Where'd You Go, Bernadette(86)

I took a big gulp and stared up at the corrugated sprawl.

“Make sure you”—Dad reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a small black velvet bag with a gold silk rope—“give her this.”

Without saying good-bye, I limped up the road, most of its gravel eaten away by erosion. On my left and right were shipping containers, different shades of blue, with stenciled signs. REEFER, VOLATILE, FLAM LOCKER, CORR LOCKER, THE BAT CAVE. On wooden decks, tents were set up. They had real doors, and funny flags, like a pirate, or Bart Simpson. Even though the sun was in the sky, I was walking through the silence of night. As I continued, the buildings became denser and connected by a Habitrail of red bridges and bundled pipes. To my left was an aquarium with squid and starfish pressed up against the glass, and strange sea creatures like from the evening recap. There was a big aluminum drum, and next to it a sign with a martini glass which read ABSOLUTELY NO GLASS CONTAINERS NEAR THE HOT TUB.

I arrived at the steps leading to the main building. Halfway up, I dared to look back.

The other Zodiac had pulled next to Dad’s. One of the guides had climbed into it. There seemed to be some arguing going on. But Dad stayed positioned at the motor, which meant the guides had their backs to me. So far, I hadn’t been spotted.

I opened the door and found myself alone in a big toasty room with carpet tiles and a row of aluminum picnic tables. It smelled like an ice rink. One wall was devoted to shelves filled with DVDs. Toward the back was a counter and an open stainless-steel kitchen. On a dry-erase board were the words WELCOME HOME, NICK!

Laughter erupted from somewhere. I ran down the hall and started opening doors. One room was nothing but walkie-talkies plugged into charging stations. A huge sign read NO COFFEE MUGS ALLOWED EXCEPT FOR JOYCE’S. The next room was desks and computers and oxygen tanks. One was just weird scientific machines. Then there was a bathroom. I heard voices from around the corner. I ran toward them. Then I tripped.

On the floor was a spaghetti pot sitting atop a flattened-out trash bag. Inside the spaghetti pot was a T-shirt with something familiar on it… a rainbow handprint. I reached down and picked it out of the cold gray water. GALER STREET SCHOOL.

“Dad,” I cried. “Daddy!” I ran back down the hall to the wall of windows.

Both Zodiacs were zooming away from Palmer Station, toward our ship. Dad was in one of them.

Then, at my back, “You little rotter.”

It was Mom, standing there. She was wearing Carhartt pants and a fleece.

“Mom!” Tears sprang up in my eyes. I ran to her. She dropped to her knees, and I just hugged her so hard and buried my body in her. “I found you!”

She had to carry all my weight in her arms because I had just given up. I stared into her beautiful face, her blue eyes examining me like they always used to.

“What are you doing here?” she said. “How did you get here?” Her wrinkles radiated like sun rays from her smiling eyes. There was a big stripe of gray running down her part.

“Look at your hair,” I said.

“You almost killed me,” she said. “You know that.” Then, with tears and confusion, “Why didn’t you write?”

“I didn’t know where you were!” I said.

“My letter,” she said.

“Your letter?”

“I sent it weeks ago.”

“I never got your stupid letter,” I said. “Here. This is from Dad.” I handed her the velvet bag. She knew what it was, and pressed it to her cheek and closed her eyes.

“Open it!” I said.

She untied the cord and pulled out a locket. In it was the photograph of Saint Bernadette. It was the necklace Dad had given her after she won her architecture prize. It was the first time I’d ever seen it.

“What’s this?” She pulled out a card and held it away from her face. “I can’t read what it says.” I took it from her and read it aloud.

1. BEEBER BIFOCAL

2. TWENTY MILE HOUSE

3. BEE

4. YOUR ESCAPE

FOURTEEN MIRACLES TO GO.

“Elgie,” Mom said, and breathed out a sweet relaxed smile.

“I knew I’d find you,” I said, and hugged her my tightest. “Nobody believed me. But I knew.”

“My letter,” Mom said. “If you never got it—” She pulled my arms apart and looked into my face. “I don’t understand, Bee. If you never got my letter, how are you here?”

“I did it like you,” I said. “I slipped away.”





PART SEVEN


The Runaway Bunny





MONDAY, FEBRUARY 21


My first day back at Galer Street, on the way to music, I passed my cubby. It was stuffed with notices from the past few months. Crammed in with all the flyers about the recycling challenge and Bike-to-School Day was an envelope, a stamped envelope, addressed to me in care of Galer Street. The return address was a contracting company in Denver and the writing: Mom’s.

Kennedy saw my face and she started hanging on me, all “What is it? What is it? What is it?” I didn’t want to open the envelope in front of her. But I couldn’t open it alone. So I ran back to homeroom. Mr. Levy was with some teachers who were about to walk to Starbucks on their break. As soon as Mr. Levy saw me, he told the others to go on ahead. We shut the door, and I tried to tell him everything all at once, about the intervention and Audrey Griffin who saved Mom and Choate and my roommate who didn’t like me and Antarctica and Soo-Lin’s baby and finding Mom and now this, the missing letter. But it squirted out in a big jumble. So I did the next best thing. I went to my locker and gave him the book I wrote at Choate. Then I went to music.