Free Dead to You by Lisa McMann Page B

told me. Jason Roofer—you know him, obviously. That boy Cami goes with. He’s a nice boy. Very thoughtful. It was Jason’s idea and he approached Al, the radio announcer who always announces our games and interviews Jason now and then. Jason asked Al to say a little something at halftime from the booth to welcome you back. That’s all it was going to be, according to Jason—I promise. It sounded like just a small thing. They invited us to come too, but asked us to keep it a secret. Jason wanted you to be surprised.”
    “No kidding.”
    “I had no idea Al was going to make such a scene and dig up all that footage. But I guess in a small town like this, people jump on any little bit of celebrity they can claim, you know? Al obviously went way too far with his enthusiasm. It was horrible—Ethan, it was horrible for us, too, for Blake especially, and for Gracie, who didn’t understand any of it. It was terrible to see all of that again. I can’t believe he did it. I’m furious. And Al has heard from me. He apologized.”
    She sounds sincere.
    “I’m not going back there,” I say.
    Mama is silent as she pulls into the garage. She turns the car off. “Cami and Jason feel terrible.”
    I ponder this, but sorrys can’t erase anything. “I’m not going to talk to those guys, and I’m not going back there. I’m quitting school. And,” I say, feeling bold, “I want my own room in the basement.”
    Mama just looks at me, her eyes sad, and doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t say no. Not to any of it.
    When we get home, I go straight downstairs in the dark and sit in my spot against the wall, among the boxes of a stranger. You’d almost think that after a hit to the head like that, I’d get my memory back. But no such luck.

CHAPTER 22
     
    From my basement location, I can just barely hear Mama and Dad talking somewhere above my head. I open the heater vent all the way and I don’t have to strain very hard at all to listen. Dad’s voice gets louder and I can tell he’s mad about what I told Mama. My demands. They start arguing. I don’t like it.
    Upstairs, everybody but Gracie is being weird about things, but we are forced by a blizzard to hang out all together at home the rest of the weekend.
    Dad tells me he’s sorry about what happened. Blake acts like I did something wrong to him. Cami comes to the door covered in snow to see how I’m doing but I won’t go talk to her, so after a while of talking to Mama, she leaves.
    And then J-Dog calls. I watch Mama on the phone, talking to him, telling him I’m not up to talking quite yet. Lying for me. I get a little twinge in my chest, like love or whatever.
    If Mama tries to hug me now, I’ll let her, I guess. But she doesn’t.
    Gracie sits by me on the couch. And I realize that I don’t despise her like I thought I would. I kept expecting her to be like all the six-year-old girls I saw at the zoo and out shopping with their parents, whining and begging and chomping on gum, and I never thought I’d like one of them. Gracie is definitely annoying sometimes, but she’s also kind of smart.
    We’re watching some stupid sitcom marathon. I don’t like it, but that’s what’s on. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Gracie won’t shut up about the stuff she saw last night, about the news clips and the missing boy and how I was kidnapped. She’s completely fascinated by it, not scared at all. Weird kid.
    “Why did you get in the car with those guys?” she asks. The question of the month.
    I sigh. “I don’t know, Gracie. I don’t remember doing it.”
    “Where did they take you?”
    “I’m not sure. I don’t remember them. All I remember is Eleanor.”
    “Who’s that?”
    “She’s the woman who acted like my mama while I was gone.”
    “She wasn’t as nice as Mama.” She says it as a matter of fact.
    I think about that. “No,” I say. “You’re right.”
    “Then how come did you—?”
    “Gracie, I don’t know. I don’t remember. Okay?”