Save Me

Chapter Thirty-five

Rose hit the gas, keeping her eyes on the road, relieved she could find an excuse to avoid Melly’s gaze. The notion of being sued was bad enough, but she couldn’t begin to think about going to jail. Meeting with the lawyers had left her shaken, but letting it show would defeat the purpose of their lunch outing, so she put on a happy face. “Mel, how was your morning?”

“Fine.”

Rose braked for a yellow light, turning red. She’d picked Melly up at school without incident, and the other parents ignored them as they went to their car. The press stayed behind the cordon, and even though they snapped photos of the car as they drove past, nobody followed them. “What did you do in school?”

“More Flat Stanley.”

“Was it fun?”

“Ms. Canton wasn’t there. She’s not coming back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She had to take care of her mom. She’s sick.”

“I see. Did Mrs. Nuru say when they’re getting a new gifted teacher?” Rose glanced over, and Melly kept her head to the window, which was open.

“No.”

“Did you spend much time with Mrs. Nuru?”

“No. Sammy and Seth got in a fight. They always do.”

“What happened at assembly?”

“Nothing. It was sad.”

“Mine was, too.” Rose thought back to the parents’ assembly. Aside from feeling like she had leprosy, it was an hour of boilerplate assurances that the school would return to business as usual, which was the best thing for the children. “We had a moment of silence. Did you?”

“Yes.”

“What else did they say? Anything?”

“That we shouldn’t be scared and there’s no more fire, and we’ll get a new cafeteria and still have the Halloween parade.” Melly looked over. “I want to be Hermione again, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Now I have the Hermione wand, it makes it better.”

“Perfect,” Rose said, though she was beginning to feel otherwise. As great as Harry Potter was, she was worrying that it was just another thing to set Melly apart.

“They said we should make get-well cards for Amanda, so we did. Mine was really good.”

“That was nice. I’m proud of you.” Rose smiled, meaning it. It couldn’t have been easy to make a card for your bully. “So, where should we eat?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you feel like? I didn’t have time to make any sandwiches this morning.” Rose eyed the McDonald’s, Saladworks, and the other fast-food joints. This section of Allen Road was one strip mall after another, all with tan stucco façades and fake-English names like Reesburgh Mews, Reesburgh Commons, and Reesburgh Roundabout. Traffic was busy, with school dismissed early and the noontime rush. “Want a Happy Meal? Or chicken? Want a hamburger?”

“Ms. Canton doesn’t eat hamburgers. She eats veggie burgers. We ate together. It was really good.”

“When was that?” Rose hadn’t heard anything about Kristen and Melly eating together. The traffic light changed, and she hit the gas.

“She showed me how to make a veggie burger.”

“Really, when?”

“At lunch. She gets a veggie burger out of the freezer, puts it the microwave, then she puts a Stackers pickle on top, and ketchup.” Melly made a motion with her hand. “Stackers pickles are flat. She said we can buy them at the Giant, and the veggie burgers, too. She showed me the box, and it says Amy’s Burgers, but I said they were Kristenburgers, and she laughed.”

Rose still didn’t understand. “Why were you eating with her?”

“She saw me going to the handicapped bathroom and she said I could.” Melly turned, her eyes hopeful. “Can we get Stackers pickles at the store? And Kristenburgers?”

“Sure.” Rose wanted to know what had happened, though. If it was what had prompted Kristen’s email to her, about lunchtime, she didn’t know the details. “Why were you going to the bathroom? Was there a problem? I’m not going to do anything. I just want to know.”

“Ms. Canton said I needed a break. She calls it ‘me time.’ She says she eats alone on Friday, like me. She doesn’t mind, because that’s her ‘me time.’”

Rose knew the weekly schedule, but that wasn’t the point. On Friday, the teachers ate in the classrooms, because they made folders that got sent home with the kids, containing work from the week prior. Kristen, as a gifted teacher, wasn’t responsible for making any folders, but that still didn’t explain why she was eating with Melly. “So why were you eating with her? What happened?”

“She says I needed ‘me time’ from Amanda and Emily.”

“Were they teasing you?” Rose tried to put it together, like a puzzle.

“They were saying that Harry Potter is for boys, and I said, he’s not. They only saw the movies, so they don’t know. He saves Hermione from the bathroom. Remember, Mom? Like you saved me. I knew you’d come.”

Rose felt a twinge. “I love you, Mel.”

“I love you, too.” Melly twisted to the backseat and waved to John, who was asleep. “I love you, John!” she whispered, then turned back to Rose, cheered. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

“He’s very cute.” Rose brightened. “I have an idea. How about we get some lunch, go over to the park, and have a picnic?”

“It’s not a sunny day.”

“You don’t need the sun for a picnic. It won’t rain.”

“Okay.” Melly nodded. “Then can we get the Kristenburgers?”

“Yes.”

“Yay!” Melly cheered, and Rose steered the car into the turn lane.

Two hours later they’d had a picnic at Allen’s Dam, found the reddest fallen leaf, and gone to the grocery store. Rose wanted to make one last stop before home, in one of the strip malls. She pulled into the lot, cut the ignition, and turned to Melly. “I thought we’d get some books.”

“Goodie!” Melly turned to John, who was babbling away in the backseat. “Johnnie, books!”

“Careful, it’s a parking lot. You have to hold my hand.” Rose grabbed her car keys and purse, and Melly was already in motion, climbing out of the car and closing the door. Rose went around to the backseat, unclipped John from his car seat, found his pacifier, and lifted him into her arms. “Hey, buddy, how’re you?”

“Bababsbsbsb,” he answered, and Rose kissed his cheek as Melly came around and took her other hand.

“Mom, can I lock the car?”

“Sure.” Rose handed her the car keys.

“Colloportus!” Melly pointed the key fob at the car.

“Good job.” Rose knew the basic Harry Potter incantations, since it was Melly’s second language. She dropped the keys into her purse and took Melly’s hand. “I want to get a book for me, and you can pick some out, too.”

“There’s a new one about Quidditch. My friend on Club Penguin told me. She’s Harryfan373 and I’m HarryP2009. She loves it!”

“Mel, do any of the kids in your class like Harry Potter? I would think there’d be a few.”

“William does.”

“Nice. Did you talk to him about it?”

“No. I only know because he has a Gryffindor beanie, too. It’s maroon like mine.”

“So maybe we can make a playdate with him.”

“Mom.” Melly rolled her eyes. “He likes the video games, not the books.”

Rose walked her toward the store. “A woman at assembly told me her daughter loves the American Girl books. She said they’re good.”

“They’re not.” Melly kicked a stone, sending it skidding across the rough surface of the asphalt.

“Have you ever read one?”

“No.”

“Do kids in your class read them?”

“All the girls do. They have the dolls, too.”

“Really?” They reached the bookstore, and Rose opened the heavy door. “So how’s it work? You read the book and you get the doll that’s in the book?”

Melly let go of her hand, skipping ahead. A woman standing at the octagon display of hardcovers looked up from behind her reading glasses, her gaze lingering a fraction too long on Melly’s face. Oblivious, Melly was already heading toward the Harry Potter books, in Fantasy. A cardboard Dumbledore presided over the section, his magic wand in hand. Behind him was a Hogwarts flag, its shield covered with fake spiderwebs.

“Mel, come check this out,” Rose called out, and Melly turned, her eyes bright and alert. She came alive in bookstores.

“Check what out?”

“This way.” Rose gestured at the children’s books section, a pastel-hued kingdom of pink mushrooms, cartoon parrots, and a papier-mâché cottage. “They probably have American Girl books, and we can pick some books for John.”

“I don’t want American Girl, Mom.”

“What about John? He needs books, too.” Rose smiled in an encouraging way, then walked toward the children’s department. “Follow me. Let’s do this, then go over to Harry Potter.”

“Okay.” Melly skipped ahead.

“Do you see the American Girl?”

“Over here.” Melly stood at a yellow shelf, her knees bent so they bowed backwards. It was her characteristic stance; she was double-jointed, one of the reasons she didn’t do well at sports.

“Find anything that looks good?”

“Nah.”

“Lemme see.” Rose came over and slid an American Girl paperback from the shelves. On the cover was a dark-haired girl in an old-fashioned straw hat. “Rebecca and the Movies.”

“She looks dumb.”

“Okay.” Rose shrugged, which was reverse psychology, the hallmark of professional parenting. “Maybe there’s a better one.”

“Here.” Melly slid one off the shelf and eyed the cover, which showed a girl with straight blond hair and a big smile, touching a butterfly.

“Lanie’s Real Adventures.” Rose thought it looked fine. “Wanna give it a try?”

“Amanda likes Lanie. She has a Lanie doll, too.”

Oops. “Amanda looks like Lanie, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.” Melly put the book back on the shelf, wedging it between the others with care. “Get it, Mom? You like the books that look like you. You get the doll that looks like you. You go on the website and make the doll that looks like you. Like Build-A-Bear, only with dolls.”

“Oh.” Rose wanted to kick herself, realizing the problem. None of the American Girls had a birthmark. She spotted one hugging a cute tricolored dog and picked it from the shelf, trying to recover. “Look at this one, about Nicki. She likes dogs, and we like dogs.”

“Bbsbssbsb.” John pumped his arm, and Rose put on a smile.

“He likes it. Let’s get it.”

An hour later, Rose pulled into the driveway at home, with sleeping kids, groceries, and a shopping bag of books. The clouds had darkened, and it looked like rain, so they were just in time. She cut the ignition and was about to wake Melly when she noticed a strange car parked in front of the house. It was a navy blue Crown Victoria, and in the next minute, two men in suits were getting out of the front seat and walking toward her car. They didn’t look like reporters or door-to-door salesmen, if there was such a thing anymore. She stayed in the driver’s seat and slid the key back in the ignition.

“Excuse me, Ms. McKenna?” one of the men called out, reaching into his pocket as he approached. He was young-looking, his sandy hair stiff with product, and he had on a dark suit and an edgy patterned tie. He held up a slim black billfold that flopped open to reveal a heavy, gold-toned badge.

Rose felt her heart stop.

“I’m Rick Artiss, with the District Attorney’s Office, Reesburgh County. Can I speak with you a minute?”