Free The Dead And The Gone by Susan Beth Pfeffer Page A

to St. Margaret’s, and he couldn’t get it out of his mind as he waited in the office for a chance to talk to Father Franco. He and Danny were friendly. They were on the debate squad together. He’d even been to Danny’s home when they’d worked on a history project together.
    It had to be the moon, Alex thought. It really was driving everyone crazy.
    After an hour’s wait, he was allowed in to see Father Franco. [**]The priest looked exhausted, far worse than he had just the week before.
    “I was wondering if you’d heard anything more about Puerto Rico,” Alex asked.
    “Not much,” Father Franco replied. “Conditions are very, very bad. No one’s heard anything about the fishing village your father was in, but from what little I’ve been able to find out, all the villages and small towns on the northern coast were decimated. I’m sorry. I know you want more specific details, but information is very sketchy. I’ll continue to ask. The archdiocese is used to my questions by now.”
    “Thank you, Father,” Alex said. “Just one more thing, if you don’t mind.”
    “Of course not,” Father Franco said. “How can I help you?”
    Alex didn’t want to ask the question and didn’t want to hear the answer. “It’s about the bodies they’ve found,” he said. “Do you know if all of them have been found yet? Like at Yankee Stadium. Is that all the bodies of women they’ve found?”
    Father Franco shook his head. “Many bodies haven’t been recovered even now,” he said. “And my understanding is they keep those poor women at Yankee Stadium only for a couple of days before replacing them with others.”
    “So you could go there and look and even if you don’t find the person you’re looking for, that doesn’t mean she’s still alive,” Alex said.
    “I’m afraid so,” Father Franco said.
    “And the ones that don’t get identified,” Alex said. “Do they bury them anyway?”
    Father Franco looked uncomfortable. “They’re forced to cremate them,” he said.
    “I didn’t think the church approved of cremation,” Alex said.
    “These are extraordinary circumstances,” Father Franco said. “I’m sure Cod understands and forgives.”
    Alex nodded, willing himself not to picture his mother’s body tossed into a pile of corpses in a crematorium. “Thank you, Father,” he said, getting up.
    “My prayers are with you,” Father Franco said. “You and your whole family.”
    How many people was he praying for, Alex thought as he-left St. Margaret’s. Did he ever have time to pray for himself?
     
    Saturday, May 28
    “This place is a mess,” Alex said angrily as he surveyed the living room. “Don’t you girls know how to pick up after yourselves! And why are you watching TV in the middle of the afternoon? Don’t your teachers give you homework?”
    Julie and Bri were sitting on the living room sofa, watching an
I Love Lucy
rerun. Julie yawned.
    “I’m sorry —,” Bri began saying, but Julie punched her in her arm.
    Alex crossed to the TV and turned it off. Julie turned it back on with the remote.
    Alex walked over to Julie and yanked the remote from her. “Get up!” he yelled. “Now! And start cleaning up your mess.”
    “I’m not doing anything until you tell us where Mami and Papi are,” Julie said. “Neither is Bri. Are you, Bri.” It sounded more like a threat than a question.
    Bri looked miserable but she shook her head.
    “What is this, some kind of strike?” Alex asked. “You’re teamsters now? Well, that isn’t going to work. Stop with the TV and the whining.”
    “Who died and made you boss?” Julie said.
    Without even thinking, Alex slapped her hard across her face. Julie cried out in pain, then ran from the living room, Bri racing after her. Julie slammed the bedroom door behind them.
    “Idiota,”
Alex muttered. He hated it when Papi struck any of them, had vowed he would never do that to any of his children, and now when his sisters needed him