Part 19 (1/2)

My mom's bottom lip puckers out.

”Sadie will read us the riot act if we don't let her go with the other kids,” my dad continues. ”You know that as well as I do.”

My mother nods a small unwilling okay to me. She watches me and Nat walk up the switchback. I know she's worried about Natalie, like always, but there's something else in her eyes-something I'm not used to seeing She's worried about me too.

In the distance, the boarding whistle blows and the buck sergeant hollers last call. I hear the clickety-click of her high heels as she runs down to the dock, clutching her music bag in one hand and keeping her hat on her head with the other.

Natalie walks along at her own pace oblivious to the gusty wind that picks up a leaf and blows it against her cheek. She operates out of her own coc.o.o.n, which she takes with her wherever she goes. She doesn't follow me, lead me, or walk by my side but seems to drift along like we are caught in the same gust of wind. I explain we'll be visiting Piper. I tell her if she's good, I will bake her a lemon cake.

She appears to be ignoring me, but then I hear her say almost to herself, ”No bake.”

I laugh. Natalie knows I can't cook. I once tried to bake her alphabet cookies and they were so hard you could shoe horses with them.

When we get to the warden's mansion I ring the bell several times before w.i.l.l.y One Arm opens the door with Molly on his shoulder. ”It's Moose,” he calls out.

Nat looks up from her shoes, directly at the mouse. ”Mouse,” she whispers, her voice loaded with excitement.

”Let him in.” I hear Buddy's voice in the background. w.i.l.l.y One Arm scoots out of the way. Buddy and Piper are playing checkers in the living room. From the number of gla.s.ses, empty plates, and crumpled napkins on the table, it looks like a marathon tournament. Piper is studying the board. So many wisps of hair have come free from her ponytail that there can't be much back there anymore. It looks as if she slept in her clothes.

Right now, the island is being scrubbed and s.h.i.+ned from one end to the other in preparation for the visit of the head of the FBI. Just this morning I heard the warden chewing out a.s.sociate Warden Chudley because the whitewall tires on the Black Mariah weren't brand-spanking clean and there were dead plants in the flower beds. So why would the warden's own house be in such disarray?

w.i.l.l.y One Arm walks back to his seat at the dining room table, where he has a long list of numbers in front of him. His hands are busy s.h.i.+ning a pair of shoes-probably the warden's-while his eyes scan the list of numbers.

”Mouse,” Natalie says.

”Molly,” w.i.l.l.y One Arm mumbles.

Nat's eyes are glued to Molly, who sits on One Arm's shoulder as if she's supervising his work.

I position myself between the two rooms so that I can see both Natalie and Piper.

I know Piper sees me here, but she ignores me.

”Could we talk?” I ask her as the sound of a bell tinkles from the kitchen.

Buddy Boy shoves his feet in his shoes. He fishes his tie out of his s.h.i.+rt pocket and tosses it over his head, s.h.i.+mmying the knot up beneath his Adam's apple as he heads for the kitchen.

Piper watches him, a hollow look in her eyes. ”Go away,” she says.

”Really, Piper. We have to talk,” I tell her.

She glares at me. ”No, we don't.”

I walk over and sit down on a nearby chair, then scoot it over so I can still see Natalie. She and the mouse are transfixed as if they have just discovered something significant in common.

Piper pushes the wisps of hair out of her face with the heel of her hand. Her foot fidgets, and she glances up in the direction of the bell.

”Come on, Piper. Please. This is important,” I tell her as Natalie reaches her hand out to Molly, who scampers onto her palm. w.i.l.l.y One Arm looks up from his page. His hand hovers over the mouse, as if he's ready for her back, but Natalie has her face right up close to Molly, whispering urgently to her.

”Give the mouse to w.i.l.l.y,” I tell Natalie.

”Her name is Molly,” Nat mutters.

”Give Molly back,” I say, turning my attention toward Piper.

Piper continues to study the checkerboard as if it is endlessly interesting. ”Please, can we talk outside?” I ask.

”What do you want to talk about?”

”It's private.” I motion with my thumb to the door.

”I'm busy,” she says, but her voice is thick as if she has a cold.

”When will you be free?” I ask as Buddy Boy comes back from the kitchen.

”Is Mommy okay?” Piper asks in a small voice.

”She is.” Buddy smiles warmly at her. ”Don't you worry, Piper my girl. She's just fine.”

Piper seems to take this in. It perks her up considerably.

I try again to catch her eye, but she ignores me. She's clearly not in any mood to talk today, plus it feels creepy in this house and I want to be out of here.

”Let's go, Natalie. Give Molly back,” I tell her.

Natalie is petting the mouse with one finger, across her head and down her back, across her head and down her back, the exact same route each time.

”Natalie, please,” I wheedle.

But every fiber of Natalie's being is focused on petting Molly.

w.i.l.l.y One Arm looks up from his numbers, slips his hand around the mouse, and slides her into his s.h.i.+rt pocket in one greased motion.

Uh-oh. I'm not sure how Nat's going to take this. Once she smacked a guy who messed with her b.u.t.tons-punched him right in the kisser. The guy wasn't hurt, but my mother was mortified. She gave the man twenty whole dollars on the spot and begged him not to press charges.

”C'mon, Natalie,” I plead, wis.h.i.+ng I could grab her and carry her out of there. ”We can see Molly tomorrow.”

”Tomorrow. We can see Molly tomorrow,” Nat mutters.

”That's right, Natalie,” I say.

And then as if a circuit switch flips inside Natalie's brain, her face relaxes, her shoulders ease down to where they're supposed to go, and she trails after me.

I open the front door and we troop out, but before I get the door closed, Piper slips outside with us.

”I thought you wanted to talk?” Piper asks innocently, as if I were the one refusing.

”I do,” I tell her as I sit on the steps. Piper leans against the house and Natalie rocks on one foot, as if this motion is endlessly interesting.

I take a deep breath. ”I don't know how to say this . . . but did you have anything to do with getting my dad and Mr. Mattaman on probation?”