How to Get Dirt (12 page)
Authors: S. E. Campbell
“
Does sound nice.
”
Pickles smiled.
“
Though I
don
'
t like
numbers.
”
As
Miranda
focused on the computer screen again
, Pickles
searched
around for the cell phone. Where
was
it? Normally, Miranda
laid
the cell phone beside her when she was working.
“
Did you need something, Pickles?
”
Miranda asked.
“
You normally read during this time.
”
“
I was wondering if I could play with the games on your cell phone. A girl in my class showed me how,
so
I was hoping I could borrow yours.
”
When Pickles said
“
a girl in my class,
”
Miranda gazed
at her again with glowing eyes
. She dug around in her jeans
,
pulled out her cell phone
,
and
handed it
over
.
“
It
'
s so
nice you
'
re
making friends,
”
Miranda said.
“
Have fun.
”
“
I will. Thanks.
”
With a pounding heart, Pickles
left the room
and went up the flight of stairs
to return
to her bedroom. She turned on the cell phone and scrolled through Miranda
'
s contacts.
Miranda had a lot of
contacts
. Probably at least a hundred. Suddenly, Pickles felt queasy. She couldn
'
t call all of these people.
I can
'
t call them, but I can send them a text.
Her eyes brightened. Mrs. Beazley had let her borrow her cell phone before. She
knew how to do this.
Pickl
es selected the message button.
It took her a long time to find each letter, but she
eventually managed to write,
Who are you?
She then selected every person o
n Miranda
'
s
contact
list and then hit the send button. A picture of a message with wings appeared on the screen,
making her grin
.
Within five seconds, the phone began to vibrate spastically as message after message from Miranda
'
s many contacts came pouring through. At first she was excited to see what she would find, but then she
realized she
had made a mistake as she read the responses.
“
What do you mean?
”
“
Miranda, did your phone get stolen?
”
“
Who is this?
”
“
I
'
m your client. You should know who this is. We talked yesterday.
”
“
Is this a joke?
”
“
Ha, ha. Very funny, Miranda.
”
Soon
the answers came pouring in faster than she could even read them. As she scroll
ed down the replies, some funny and
some not, she
realized not
one single person
had
told her who they were besides
Miranda
'
s clients
.
That
'
s because Miranda isn
'
t doing anything. She
'
s not like Prudence
'
s old foster parent. She
'
s special.
With a sigh, she
gazed
at the phone in her hand. She was going to have to
learn
how to delete these messages before Miranda
figured out
what she had done.
****
David came home that afternoon with a big box full of donuts. Pickles jumped
with
excitement when she
saw
them,
her mouth watering at the thought of the sugary jelly
.
“
You like donuts?
”
David asked, grinning at her.
“
I love donuts,
”
Pickles said.
Miranda struggled to her feet and shut her computer, grinning.
“
I don
'
t
think
a person alive doesn
'
t like donuts.
”
As Miranda rifled through the box
to select
one, David put his wallet down on the counter. Pickles watched him, waiting for him to put a cell phone down as well.
He has to have one.
Almost all the adults I
'
ve met do
.
“
Don
'
t you have a cell phone?
”
Pickles blurted out, before she could stop herself.
“
What is
it
with you
and
cell phones today?
”
Miranda asked, shaking her head.
A
smear of raspberry jelly
decorated one
cheek.
“
She spent all afternoon on mine.
”
Pickles just smiled, fighting down her nervousness.
“
I don
'
t have a cell phone,
”
David said.
“
I
'
m against them.
”
“
No cell phone?
”
Pickles felt her stomach sink.
“
Here we go,
”
Miranda said, leaning against the counter
while
grinning.
“
He
'
s about to rant. Grab a donut and run, Pickles.
”
David scowled but kept on going.
“
You see, cell phones are ending face-to-face conversation,
”
David said.
“
I don
'
t like that. I think it
'
s
ruining our old town values and standards.
”
Miranda held out a donut to Pickles
. Pickles grabbed it
with a grin for
Miranda. Miranda winked
at her
, took another bite of her own donut, and stared at David with a glazed expression on her face. Pickles felt guilt wash over her but turned to watch David finish his rant.
Â
Â
I don
'
t know what I
'
m going to do.
Suggestions one and two have both failed
.
Pickles rubbed her
hands together, nervously. She stared
down at her list. A part of her
thought
she would find
nothing on Miranda and David. They were just two nice people who took
her in
. She couldn
'
t imagine David kissing another woman or Miranda stealing money from somebody.
She frowned at the list and was just about to erase number two from the page when her door creaked open. She shut the notebook
, turned
around
,
and
saw Miranda
was at her door.
Miranda had a bright smile on her face
, but Pickles
thought
something
was
odd about her expression.
Her eyes didn
'
t sparkle the
way they
normally did.
“
Pickles, it
'
s
time for lights
out,
”
Miranda said, walking over to her.
“
Al
l
right, Miranda.
”
Pickles got up then hopped into bed and slid between the covers. Miranda tucked her in, smo
othing the sides of the blanket
out.
Miranda
then leaned forward
to peck
her on her forehead
.
Pickles shut her eyes and smelled her
comforting
fruity scent. Home. She truly felt like this place was home now. A
new
sense of
desperation
filled her. She w
anted to stay here for forever
. Even if it meant finishing the list, she was willing to do anything to do that
â¦
“
Pickles,
”
Miranda said, drawing Pickles out of her thoughts.
“
Yeah.
”
“
You
know I
love you, right?
”
Miranda asked.
Joy and guilt mingled together as one. Miranda had never told
her she
loved her before. In fact, no foster parent had. The only
person she
had ever heard those words from was Mrs. Beazley.
“
I love you too,
”
Pickles said, tears filling her eyes.
“
I
'
m glad.
”
Miranda leaned over the bed
to smooth
down her hair. Pickles sighed happily.
“
You
know you
can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all?
”
Once again, the guilt was powerful enough to make her feel sick. A big part of her wanted to unload all of her worries and tell Miranda about the list, but when she tried to speak, her tongue felt like a big, fat slug. She was scared of what Miranda would say. She didn
'
t want Miranda to tell
her she
was going to have to take her back when the baby was born. She didn
'
t want Miranda to think
badly
of her because she had been so desperate.
“
Do you have anything you would like to tell me
?
”
Miranda asked.
“
No, Miranda,
”
Pickles said, sighing.
“
I don
'
t
.
”
“
Okay, Pickles.
”
Miranda
glanced
down at her, and Pickles could
swear she
looked
disappointed.
Pickles
rolled to her side
,
but discovered
within minutes
that
she couldn
'
t sleep.
****
Item number four on the list was easier than number three. Search the house and the computers. She wasn
'
t even sure how she was going to get out of school at a rando
m time without being in trouble, but s
he
'
d worry about that later. Right now, though, it was two o
'
clock in the morning and she was still awake
. She also
knew Miranda
and David would never wake up at this hour.
She pulled the blankets off and tried to forget the memory of her earlier conversation with Miranda. That made her feel too guilty.
After climbing out of bed, she stole a frightened glance at Miranda and David
'
s door
, which stood slightly ajar
.
No sound came from inside, so
she
crept downstairs and into the living room.
She
began to methodically look through their books, under cushions, and through work papers. Nothing was out of
the
ordinary.
She opened up Miranda
'
s laptop and was stopped by the password. She didn
'
t have it. Shrugging, Pickles went back to searching through the stack of papers by Miranda
'
s computer. The most personal
thing she
found was
her
tax information, whatever that was.
Nothing. Pickles had found nothing
.
She
didn
'
t know whether she wanted to cry or leap for joy.
On entering
the kitchen, she
decided she was thirsty so she
gulped down a glass of water and then sighed
.
Just as she was about to head upstairs to go back to bed to think,
she heard
the sound of creaking. She
stared
up
and
leaped
backward into the counter when she saw David
coming
around the corner with a concerned expression on his face.
Dark circles had formed beneath his eyes making him look a little like a zombie.
“
Pickles?
”
he asked.
“
Are you okay?
”
She nodded, though she felt like crying.
“
Can
'
t sleep?
”
David asked.
Pickles shook her head.
“
I think I know just the thing.
”
David walked toward her, kneeled down, and then took her in his arms.
Like usual, he smelled of
woodsy
cologne.
Pickles wrapped her arms around his back as tears spilled down her cheeks. Being with this family felt so good. What was she going to do if she lost them?
When David pulled away from her, his eyes widened when he saw her tears.
“
What
'
s
wrong?
”
David asked.
“
I just have these bad dreams.
”
About losing you and Miranda.
“
I knew something was up
,
”
David said.
“
You
'
ve ha
d a hard life. Nobody can be soâ¦
composed.
”
“
Composed?
”
David shook his head, grabbed her hand, and the
n
squeezed it.
“
Tell you what, Pickles,
”
David said,
“
let
'
s do what Miranda always does when she
'
s upset.
”
Because Pickles had never seen Miranda upset, she wasn
'
t sure what that was.
David opened the freezer
and
pulled out a large tub of chocolate ice cream. He then also
grabbed
caramel and fudge from the refrigerator as well as some whipped cream. Pickles expected him to
retrieve
some bowls, but he didn
'
t.
Her
jaw dropped when he just grabbed two spoons and handed one to her. For
her
, it was a rarity to have ice cream during the day, let alone in the middle of the night.
“
What about bowls?
”
Pickles asked.
“
The number one rule about being upset
is you
have to eat ice cream
straight out of the container
,
”
David said, grinning.
“
And you have to be sloppy.
”
Pickles cocked her head.
“
Sloppy?
”
“
Yeah, like this.
”
Seizing the whipped cream, David pulled the top off of it and then made a massive layer of
white fluff on
top of the ice cream. He then poured more fudge and caramel than she had ever seen in her entire life
on top of the whipped cream
. Chocolate ice cream mi
xed
with whipped cream dripped onto the counter,
something Miranda
normally would have
been upset at
David
for, but he didn
'
t
appear to
care.
Instead,
he just grabbed his spoon
and
dug into the me
ss
.
T
hen
he
shoved a large bite
into his mouth. He shut his eyes
while moaning
,
“
Mmmmm. So good.
”
With a laugh,
Pickles
plunged her spoon in too and then slid it into her mouth. It was delicious, more d
elicious than any ice cream than
she had ever had before. Maybe it was because it was straight out of the container, the
way she
wasn
'
t supposed to
eat it. She ate bite after bite
until her stomach threatened to burst. Finally, her eyes grew itchy
.
She realized
that now more than ever what she wanted to do was sleep.
David watched her from over the quickly melting tub of chocolate ice cream. He picked up the ice cream, put on the lid, and slid it back into the freezer. He also put away the whipped cream and s
auces, but he ignored the brown
milky puddle on the counter.
“
You should be getting some sleep,
”
David said, checking his watch.
“
Come along, Pickles, my dear.
”
The two of them went up the stairs together. Pickles expected to part ways with him at her bedroom because that was what they usually did, but instead he followed her inside and tucked her into bed. Then he surprised her even more by lying at her side
while
hugging her in his arms. He still smelled like chocolate, which made her smile.
“
So
,
Pickles, tell me what
'
s upsetting you,
”
David said
sleepily.
“
Do you really want to know?
”
Pickles asked.
“
Uh-huh,
”
David said, as his eyes fluttered like butterflies.
“
I
'
m so scared of losing you that Iâ
”
David let out a massive snore
which
caused her eyes to widen. Though she still felt guilty, exhaustion won out this time
. With a sigh,
she shut her eyes
and
fell asleep too.