Susan Pfeffer - The Dead And The Gone

"I wish you well," Alex said. "Vincent de Paul will miss you."

"Thank you," Chris said. "I'm going to miss you, actually. You bring out the best in me. But that's not why I'm telling you any of this. Not for sentimental farewells. I've been avoiding those by not telling people we're leaving."

"What, then?" Alex asked.

Chris looked uncomfortable. Alex tried to remember if he'd ever seen Chris look quite that way before. "I know what's going on with your family is none of my business," Chris said, "but you know how it is. You hear things. Your father, he's not in New York, is he."

Alex shook his head.

"That's what I thought," Chris said. "I remembered from before all this happened, you mentioned he was in Puerto Rico for a funeral. Have you heard from him? Is he all right?"

"We think so," Alex said. "We can't be sure."

"No," Chris said. "It's hard to be sure about anything these days. My father says things are going to get a lot worse. He hears things. He and the mayor are very connected, so he hears things that way. And since he works in insurance, he knows a lot. Let's just say he has a better fix on what's going on than Father Mulrooney, and he's getting Mom and my sister and me out of here."

"How are you getting down to South Carolina?" Alex asked. "Are the planes flying again?"

"No, we'll be driving," Chris replied.

"You can do that?" Alex asked. "The radio says there are gas shortages."

"There's always gas if you have enough money," Chris said. "Gas, food, lodgings. Money and connections." For a moment, Alex thought he looked ashamed. "My father says that won't last much longer, either," he said. "He says pretty soon we'll be bartering. But for now, cash will suffice. That's one of the things I wanted to ask you about. How are you fixed? Do you have enough money? Your mother, is she working?"

Alex pictured Chris whipping out his wallet and handing him a twenty. The image nauseated him. "We're fine," he said. "We're probably in better shape than a lot of the guys here."

"Good," Chris said. "I'm glad to hear it. Look, I want to give you my father's card. He knows all about you. Five years of our butting heads, and you'd better believe he's heard about you. Frankly I've gotten a little tired of the lectures about the great Alex Morales and why can't I be more like him. My father's kept an eye on you for a while now. So he told me to tell you if you or anyone in your family needs something, something big, you should let him know. Don't bother him with the small stuff. But if it's really serious, and you'll know what really serious is, you should go to his office and see if he can help. Don't tell anyone else, though. Dad has a lot to do these days, and he told me this offer is only for you. Because your dad's away. And because he wishes I was more like you."

"Thank you," Alex said, taking the card from Chris. "I'm sure I won't have to bother your father. We really are doing okay."

"Good," Chris said. "One more thing. I hope you won't take this personally." He grinned. "Well, you will, but I'll say-it anyway. I've noticed you're one of those guys everyone likes and respects, but you don't seem to have any close friends here. Maybe you're close with the guys in your neighborhood and that's why. Anyway, I told Kevin to look out for you."

"Kevin Daley?" Alex asked. Kevin was runty and cynical, and Alex always assumed Chris kept him around for laughs. He couldn't imagine a less useful companion.

"Kevin knows things," Chris replied. "It's his gift. I don't know how he does it, but he always seems to know what's going on before anyone else does. Not just in school, either. Around the city. He's yours now. I won't be able to make use of him in South Carolina."

"Thanks, I suppose," Alex said. "And thanks for telling your dad about me. About my family."

"I hope Dad can help," Chris said. "Somehow I think Kevin's going to be more useful." He looked disconcertingly serious. "Well, good-bye, Alex. I hope things work out okay foryou. I hope your father gets home safely. You're in my prayers."

"You'll be in mine," Alex muttered. He took one last look at Chris Flynn, the boy who had it all, put the card in his pocket, and left the room. He was president of the junior class now, would undoubtedly be elected president of the senior class, and none of that mattered anymore. Nothing mattered, he thought, as he walked rapidly to the men's room. Not caring if anyone was there, he flung himself into one of the stalls and began to sob uncontrollably.

Thursday, June 2

The phone rang just as Alex was halfway out the door on his way to Vincent de Paul. His heart pounding with fear and excitement, he bounded across the living room and got to the phone on the second ring.

"Luis? This is apartment three J. My bathroom sink is leaking again. You need to put in a new washer."

Die, you old bruja, Alex thought, slamming the phone down without saying a word.

Friday, June 3

"I have an idea about Mami," Bri said with nervous pride as she, Alex, and Julie began a supper of spaghetti and red clam sauce. "About why she hasn't called."

"Maybe the phones aren't working where she is," Julie said. "Lauren says sometimes the phones work and sometimes they don't. Maybe Mami only calls when the phones aren't working."

"Who's Lauren?" Alex asked, trying not to take too much spaghetti. They still had food in the house, but their supplies were dwindling and he wasn't sure when they'd be able to replenish them or how. They all had lunch at school every day, but with the weekend coming, and the end of the school year not that far off, he wasn't sure how they'd manage.

"She's my best friend," Julie said, and oblivious to any food shortage, helped herself to seconds.

"I don't think it's the telephone," Briana said. "I don't know if phones are working all the time or not, but that's not why we haven't heard from Mami."

"Why, then?" Julie asked. "It's not like she doesn't know our number."

"That's it, exactly!" Bri said, looking happier and more excited than she had in weeks. "Maybe Mami has amnesia."

"Amnesia?" Julie said sarcastically.

Bri either didn't hear or didn't mind Julie's skepticism. "She could have got hit on the head that night," she said. "Or maybe seeing all the awful things shocked her. I don't know. But people do get amnesia. It happens on the soaps all the time. So Mami's all right, she isn't hurt, but she can't remember who she is or where she lives or anything. You can't call home when you have amnesia, and that's why we haven't heard from her. But one day she'll get her memory back. Maybe someone will hypnotize her or maybe she'll get hit on the head again, or she could be at Bellevue and someone from St. John of God will be there and recognize her, and then we'll hear from her. It could happen, couldn't it, Alex?"

Alex looked at Bri and couldn't bring himself to argue. "It would be a miracle," he said.

"But miracles do happen," Bri said. "So that's what I'm praying for. I'm praying to la madre and to St. Jude for Mami to have amnesia and regain her memory and come home."

"I'm praying to Joan of Arc," Julie said. "Don't we have any more spaghetti? I'm still hungry."

"That's it for tonight," Alex said. "You've had your fair share and then some."

"There's still a little left on my plate," Bri said. "You can have it, Julie."

"No," Alex said. "Eat what's there, Bri. So Julie, why are you praying to Joan of Arc?"

"She's a saint, too," Julie grumbled. "If Bri isn't hungry, why can't I have her food?"

Because you didn't take enough from the bodega! Alex wanted to shout. Because Bri can't be expected to starve herself just so you don't feel a hunger pang.