From the Desk of Zoe Washington(50)
Trevor groaned and didn’t look at me before following his mom back into their own house.
Mom made me go to my room, where she took away my computer. Then she went back to the living room with Grandma. I stood next to my door and listened to them argue.
“Natalie,” I heard Grandma say when Mom got back to the living room. “I understand why you’re mad, but—”
“I don’t want to hear anything else,” Mom said. “I’m so angry, I can’t even look at you. You should just go home.”
“Okay,” Grandma said. “I hope that once you’ve calmed down, you see that I was trying to do the right thing.”
I imagined Mom rolling her eyes.
“But before I go,” Grandma said, “I should also tell you that I let Zoe talk to Marcus on the phone.”
No, I thought. Don’t tell her that!
“You what?” Mom screamed, her volume reaching a new decibel. “How could you be so irresponsible?”
“You can’t tell me you believe Marcus is guilty of murder. This is Marcus, the boy you used to love. I know he broke your heart, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to know his own daughter.”
“If you ever, ever go behind my back like that again,” Mom said slowly, “I will not let you see Zoe anymore. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Grandma said. “And I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” Mom said. “Now, please just go.”
When I heard the front door open and close, I shut my bedroom door and sat down on my bed. All I could think about was how Mom would never let me find out what Professor Thomas remembered about Marcus. Or get Marcus’s letter back from her.
The truth was right there waiting for me, but it still felt so impossibly far away.
Chapter Thirty-Three
That night, I slept terribly. I dreamed of Marcus sitting alone in his prison cell at the end of a long hallway. I tried to run to him, but every time I got close, the hallway would stretch out even longer and I’d have to start running all over again.
I also dreamed that I was able to call Professor Thomas, but when she told me she remembered Marcus, it was from the news, from when he was convicted of murder. In the dream, Professor Thomas kept laughing at me and saying things like, “Of course he’s guilty, silly girl.” Lincoln and Sean even showed up out of nowhere and joined in the laughter.
I woke up early the next morning in a cold sweat.
Grandma came by as usual before Mom and Dad left for work. I stayed in my room when she arrived, but from what I could hear, Dad was the only one who said goodbye to her on his way out.
Maya was going to be home that weekend, but it wasn’t like I’d get to see her while I was grounded. I wondered how bad Trevor’s punishment ended up. If his mom was really going to make him quit basketball, he must’ve been really sad. I knew how he felt. I’d been so sure that my parents would let me audition for Kids Bake Challenge!, since I’d worked so hard at Ari’s Cakes all summer. But I could forget about that now. It wasn’t fair.
I thought of Professor Thomas waiting for me to write or call back. She probably wondered what was taking me so long. I worried that she’d throw away the letter if I didn’t get back to her soon.
I lay in bed most of the day, reading and writing in my journal. I reread all of Marcus’s letters that I still had, and wrote him letters that I wasn’t sure I’d get to mail anytime soon. Maybe ever. First, I wrote all about finding his alibi witness, and that Professor Thomas actually remembered him. I also wrote about getting in trouble with my parents, and how Mom admitted she’d thrown away his past letters.
In another letter, I wrote about myself. I told him about Hawaiian-ish pizza, asking him if he also liked pepperoni with pineapples. I told him about the only time I’d broken a bone, when I let Trevor convince me that skateboarding down our porch steps was a good idea a few years earlier. I’d broken my left wrist. I wrote about my favorite things to bake, describing all of the recipes in detail.
Except for letting me know that she made me a sandwich for lunch, Grandma left me alone.
On Monday morning, I got ready for the last day of my internship. It was Labor Day, so both of my parents had the day off from work.
“Are you ready to go?” I asked Dad when he was by himself in the kitchen.
“Sorry, kiddo,” Dad said. “No internship today, because you’re still grounded. We didn’t want to inconvenience Ariana, but Mom talked to her yesterday, and she said they’ll be fine without your help today.”
“What? That’s not fair,” I mumbled under my breath before going back to my room and putting my pajama pants back on. I wondered if Ariana was selling a special Labor Day cupcake. If the shop was as crowded as it’d been on the Fourth of July. If I’d ever get to share my cereal cupcakes with her.
The next day was my first day of seventh grade.
In the morning, I was in the living room filling my backpack with the new notebooks Mom bought for me over the weekend when Trevor’s storm door creaked open and shut. I glanced out the window to find Trevor already walking down the porch steps, wearing a Medford Middle School Basketball T-shirt and jeans.
I threw my lunch bag into my backpack, zipped it up, and slipped on my sneakers. I shouted, “Going to the bus!” so Mom and Dad knew I was leaving. Then I ran outside to catch up with Trevor a couple houses down. “Trevor,” I said. “Wait up.”