maybe a year ago when his magazine folded. Ma learned to work computers and worked at night. Sheâs having a baby. I guess itâs born by now.â He glanced quickly at Mrs. Greg, wondering if she knew something he didnât.
Mrs. Greg was looking at him attentively, her head cocked slightly forward as though to catch every word.
âWell, my father went away. Missing Persons couldnât find him.â
âWhen do you think that was?â Mrs. Greg interrupted him.
âAbout seven months ago,â Clay replied. âThen Ma stopped working. Pretty soon we couldnât pay the rent. Then we went to the hotelâafter Ma went to Social Services. Thatâs where they put usâin that hotel. She went away too. She was gone when I woke up in the morning. I thought sheâd come back. She didnât.â
âHow long ago was that?â Mrs. Greg asked.
âHow long have I been in the hospital?â
âTen days,â Mrs. Greg said promptly.
He thought for a moment. âAbout six weeks and four days,â he said. âThatâs when she went away.â
âSomeone took care of you in the park? A young black man?â
âBuddy,â he said. âAnd Calvin too. But Calvin drank too much and now heâs in a hospital and isnât going to make it.â
Mrs. Greg stared at him for at least a minute. He didnât mind. He felt easy now. After all, heâd told her only the truth.
âDo you have relatives anywhere?â she asked at last.
âMy fatherâs mother, in Oregon. If sheâs alive,â he replied. âBut she wonât have anything to do with us.â
Mrs. Greg looked very interested.
âWhy is that, do you think?â she asked.
âI know why. Because my mother is Italian. And my fatherâs mother said that that ended the family. But my father said sheâs lost out on everything.â
For a second, Clay thought he might start yelling at the top of his lungs instead of speaking so calmly and coolly. Then he recalled what Calvin had said in his dry voice: âFamilies can let you down.â Maybe that was half-true. Calvin had a son he hadnât seen in years, and if Calvin died, the son wouldnât even know heâd left the world. Thinking of Calvin, how funny he could be even when he was sarcastic, made Clay feel less like yelling. âLife is like that,â Calvin would have said.
âYou must feel youâve been dropped from a cliff,â Mrs. Greg said softly.
Perhaps he did feel that way. But he didnât want to be told how he felt.
Mrs. Greg was leaning forward. Suddenly she reached out and took his hand. Not quite meaning to, he made a fist, but she kept on holding it.
âThose two men were good to you?â she asked. âThey didnât mistreat you?â
âYes,â he answered so loudly they both jumped. âThey were so good to me!â
She let go of his hand and glanced down at her notebook. âListen, Clay,â she began. âYouâre not going back to the streets. We have to do a few legal things, like making you a ward of the court. Thatâs a formality. And weâre going to find you a really nice home with nice peopleâand very shortly, not in a hundred years and a day. Meanwhile, weâre going to look for your parents. I want you to write down your old address and your motherâs and fatherâs full names, and where you went to school and the name of the hotel. Also the name of anyone who came to see your mother, like someone from Social Services. All right?â
He thought of Miss You-canât-fool-me. But he wouldnât write that down.
âYou may find it hard to believe, but your getting sick has a good side to it,â said Mrs. Greg. âYou can think of this hospital as part of the net.â
She isnât so bad, he thought. She probably wouldnât look away from people lying on the sidewalk.
Brian Lumley
Joe Dever, Ian Page
Kyle Mills
Kathleen Morgan
Tara Fox Hall
The Amulet of Samarkand 2012 11 13 11 53 18 573
Victoria Zackheim
Madhuri Banerjee
Doris Kearns Goodwin
Maxim Jakubowski