Grandpa looked up when I entered. I didn’t walk all the way to his desk. I stood just inside the doorway, as if I wanted to be able to make a quick getaway.
“Hey,” he said. “You need something?”
Where should I begin? I thought. Yes, I needed plenty. I needed my parents back. I needed Willie back. I needed to be told that everything for years was just a bad dream, and I needed to be promised that I wouldn’t see so much sadness during the rest of my life. I shouldn’t be afraid of tomorrow or afraid of any more than anyone else.
“Aaron’s picking me up for school tomorrow,” I declared. “I don’t need the driver to take me.”
I tried to sound as tough and determined as I could, like someone who had firm control of her own life, but every muscle in my body tightened in anticipation of his burst of anger at my declaring what I was going to do without even pretending to ask his permission. It wasn’t like him to be silent. His face seemed to harden into cement. He didn’t grimace; he didn’t raise his eyebrows. The silence awoke butterflies of panic in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I should just turn and leave or wait for him to speak.
Finally, he sat back. “I seem to recall a rule requiring a student’s parent or guardian having to give permission for her to ride in another student’s car. That’s why I was surprised today when you came home with Aaron Podwell.”
“You only have to give permission if I leave before the school day ends.”
“I see. So is this going to become a regular thing?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It could be.”
I could see a wave of sadness wash over his eyes and pass through his face. That took me by surprise, and for a moment, I felt sorry for my tone and attitude. But I was determined not to be treated like a little girl anymore. He nodded to himself and almost smiled. “Your grandmother warned me,” he said. “She said you’d suddenly grow into a young lady, practically overnight, and I’d better be prepared to hold my breath. She said it would be scarier than riding a bull in the rodeo.”
“There’s nothing scary about it, Grandpa. I’m not getting married or anything.”
“What’s anything mean?” he shot back, and then shook his head. “Okay. I’ll tell Bill to take tomorrow off. We’ll play it day by day.”
I started to turn to leave but stopped. “By the way, I think the poisoned boy’s name is Mickey,” I said. “Have your detective check it out.”
Before he could say anything, I turned and walked out, practically running up to my room to call Aaron, who answered on the first ring, as if he had been hovering over the telephone.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Great. I’ll take you home, too, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Maybe one afternoon, we can take a ride to Butler Heights and have one of those famous waffle cones. It’s about an hour each way, but it’s worth it.”
“The cone or going with you?”
“Ha-ha. So how is the boy?” he asked. I was glad he didn’t say “William.”
“I think he uttered his real first name in a dream. I heard him when I was walking by my brother’s room.”
“What was it?”
“Mickey.”
“Mickey? Sounds like a nickname. It could be Michael or something. People don’t list their nicknames on official documents.”
“Oh,” I said with a little disappointment.
“Or . . . just maybe he was named after Mickey Mantle. Find out if he’s a Yankees fan,” he said. I knew he was joking now, but a lead was a lead.
“Maybe I will. Thanks.”
He laughed. “Okay, then, less then twelve hours.”
“Until?”
“I see you,” he said.