Night Road(10)

Lexi unwound herself from the red and white striped wool blanket. When she stood up, it slumped to the sand. “Really, Mrs. Farraday. You don’t need to drive me home.”

“Please, Lexi, call me Jude. When you say Mrs. Farraday, I think of my mother and that’s not a good thing. Mia, go tell Zach I’m starting the drive. Ask him who else needs a ride.”

Ten minutes later, Jude started up the Escalade. Five kids shoved their way into the plush interior, talking over one another as they buckled up their seatbelts. In the front passenger seat, Lexi sat quietly, staring straight ahead. Jude admonished Zach and Mia to start on their homework and then drove away. The route was so familiar she could have driven it in her sleep—left on Beach Drive, right on Night Road, left on the highway. At the top of Viewcrest, she pulled into her best friend’s driveway. “Here you go, Bryson. Tell Molly we’re still on for lunch this week.”

He mumbled some kind of answer and got out of the car. For the next twenty minutes, she drove the standard route around the island, letting off one kid after another. Finally, she turned to Lexi. “Okay, hon, where to?”

“Isn’t that a bus stop?”

Jude smiled. “I am not putting you on a bus. Now, where to, Lexi?”

“Port George,” Lexi said.

“Oh,” Jude said, surprised. Most of the kids at Pine High lived on the island, and, really, the other side of the bridge was a whole different world. Geographically, only about three hundred feet separated Pine Island from Port George, but there were many ways to calculate distance. Port George was where nice, upstanding boys from Pine Island went to buy beer and cigarettes at the minimart, using fake IDs they made on old magic cards. There was all kinds of trouble in the schools there. She drove out to the highway and headed off the island.

“Turn there,” Lexi said about a mile from the bridge. “In fact, you can let me out here. I can walk the rest of the way.”

“I don’t think so.”

Jude followed the signs to the Chief Sealth Mobile Home Park. From there, Lexi directed her down a winding road to a tiny plot of land, overgrown with weeds and grass, where a fading yellow double-wide sat on concrete blocks. The front door was an ugly shade of blue and cracked up the middle, and the curtains inside were ragged and unevenly hemmed. Rust inched like caterpillars along the seams. Deep, muddy ruts in the grass showed where a car was usually parked.

Jude parked at the edge of the grass and turned off the engine. This was hardly what she’d expected. “Is your mom home? I hate to just drop you off. I’d actually like to meet her.”

Lexi looked at Jude. “My mom died three years ago. I live with my Aunt Eva now.”

“Oh, honey,” Jude said. She knew how it had felt to lose a parent—her father had died when Jude was seven. The world had become a dark and frightening place, and for years she’d been unsure of her place in it. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I know how difficult it must be for you.”

Lexi shrugged.

“How long have you lived with your aunt?”

“Four days.”

“Four days? But … where were you—”

“Foster care,” Lexi said quietly, sighing. “My mom was a heroin addict. Sometimes we lived in our car. So I guess you don’t want me hanging around with Mia anymore. I understand. Really. I wish my mom had cared who I hung out with.”

Jude frowned. None of this was what she’d expected. It did worry her, all of it, but she didn’t want to be that kind of woman, the kind who judged a person by his or her circumstance. And right now Lexi looked as beaten as any teenager Jude had ever seen. Everything about the girl radiated defeat; no doubt she’d been disappointed a lot in her life.

“I’m not like my mom,” Lexi said earnestly. The need in the girl’s blue eyes was unmistakable.

Jude believed her, but still, there was potential danger here. Mia was fragile, easily led astray. Jude couldn’t simply ignore that, no matter how sorry she felt for this girl. “I’m not like my mother, either. But…”

“What?”

“Mia is shy. I’m sure you already know that. She doesn’t make friends easily and she worries too much about being liked. She’s always been that way. And last year, she had her heart broken. Not by a boy. It was worse than that. A girl—Haley—befriended her. For a few months, they were inseparable. Mia was as happy as I’ve ever seen her. But the truth was that Haley had her sights set on Zach, and he fell into her trap. He didn’t know how it would upset Mia. Anyway, Haley dumped Mia for Zach, and when Zach lost interest, Haley refused to come to the house anymore. Mia was so hurt she stopped talking for almost a month. I was really worried about her.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I guess … because if you’re going to be her friend, she needs to know she can count on you. I’d like to know that, too.”

“I would never do anything to hurt her,” Lexi promised.

Jude thought of all the dangers this friendship could pose to her daughter, and all the benefits, and she weighed them, as if this decision were hers to make, although she knew it wasn’t. A fourteen-year-old girl could make her own friends. But Jude could make it easy for Mia and Lexi to stay friends, or difficult. What was best for Mia?

When she looked at Lexi, the answer came easily. Jude was a mother, first, last, and always. And her daughter desperately needed a friend. “I’m taking Mia into the city on Saturday for manicures. A girls’ day. Would you like to join us?”