Peas and Carrots (20 page)

Bundled in her magenta wool cape and matching faux fur hat, Grandma Amelie looked like a gigantic round berry with a fuzzy top.

“Come walk with us,” Grandma Amelie invited as Austin wriggled and stomped into his boots. “We're just going to circle the block a few times till this guy burns off some energy.”

“No thanks.” Hope waved a lazy hand. “I burned off all my energy at school.” She wasn't particularly tired, but Dess's social worker had arrived minutes before, which meant that as soon as Dess came upstairs, Mom might have a few minutes to talk.

“If Austin is good, we might pick up one of those little balsa wood planes from the market by the park,” Grandma said in a loud whisper.

“Really? Wow,” Hope whispered back while Austin's eyes rounded.

Hope smirked as the door closed behind them. Little kids were so
easy
at times.

Mom wasn't in the kitchen, but Dad's French press was half-full of dark brew and the electric kettle was hissing for tea. Hope heard Dess thunder by and decided to make the Mexican chocolate she loved and see if anyone else wanted some. She was whisking little beads of chocolate into a pot of hot coconut milk when her mother bustled into the kitchen, brow furrowed.

Hope licked chocolate off her spoon. “Hey, Mom, did Aunt Henry talk to you?”

“Hmm? Henry?” her mother said. She braced Jamaira in her sling with a hand on her back. A quick stretch and she grabbed a mug from the cabinet above the sink. “Talk to me about what?”

“Um…school stuff?” Hope offered vaguely. If Aunt Henry hadn't said anything, Hope wasn't going to, but it would help to know how much explaining she had to do on the Stillwaters thing.

“I haven't talked to Henry since— Hold on, sweet,” Mom said, turning away with a frown. From the living room came rising voices.

Dess, sounding sick. “
What?
No!”

Hope pushed a hand against her stomach. Her foster sister sounded
awful.
Hope took a step toward the dining room door, wishing she could get close enough to hear Mr. Bradbrook's quiet words.

“Oh,
crap.
I can't— Bradbrook!” Dess wailed, sounding desperate. “I have to go!”

Now Mr. Bradbrook's voice rose. “Wait, Dess. Just calm down. Until we have more information, what's best is for you to—”

“You know what would be best? If somebody would make sure Eddie's boys stay off my grandma. I
told
you he was dangerous. I
told you.
He probably sent someone to
push her.
Where is she?”

“Well, the regional hospital for now, but, Dess, her condition is—”

“Is someone keeping watch on her?”

“I'm afraid that's not—”

“Seriously? Nobody's looking out for her, and I can't even go see her?”

“Dess—just wait, please. Listen. I—”

“
YOU
listen to
ME
! Granny Doris needs somebody watching her. She didn't just fall. She's not that old, all right? The Felon sent someone to push her. I don't care what you say. She was pushed. She. Was. Pushed!”

The whisk slipped from Hope's fingers as Dess raced past the kitchen. From the upstairs hall echoed a ringing
slam!
as her door shut.

Hope blinked and turned to her mother. “What's going on?”

Her mother gestured toward the whisk and the pot of bubbling milk. As Hope hurriedly began to stir again, her mother sighed. “Well, obviously, Dess has had some bad news. When you've finished, take her some cocoa and see if she's all right, okay?”

“And have her bite off
my
head?” Hope protested as she gave the cocoa a final whisk. “Thank you, no.
You're
the mom.
You
go see what's wrong.”

“I already know,” her mother said, pushing an extra mug in Hope's direction.

Hope poured cocoa into both mugs, but her mother turned to tuck a tea bag into her own mug and doused it in boiling water. The spoon clicked against the mug as her mother stirred. Hope waited.

“You're not going to tell me,” she said, finally catching on. “You think if you don't tell me, I'm so nosy I'm going to go upstairs and ask Dess myself.”

Her mother just made a noncommittal humming noise and rubbed Jamaira's back.

With a grunt of irritation, Hope carried the cocoa down the hall to her room. Of
course
she was going to go upstairs. Her curiosity—nosiness—had won again.

She kicked the door. “Dess?”

“I don't want to talk.”

“Fine. Take your chocolate, though.”

In a moment, the door slid open. Dess, stiff-faced, her makeup smudged, reached with both hands for the mug with a grudging mutter of “Thanks.”

Hope, questions pressing against her tongue, just nodded and took her mug over to Dess's bedside table. Tucking her leg beneath her, she faced her foster sister, and found herself…waiting, her stomach in nervous coils.

Dess sipped her drink, then sighed. Abruptly she leaned against the wall, as if she was too tired to stand anymore. “I'm going down south.”

“What?”
Hope's mug wobbled, and cocoa splashed her hand. She absentmindedly wiped the back of her hand on her jeans as her stomach clenched. “Where? Why?”

For how long? Would she come back?

Dess carefully sat on the floor and exhaled, seeming to fold in on herself. “The old lady broke her hip. I have to go see her.”

“Your grandma?” Hope's stomach lurched as she imagined Grandma Amelie's big, tall body falling. “Jeez, Dess, I'm sorry. Is she all right? Do they know what happened?”

Dess shrugged and shook her head. “Nope.”

Hope's lips parted in dismay. “Is she— She can't tell them?”

Dess shrugged shortly and glared at the floor over the rim of her mug. “They're looking around, I guess. Social services is involved, 'cause the neighbors found her outside and she was loopy. They're not listening to me, though. Bradbrook says old people fall and break their hips all the time. But somebody probably pushed her.” Dess shook her head.

“I heard you say that,” Hope said without thinking. “This sucks. I wish you didn't have to go.”

Dess's expression went blank and sullen. “I wasn't going to stay here forever.”

Hope recoiled. “Well, I know, but…”

“It's not like anyone can control when psycho motorcycle thugs attack people.”

“Motorcycle thugs?” Hope looked confused.

Dess set her jaw. “It's what happened.
I
know it, even if nobody believes me. It was one of the Felon's Notorious Brotherhood guys. Eddie always got away with this crap. But this time, Trish is going to make sure he gets nailed forever.” Her voice rang with conviction.

“Well…good. I guess,” Hope said lamely. She picked at a bubble in the mug's glaze, a mess of confusion. Dess was a pain, but Hope had finally gotten used to her. And now she wasn't going to be around to hang with her at the Anguianos' party, or complain about the fluff from Hope's faux fur bathrobe, or use all of her crackle-coat nail polishes. She glanced at Dess's nails, and sure enough: red with yellow crackle glaze. Hope shook her head. Just when she'd gotten used to things, everything changed. Again.

It would be weird to have access to the laptop anytime she wanted it, and she'd have to start watching
Jeopardy!
with Dad again or he'd be all depressed. And Austin—

“Wait, what about Austin?” Hope asked, her pulse fluttering in her throat. “That's his grandma, too, right? Does he remember her? Will he be upset?”

Dess froze. “I—” She shook her head wordlessly.

“Well, good he won't be upset, but…Austin's going to miss you.” Hope decided not to mention again that she'd miss Dess a little, too. A little.

Dess hunched as if she'd been slugged in the gut. “That— It's—” She cleared her throat, and her voice splintered as she said, “Baby doesn't need me. Y'all take good care of him. He'll be all right. I've got to see about Granny Doris.”

Hope sipped her cocoa, then licked her lips. “Look, Dess. You could tell Mr. Bradbrook to bring you back. It's not fair you have to be with only your grandma and you don't get to be with Austin. You just got him back.”

“I don't want to talk about Bradbrook,” Dess said, rubbing her arms. “And Baby doesn't need to be mixed up in Trish's drama,” she added. “Farris shouldn't have moved me here with him, anyway.”

Hope gave her a shocked look. “But Austin loves you. You love him—and he should get to know his own sister, don't you think? Your social worker should think about that—moving you might do psychological damage or something. I mean, Austin's only four. He can't keep losing his sister. People—people can't keep losing people.” Hope rose, brimming with determination. “I'm going to talk to him. The two of you should stay together.”

Dess looked up, her eyes filled with something Hope couldn't name. “No,” she said quickly. “Look, Hope—just leave it. Bradbrook won't listen.”

“Yeah, he will,” Hope said, firming her jaw.

“I'm glad to hear Dess has an advocate,” Mr. Bradbrook said a few minutes later. He smiled over his coffee at Hope, but his eyes were tired. “This placement is working far better than expected. Of course Dess and Austin
should
be together. They're family.”

Hope was confused. Didn't Mr. Bradbrook disagree? Wasn't that what Dess had said? “Yeah. They should be together. And if you think any motorcycle guys are going to come here now that they beat up Dess's grandma, they won't. They don't know where Dess lives.”

“Hope—” her mother murmured. She'd put Jamaira down and was leaning against the wall in the dining room, her arms clasped around her waist. She looked—worried.

Hope turned. “What? Mrs. Matthews didn't tell where Dess lived, did she?”

“That's not it—” Mr. Bradbrook's mouth tightened, and he glanced at Hope's mother. Hope turned to her as well.

“Mrs. Matthews was unconscious when she was found, Hope.” Her mother looked hesitant. “She was able to say Trish's name when the EMTs brought her out of the house, but she hasn't said anything more.”

Hope's stomach lurched.
“Oh.”

If Mrs. Matthews had known where Dess was, then she could have told, Hope realized. A shiver skittered up her back. The old lady could have given her attackers a hint, or even told them everything. The social worker and Mom had no way of knowing.

“We have to get Dess out of here,” Hope blurted, panic racing through her nerves.

“There's nowhere to go.”

Dess's voice startled Hope, and she turned. Dess was in the hallway behind her. She pushed past Hope and stood in front of Mr. Bradbrook.

“The Felon always found us. Trish moved us to three different houses in Houston. We moved to Arizona, then to a trailer park in San Diego. He found us anyway.”

“Stop, Dess,” Mr. Bradbrook said, his voice firm. “First, Hope, Mrs. Matthews simply fell—we have no evidence that she was pushed. Second, yes, your father followed your mother, Dess, but let's not give Eddie Griffiths power he doesn't have. She remained in contact with him. This time, he and members of his gang are in prison, where he cannot hurt you. I don't have concerns about the rest of his motorcycle club finding you—”

“They will.” Dess's voice was lifeless. “They found Granny Doris, didn't they?”

“Dess, you're not listening, babe,” Mom interrupted, moving to put an arm around Dess's shoulders. “No one knows how she fell. It was very likely something like a slick sidewalk or a cat twining around her legs when she was getting the paper or picking up the mail. Older bones sometimes break when people fall. People slow down and become fragile as they age. It
happens.
”