The Truth According to Ginny Moon Read online

  “Nah,” says Larry. “I’m going to check my Facebook. I just got one yesterday.”

  He gets up and puts his arms in his arm braces again and goes to the computer. My eyes follow him.

  “Do you have a Facebook?” Larry says when he gets to the computer. Without turning. He types.

  I look down at my hands. “No,” I say.

  “Then, babe, you’ve got to get one.” He looks at me. “Here, let me show you. All the cool kids are on it, you dig?” Larry says you dig? all the time. I think you dig? is mostly an expression.

  “I’m not allowed to use the internet without an adult,” I say.

  “Right. I remember,” says Larry. “Why won’t your parents let you?”

  “Because Gloria is on the internet.”

  “Who’s Gloria?”

  “Gloria is my Birth Mom. I used to live with her.”

  Then I stop talking.

  “Is she easy to find?” says Larry.

  I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I tried to find her three times on the internet when I was in different Forever Homes but I keep getting interrupted.”

  “What’s her name again?” says Larry.

  “Gloria,” I say. I feel myself stand up. I feel excited and ready because I know Larry is going to help me.

  “Gloria what?”

  I lean forward and look at him sideways over the top of my glasses. I push my hair out of my face but it falls back. I wish I had a scrunchie. “Gloria LeBlanc,” I say. It’s been a long time since I said the name LeBlanc with my mouth. Because that is what my name used to be. It’s like I left the original me behind when I came to live with my new Forever Parents. With Brian and Maura Moon. My name is Ginny Moon now but there are still parts of the original me left.

  So it is like I turned into the original Ginny Moon.

  “Spell it,” says Larry so I do. Larry types and then he steps away and points to the chair. I sit.

  And I see her.

  Gloria, who hit me and gave me hugs afterward and cried. Gloria, who left me alone all the time in the apartment but gave me fancy drinks when we sat on the couch watching monster movies, who said she was a smart cookie no matter what anyone says because she passed the GED with flying colors which in my brain made me see a parade of girls in pretty skirts twirling batons with streamers and cheering.

  Gloria, the second-scariest person I know.

  Gloria, my Birth Mom.

  Gloria’s shirt and hair are mostly different but at least she has pictures of Maine coons all over the page. And Gloria still has glasses and is really, really skinny like me. I haven’t seen her or talked with her since I was nine years old. That was when the police came and she said, “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, Ginny!” I’m thirteen years old right now but I’ll turn fourteen on September 18th which after today is in nine days because:

  Plus nine is how old I was when the first Forever started. The two months cancel each other out, mostly.

  “Babe?” says Larry.

  He is talking to me. I come up out of my brain. “What?” I say.

  “Do you want to see if she’s around to chat?”

  I am excited. Because chat means talk.

  Larry points to part of the screen. “Here,” he says. “Just click here.”

  So I click and then I see a place where I can type.

  “Type what you want to say to her,” says Larry. “Just say hi and ask her a question.”

  I don’t want to say hi. Instead I type the question that I keep asking everyone and that no one ever, ever, ever understands:

  Did you find my Baby Doll?

  And then I wait.

  “You have to click Send,” says Larry.

  But I don’t really hear him because the pictures of the police and Gloria and the kitchen are moving so fast that I can’t see anything else. I am going deep in my brain again. I see Gloria with her face squished against the wall and the police holding her there. I see the broken-down door and the light coming in from outside and two cats running out. I don’t remember which ones.

  “Here,” I hear Larry say. “I’ll click it for you.”

  In front of me I see the arrow move on the screen. It touches the send button and then I start counting because when something might happen I need to see how high I can count before it gets here especially when it’s the answer I’ve been waiting four whole years for.

  Six seconds pass. Then some words appear on the screen under the ones I typed. The words say,

  Is this you Ginny?

  But that isn’t an answer to my question. I want to pick at my fingers but I can’t do that because there’s a question on the screen and it’s my turn to type. So I type, Yes this is Ginny. You did not answer my question. And click Send like Larry showed me.

  Then one more word blinks onto the computer screen. It is in capital letters and it is screaming. The word is:

  YES!

  And then,

  YES WE FOUND YOUR BABY DOLL WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!

  I want to write Are you taking good care of it? but my hands are shaking so hard now that I can’t make them do what I want. Plus Gloria asked a question. I open and close my hands three times and put them between my knees and take them out again and type, In Room Five with Larry.

  And then she writes,

  WHO IS LARRY WHAT IS YOUR ADDRESS?

  Now I am picking at my fingers. I have to because I don’t want to talk about Larry or what my address is. I only want to talk about my Baby Doll. Because even though Gloria said YES! and WE FOUND YOUR BABY DOLL I don’t know if she’s telling the truth or if my Baby Doll is okay. Because Gloria is unreliable and inconsistent and she’s the one who lies. So I open and close my hands two more times and remember to breathe and then I type, Larry is my friend. 57 Cedar Lane Greensbor—

  I stop typing because I hear Ms. Dana in the hallway. I hear her talking to someone else. Another teacher, I’m guessing.

  Which means in a minute I’m going to get caught.

  “Babe?” says Larry. He is standing behind me. His voice is anxious.

  So I type, I have to go, but as soon as I click Send I want to go back and also say Can you please, please, please bring my Baby Doll to me? but my turn is gone and Ms. Dana will come in any second now.

  I stand up fast to move away from the computer. Then someone touches my shoulder so I recoil.

  I almost fall. When I see that it is just Larry and no one is hurting me I lower my arm and look at the screen again where I see another word. It says,

  MANICOON.COM

  Then,

  THAT’S WHERE TO FIND ME JUST IN CASE.

  Then,

  FUCK IT I’M ON MY WAY I’LL BE THERE TOMORROW.

  I look away. I don’t see Gloria or the apartment or my Baby Doll. I see only Larry with one of his arms out of a brace and his hand up in the air. “Whoa, dude,” he says. “Are you all right? Come on. We need to sit down and get our books out.” Then he bites his lip and says, “I’m going to shut the computer. Don’t freak out on me, okay?” He reaches and puts one hand on the mouse and clicks the words Log Out and then clicks the X up in the corner of the screen. He goes to his desk and sits. I push the chair back and get up and rub the dirt off my hands and look at the picture of Edgar Allan Poe.

  Ms. Dana walks in. “Ginny, your parents are ready to see you,” she says, “in Mrs. Lomos’s office.”

  I stand up and take my backpack and leave the room. When I get into the hallway I start running. I run with my fingers touching the wall. I feel like I might fall if I don’t keep touching something so I run and run and run. I am still excited but I am also scared.

  Because Gloria is coming. Here to my school.

  2:50 IN THE AFTERNOON,
>
  WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH

  My Forever Parents are outside the door of Mrs. Lomos’s tiny office. “Let’s step into the conference room, Ginny,” says Mrs. Lomos.

  We take five steps to get to the conference room which is across the hall. My Forever Parents sit at the table so I sit too. “Hi, Ginny,” my Forever Mom says.

  “Hi,” I say back to her. She sits with her hands on her big round belly which is as big as a basketball. My Forever Dad’s belly is big too and his face is round but he doesn’t have a white beard or a nose like a cherry.

  “Ginny, your parents came in to talk about what happened last night with the electronic baby,” says Mrs. Lomos.

  I sit and wait for them to talk. But they don’t.

  “They let me know that you put it in a suitcase,” says Mrs. Lomos. “Is that true?”

  “Do you mean the plastic electronic baby?” I say.

  She looks at me funny. “Yes, of course,” she says.

  “Then yes,” I say.

  “Why did you put it there?”

  I make sure my mouth is shut so no one can see inside my brain. Then I look at her over my glasses. “Because it was screaming,” I say.

  “So you decided to hide it under all your blankets and zip the suitcase shut?”

  “No,” I say. “I kept my quilt out.” Because my quilt is the only thing I have left from the apartment. Gloria’s own Frenchy mom helped her make it when she ran away to Canada with me after she had me in a hospital. They made it together for me and for no one else. I used it all the time to wrap my Baby Doll in.

  “All right, but why didn’t you try to comfort the baby?” says Mrs. Lomos.

  “I did try to comfort the plastic electronic baby,” I say. “I said ush, ush, ush like you’re supposed to and I tried to give it my finger but the hole in its mouth didn’t open. I gave it a bottle too.”

  “And that didn’t work?”

  I shake my head no.

  “Did you do anything else to make the baby be quiet?” my Forever Dad says.

  I make sure my mouth is closed again so no one can see inside. I shake my head a second time.

  Because lying is something you do with your mouth. A lie is something you tell.

  “Are you sure?” he says. “Think hard.”

  So I think hard. About keeping my mouth closed.

  “Ginny, there’s a computer inside the electronic baby,” says Mrs. Lomos. “It keeps track of how many times the baby is fed and changed, and how long it cries. It even keeps track of strikes and shakes.”

  Everyone is looking at me. All of them. My Forever Mom next to my Forever Dad on the other side of the table with her hand on her big round belly. I don’t know what strikes and shakes are but no one asked a question so I keep my mouth shut very tight.

  My Forever Dad takes out a piece of paper. “The computer said the doll was hit eighty-three times and shaken four,” he says. He puts the paper down. “Ginny, did you hit the baby?”

  “The plastic electronic baby,” I say even though it’s a rule that We do not correct.

  “It doesn’t matter whether the baby was real or not,” he says. “We asked you to try taking care of the baby. We can’t—”

  “Brian,” says my Forever Mom. Then to me she says, “Ginny, it’s not okay to hit or shake a baby. Even if the baby isn’t real. Do you understand that?”

  I like my Forever Mom a lot. She helps me with my homework every night after supper and explains things when they don’t make sense. Plus we play Chinese Checkers when I get home from school. So I say, “When I was in the apartment with Glo—”

  “We know what happened in the apartment,” she interrupts. “And we’re very, very sorry that she hurt you. But it’s not okay to hurt babies, ever. So we need you to start seeing Patrice again. She’s going to help you get ready to be a big sister.”

  Patrice is a therapist. An attachment therapist. I haven’t seen her since the adoption in June. I lived with my Forever Parents at the Blue House a whole year before that. That was when I started going to my new school too.

  Which reminds me again that Gloria is on her way right now. I don’t know how long it will take her to get here. I don’t know if she’ll get here before I go to see Patrice. And that’s important because I need to know when things are going to happen so I can count and check my watch and make sure everything works the way it’s supposed to.

  I pick hard at my fingers.

  “When will I see Patrice?” I ask.

  “We’ll call her on the phone today and see when she’s available,” says my Forever Mom. “Probably early this next week, if she has some time in her schedule. I bet she’ll find an opening, for you.”

  2:45 IN THE AFTERNOON,

  THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

  Gloria didn’t come to school today. I waited and waited and then my watch and all the clocks in all the rooms said 2:15 and we had the afternoon announcements. Then the bell rang and I went outside with all the other kids to get on the bus.

  So I am confused.

  But right now I’m confused about something more pressing. Patrice says that more pressing means something more important than something else. The more pressing thing is that someone is angry here at the Blue House. I have to figure out who it is.

  That’s why I’m standing here on the front step of the screen porch. I’m still wearing my backpack and carrying my flute. I see that our mailbox is knocked over and there are tire tracks on the ground which means someone peeled out. Peeling out is what people do when they’re in a car and they’re really mad. I stand there wondering who made the marks and when I look up I see my Forever Dad’s car in the driveway next to my Forever Mom’s. Usually he’s at work. He’s the guidance counselor at the high school.

  With one finger I straighten my glasses. I look at the tire tracks again. In my brain I remember that at 2:44 right before the bus stopped in front of the Blue House I saw two police cars coming the other way. They were driving slowly so I took a deep breath and held it until we were past.

  I don’t like police officers. They all have the same head.

  Then I got off the bus and saw the mailbox and the tire tracks.

  I open the door to the screen porch. Right away I smell cigarette smoke. No one at the Blue House smokes. The smell makes me think of Gloria’s apartment.

  I go inside. My Forever Mom is standing in front of the kitchen sink holding a glass of water in one hand and holding her belly in the other. Her hair looks like she didn’t brush it and there are dark, dark lines under her eyes. Without looking she says, “Hi, Ginny. Come put your things down. We need to talk with you in the living room.” Her voice is quiet.

  I put my backpack and flute case in my room and come back out.

  “Hello, Forever Girl,” my Forever Dad says. He is standing near the window. “Did anything interesting happen at school today?”

  “No,” I say, “but I would like to know which one of you is angry.”

  They look at each other.

  “Angry?” says my Forever Dad.

  I nod my head yes.

  “Why would one of us be angry?”

  “Because there are tire tracks on the front lawn. Which one of you peeled out?”

  “Wait,” he says. “You think that because there are tire tracks on the front lawn, one of us is angry?”

  I nod my head yes again.

  My Forever Mom makes a little smile and then a long breathing sound. “Well, I guess this is going to be easier than we thought,” she says. “Ginny, neither one of us made those tire tracks.”

  I am confused so I stand there thinking.

  “Let’s get back to the first question first,” says my Forever Dad. “Did anything interesting happen at school?”


  “No,” I say again.

  “Did you make a phone call?”

  “No.”

  “Did anyone come to visit you?”

  “No.”

  “Did anyone ask for your address?”

  “Do you mean today?”

  My Forever Dad looks at my Forever Mom quick and then looks back at me. “Yes. Of course we mean today.”

  “Then no.”

  “Then no?” says my Forever Dad. “What about yesterday, then? Did anyone ask for your address yesterday?”

  But that was two questions in a row and I’m not sure which one to answer. Plus it’s a rule that I can answer only one question at a time. Because I have only one mouth and I don’t know which question is more pressing. So I shake my head and keep my mouth shut tight, tight, tight. Just in case.

  My Forever Mom looks at my Forever Dad. She puts her hand on her chin. “Well, then, how the hell did she track us down?” she says.

  So I say, “How the hell did who track us down?”

  “The person who peeled out on the front lawn,” my Forever Dad says. “But don’t worry, she’s gone. The police made her leave.”

  “So you’re not still angry at me about the plastic electronic baby doll?”

  He looks at me in a funny way again. “Angry isn’t the right word,” my Forever Dad says. “We’re concerned, is all.”

  I wonder if they are lying. Gloria lies all the time. Then I start wondering if maybe they found out that Gloria is on her way because angry is what everyone would be if they knew. I pick and pick at my fingers and close my eyes and say, “Will someone please, please, please tell me which one of you is angry?” because you have to be careful around angry people. They get mad and hit.

  Then my Forever Mom says, “Ginny, we already told you. No one here is angry. You’re safe. We can talk about the tire tracks some other time. What’s with the frowning face? Now, go wash up and get dressed. You’re going to the apple cider farm next week, and you’ve got a birthday coming up! And you’re going to see Patrice on Wednesday! We already talked with her and made the appointment. Maybe you should mark it on your calendar.”