Free The Whole World by Emily Winslow Page B

is open. I followed the path that leads away from the river; there are always too many people near the river. I hid in a private little wood that turned out to be a pet cemetery. I sat on the tombstone of a dog that had died a hundred and fifty years ago and put my face between my knees. Breathe.
    I thought my mom had been arrested, tactfully. And I thought to myself, My God, she did it. It happened again .
    I ran to Millington Road, panting. I knew Liv was at Gretchen’s.
    Harry let me in. “Polly! What can I do for you?” He wore an apron and smelled of vanilla.
    “Please. I need Liv. Can she come out, please?” I had meant to ask to come in, but I couldn’t face it.
    “Liv!” he called over his shoulder, keeping me in sight. I had never heard him speak above a polite volume. I must have looked a wreck.
    Liv came around the corner. “Polly?” she asked. We hadn’t spoken since the revelations at the gallery.
    “Liv …” I said, and then my eyes cracked open to release a torrent of tears.
    “Nick?” she asked, of course assuming that the worst had been discovered.
    I shook my head, tossing tears to both sides. “No, no. At least, I don’t think so. I—please come with me.”
    She told Harry that she had to go and pulled her jacket out of the closet next to the door. Her arm was in one green sleeve when Gretchen came up from behind. “What’s going on? Is there an emergency?” She sounded concerned but also annoyed.
    “Please,” I said. Meaning, I just need to speak to my friend . But she took it differently. She insisted I come in and pulled on Liv’s arm.
    She dragged us both into the lounge. Harry prepared hot drinks in the kitchen. Gretchen tried to be stern and parental with me, which was exactly the worst thing under the circumstances. I sobbed till I was almost choking. It was minutes before I could speak.
    “My mother,” I croaked out. “My mother,” I said again, with a bit more control. I was getting it together.
    “Is she hurt?” Liv asked. It was like Twenty Questions. All I could manage were short answers.
    “No. No, she’s all right.” They waited for me to elaborate. I could only hiccup.
    “Is she still in Cambridge?” Liv is so sensible. I really admire her.
    “Yes, she’s here. She wouldn’t leave.”
    “Polly.” Gretchen took me by the shoulders. “You’ve got to talk. You must.”
    “Okay,” I said. Harry pressed a cup into my hand. It burned my fingers. That kind of got me together. “Okay. My mother’s been arrested. They took her away.”
    “Harry,” Gretchen interjected. “Call Jim. He’ll have a recommendation for a solicitor.” Harry jogged upstairs. Gretchen continued: “Drink up. You’re in shock.”
    “Thank you,” I said. I sipped. Time passed.
    “I’m lost here,” Liv admitted. “What’s she been arrested for?”
    Gretchen knew. She’d connected the dots.
    “It’s Nicholas, Liv,” said Gretchen. I nodded to thank her, which was thoughtless.
    Harry had come back. He put a pink Post-it on the table in front of me. “Grant Tisch. Would you like me to phone him for you?”
    “No,” I said, honestly surprised. “No, I think she did it.”
    Gretchen sat up straighter. “Harry, phone the man.”
    Things happened around me. Liv gaped. I tried to protest the lawyer, but Gretchen was a force.
    The room seemed to be growing larger. The cushions on the couch swelled up and pressed on all sides, lifting me up toward the ceiling. Liv and Gretchen lengthened before me. Liv asked, “Are you all right?” and I said, “Yes,” because I had no force of my own. I didn’t have it in me to explain anything to anyone.
    The inside of my head had become bigger than the world around me. It was a terrible place.
    Gretchen spoke to the solicitor in front of me, to reassure me that my mother was in good hands. She used a tone with him that suggested he should have preemptively prevented my mother from being arrested in the first place.
    “Grant Tisch