California Diaries # 11: Dawn III: Missing (10 page)

This reminded me that Ducky’s keys were still in my purse, so I fished

them out and handed them to him. Then I looked at Dad, waiting for him to

answer me.

All he said was, “We’l discuss this at home.”

Monday afternoon 3/8

I’m getting ahead of myself. Or at any rate, my life is getting ahead of my

journal. I had thought I’d be able to finish writing about Friday night yesterday.

But no, what did Dad suddenly remember at, like, 4:00 yesterday afternoon? My

promise to clean out the garage. So I had to put away the journal and spend the

next two hours sorting through boxes and bags, piles of stuff that need to go to

the recycling center, and dirty, oily tools and gadgets that no one has used in

years.

Then, after dinner, it was time for my weekend homework. I suppose I

could have started it yesterday morning at the beginning of my grounding, but I

was too mad. So I had to do it al last night.

UPDATE: Mrs. Winslow came back from the hospital while I was cleaning

the garage. She rode in the ambulance again.

Seeing Mrs. Winslow made me think of Sunny. This mess – the concert,

Ducky, Dad, being grounded – is basically her fault. I’m not even going to wonder

why she’s so wild. I know why. Because of her mother. Carol and I have talked

about this endlessly. Okay. That’s why she’s wild. But why is she cruel,

thoughtless, and basically just a bad friend? She was so mean to Ducky on

Friday night – Ducky, who loves her and looks out for her and at the moment is

just as vulnerable as she is. Why did she do that?

And why did she insist on drinking and pulling Ducky into that with her?

From the second we entered the club, al she could think about was getting a

drink. The first thing she wanted to do was buy a bracelet. She probably would

have stolen one if she’d had the opportunity.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND SUNNY.

Five minutes later

But I still wish we were best friends again.

Monday night 3/8

Back to Friday night.

I noticed the most interesting thing as Dad was driving us down the

freeway back to Palo City.

It was Ducky.

Now, if I were being driven along and lectured by the father of one of my

friends I would be either absolutely livid or unspeakably embarrassed, but Ducky

seemed…actual y, he seemed kind of relieved. Even pleased. At first I couldn’t

figure out why, but now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’ve decided it’s

because Ducky’s own parents can’t do this for him. I know he thinks his parents

don’t care about him and Ted very much. They’re in another country, for god’s

sake, and have left Ducky and Ted on their own. So when Ducky does something

wrong, well, that’s it. Nothing happens. Ted isn’t going to punish him. And

chances are, his parents will never know he did anything wrong. So maybe it’s

kind of refreshing for Ducky to be lectured by a parent (even someone else’s

parent) when he’s messed up.

At long last, Dad pulled into Ducky’s driveway. His parting words, as

Ducky was opening the back door of our car, were something about alcoholism.

Ducky just said, “Yes, sir,” kind of saluted Dad, and then let himself into his

house.

I don’t think Ted was home.

Poor Ducky.

It’s funny. Dad was being al lecture-y and stern, but he didn’t do the one

thing I’d been sure he’d do. He didn’t ask to have a word with Ted when we

reached the McCraes’ house. He knew Mr. and Mrs. McCrae weren’t there, but I

guess he realized that even Ted wasn’t there and Ducky was on his own.

Maybe Dad will take Ducky under his wing.

Or not.

Two minutes later

Just reread last entry. Another duck pun. Couldn’t help it.

Later Monday night 3/8

Dad and I were pretty quiet as we drove to our house. It was 3:00 when

we finally parked the car in the garage. To my surprise, Carol was up waiting for

us. She’d made tea. She and Dad and I sat around the kitchen table and talked.

Neither Dad nor Carol seemed particularly angry. Stil , I wasn’t surprised when

they told me I was grounded for the rest of the weekend. It had something to do

with choosing my friends and not begging to put myself in situations that were

basically too old for me. Man, I hope they never find out about the party at Ms.

Krueger’s house.

Finally, just after 3:30, we al went to bed.

Despite the bad end to our night, I went to bed and dreamed of Pierre. We

were on this beach, holding hands.

Tuesday afternoon 3/9

For some reason, the days are dragging by. Well, of course, Saturday and

Sunday dragged because of my being grounded and stuck in the house. And

cleaning the garage was so picnic. It only took two hours, but they felt like eight. I must speak with Maggie about the “bribing” aspect of her scheme. It may not

work for everybody.

The last two days have been pretty draggy too. I just feel so bad for

Ducky.

When I got to school yesterday morning Maggie and Amalia pounced on

me right away. I hadn’t spoken to Amalia since her call Saturday, and Carol had

only taken phone messages from Maggie. (I was sure Maggie and Amalia had

spoken to each other, though.)

“Are you still grounded?” was Maggie’s greeting.

“Nope. It’s over.” I twisted the dial on my locker.

“What happened over the weekend?” asked Amalia.

“Nothing. And I mean NOTHING,” I replied. “It was the quietest, most

boring weekend on record. I wrote in my journal, did my homework, and cleaned

out the garage. Period. Have you guys spoken to Sunny?”

“I talked to her yesterday,” said Maggie. “Boy was she mad.”

“At me?” I asked.

“Mostly.”

“But she was the one with the stupid idea of getting drinks for Ducky. Our

driver.”

“I didn’t say she was right,” said Maggie.

“Besides, she was also really mad at Ducky,” added Amalia.

“At Ducky? Why?” I asked.

“Well…I think because he took your side on Friday night. He agreed with

you that he shouldn’t drive. And then he waited with you for your father to pick

you up.”

I pulled two books out of my locker, then slammed the door shut. “Wel , I’m

really mad at Sunny. Ducky should be too,” I said.

At that very moment, Ducky materialized behind Maggie. He was wearing

that baseball cap again, with the bill pointing left.

Maggie turned and saw him. “What’s with the hat?” she asked.

“It’s protecting me from Sunny,” he replied. “As long as I’m wearing this,

she has no power in my immediate universe.”

“Why do you need protection from Sunny?” asked Amalia.

Ducky just looked at her. “Amalia.”

“Okay, okay. It’s just that I don’t think she’ll stay mad at you.”

Ducky looked hopeful. “You don’t? Then maybe she isn’t still mad at me. I

haven’t seen her yet.”

Later Tuesday afternoon 3/9

Sunny was most definitely stil mad at Ducky. But we didn’t discover this

until later in the morning. Classes were changing and Ducky and I were talking in

the hal for a minute. I spotted Sunny walking toward us and I nudged Ducky.

“Hey, Sunny,” said Ducky brightly as she approached us.

Sunny glanced at Ducky, then glanced away and passed by us without a

word. The look on Ducky’s face was just awful.

He removed the cap and put it in his pocket.

I could have killed Sunny.

“It’ll be okay,” I told Ducky.

“Yeah,” he said.

Tuesday night 3/9

Mrs. Winslow went back to the hospital today. Back and forth. Back and

forth. It must be horrible for her.

And for Sunny.

At the moment I don’t have a lot of sympathy for Sunny, though. She could

make her ordeal easier by letting us be her friends again. But she won’t. She

keeps pushing us away.

I can’t believe she’s pushing Ducky away now too.

Wednesday afternoon 3/10

Looking out my window, and there’s Ducky. He’s just standing on the

sidewalk in front of Sunny’s house.

Wednesday evening 3/10

When I saw Ducky I opened our front door and cal ed to him. We sat

around and talked for awhile. He was hoping to see Sunny, of course. And at that

moment something occurred to me.

“Ducky,” I said, “what happened to your after-school job? Aren’t you

supposed to be working at Sunny’s father’s store?”

(What had occurred to me was that I’d seen Ducky around in the

afternoons an awful lot – and I had just remembered that he worked in the

afternoons. Or he used to.)

Ducky mumbled something about quitting the job.

“When?” I asked.

“A month ago. Maybe more.”

“Why?”

“All this stuff. Alex. You know.”

I tried to understand. “Didn’t you like working?”

“It was just too much. Too much pressure. Too much everything. And think

how embarrassing it would be if I worked there now.”

“Why? Because of running into Sunny?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” I made a face. “You wouldn’t run into her there, Ducky. She’s never

at home, never at the store, and hardly ever at the hospital. Mostly she’s

wherever her parents aren’t.”

Ducky sighed. “I thought she kind of relied on me,” he said. “I didn’t think

she’d turn away from me too.”

“Carol has a theory,” I said.

“And just remember I can hear you from the kitchen!” Carol called to us.

“I’ll try to be accurate,” I called back. Then I said to Ducky, “Carol’s theory

is that if Sunny pushes us away first, then we can’t leave her. Technical y. Is that

right, Carol?”

“Technical y,” she replied.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt any less,” said Ducky.

“I know.”

The phone rang then, and a moment later Carol poked her head into the

living room and said, “Dawn, it’s Maggie.”

“I’ll get the cordless phone,” I told her.

I walked around in the living room while I talked to Maggie. Ducky

examined a ceramic dolphin and then the hole at the knee of his jeans. He

looked bored.

After a few minutes Maggie said, “So do you want to go to the Square

after school tomorrow?”

“The Square?” I replied. “Sure.” Ducky looked up with interest. “Ducky, do

you want to go to the Square with us tomorrow?” I asked.

Ducky looked a teeny bit less bored. “Why not?”

“Maggie, Ducky’s going to come too,” I said into the phone.

Cafeteria, Thursday 3/11

Lunchtime. Sunny is not in school today. She probably skipped.

Thursday evening 3/11

We had so much fun at the Square today. It was so different going with

Ducky, though. Partly because he’s a guy, and partly because he’s Ducky. And

slightly depressed. Maggie and I saw it as our job to cheer him up. (Speaking of

jobs, I think he should get his back.)

Differences caused by having Ducky along this afternoon:

1. Extreme window shopping. (Ducky practically lives for it.)

2. More $ at end of afternoon. (Ducky paid our bil at the Tea Shop and

also bought me a CD. It was on sale, but stil .)

3. Covered more ground. (Ducky likes looking in stores but he doesn’t like

to stay in them long, so we went to, like, 2,000 of them.)

4. Accumulated more flyers than usual. (Ducky CANNOT say no to a

person who holds a flyer out to him.)

5. Laughed more. (Ducky is SO funny, even when he’s down.)

6. Ended the afternoon more wound up than when we’d started.

(Sometimes Ducky seems like a taut rubber band. The slightest little thing sets

him going BOING BOING BOING, and soon Maggie and I were going BOING

BOING BOING too.)

Ducky MUST settle down.

I.e., he MUST straighten things out with Sunny, one way or another.

And he could use that job.

And he could probably use his parents too.

Once again – poor Ducky.

Later Thursday evening 3/11

I think somewhere earlier in this journal I wrote “Desolation.” I think it was

for something stupid like not getting tickets to see Pierre and Jax.

I didn’t know I didn’t know what desolation really is. I’l never write

something shal ow like that again.

I feel like an old, old person.

And now I know why Sunny cut school.

When I came home this afternoon – al happy and wound up from

spending the afternoon with Maggie and Ducky – Carol was sitting in the kitchen

with Mrs. Bruen, looking very serious.

“Dawn, I want to talk to you,” she said.

She sounded so serious that at first I thought I was in trouble for

something. I thought back over the last few weeks and wondered what I’d done.

Finally I said, “Were our report cards sent out?”

Carol frowned. “No. Should I be worried about your report card?”

“No. It’s just that…What’s wrong?”

Mrs. Bruen slipped out of the kitchen then, and I sat down across the table

from Carol. “Honey, it’s Mrs. Winslow,” she began.

“I know. She’s back in the hospital.”

“Well, actually she’s at home again. She came home this morning.”

“Oh. Isn’t that good news?”

Carol reached across the table and took my hand. “Honey, Mrs. Winslow

won’t be returning to the hospital.”

I didn’t understand. “Ever? What do you mean?”

“Sunny’s father has arranged for round-the-clock nursing for Mrs. Winslow.

At home.”

Carol was trying to tell me something and I just wasn’t getting it. “Okay,” I

said finally.