Castles On The Sand Part 24

"Right. Good luck."

"Thanks," he says. He doesn't look me in the eye, and I sense as he opens the conference room door, that he just wants to escape.

I do my best to act casual when we emerge from the conference room. Ryan is gone, and Siraj is busy at his computer. "I better not see blood when I turn around," he says. "I'm a librarian. I like the quiet life."

Alex ghosts on past on his way out. I sit down in my seat.

"You realize that you just put yourself alone in a room with a boy who smashed up a police car less than two weeks ago?"

"He's fine."

"Well, you may not be aware of this, but bas.h.i.+ng police cars in public is frowned upon in this culture. That is why the USA made my short list of countries to emigrate to."

"Everything's fine, okay? He thinks it's all a joke. Kailie's only hurting herself. It's all under control."

"You call this under control?"

"Did Ryan say anything before he left?"

"Only that he would corroborate my story in a report to the police."

"No, come on-"

"You are a good friend. Too good. I am going to do this, and I'm not asking for your permission."

Great, I think.

At the end of the day, someone walks into the library just as we're about to close. I look up to tell them to come back tomorrow, but it's Kailie. Her arms are folded tight and her expression is serious.

"You okay?" I ask her.

She glares at me, then looks at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Did you get in trouble?"

"I got a warning, from the police."

"Well, I'm sorry about that."

Siraj makes a disgusted noise.

I finish clearing up my works.p.a.ce and shoulder my backpack. With a wave goodbye to my boss, I take her by the arm and head outside. "Why do you have to do stuff like that?" I ask, once we're out of earshot of Siraj.

"Everybody loves you. No matter what. You're the perfect angel."

"Well, they don't hate me for stuff I didn't do."

"I need your help with something."

"Yeah, sure. Anything."

"I want to go see Kirsten, but I don't want to go alone."

"I can go with you."

There's more sunlight this evening than there has been in the past few weeks. It's actually noticeable today, and the air's a little warmer too.

But Kailie is all wrapped up emotionally. Her expression is tense and she only looks at the ground in front of her as we walk towards my neighborhood. It isn't like her at all.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Mmm."

"No seriously. You okay? You need anything?"

"It's fine. Don't worry."

If our roles were reversed, she'd throw her arm around me and try to physically shake me out of my mood. I don't dare try that with her. She doesn't seem like she'd appreciate it. Or maybe that's just me being a coward, but she seems like she's in a darker place than usual.

I'm glad it's a short walk past my house to Kirsten's. Even though there's more light at this hour than last week, the tall trees cast shadows slightly darker than twilight. The lights are on in Kirsten's house and a shadow moves across one of the windows.

Kailie hugs herself more tightly and stops at the edge of the yard.

I stop with her and wait to see what she wants to do next. It's a little hard to see in this light, but I get the impression that she's looking the house over, at the junked out yard, at the big patch of gray stucco and the screen hanging loose from one of the windows.

"You want to go in?" I ask.

"I dunno."

"Listen, is everything all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You want to spend the night at my place?"

"Um... could I?"

"Yeah, of course. Come on, and if you want to visit your sister later, you can." Now I do put my arm around her shoulders and I notice how bony she is. "And I'm hungry," I say. "You hungry?"

"Yeah." That comes out as a whisper.

She leans her head on my shoulder and I lean my cheek against her forehead and we make our way back to my house. I stop to check the mailbox and find a letter addressed to me, which I tuck in my pocket.

Once inside the house, I open the fridge, get out all the bread and sandwich fixings, lay them out on the counter. Kailie makes herself one sandwich and eats it before I'm even done spreading mayonnaise on mine. I excuse myself to go read my letter, knowing that will make it easier for her to eat as much as she needs.

The envelope is plain and white and my address is typed. There's no return address. The letter inside, though, is printed on heavy, cream colored paper with "Wilkstone Foundation" embossed at the top. When I unfold it, my check flutters to the floor. I stoop to pick it up and see that someone's written "VOID" across it.

Dear Ms. Lukas, The Foundation has reviewed your family's financial situation and has elected to award forbearance of rent for six months. Thus, no more rent payments will be required for the next three months, at which point the Foundation will review your family's situation once again.

Sincerely, The Board of Directors cc: LLW RMW.

AWK.

JDW.

Forbearance? I wish I could Google what that word means. I fold up the letter, stick it in my pocket, and get out my phone.

"Hey, gorgeous," John answers.

"What does forbearance mean?"

"In what context?"

"Rent. Paying rent."

"It means you don't have to pay it. How'd you score that?"

"The landlord gave it to us. Mom must've applied for it or something."

"That's a relief."

"Yeah."

"How're things?"

"Normal."

"Mom still being cold to you?"

"Yeah, that's normal. It's that or rage, and I prefer cold."

"Are you sure you're safe? I-"

"Listen, everyone's been saying that my whole life. Don't you start too."

"Fine, sorry. Everything else all right?"

I lower my voice. "Kailie's gone on another of her hate campaigns against me-"

"By another you mean to say this is a recurring thing?"

"And everyone says I'm stupid for staying her friend. But the thing is, no one else knows her like I do. Mom doesn't care. Her parents are really strict and kinda cruel, and she doesn't have a whole lot of other friends." These words sound strange as I say them, but I realize they're the truth. Kailie's popularity has taken a real hit over the years. "Something's wrong in her life. Really wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"I think her parents are abusive."

"Okay... you should not be dealing with that on your own."

"There's no one else-"

"Not a high school counselor?"

"No. She'd never talk to a counselor."

"The police?"

"I'm not gonna talk to the police." I think of how Officer Li handled Alex's mother.

John exhales right into the phone with a blast of static. "Okay," he says. "You know the situation better than I do. I'll trust your judgment. Call me anytime you need."

"Thanks, I probably will. Love you."

"Love you too, Sis."

Back out to the kitchen, Kailie's polis.h.i.+ng off another sandwich. I finish making mine without even glancing at hers, though from how much bread is gone, she's scarfed at least three, and as soon as I sit down, she stays in her seat and does not go to make herself another, though I suspect she could eat it. I convince her to split a bag of potato chips with me. Her eyes seem so big and her skin translucent.

At just after seven, the doorbell rings. Kailie looks up from the bag of chips and her eyes widen a little.

"Stay here," I say.

I go to open the door, just enough to peer out, and I wedge my foot against it so that it'd be hard to push open any further.

Mr. Beale stands on the doorstep. "Kailie here?" he asks.

For a moment, I debate how to answer that. "I've asked her to help me with something."

"We need her to come home." He doesn't even look at me, just stares at the door as if willing himself to have x-ray vision.

"No," I say.

That gets him to look at me. "Beg pardon?"

"No. I need her for something."

His face folds into a scowl and he looks me up and down, as if sizing up how much trouble I might give him if he tries to force his way in.

I wedge my foot more firmly, crus.h.i.+ng my own toes.

"Madison, I'm worried about her. Nothing we do seems to make the slightest impression, and I know you'll deny it, but she's done criminal things to you in the last week."

"Just let her stay here tonight. One night."

"Coddling her-"

"I'm not going to get her for you."

He breathes out a sigh of disgust, looks the house over, and stalks away, casting several angry glances back at me as he goes to his car and starts the engine.