“Where’s Pixie?” My throat still sounded scratchy to me. I took a sip of the water that was at the side of my bed.
“She’s at home.” He jangled as he walked closer.
“She’s okay?” It seemed like the cop was reluctant to talk about it with me.
“Mmhmm. Hey, can I ask you a few questions?” The cop looked at my arms and neck.
“You came all this way, so I guess so.” I put my glass of water back. I was getting angry at not having more information about Pixie. And why I was in here? I mean, I figured it’d be about my father. Anytime I was hurt it was usually his fault. I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t remembering more.
“So, on the night you got hurt, can you tell me what went down?” He pulled out his phone and put his attention on me expectantly.
I didn’t know. I didn’t know what had happened to me. Panic spread through my body. I glanced out the window. I’d assumed I’d been here for a day or so. Well, there was the time I woke, but the lights were always on. I didn’t remember a dark time.
“How long have I been here?”
The cop flipped through a few screens on his phone. “About two weeks tomorrow. So thirteen days.”
“I...I don’t know. It’s...I mean, I had school.” I stopped talking and focused on a tile on the floor. It was like my memories were a puzzle piece and someone else was holding the box so I didn’t know where it fit.
And I didn’t like this feeling of going in blind with a cop. I had secrets I had to keep. Pixie’s mom and Bic going away a lot. Bruce losing his temper a lot. The bills getting paid by my grandfather.
“I don’t remember how I got here.” And that was the truth. It was ingrained in me to come up with excuses if I got asked by a teacher or someone about something that would get people sniffing around my apartment.
But I had no good answers. I didn’t even know how much had been done to me. Thirteen days.
“Okay. That’s fair. You’ve been through a lot. I have to share that Pixie has told us a lot. About what happens at your apartment.”
That information shocked my heart to a stop. My whole body felt the word WHAT!
“That it’s hard to get your dad to be reasonable when he’s mad. You know that’s not your fault, right? Pixie told us you never hit back or anything, and your father went way overboard with what he thought was discipline. We know he drinks too much. I’ve asked the neighbors, so I just need to have you corroborate that information, and then I can get on my way for today.” He rocked back on his heels like everything he just said was a checkmark on a form he was filling out. Not like it was everything I’d been so desperate to hide wasn’t spread out for show and tell by my best friend.
I knew what happened when Bruce went apeshit. I also knew that I’d been taken away from him when I was eight. He took a few parenting classes, and then when he got me back, he threatened the hell out of me if I said anything. Though at that time I didn’t know what I had said that had tipped people off.
If Bruce was in jail, I had no Pixie. And she knew that. And she ratted me out anyway. I felt a thickness in my throat as the edges of my eyes filled up.
“Hey, buddy. It’s not your fault. Bruce shouldn’t be hurting you.” Compassion flashed over his face.
I shook my head. I wanted the cop gone. I wanted Pixie here. I wanted to go back to my normal. The wetness at the corners of my eyes became full-blown tears down my cheeks.
“Hey. This looks a lot like Officer Sam on my patient that needs to stay calm and heal.” A nurse I had not seen before stepped between the cop and me.
“Pam. Nice seeing you again. So crazy that when I came back to talk to Pixie she was mysteriously gone. You know how she got from here to her house so easily?”
I couldn’t see the cop’s face, but the nurse’s shoulders pushed back and she stood up taller. “Just a mystery.”
“So you know, I had concerns about her homelife as well. I was pretty worried about her until I saw her the next day. How about you and I communicate better in the future?”
The nurse folded her arms and swung her one hip so I could see the officer. He peeked around her to me. “Gaze, in the next few hours a social worker will be coming by to ask you some questions. Right now, your dad is still in jail and we’re having trouble finding a relative to manage your guardianship. Do you have any relatives that can step up?”
I pictured my grandfather and his fancy house and how unwelcome I was there. That he was willing to pay for me after Pixie threatened him.
The thought of Pixie’s name was a knife right in my heart. Not Pixie. She could never betray me. But she did. She told the cop everything I never wanted anyone to know.
_______________
The social worker was a kind woman who seemed very busy. After introducing herself as Mrs. Josephine, she had to make two phone calls and answer three emails during our interview. I didn’t offer any connections to my grandfather because I didn’t want to see him again. He had a choice and he picked to just support me from afar. When she finally settled in, it was almost time for another round with the breathing specialist.
“Okay, Gaze. Your father has been denied bail, and considering the nature of your injuries, we don’t think he’s a viable option for you as you heal.” She had a manila envelope and flipped through some pages. “We’ve actually had some developments that are slightly out of the ordinary. Yesterday, I had a judge call me and recommend a set of people to be your foster guardians during this difficult time. They have two sons and a daughter, and on paper they seem great. They very specifically want you. Do you know them?”
She handed me a picture of a family that looked like they came in a frame that you bought at the store. They were in front of a nice house and even had a cocker spaniel sitting next to the boys. “Never saw them before in my life.” I wanted to shrug, but everything involving my shoulders hurt.
“Well, they have to go through the interview process, but assuming everything goes well, you could stay with them while we work out what’s happening with your father.” She bent her neck to the side and it made one side of her hair appear longer than the other.
“Where do they live?” I pictured the ramp, the endless time with Pixie.
“Just outside of Poughkeepsie. You’d have to transfer schools, but they have an amazing basketball team. The coach there also put in a good word for the foster family and seemed excited to see you play—after you’ve healed completely, of course.” She scanned the paper again, like she was trying to figure out how everything came together.
“I want to go home.” That was the truth. I wanted to figure out what the hell had caused Pixie to tell everyone everything.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve got to tell you, honestly, you’re not going back to home as you know it. I mean, barring something very strange, your father is going to have to do some time.
“What if I say he didn’t do it. It wasn’t him?” I was grasping at straws.
“The only other person at the scene was a twelve-year-old girl. Are you saying she’s the one that did this to you? Because that’s what your father said, too.” She bit the side of her mouth.
Dad had tried to pin my beating on Pixie. I didn’t remember anything, but I knew his handiwork. It was him. Of course. Pixie would never hurt me...well, except for the betrayal part.