen the bike. But when she heard that the two of you had ridden it all the way to Los Robles, she was very concerned. She just thought he was riding it around the neighborhood looking for her dog.”