Beckoners by Carrie Mac Page A

parent?” “I don’t have to worry about a thing. Zoe’s more like a little sister, really. I can’t imagine her ever needing anything.”
    When Zoe heard Alice say things like that, it made it really hard to ask for help. When she was a latchkey kid in elementary school Alice told her to never, ever call her at work when she was home alone after school unless it was a matter of life or death. So Zoe didn’t, not even when she wiped out on her roller skates on the cement floor in the basement and broke her arm. She’d waited until Alice got home; then on the way to the hospital Alice gave her the royal what-for for not calling her at work.
    â€œBut it wasn’t a matter of life or death!”
    â€œCome on, you’re smarter than that,” Alice said as they pulled into Emergency. “And don’t go telling them you did this twohours ago, or I’ll have to get Allan to babysit you after school. You want that?”
    Ucky Allan Bates who adjusted his crotch way more than necessary? No, thank you. Zoe kept her mouth shut as the doctor set and plastered her arm. She didn’t even cry.
    â€œShe did it just now,” Alice told the doctor, more than once.
    â€œJust now?” He shone his light in Zoe’s eyes again.
    Zoe looked away. “Just now,” she mumbled.
    â€œHmm.” He swung the light so the beam shone in Alice’s face for a moment. “Just now, huh?”
    By the time Alice came downstairs with Cassy toddling behind her, clutching a pancake in one hand and her dinosaur cup in the other, Zoe had decided not to tell her about Jazz. Not then anyway. Not yet. Probably and most likely not ever. In fact, she might not tell her mother another thing, ever, period. She was definitely and absolutely glad that she hadn’t told her about the scar.
    â€œNow, Zoe.” Alice sat in the other swivel chair and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Let’s take a few minutes so you can tell me what’s going on for you, okay?”
    â€œIt’s nothing.”
    â€œDidn’t sound like nothing upstairs. You might feel better if you get it off your chest. I’m here for you.”
    Alice was using her work language on her. Zoe hated that. She started counting the little holes in the ceiling tiles, anything to avoid setting her eyes on her mother’s holier-than-thou, I-feel-your-pain look. “I figured it out for myself.”
    â€œThere, now, you see?” Alice sat back and crossed her arms. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You didn’t need me after all.”
    On the way home from the shelter, Alice stopped at the grocery store, leaving Cassy and Zoe in the car while she dashed in.
    She was gone a lot longer than a dash. When Cassy started to howl after a while, Zoe let her howl. She sat scrunched up in the front seat feeling deliriously sorry for herself. When Alice finally came back an hour later she was furious that Cassy was covered in snot and tears and was gasping for breath, she was crying so hard.
    â€œWhy didn’t you comfort her?” Alice scooped her out of the car seat and cuddled her. “Hey, baby girl. It’s okay.”
    â€œWhat took you so long?”
    â€œI ran into Wish,” Mom said. “You could’ve come and found me, you know. You’re not helpless.”
    When they got home the red light on the answering machine was blinking. Alice pushed play, and Janika’s gravelly voice filled the room. Zoe pushed past her and hit the erase button.
    â€œSomeone sure has their shirt in a knot.” Alice frowned.
    â€œ
Someone
is feeling
ill
.” Zoe stomped up the stairs.
“Someone
would appreciate it if you told anyone who calls that
someone
is sick.”
    Zoe slept all afternoon, a miserable sheet-twisting sleep that didn’t feel restful at all. When she woke, it had stopped raining. She felt guilty enough about letting Cassy cry in the car