The Book of One Hundred Truths (14 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

W
hen we got back to the house, I didn’t want anyone to talk to me. I would have gone to the beach to be alone, but it started to rain. I ended up in Nenna and Granda’s garage.

About an hour went by. Maybe it was two hours. I was sitting on a giant coil of hose between the lawn mower and the volleyball net. I was thinking about how I had almost killed two people—and now everyone knew it. Spiders were getting ready to use me as an anchor in their webs.

Celia opened the door. “I thought I might find you here,” she said. “I suppose you knew we were looking for you.”

I nodded. Maybe they were getting ready to vote me out of the family.

“Jocelyn’s fine, you know.” Celia pushed a bag of weed killer against the wall with her foot. “No concussion. No bleeding from the ears or mismatched pupils. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot. How’s your arm?”

“It’s okay.” Actually, it hurt, but I didn’t feel like I deserved to say so.

“Can we get you anything?” Celia opened the door a little wider and I saw Ellen standing next to her. She had her hands on her hips, but she waved a few fingers.

I waved back.

“I think we’ll sit down for a while,” Celia said. “We’ll take a load off. Do you mind?” She didn’t wait for an answer but pulled two folding chairs off a hook on the wall and set them up on the cement in the doorway. It was starting to get dark. Celia pulled the string that turned on the lightbulb over our heads, and then she and Ellen sat down, facing me.

“That hose doesn’t look very comfortable,” Ellen said.

I told her it was fine.

“We spoke to your parents.” She started arranging the croquet balls on their metal stand. “It seemed like a good idea to call them, since you ended up in the hospital.”

“What did they say?”

“Oh, they had a few questions. How did it happen and so on, and why were you riding an ancient tricycle on the other side of town, and why were you so badly supervised. That sort of thing. We told them you would fill them in on the details later.”

“Oh. Okay.” There was a click from the croquet balls.

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Celia said. “How did you figure it out?”

I shifted around on the garden hose. “You mean twenty-one Bay?”

I had planned to argue with them when we had this discussion. I had planned to accuse them of treating Nenna and Granda badly. But who was I to accuse them of anything when I had nearly killed Jocelyn? “We saw you at the realtor’s,” I said. “And then we saw the key with the address on it. We overheard you talking and pretty soon one thing led to another.”

“So Jocelyn knew,” Celia said. She leaned back in her chair. “I wondered.”

“I’m so angry at Trisha I could spit,” said Ellen. She set the final croquet ball in place. “I told her it was ridiculous not to tell them.”

“She wanted to wait.” Celia sighed. “‘Irreconcilable differences.’ I could have told them that when they got engaged.”

“When who got engaged?” I asked. “What are you talking about? I thought we were talking about the nursing home.”

Above our heads, the lightbulb flickered.

“What nursing home?” Celia blinked.

“The one you’re sending Nenna and Granda to. At twenty-one Bay.”

My aunts looked at me oddly.

“Twenty-one Bay isn’t a nursing home,” Ellen said. “It’s an apartment building.” She picked up a croquet ball, weighed it in her hand, and put it back down. She glanced at Celia. “And it isn’t for your Nenna and Granda. The apartment’s for Trisha.”

“Trisha?” The coils of the hose pinched my leg. “You mean
Jocelyn’s
mom, Trisha? Why would Aunt Trisha need an apartment?” The lightbulb sputtered once more, and suddenly we were sitting in the dark. “Is she moving out?”

The light came on again, just long enough for me to see Celia and Ellen turn toward each other. Then we were plunged back into darkness.

“Are Trisha and Gray—” I said. “Do you mean—Are they getting divorced?”

“I thought that was what we were talking about,” Celia said.

A door seemed to open inside my brain. “But they’re on vacation,” I said. “Who gets divorced when they’re on vacation?”

“Trisha’s leading a tour.” Ellen’s voice came from the doorway. “And Gray had a conference. Each of them wanted some time on their own before—”

“They wanted to explain it to Edmund and Jocelyn together,” Celia said, “when Trisha gets back. Ellen and I told them it didn’t make sense. And we’ll remind them of that when we call them later. People always think kids won’t pick up on this kind of thing.”

“So Jocelyn knows.” I shook my head. “She figured it out. She didn’t think it was a nursing home.”

“She must have suspected something,” Celia said. “And then when the two of you started following us—”

“We’ve been trying to get the apartment ready for them,” Ellen said. “We were driving over there when we saw you. There are three small bedrooms—”

“That’s why she didn’t want to see the building,” I said. “She must have recognized the address. She knew.”

Ellen was grappling with something on a shelf in the corner: a flashlight. She pushed a button and lit up a circle of cement at our feet. “By the way,” she said. “Jocelyn told us what happened. It wasn’t only your fault. She shouldn’t have tried to stand up when the trike was moving.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Celia said, “Ellen dropped your father down a flight of stairs when he was a baby.”

“And I seem to remember,” Ellen added, “that you nearly killed Phoebe several times. You convinced her to hide in the neighbors’ trash can.”

“That’s right, I’d forgotten about that,” Celia said.

I stared at the circle of light between us and remembered the hole in the ice, Marie plunging through it. When we’d finally pulled her onto the bank, she had gasped for air like a fish on a hook. We took off our jackets and wrapped her up; her hair was dripping with mud and leaves. She probably hadn’t been underwater as long as it had seemed.

“I should have made Jocelyn wear a helmet,” I said.

Celia agreed that wearing a helmet was important.

“And I should have told my parents what happened to Marie.” I had never wanted anyone to find out what had happened at the creek, but now that they knew, I felt lighter, easier. I felt as if my body had more room inside my skin.

There was a thump from above. “What’s everyone doing upstairs?” I asked.

Ellen stood up and brushed herself off. “More of the usual. When we left, there were a couple of card games going on, and the TV and the radio were both playing full blast, and it was impossible to hear yourself think.”

“It’s what you’d expect,” Celia said. “Havoc and chaos with a little mayhem. Your Nenna’s making a big pot of soup, and we’re going to eat a late dinner.”

I stood up and took a deep breath. The air in the garage was damp and soft. “So Nenna and Granda aren’t moving,” I said. “They’re staying here. And Granda’s okay?”

Ellen turned off her flashlight. “People don’t get better when they have Parkinson’s,” she said.

Celia folded the chairs. “He’s going to keep slowing down.”

It was hard to imagine my Granda getting any slower, but I knew they were telling me the truth. The truth has a weight, a certain shape you can recognize. And it comes in only one color.

“Do you think he’d mind that we borrowed his trike?” I asked.

“I think he’d be very happy to hear it,” Ellen said. She closed the garage door behind us, and we went upstairs.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T
he conversation I had with my parents was fairly awkward. I told them that my elbow was okay (six stitches), and that Jocelyn’s head seemed to be all right also (eleven stitches). Then I apologized for being a liar and a terrible disappointment to them, and I said I was sorry that I had almost murdered someone—twice.

“You aren’t a disappointment,” my father said. “Besides, I think Ellen almost killed me once. She dropped me down a flight of stairs when I was a kid.”

They asked me to tell them exactly what had happened at Three Mile Creek, and I found that it wasn’t as hard to tell the story the second time.

My parents didn’t say anything for a moment. I wondered whether they wanted to disown me. Then I heard my father say, “It’s all right, honey. Thea’s fine,” and I realized that my mother was crying.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t know,” she finally said. “This happened to you months ago—
months
—and you didn’t tell anyone. You could have told me.” She said that being alone with the truth for so long must have been very hard.

“It
was
hard,” I said. The lies I had told weren’t very good company.

My father asked whether I wanted to come home early. “We can change your plane ticket,” he said. “You can come home tomorrow.”

I’d been facing the wall, for privacy (everyone in the kitchen was pretending not to listen in), but now I turned around. Celia and Ellen and Phoebe and Nenna were all getting in each other’s way in the kitchen, Austin and Liam were playing cards with Edmund, and Granda was watching the Weather Channel. Jocelyn, a bandage wrapped around her head, was sitting by herself in a rocking chair on the porch. I told my parents not to change the ticket. I needed a few more days in Port Harbor before I went home.

“Hey there,” I said, opening the sliding door to the porch.

Jocelyn didn’t turn around. “Look: I used that new cream. It made my skin better.” She held up her hands. I thought they still looked awfully scaly, but at least she wasn’t wearing gloves.

I wasn’t sure what to say.
I’m sorry your parents are getting divorced. I’m sorry they lied to you. I’m sorry I lied to you. But you really shouldn’t have read my notebook.

Truth #97: I’ll have to tell Gwen that I broke my promise.

“I never told you what the fortune-teller said to me.” Jocelyn rocked back and forth.

“I guess you didn’t.” I was watching the stars begin to display themselves over the ocean.

“I asked her if you would invite me to Minnesota,” Jocelyn said. “And she told me you would.”

“That was your fortune? You could have just asked
me
that,” I said.

Jocelyn tucked her hands into her armpits. “Also, she said if you don’t invite me, I should ask your mother, and she’ll make you invite me, because I’m your cousin.”

“You don’t have to force me,” I said. “I’ll invite you. I’m inviting you now.”

Truth #98: I don’t mind that Jocelyn’s going to visit. If I don’t see her for a while, I’ll probably forget how annoying she is and even want her to come.

“Thea?”

“What?”

“Do you think you’ll ever be friends again? You and that girl? The one who had the sister who almost died?”

“Probably not,” I said.

We had tried at first. I had called Gwen a couple of times, and then she had called me, but the afternoon at the creek seemed like a line that had been drawn between us. About two weeks later the ice was gone, and Gwen started walking home from school with Kara Rockcastle, whose family had a trampoline in their yard and a nanny who let the kids do whatever they wanted. She almost seemed like a different person. And so did I.

Austin poked his head through the sliding door and said Nenna wanted someone to set the table. “And I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “So it needs to be you.”

Jocelyn followed me indoors. “Have you finished your notebook?”

“No.” I got the dishes out of the cabinet. Counting Ralph, there would be twelve of us for dinner.

“I think you should finish it.” Jocelyn counted out the napkins. “You said you were going to discover something.”

I found a sheet of paper on the counter. It was an ordinary piece of loose-leaf. I picked it up.

“I wonder what it will be?” Jocelyn asked. “Maybe you’ll discover something secret that no one ever knew before.”

I started tearing the sheet of paper into twelve small pieces.

Truth #99: I have always wanted to set up a round of the dinner game.

“Or maybe you’ll discover another planet.”

I was scribbling names. There were so many different combinations, so many interesting possibilities. I remembered what my mother had told me in the airport:
You might find out something new about who you are.

“Maybe you’ll discover a cure for a disease so that you can help Granda,” Jocelyn said.

I glanced around at the circle of plates. Soon the table would be full of Grummans, arguing and shouting and eating and guessing.

“Where do you want to sit, Jocelyn?” I asked.

Truth #100: I already know who we are.