No Passengers Beyond This Point(46)

“We’re not passengers, Francine. We shouldn’t be in here and you know it.”

“C’mon, Mouse!” I half drag her to the doggy door in the back as we hear the tchk, tchk, tchk of the Franklin door opening.





CHAPTER 26

PASSENGERS WAITING

There isn’t enough air in this room. It’s stuffy and everybody looks grimy and tired and all packed together. God, I hope I don’t look like they do. But you know what? I don’t even care right now. I just want to get out of here and back to the welcomer station. Laird will fix me up.

I hope they come for me soon, I think as I find a spot on the blue linoleum in the corner next to a garbage can that smells like mustard. My back is to the wall. I bury my head in my hands, ignoring everyone. Like I want to talk to any of these people?

I only lift my head when they announce a new set of numbers. Then I pull out my ticket and listen carefully to the long series of digits. Why am I the only person doing this? Do they know their numbers by heart? Even so, they’d have to listen, wouldn’t they? None of these people even stop their conversations. The dude next to me sings softly to himself. He has a clock just like I do. But his doesn’t seem to be moving. I pull mine out. My clock isn’t moving either. It’s stuck at six hours and thirteen minutes.

A little kid of six or seven is playing with a tiny plastic pig in a Superman suit. The white cat is huddled under a chair, looking hot and unhappy.

“Here kitty.” But when I get close, she hisses at me. She still has my cool mom’s ring around her neck, tied with a lime green bow. I can’t imagine the ring isn’t intended for me. My fake mom knew I liked it. She knew it made me uncomfortable too, but I might as well look at it. What’s the harm of that?

I approach the cat again. This time she lets me, but her eyes are filled with scorn. Is it possible for a cat to roll her eyes? I could swear that’s what she just did. Still, she seems to know I need the ring. She allows me to take it, then trots back under the chairs.

I slip the ring on my hand and admire it as I did in my totally perfect house. My eyes are caught by the light reflecting in the stone and then suddenly I’m seeing images in the crystal. . . . It’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I let myself in the back door. My mom is on the phone. She’s begging some guy to let us keep the house. She sounds desperate—not like my mom at all. She has, I suddenly realize, lost her home too.

Now there’s a new image in the crystal. It’s December, and Maddy and I are staying up all night watching our favorite dinosaur cartoons. We are too old for this stuff, but we loved them when we were little, and now we watch when Maddy is depressed. We don’t watch when I’m depressed. I’m not allowed to get depressed when Maddy’s happy.

And then it’s January, and Maddy is coming into the multi-purpose room when I’m rehearsing for the talent show. I’m going to sing a solo, but Maddy doesn’t like this. She motions for me to come over. I excuse myself and go talk to her. She says Brendan is playing lacrosse and I need to go watch him practice because all her friends are there.

A tiny voice inside me says no. I’m not sure I even like Brendan. I always know what he’s going to say and it’s never very interesting. I want to be in the talent show. “C’mon, In—what’s important to you? I mean seriously . . .” Maddy says.

The tiny voice inside keeps telling me to say no to Maddy, but I can’t. I go with her, and Mrs. Mahoney cuts me out of the program. She only takes the kids who show up for practice. When the talent show comes, I don’t go.

And then Valentine’s Day and my mom is telling me her ring is missing. Mouse says Maddy took it.

Maddy would never steal anything. Mouse is a big fat liar.

Mom says I have to ask Maddy. I tell her forget it. No way. Mom says either I will ask Maddy or she will.

I won’t. She does.

Maddy practically stops talking to me. She acts as if I stink like three-day-old barf. How dare you is all she says to me for one whole week. And then suddenly she’s back acting like nothing ever happened. Later that day, I find an envelope in my backpack. Inside is the ring. Nothing else.

Now I see recent scenes in quick clips. Me being chosen for welcomer because of how well I sing. Me talking to the other welcomer girls—we are giggling and laughing—there’s no one girl who has more friends than anyone else. No one girl who decides what the rest of us will do. We are all friends. It’s so easy—so comfortable. Laird tells us what to do. All that’s missing is Maddy.

I grab that stupid cat and tie the ring right back to her stupid ribbon around her stupid neck.