When (22 page)

When I was good and numb with cold, I pushed myself up from the bench and reached for my bike. “Hey!” someone called.

The voice that had called out was familiar. I froze for a second before turning to see Aiden make his way toward me with a friendly wave. My heart started hammering. I was acutely aware of the
moisture that coated my palms. I didn’t know what to say or do. There was a part of me that wanted to get on my bike and ride away, because the second Aiden figured out who I was, he’d
never smile or wave at me again.

But I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot. “I didn’t know you came here,” he said, like we were old friends. I drank in the sight of him as he approached. He wore
faded jeans and a letter jacket with a bright white
J
on it. The color of the jacket matched his eyes. He’d strung his cleats around his neck, and a soccer ball was tucked under his
arm. “I saw you sitting over here while I was practicing,” he added, gesturing toward the large field next to the half-pipe, where a group of guys was still playing soccer.

I felt myself nodding, but speaking was proving to be a little more difficult.

“Cool bike,” he added.

I looked down. My knuckles were white against the handlebars. “Thanks,” I said, trying to find my voice. “It’s new.”

“I saw you in the stands at the Poplar game a couple of weeks ago,” he added, grinning at me. His grin was adorable—broad and welcoming. It lit up his whole face. “You go
there, right?”

I swallowed hard and nodded again. What if he knew someone from Poplar High and asked about me? Oh, God, I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him look at me like all the other kids
did.

Aiden didn’t seem to notice my anxiety. His smile remained fixed and friendly and so beautifully inviting. “You left the game before we had a chance to talk,” he said with a
wink.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, finally finding my voice. “I…I had to get home. My mom wasn’t feeling good.” Such a lame excuse, but he nodded as though he totally
understood. I dropped my chin again and found myself fixating on his feet. He was wearing tan work boots. They looked big, but not out of place on him.

“I’m Aiden, by the way,” he said into the awkward silence that followed—and I realized he was sticking out his hand, waiting for me to shake it and introduce myself.

“Hi, Aiden,” I said taking his hand, which was warm and smooth. He closed his fingers around my palm, and I thought I’d never felt such raw energy. Heat practically pulsed
between us. I was pretty sure I was lighting up like the Fourth of July. “I’m—”

“Aiden!” we heard someone shout from across the lot. Aiden turned, and a soft breeze lifted a few of his dark curls.

There was a woman in the parking lot, waving to him—and she didn’t look happy. Aiden made a face and turned back to me. “That’s my mom,” he said, turning his hand,
which still held mine, to eye his watch. “I have a dentist appointment and we’re already late.”

I smiled slyly. “You shouldn’t keep the dentist waiting,” I said. “That’s
his
job.” I’d never had a dental appointment that’d started on
time.

Aiden seemed to get the joke, because he laughed and swung our hands back and forth flirtatiously. “Maybe we have the same dentist.”

“Aiden!”
his mom yelled again. “Right now, young man!”

With a sigh, Aiden let go of my hand and began to back away from me. “See you around here again sometime?” he asked. “We practice here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

I nodded, but suddenly I realized that I could never go looking for Aiden again. Not at football games, soccer matches, or here at this park. He’d learn soon enough who I was, and that
smile he wore when he looked at me would fade to a look of judgment. I knew I could take that look from everyone else—the whole world in fact—but not from him.

“Aiden, this instant!”
his mom shouted while he continued to walk backward away from me. He rolled his eyes, shrugging playfully before he flashed me one last smile and jogged
over to her car. As the car backed up, he sent me another little wave. I stood there for a long time. Part of me couldn’t believe it. Aiden had come over to
me
. He’d smiled at
me.
He’d talked to
me
. At that moment a large cloud moved across the sky to hide the sun, and I shivered with cold again and something more…something sad. I knew it was time
to let the Aiden fantasy go. But it hurt.

The next day was a half day, and third period had just started when Mr. Chavez got a call on the phone next to the whiteboard. The room fell silent—the phones never rang
unless something awful had happened.

I knew that from personal experience.

After answering, Mr. Chavez muttered softly into the phone, his back to us; then he turned and surveyed the room, his dark gaze stopping on me. With a mocking smile he pointed at me, then toward
the door. “Go to the principal’s office, Fynn. There’s a police officer waiting for you.” I could tell he took some pleasure in saying that to me in front of the whole
class.

I felt the blood drain from my face. I was so stunned that for several seconds I couldn’t move. “Fynn,” Chavez repeated, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Did you hear me?
Get your butt out of that chair and down to the office.”

I could feel all eyes on me, and I knew exactly what they were thinking. I was finally being arrested. I’d be spending Thanksgiving in jail, but I was terrified that the police could also
be here to tell me something bad about Ma.

As fast as I could I gathered up my things and hustled out the door. The officer met me at the principal’s office and Mrs. Richardson (2-29-2050), the vice principal, was standing next to
him. “Maddie,” she said softly as I hurried over to her. “This is Officer Bigelow. Dear, your mother has been in an accident.”

I looked at the officer (1-17-2062) and cried out, “Is she hurt? Is my mom hurt?!” I was shaking head to toe and I felt like I was about to pass out. I knew Ma wasn’t going to
die for another six years, but what if she was injured so bad that she ended up a vegetable or paralyzed or something equally awful?

Officer Bigelow laid a hand on my arm to calm me. “She’s bruised but not broken,” he assured me.

I blinked hard, but the tears still came. God, I was crying at everything these days. “Can I see her?” I asked in a squeaky voice.

“That’s why I’m here,” he said. “Come on. I’ll take you to her.”

Officer Bigelow drove me to the police station, which, ironically, was only a bit down from the FBI offices. Once we were out of the patrol car, he walked me to the elevator and we took that up
to the fourth floor. Stepping out into a crowded hallway, I followed him until we reached a wooden door. He opened it and motioned me through. I came out onto an open floor with half a dozen
cubicles that looked a lot like the setup at the bureau. “Over here,” he said, leading me over to another door. He opened it for me and allowed me to enter first.

The room was spacious, with a square oak table and several chairs. Sitting in one of them was a female officer, and next to her was my mom, slumped in her chair with her head on her arms,
sobbing.

I blinked. This hadn’t been what I’d been expecting. “Ma!” I called out, rushing to her side. But she was so drunk and distraught that she could barely speak.

Belatedly, I noticed that she was in handcuffs. “Madelyn?” the female officer asked me, getting to her feet. “I’m Officer Dunn. I had my partner pick you up. Cheryl says
she’s your mom…Is that true?”

“Yes. What happened?”

“She ran a stop sign, and before we could pull her over, she plowed her car into a tree.”

“She was
driving
?” I’d had no idea she’d taken the car.

Officer Dunn (6-3-2054) nodded. “She was behind the wheel of a black Thunderbird, registered to her and a Scott Fynn.” I winced. That car had been my dad’s pride and joy.
“She was muttering when we pulled her from the car,” Dunn continued. “Something about finding money in the cookie jar, and taking the car out to celebrate.”

I put a hand over my mouth. Ma had found the money Donny had given me. “How bad is the car?”

Officer Dunn shook her head. “I’m no insurance adjuster, but I’d say it’s totaled.”

She didn’t have to be an expert. We had no insurance, because with Ma’s record, we couldn’t afford even the most basic policy. “Can you let me take her home?” I
thought I might be able to coax Ma onto the bus if Officer Dunn would take pity on us and let Ma go.

“Afraid not,” said Dunn. “Your mom’s going to be staying with us for quite a while.”

I bit my lip and looked at the officer. She had such a look of compassion on her face that it hurt. “It was my fault,” I told her. “Ma never drives, and I was the one who hid
the money in the cookie jar.”

The officer shook her head sadly. “Madelyn,” she said, “I’m the daughter of an alcoholic, too. It took me years of therapy and two failed marriages to realize that
it’s
never
our fault. Your mom’s sick. She has a disease, and she needs help.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “Then let me take her home! I promise, I’ll get her some help!”

But Dunn wasn’t budging. “I’ve asked your mom for your dad’s number, but all she’d give me was your name and where you went to school.”

“My dad’s dead. He died in two thousand four.”

Dunn winced. “Oh,” she said. “Sorry, honey, I didn’t know.”

I wanted so bad for her to give us a break and let Ma go, and I thought maybe she’d feel extra sorry for me if she knew that Dad had also worn blue. “He was Brooklyn PD. He died in a
shootout with some drug dealers.”

Officer Dunn eyed me sadly, then turned to look at Ma, who muttered something and shifted in her seat. I could see she had a fat lip and a cut above her cheek, but otherwise she didn’t
seem to be physically hurt. Just very, very drunk. Turning back to me, Dunn said, “Yeah, I think I remember that. Let me guess, though: your mom started drinking after your dad
died?”

I nodded.

“Mine started right after my grandmother died. They were really close and Mom didn’t know how to deal.”

“There’s nobody else besides us,” I told her, pointing back and forth between me and Ma.

“No grandparents?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Aunts? Uncles?”

“My Uncle Donny. But he lives all the way in Brooklyn.”

“Can he take you in?”

And then I knew. I knew they weren’t going to let Ma go, no matter what I said. “No,” I said. “I’m not supposed to leave town.”

Her brow furrowed and then she really seemed to look at me. “Hold on,” she said. “
You’re
the girl the feds have been looking at along with that Schroder kid,
right?”

I hung my head in shame. Now she knew everything. Now she would judge me, too, and next she’d probably be on the phone to CPS setting up some foster care for me. But when I looked up she
was eyeing me curiously. “I’ve heard about you,” she said. “My best friend went to see you about a year ago. She was worried about her dad. He was sick in the hospital, and
the doctors were telling her to prepare for the worst. They said he wouldn’t make it through the night. You told her that her dad was going to live another ten years. Damn if that old man
didn’t make a full recovery, and he’s been running circles around the rest of us ever since.”

“I didn’t do it,” I whispered. For some reason I was desperate for her to believe me. The rest came out in a rush. “I didn’t hurt anybody, and neither did
Stubby—Arnold. Mrs. Tibbolt came to see me, and she showed me her kids, and I only tried to warn her. And then we saw Payton at a football game, and I saw her deathdate, and I told Stubby
about it, and he wanted to save her. That’s why he tried to talk to her. He was trying to save her. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and neither would I. I swear!”

Dunn’s eyes widened a little at the tumble of words, but she was nodding. “I haven’t worked the case, but from what I hear, the feds are far from having an airtight case. How
old are you, Madelyn?”

I swallowed hard and wiped my eyes. “Sixteen.”

The officer sighed. “Well, technically, you’re old enough to be on your own with a guardian’s consent, but personally, I think it’d be better for you to stay with someone
else.” I stared at her in disbelief. Could that really be true? Had all my worry over CPS taking me away been for no reason? “Do you have any friends who might take you in while we get
this sorted out with your mom?” Officer Dunn continued.

“Not really,” I said. I knew that Stubby’s mom would let me stay with her if I asked, but I hated to be a burden on her now that her son was in jail because of me.

Dunn sighed and stood up, hooking an arm under Ma’s shoulder she lifted her to her feet and managed to get Ma to shuffle toward the door. “Call your uncle, honey, and tell him
you’ll be home alone and that your mom needs a lawyer. A good lawyer because this is her third DUI, and she’ll be facing some serious jail time. Then tell him to move here if he can.
You need support and probably some good counseling. Leaving you on your own while you’re trying to juggle the investigation and school is a little much, and I’d hate to see you end up
like your mom someday.”

She moved Ma out the door, and I had to suppress a shudder. I’d never end up like Ma. Never.

But then, did Ma ever think she’d end up like this?

I called Donny and got his voice mail. I tried his office, and his secretary told me he was in court. She promised to get the message to him the moment he checked in, and I was
left to pace the floor. And then I couldn’t take it anymore. I called Mrs. Duncan, and she told me she’d be right there. True to her word, she arrived at the police station within
twenty minutes, carrying a brown paper lunch bag and a thermos. She’d made me a meatloaf sandwich and hot chocolate. I wanted to hug her.

Midway through lunch, Donny called me back. When I told him about Ma, he hit the roof. I’d never heard him so angry, and even though I knew he wasn’t mad at me, I found myself
getting defensive. Finally, he seemed to rein in his temper and he told me to sit tight, that he’d get to the station as soon as he could.