One for the Murphys (13 page)

“None of that has anything to do with you. You’re a liar.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not perfect either. But you were still my friend.”

“But I didn’t lie to you. That’s the difference.”

“I’m sorry, Toni. So sorry. I wish I could take it back. Please give me another chance.” I feel silly for begging but decide it’s worth it.

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know, Connors. I just don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I have to go,” she says, leaving me standing alone, wondering how I can keep messing things up as much as I do.

T
he next morning, I come downstairs. I like these early mornings when the boys are all sleeping.

I smell cake. Real, honest-to-goodness cake. Mrs. Murphy is covering yellow cupcakes with homemade chocolate frosting. A good, thick layer of it. I can’t wait to have one. I hop up to the counter.

She holds up a wooden spoon. “Forget it. I’ll tell you the same thing that I’ll tell the rest of ’em. These are for Adam’s class today. There are twenty-four children in the class, so no, I can’t spare just one.”

“Do you really think that a wooden spoon can keep me from two dozen cupcakes? Didn’t Family Services warn you of my violent tendencies?”

She seems to consider this, shaking her head in light disapproval,
and I wish I hadn’t said it, especially since Mrs. MacAvoy could be ringing the doorbell at any moment.

“What?” I ask. “I was just kidding about the violent tendencies thing.”

“I don’t like it when you describe yourself in a negative light. I don’t like to hear you say bad things about yourself. Even if you’re kidding.”

God love the woman, but she’s just a bit over the edge. “I tell you what. I’ll tell you how beautiful I am if you give me a cupcake.”

She holds up her deadly wooden spoon again. “Carley Connors. You really
are
beautiful. But beautiful or not, there will be no cupcakes for you or the rest of ’em.”

She thinks I’m beautiful?

She goes back to frosting. “So, did you get a chance to talk to Toni?” she asks.

“Yeah, but it didn’t go that well.”

“Sometimes people need some time. That’s all. It will be okay.”

I hope she’s right.

The doorbell rings. She goes to answer it while I plot how to steal some frosting.

I hear Mrs. Murphy’s happy voice. “Oh, Mrs. MacAvoy. Please come in.”

Oh no.

“I’m sorry to be so early, but I added this to an already insane schedule.”

“Oh, is there news?”

There’s a pause. “Not that I’ve heard. I just need to make sure Carley’s okay.”

“Carley?” Mrs. Murphy calls me like she’s confused.

I appear in the foyer.

Mrs. MacAvoy’s eyebrows jump. “Well, you look okay. Better than okay, actually.”

“Is this something Family Services does routinely?” Mrs. Murphy asks.

“Oh no. Actually, Carley called me, expressing an interest in leaving.”

“Carley?” The pain in Mrs. Murphy’s tone rips into me. “Is that true?”

I look at the floor.

Mrs. Murphy stumbles over her words. “Are you? Are you here, then… to take her a
way
from us?”

Take her away from us?

“No, I’m here to see if she’s doing okay. Make sure she’s in safe hands.”

What have I done? I never thought of it like this. Well, I did… but I guess I didn’t. I look up and Mrs. Murphy stares at me with such sad eyes and I wish that she were just mad at me. Mad is so much easier than this.

“Carley?” Mrs. Murphy asks me. “Do you want to leave? If you do, you’re free to go any…”

“No! No!” I burst. “Don’t make me go! I’m sorry. I don’t know why I called. I just… I made a mistake. I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go!”

“Well, normally I would take a look around,” Mrs. MacAvoy says. “But I have a feeling things are well in hand.”

“Yes, they are,” Mrs. Murphy says, glancing at me. “I’m sorry that you had to come all this way for nothing.”

Mrs. MacAvoy leaves with a softer face than I’ve seen before.

I am such a jerk.

After she leaves, Mrs. Murphy turns to me and shakes her head. “I just don’t get it. I don’t understand, Carley.”

I want to cry, but my body won’t let me. “I just… it’s just that…” I can’t look at her anymore. “I don’t belong here. I’m not one of you and this whole thing is… it’s all just too… just too nice.”

“You mean you don’t want it to be nice here?”

“Well, not like that. No. It’s just too nice… for me, I guess.”

I glance only long enough to see confusion. “Carley? Are you saying that you don’t belong here because it’s too nice? You asked to leave because we’re too
good
to you?”

Yeah, maybe that
was
it. I think it was. I nod.

“Oh, Carley. How can that be?”

“I hate it.”

Her eyes widen. “You hate it that we’re good to you?”

“No. Well, I guess…” My voice drops. “I hate it… that I don’t hate it… that you’re good to me.”

Her fingertips touch her lips, and her eyes fill with water. I just want to crawl out of my skin. “My God, Carley” is all she says for a long time. I stay, though. I guess I trust her enough to want to know what she’ll say.

“You deserve everything good the world has to offer. You deserve a family that loves you and cares for you.”

One… two… three… four…

She touches my arm, which yanks me back.

She continues. “Carley, look at the person you are! It’s phenomenal the strength you have.” She brings her hand to her forehead. “It just isn’t fair. But I know. I truly know…”

Sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…

“Carley?”

“Huh?”

“You deserve what we have to offer and more.” Her voice cracks again. “And so much more.”

I stiffen. “How can you say those things?” I yell. “You don’t
know
those things!” I step away. The pain in my throat and the wetness in my eyes scare me. I don’t know why bad things make me stronger and nice things make me weak.

“I
do
know, Carley. I’ve lived with you for six weeks now. I watch you with my boys and the sweet things you do for me. Don’t you think that I’ve been paying attention? Give me a little credit.” She tips her head and smiles a sad smile.

And that’s the thing. Most of the time, it wasn’t like my mother told me I was anything—good or bad. But when Mrs. Murphy tells me I’m smart, I am. When she tells me I’m funny, I am. When she tells me how thoughtful I am, I become that way. I swear, if she told me I was a duck, I’d be checking in my high tops for webbed feet.

“Carley,” she says. I wonder why she always says my name.
“You’re so strong. Strong enough to hide all this pain that you hold on to.” She takes a breath. “But I think it’s time to let it go.”

“It’s weak to cry. It’s for suckers.”

“Oh, Carley. It isn’t weak, honey. It’s human.”

My insides swirl as I try to deny my body its right to tears. I begin to tremble but fold my arms and stiffen my back, trying to keep it away.

I count the spindles on the staircase, but it doesn’t seem to be helping this time. “I have to go.”

“Oh, Carley. You don’t have to do this.”

I hesitate, my feet wanting to run and my head wanting to wait.

“Stay with me,” she says.

Spinning away, I run, making thirteen stairs in only six steps.

I go into the bathroom and turn on the water. I put my finger in the stream and watch as the stream becomes two. I count the splashes that land around the bowl of the sink. I close my eyes against the bright lights, willing my body to calm down. The swirling settles into my stomach with a thud.

I wish I could feel like I matter to someone for real. I just want a place to belong. But I’m so different from the Murphys. From everyone here.

And then something tells me—a part of me I don’t hear much—
maybe you’re not
.

D
aniel and I stand in the driveway again. Daniel stands with his arms folded, as usual, like he won’t listen to a thing I say.

“Okay. I’ve been thinking,” I say, spinning the basketball on my pointer finger.

“Is that why that stuff is oozing out of your ears?”

“Funny.”

Who knew the kid had so much personality besides mama’s boy extraordinaire. Still, I can’t help thinking of the story he told me about his dad and the baseball stuff. “You know, you actually have talent,” I lie.

“For what?” he asks.

“Basketball, idiot.” I give him a shove—an experiment to see how
he’ll react. He takes it okay. “But you have one major setback. I know what it is, but you won’t like it.”

“That I can’t get the ball through the net?”

“No, no. That’s going to work out great.” I lean toward him. “For the
other
…
team
!” I laugh and dribble the ball through my legs. “No, seriously.” I hold the ball and look at him. “You’re afraid.”

“I am not! Afraid of what?”

“Afraid of the ball. The players. Taking chances.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Look,” I say, “my old coach used to say that forty percent of success in basketball is desire and another forty percent is confidence. You have the desire but no confidence.”

“What’s the other twenty percent?” he asks.

“Paying off the refs,” I say, deadpan.

“Really?”

I dribble the ball and smile. “You’re so gullible. Do you believe everything people tell you, Murphy?”

“Fine.”

“Now, don’t get all wound up again. I’m trying to help you, remember? Besides, we basketball morons have to stick together.” I smile, hoping this will make him laugh.

“I still don’t think I’m afraid.”

“Then why do you act like you are?”

“Like when?” he asks, stepping back.

“Like when you have a perfect shot but you pass it instead of taking a shot yourself. Or someone is coming by you with the ball and you let him go right by.”

“I guess.”

“Do you know what courage is?”

“Give me a break. Listening to you?” He folds his arms.

“No, that would be dumb.” I wink even though it feels unnatural. “Tell me what it is.”

“Not being afraid of something.”

“No! It’s being afraid and doing it anyway. Like when your father runs into a burning building to save people. I’m sure he’s afraid, but he does it anyway.”

“Maybe you should run into a burning building.” He smiles, and I wonder if I don’t actually like him a little.

“After you make the Celtics. My life can’t be spared until then.”

“I’ll work extra hard then,” he says.

I laugh, and as I hear him join me, I bend over to rest my hands on my knees. “I wish I’d known earlier that you were so funny.”

“Maybe you would have noticed if you weren’t being a jerk all the time,” Daniel says.

“Me? You were being a jerk, too.”

“Why wouldn’t I be mad?” He dribbles the ball. “Like the night you ran out of the house.”

I stand. “Oh yeah.” It feels like such a long time ago now. The night I ran to the orchard. “That was a lousy night.”

“You can say that again.”

“That was a lousy night?”

He ignores me. “My mother was wicked mad at
me
because
you
left. She wouldn’t stop crying about you until my father finally came home and she could go look for you. I couldn’t
understand why she flipped out so much. She said I was acting selfish. She’s
never
said that to me before.” He looks over at me and then away. “I guess I still don’t get it sometimes.”

“Your mother has been nice to me… but she’ll never be my mom.”

He nods again.

“So, Dan the Man…”

He half smiles.

“Another thing. You have to walk onto the court like you can do anything—even if you know you can’t.”

“What’s the point of lying to myself?”

“Something about it.” I shrug. “It works. Besides, if you put off vibes that you can handle yourself, other people will start treating you that way. Everything is attitude. I learned that at home.” I guess I did learn some good things from my mother.

He looks surprised. “You never talk about your home.”

“Yeah, well…”

“How come?”

“Let’s just say, Daniel, that you’re pretty lucky.” Then I take a big chance and tell him, “I’d do anything for a family like yours.”

Again he nods but doesn’t say anything. I don’t give him the chance to, though, as I throw the ball at him and he catches it. “Okay, Murphy. You drive to the basket and see if you can get by me.”

“I’m gonna kick your butt!” he says.

“See? You’re lying to yourself already!”

A
t lunch, I head across the cafeteria with my tray, thinking about how I’ve had to sit alone for eight days. I miss Toni. I sit at a table near the thin row of windows, along the curved wall. I move the carrots around my plate, and as I do, a carrot hits me in the chest. Just what I need.

Stellar. Throw food at the noob who’s already sitting alone.

I look up. Rainer is at the next table; I have a feeling it’s time to pay for what I did at the restaurant.

He smiles. “Find your mother yet? Might check under a rock.” He laughs before lobbing another carrot at me. Normally, I’d stand up and tell him off. But I don’t even care. About anything. I just want to walk out the front door of this school and keep walking and walking.

Another carrot hits me in the face.

“Is your brain any bigger than that carrot, Rainer?” Toni asks,
dropping a tray on my table. “Do I need to teach you another lesson?”

“In your dreams,” Rainer says.

Toni’s loud laugh gets the attention of everyone nearby. “Oh my God. That comeback,” she says, putting her hands over her heart. “You’re brilliant.”

He looks at me but talks to her. “So why don’t we send the orphan back to where she came from? Don’t they have homes for kids like that? Like the pound for dogs.” Holding eye contact with me, he pretends to pant like a dog.