Part 19 (1/2)

She knew nothing about Mama. Or Cherries in the Snow.

”Forget it. It's just-” She began studying the map again. ”Forget it. Here, give me your phone.”

I didn't know what to do for a second; then I fished Haven's phone out of my bag and handed it to her.

”I'll add my number just in case you-you screw up and need me to bail you out.”

I watched as she busied herself setting up the phone for me.

When she was finished, she handed the phone back. ”I guess you're ready.”

I took it. And still didn't say anything. There was a long stretch of quiet.

And then it got a little longer.

Finally, Mace looked up at me. ”Do you-do you want me to come wi-”

I shook my head.

She looked down again and got busy in her backpack. ”Here.” She pulled a bright-pink water bottle from her bag and held it out. I just stared at it.

”It has a filter, so you can drink water from anywhere and it won't be gross. My mom always says a body can handle just about anything as long as it's properly hydrated.”

I took the water, because taking it just somehow felt like the only way I could actually give her something.

There was nothing more to say. She folded the map and handed it to me, then picked up the phone to call for a cab.

I held the map tightly.

Like it was filled with answers, and I didn't want a single one to escape.

thirty-eight.

The cab was easy. Maybe it was too early, but the cabdriver wasn't super-talkative, so I didn't have to hear stories about wooden legs or crazy relations or anything. She just said, ”Sure, I know the place. Real easy to pa.s.s. Unless you know what to look for, you'll never see it coming.” Other than that, she stayed quiet. Truth is I could have used the distraction. I tapped my fingers against the window, until the cab took a sudden turn and pulled to a stop. It was just like she'd said: If you hadn't known it was there, you'd never have seen it coming. It was barely a road. Mostly dirt, with a crooked path leading into rough land that was part open and part small woods.

”What number did you say?”

”You can just drop me off at the entrance,” I said, reaching for the money Mace had given me. I needed a minute to get my thoughts together. I didn't want to just pull right up to 39 Red Cedar Road in a big noisy cab, demanding to see my Not Dead Mama.

”Sure thing,” said the taxi driver. She watched me for a second. ”I'm just finis.h.i.+ng up a s.h.i.+ft, so I'll be visiting my girlfriend at the diner just a ways down the street. If I'm still around when you want a ride back, just look for me there. Okay?”

I had no idea how long I would be. Or even if I would just end up turning around and making a run for it. But I nodded and thanked her.

There were some spa.r.s.e trees on either side of the entrance, and the road was rubble and dirt. But I was used to dirt roads and this was Verity. The place I was born. DiDi never wanted to talk about the details of where we lived before we moved to Lori's town-only that we'd left after Mama died and it made her too sad to think about it. I hated making DiDi sad, so I never asked. I peered down the twisty length of Red Cedar Road.

Was this it? If I looked long and hard enough, would I see the sooty remains of a long-ago fire? Had there ever even been a fire? And was Mama still here?

I thought of our old place in Lori's town. I thought about Davey Dylan and his nine fingers, out poking around for snappers. The neighbors coming over with cookies for no reason at all. No one would've looked down on DiDi's job there. Why, they would've thought it was amazing that she worked in such a beautiful place with big windows painted in curly black letters and a fancy sofa that everyone called a divan. Not to mention free chocolate chip cookies and coffee all day long.

Would Red Cedar Road feel the same?

Would it feel like coming home?

A few steps in let me know that this trailer park was nothing like our old one. No big strong sign. No nicely kept flower boxes in the windows. No whites hung up to dry in neat rows on laundry lines. No early-morning couples having coffee and reading the paper in folding chairs.

This was different. This was the kind of place that DiDi would prefer I didn't go.

Our old place had clean homes in neat rows on paved streets. The trailers here looked beaten down by life, and Red Cedar Road dipped and turned. I wasn't sure how the taxi driver would have figured out how to find Number 39 even if she had driven in.

I made my way along the path best I could, watching the numbers on the trailers as I walked by... 3... 6... 9.

It was still pretty early. I didn't even know if anyone was up yet.

The path took a sharp turn into the trees.

12... 15... 18.

I realized I was humming the counting-by-threes song the librarians at my old school used to sing... 21... 24... 27... 30.

I stumbled over a rock and caught myself before I fell on my face. The road looked like it went down a hill where there were a few scattered homes.

I didn't see Number 39 right away. It was set back on the wooded side of the property in this sort of shady area. The numbers were hammered into a tree in front.

I reached out to touch them and all the What Ifs I'd been keeping quiet inside me started to break out. What if there had been a mistake? What if Mama hadn't died in that fire? What if she had run away and knocked her head and woken up in some strange hospital not knowing her own name or even that she had children? I imagined Mama sitting alone and not knowing who she was. Needing us. Not knowing how much we needed her.

I could hear my breath turning harsh and raspy.

I tried to calm myself and slow it down. But it only got louder.

I tried holding it.

... But it still didn't stop.

Instead, it turned into a low growl.

Coming from the shadow beside me.

I saw the dripping, snarling teeth first. Flattened ears and low tail. Then yellow eyes, glaring.