Patricia Bradley - Matthew's Choice

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NOAH BLINKED HIS eyes open and stretched his arms. The bed above him creaked, and seconds later a boy about his age popped his head over the side, his solemn brown eyes unwavering.

“You can’t have the top bunk. It’s ours.”

Noah glared at him. “I don’t want your old top bunk.” He hoped he fell out of it.

Another blond head popped over the side, and Noah rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing double? No, there were two of them—they wore different pajama tops. The new boy had stars on his pajamas.

“Don’t pay any attention to Lucas,” star man said. “I’m Logan. We’re twins. Why are you here? Our mom died and our dad got put in jail.”

Lucas nodded. “Nobody wanted us so they brought us here. Didn’t nobody want you, either?”

“I don’t have anyone but my mom.” Noah laced his fingers behind his head. “Doesn’t matter—I’m not going to be here long.”

“You’ll be here longer than you think.” Lucas swiped his nose with his white pajama sleeve. He poked his brother. “Come on. I smell breakfast.”

Both heads disappeared, and when the twins descended the ladder at the foot of the bed, Noah got a good look at them. They were identical down to the freckles across their noses, except for their pajamas. Logan was an astronaut. Noah squinted. Was that a sad donkey on the pajamas Lucas had on? Boy, did somebody know him.

“You coming?” asked Logan.

“I’m not waiting,” Lucas said and left, but Logan lingered.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Noah had to figure a way to get out of here. A few minutes later, after Logan had exited and when no plan on how to get past the locked door came to him, he sniffed the air. Definitely wasn’t bacon he smelled, more like sausage. Maybe there’d be some more of those biscuits like last night. Last night. His mom, so white, not saying anything. He threw back the blanket and scrambled out of bed. Miss Sarah might have heard something from the hospital.

Where were his shoes? He dropped to the floor and searched under the bed. They weren’t there. He fought to get his breath. He couldn’t leave if he didn’t have his shoes. Maybe they were with his clothes. He looked in the chair, where he’d neatly folded his shirt and jeans the night before. They were gone. The room spun. He fisted his hands. “No!”

“Noah, honey, what’s wrong?” Miss Sarah’s arms wrapped around him, and the spinning stopped.

“You took my shoes. And my clothes. Give them back. They’re mine.”

“Oh, sugar, I just put your clothes in the wash, and your shoes needed cleaning. You can have them back as soon as they’re dry.”

He gulped and searched her face. Her brown eyes smiled back at him. “You promise?” he whispered.

“No one’s going to take your things here, Noah. This is a safe place. It’s where your mom would want you to be.”

Miss Sarah was wrong about that. His mom was going to be so angry when she found out. If she found out. “Have...you heard if she’s okay?”

She shook her head. “We’ll call after breakfast. So, come on and let’s get some food in you.”

“Can you take me to see her?”

Her shoulders sagged. “Son, I wish I could, but I have to stay here at the shelter. I’ll call Jason later. Maybe he can take you.”

In the kitchen, the constant clanging from the dryer reassured him. They’d lived in a house once with a dryer, and when his mom put his jeans in it, the sound was the same. Logan and Lucas were already cleaning their plates. Lucas even eyed the three links of sausage on Noah’s plate. “Don’t even think about it,” Noah muttered as he slid into his chair.

Miss Sarah piled scrambled eggs onto Noah’s plate. “Want your biscuit buttered?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Noah bit into one of the links.

“He didn’t say the blessing.”

Logan punched his brother. “Knock it off.”

Noah kept eating. What was Lucas? The blessing boss?

“Now, Lucas,” Miss Sarah said, patting Noah on the shoulder. “He may have said a silent one.”

He shot the twin a ha-ha-ha smirk. Lucas would never be his friend, ’cause first chance Noah got, he was going to knock his block off.

Miss Sarah walked to the phone on the wall, her house shoes slapping against the floor. Noah held his breath as she dialed. Let his mom be awake. He repeated the prayer until she put the phone back in its cradle on the wall and turned to him.

“I’m sorry, Noah, but she’s still...asleep.”

Why didn’t she just say it? His mom was in a coma. Like before. If he could just get to her, tell her he was sorry and that he never should’ve left her, she’d wake up. He pushed back his plate.

“Honey, you need to eat to keep your strength up.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Can I have your sausage, then?” Lucas reached toward his plate.

“No!” Noah snatched the remaining link and bit into it. The taste nearly gagged him, but choking it down would be better than letting Lucas have it.

Miss Sarah placed another pan of biscuits on the table and the twins grabbed two each. “Boys, I have work to do in the office. You three behave until Brittany gets here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the twins said in unison. Noah kept chewing.

After Miss Sarah left, he turned to Logan. “Who’s Brittany?”

“She helps Miss Sarah.” Logan smeared strawberry jam on his biscuit.

“How long have you been here? I don’t remember seeing you in school.”

“That’s ’cause you always sit with your head down.” Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“So?” Noah sort of remembered the twins from the cafeteria.

Lucas leaned forward. “We’re not gonna be here much longer. Our dad’s gonna come get us.”

“I thought you said he was in jail.”

Lucas shot him a look of disgust. “He’s gonna break out. Boy, are you stupid.”

Noah’s hands curled into fists. Nobody was ever going to call him that again. “I’m not stupid. You’re stupid if you believe that.” He looked toward the door. “How are you gonna get out of here, anyway? Do you know the code?”

Lucas elbowed his brother. “Told you he was stupid. That ain’t no lock. It’s just something that tells when a door opens.”

“You’re kidding.” Noah’s mind raced. All he had to do was get his clothes on and walk out the door? He crammed the last of the sausage in his mouth and hurried to get his clothes from the dryer. They were almost dry and he quickly changed out of his pajamas.

“What’re you doin’?” Logan asked.

“What does it look like? Putting my clothes on.”

“You’re gonna run away.” Lucas’s voice raised a notch.

“Shut up.” Noah slipped into his still-warm jacket and headed toward the door.

Logan grabbed his arm. “Where’re you going?”

Noah shook his arm free and opened the door. Logan might not tell, but Lucas would rat him out in a heartbeat. A soft voice intoned a warning that the back door was open. His heart leaped into his throat. He darted through the door to the outside and didn’t quit running until he came to a corner with a traffic light.

With his chest heaving, he tried to get his breath and his bearings. Which way was the hospital? He’d been there, his mom had taken him to the emergency room when he cut his hand. Noah bit his lip. Maybe he could ask someone. He looked around—a patrol car idled in the convenience store parking lot across the street. Swallowing hard, he took a second peek. Empty. The cop must be in the store. Noah ran against the light and kept going until he reached the next corner. Another convenience store. Maybe someone inside would tell him how to get to the hospital.

* * *

ALLIE STARED AT the cell number Peter had given her last night. He’d said to call her if she changed her mind about having breakfast with him this morning. She dialed before second thoughts set in. He answered with his last name, sounding very businesslike.