Shattered Castles 1 : Castles on the Sand (21 page)

This whole afternoon, watching a family that has so much that is obviously wrong with it, I'm shocked by the feeling that underneath it all, Alex and his mother have it fundamentally right. You're supposed to love each other this much. You're supposed to cry when you think of the other person being hurt. I wonder if my brother would cry like this if I got locked up in a mental hospital.

I know the answer before I can even complete the thought. Yes. He would. He barely knows me, but I know that if I don't call him to tell him I'm okay in a few minutes, he really will call around Pelican Bluffs to get people to help him find me.

“You pity me?” Alex asks. He says it with disgust, as if he's somehow beneath my regard and knows it.

I weigh my answer carefully. “I admire you.”

He snorts.

“No, I do. You've dealt with this all your life on your own. It's impressive. And just now, I mean, I get why you haven't been down here. Totally understand.”

“Do you even know how not to be nice?”

“Sure. I call you a jerk all the time.”

That earns me a laugh. He peers at me with one eye, still red from crying. “Yeah, but that's a compliment. I've deserved worse.” He sniffles and I pat my pockets for a tissue to give him. He takes it from me with a rueful smile. I can tell he hates having me see him like this. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it was an accident. And Officer Li-”

“Got her committed, but the psychiatrist evaluated her and said she's clearly not a risk to society. She could be discharged, but she doesn't have any near family to take custody.
I
can't have her back because I'm going to court for assaulting a police officer. She'd be home by now if I wasn't such an idiot.” He looks me in the eye. “Every time she asks me if she can go home, what am I supposed to say to her?”

“Well, if you get community service can you have her back?”

“Depends on whether the court trusts me to take care of her.”

“How can they not? She obviously trusts you. You've taken care of her all your life.”

He looks down.

I sense he's about to resume the not talking thing, so I cast about for a way to prevent that. “Listen, can I ask a nosy question?”

“Hmm?”

“Your family clearly has, um, means. I mean... you live bluffside. Why is she in a state funded place like this?”

He takes a moment to form his response. “Because we still don't know what's next. I don't know if we can bring her home again or if she'll have to be in a group home. And she's on Social Security Disability and then the family's money is in this, like, special needs trust thing.” He stuffs the tissue in his pocket. “We can't do anything without a lot of paperwork, basically.”

“What's a group home?”

“It's an-” he gestures at the empty air “-assisted living facility. A place where people who can't live by themselves live under supervision.”

“So that would be a better place? Better than here?”

He exhales a shaky sigh. “I dunno. The people who work at these facilities... I mean, it's not exactly a dream job, you know? The places sometimes have to take who they can get. People with no qualifications and no other options...”

“So,” I say, “not to be insulting, but...”

He looks at me.

I bite my lip. “Is it the kind of job you could get?”

He lowers his eyebrows, absorbing that, then looks at me as if I've just told him he won a million dollars. His posture relaxes. “Maybe.”

“Is it the kind of thing you could do for community service? Assuming that's what you get when you go to court?”

He shuts his eyes for a long blink, then stares out across the parking lot. “Yeah. I can always try, right?”

“It was just a thought.”

He nods to himself, then looks at me again. “We should get home.”

“Okay.”

“You need to call your brother, again?”

I pull out my phone and dial. “He said it wasn't worth his time to kill me,” I say when my brother picks up. Alex starts across the parking lot and I follow him.

“Okay, he's dead then. Tell him.”

“I'm not gonna pass on a death threat.”

Alex laughs.

“I love you,” says John.

“I love you, too.”

There's a long pause. “Thanks for calling.”

“I'll text you when I'm home.” We're at the car now.

I hang up and turn to see Alex scooping all of the Happy Meal toys into a plastic bag. At my curious look he says, “Yeah, she just needs to sort them, and then I throw them out.” He shrugs.

T
he next Monday, Kailie latches onto my arm after school. “Hey,” she says, “can I come to work with you today?”

“Come to the library?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

She's fidgety, which means something is on her mind.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. I'm fine. It's all good.”

But she keeps on fidgeting.

I try to think of something to say to distract her. “Did my nails yesterday,” I offer, holding out a hand.

“Very nice.” She glances, smiles, then looks away.

“Did my toenails too.”

“Cool.”

“You have to let me do yours sometime.”

“Yeah. Okay.” She is so distracted, though, that I'm not sure she even really hears me.

So I give up. We walk past Alex and the rest of his slacker friends and I wave to him. He nods back.

That gets Kailie's attention. “Um, what?”

It looks like Alex's friends feel the same way. They all look at him like he just keyed their cars. Apparently we each crossed some uncrossable social barrier.

I shrug and keep walking.

T
here's an email from John when I log into my computer.

Hi Madison,

Just checking in on you again. You need anything? How are things with Mom?

I love you,

John

I click open the reply box.

Hi John,

Things are okay, except yesterday we got a letter from our landlord saying we're three months behind on our rent. I don't know if we're going to get thrown out or what. I don't want to ask Mom about it because she hates talking about money stuff.

Love,

Madison

A chat window pops up.

John:
Mom's got financial problems?

Madison:
Yeah, always.

John:
You need help? You need money?

Madison:
Honestly? I have no idea. How long can you not pay before they throw you out? Should I be worried?

John:
Depends on the landlord, but I think legally they could right now.

That comes as a shock. Mom's had financial problems my whole life, but they've never made us starve or become homeless.

Madison:
Oh...

John:
You want me to send you some money? How much is your rent?

Madison:
No. I don't want to take your money. Rent is $300.00 a month.

John:
You mean $3,000.00

Madison:
$3,000? No way. Three hundred.

John:
You're kidding, right?

Madison:
No.

John:
$300 a month for a two bedroom within walking distance of the bluffs? SERIOUSLY? YOU probably make enough to pay off the rent balance.

Madison:
I have taxes and stuff to pay, so I don't know.

John:
Okay, listen, clearly you've got a landlord who isn't interested in money, or the house is on a nuclear waste dump or something. I can totally pay off the rent balance if you want me to. Get me the address to send the money and I'll do it. Mom never has to know.

Madison:
I don't want to take your money.

John:
$900 so my sister doesn't end up on the streets? That's nothing. What's the address?

I fidget for a moment. How can I find out the address? I look at Siraj, who is reading a flyer. “You need something?” he asks.

“Would you know the address of my landlord? To send rent to? I forgot to get it but I need it and-”

“The Wilkstone Foundation is easy. One Wilkstone Drive, Pelican Bluffs, you know the zip code. But they have a drop box,” says Siraj. “You don't even need to mail the letters to them.”

“Oh, okay.”

Madison:
I think I can afford it, actually. I'm gonna send the money in.

John:
You sure?

Madison:
Yeah. I'd feel bad about taking any of your money.

John:
I love you. Don't feel bad. Consider it rent for Black Bear. I'm YEARS overdue with that.

I giggle.

Madison:
Thanks. I'm gonna write a check right now.

John:
Anytime. I guess Mom is not selling a whole lot of pottery?

Madison:
I guess not.

John:
Yeah, it's been a rough month. My Etsy store's taken a hit.

Madison:
What's an Etsy store?

John:
Mom sell online at all?