The Distance Between Us(60)

“And um . . .” I don’t know how to say it. “Is the baby okay?”

“Baby?” His eyes get wide, and he looks at his clipboard. “Did she tell you she’s pregnant?”

“No. I just thought it was a possibility.”

“No. She’s not. But we’ll run a few more tests to verify.”

I’m ashamed for the tiny bit of relief I feel. I’m not ashamed for long, though, because with that possibility almost completely off the table I realize that means something more serious is wrong with her. The worry that takes over doesn’t leave any room for shame. “Is she sick?” I choke out.

“Yes, and we’re trying to figure out what’s causing it. We’ve ruled out some big things, so that’s good.” He pats my shoulder as if that will make what he’s saying feel better. “We’ll know something soon.”

“Can I see her?”

“She’s asleep and she needs to stay that way for now. I promise to call you as soon as she shows signs of waking.” He pauses and looks around again. “You really shouldn’t be alone right now.”

But I am alone. My mother is all I have. “I don’t have a cell phone.”

“What number would you like me to reach you at, then?”

There had been many times in my life where I was upset that I didn’t have a cell phone like every other teenager I know. But now, wanting to just go sit in the waiting room and fall asleep on the outdated couch, is the only time I’ve felt I might die without one. Maybe I should go to Skye’s. But what if Skye isn’t there? And her house is ten minutes farther away than the shop. Being ten minutes farther away from the hospital is not an option. I give him the shop number and leave.

I go immediately there and then upstairs, where I sit expectantly by the phone. This isn’t going to work. I need to keep my brain busy. There’s always something to do on the sales floor. In all my years of living at the doll store, I had never cleaned shelves at one o’clock in the morning. By the time I get to the front window, one wall’s worth of shelves is sparkling and I am sweating. I start on another wall. About halfway through the second shelf I find a name plaque without a doll. Carrie. I search the shelves, but she isn’t there. My mom must’ve sold her today and forgotten to put the name tag in the drawer for our next order.

We didn’t need to order Carrie, though. She’s popular: I knew we had at least two backups of her. She’s a sleeping baby, a newborn, with a peaceful look on her face. Everyone loves her. Even I think she is pretty cute, which is a small miracle, seeing as how nearly all the dolls creep me out.

I go to the back. Three boxes with “Carrie” written on the end are side by side on the second shelf. That shelf is low enough for me to reach without assistance so I grab the box down. Right away I know it’s empty by its weight, but I dig through it anyway, confirming my belief. I grab the next box down. Empty. I pull down every box, no matter what the name on the end. Soon the floor is littered with packing peanuts but not a single doll.

I now know how long it takes to pull down a whole wall of boxes and search through them. Forty-five minutes. I sink to the floor and put my forehead on my knees. I always thought I shouldered a lot of my mom’s burdens, did more than my fair share around the store, kept this place running, but it’s more than obvious she shouldered them alone. Why did my mom shut everyone out?

I am doing the same thing.

I grab the cordless off the shelf and dial.

It rings four times. “Hello?” the sleepy voice answers.

“I need you.”





Chapter 38



When Skye walks into the stockroom she gasps. “What happened?”

“I made a mess of everything.”

She sits on the couch and pats the cushion next to her. I crawl to her side and lay my head in her lap. She plays with my hair, braiding and unbraiding a section.

“I’m a horrible person. I thought I’d rather die than have my mom be pregnant again. Now I feel like I’m dying.”

“Talk to me.”

“My mom is sick. She’s in the hospital. They wouldn’t let me stay.”

“So she’s not pregnant?”

“No.”

“What’s Matthew’s deal, then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re just dating. I should call him, shouldn’t I?” My head hurts. “I don’t have his number.”

“Don’t worry about it. Your mom is going to be okay. She’ll be able to call Matthew herself tomorrow.”

I nod.

She runs her hand down my hair a few times. “So where’s Xander? Did he run to get you food or something?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to think about the other horrible part of the evening. “He’s gone forever.”

“What? Why?”

“He thought I was rich, Skye. It’s the only reason he liked me.”

She coughs and adjusts her position on the couch. “Um . . . no offense, but he has been here, hasn’t he? Why would he ever think you were rich?”

“Because he knows my grandparents. My mom’s parents. And apparently they are some of the richest people in California.”

“What?”