How to Get Dirt Page 6

  “I love you too,” Pickles said, tears filling her eyes.

  “I’m glad.” Miranda leaned over the bed to smooth down her hair. Pickles sighed happily. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all?”

  Once again, the guilt was powerful enough to make her feel sick. A big part of her wanted to unload all of her worries and tell Miranda about the list, but when she tried to speak, her tongue felt like a big, fat slug. She was scared of what Miranda would say. She didn’t want Miranda to tell her she was going to have to take her back when the baby was born. She didn’t want Miranda to think badly of her because she had been so desperate.

  “Do you have anything you would like to tell me?” Miranda asked.

  “No, Miranda,” Pickles said, sighing. “I don’t.”

  “Okay, Pickles.”

  Miranda glanced down at her, and Pickles could swear she looked disappointed. Pickles rolled to her side, but discovered within minutes that she couldn’t sleep.

  ****

  Item number four on the list was easier than number three. Search the house and the computers. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to get out of school at a random time without being in trouble, but she’d worry about that later. Right now, though, it was two o’clock in the morning and she was still awake. She also knew Miranda and David would never wake up at this hour.

  She pulled the blankets off and tried to forget the memory of her earlier conversation with Miranda. That made her feel too guilty. After climbing out of bed, she stole a frightened glance at Miranda and David’s door, which stood slightly ajar. No sound came from inside, so she crept downstairs and into the living room. She began to methodically look through their books, under cushions, and through work papers. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

  She opened up Miranda’s laptop and was stopped by the password. She didn’t have it. Shrugging, Pickles went back to searching through the stack of papers by Miranda’s computer. The most personal thing she found was her tax information, whatever that was.

  Nothing. Pickles had found nothing. She didn’t know whether she wanted to cry or leap for joy. On entering the kitchen, she decided she was thirsty so she gulped down a glass of water and then sighed.

  Just as she was about to head upstairs to go back to bed to think, she heard the sound of creaking. She stared up and leaped backward into the counter when she saw David coming around the corner with a concerned expression on his face. Dark circles had formed beneath his eyes making him look a little like a zombie.

  “Pickles?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, though she felt like crying.

  “Can’t sleep?” David asked.

  Pickles shook her head.

  “I think I know just the thing.”

  David walked toward her, kneeled down, and then took her in his arms. Like usual, he smelled of woodsy cologne. Pickles wrapped her arms around his back as tears spilled down her cheeks. Being with this family felt so good. What was she going to do if she lost them?

  When David pulled away from her, his eyes widened when he saw her tears.

  “What’s wrong?” David asked.

  “I just have these bad dreams.” About losing you and Miranda.

  “I knew something was up,” David said. “You’ve had a hard life. Nobody can be so… composed.”

  “Composed?”

  David shook his head, grabbed her hand, and then squeezed it.

  “Tell you what, Pickles,” David said, “let’s do what Miranda always does when she’s upset.”

  Because Pickles had never seen Miranda upset, she wasn’t sure what that was. David opened the freezer and pulled out a large tub of chocolate ice cream. He then also grabbed caramel and fudge from the refrigerator as well as some whipped cream. Pickles expected him to retrieve some bowls, but he didn’t. Her jaw dropped when he just grabbed two spoons and handed one to her. For her, it was a rarity to have ice cream during the day, let alone in the middle of the night.

  “What about bowls?” Pickles asked.

  “The number one rule about being upset is you have to eat ice cream straight out of the container,” David said, grinning. “And you have to be sloppy.”

  Pickles cocked her head. “Sloppy?”

  “Yeah, like this.”

  Seizing the whipped cream, David pulled the top off of it and then made a massive layer of white fluff on top of the ice cream. He then poured more fudge and caramel than she had ever seen in her entire life on top of the whipped cream. Chocolate ice cream mixed with whipped cream dripped onto the counter, something Miranda normally would have been upset at David for, but he didn’t appear to care.

  Instead, he just grabbed his spoon and dug into the mess. Then he shoved a large bite into his mouth. He shut his eyes while moaning, “Mmmmm. So good.”

  With a laugh, Pickles plunged her spoon in too and then slid it into her mouth. It was delicious, more delicious than any ice cream than she had ever had before. Maybe it was because it was straight out of the container, the way she wasn’t supposed to eat it. She ate bite after bite until her stomach threatened to burst. Finally, her eyes grew itchy. She realized that now more than ever what she wanted to do was sleep.

  David watched her from over the quickly melting tub of chocolate ice cream. He picked up the ice cream, put on the lid, and slid it back into the freezer. He also put away the whipped cream and sauces, but he ignored the brown milky puddle on the counter.

  “You should be getting some sleep,” David said, checking his watch. “Come along, Pickles, my dear.”

  The two of them went up the stairs together. Pickles expected to part ways with him at her bedroom because that was what they usually did, but instead he followed her inside and tucked her into bed. Then he surprised her even more by lying at her side while hugging her in his arms. He still smelled like chocolate, which made her smile.

  “So, Pickles, tell me what’s upsetting you,” David said sleepily.

  “Do you really want to know?” Pickles asked.

  “Uh-huh,” David said, as his eyes fluttered like butterflies.

  “I’m so scared of losing you that I—”

  David let out a massive snore which caused her eyes to widen. Though she still felt guilty, exhaustion won out this time. With a sigh, she shut her eyes and fell asleep too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  That night, she dreamt of whipped cream, chocolate ice cream, and caramel sauce.

  Her day was less pleasant than her dreams.

  She sat at lunch, playing with the noodles which were on her tray, but she didn’t eat. Courtney sat next to her, slurping down her spaghetti.

  “Is everything okay?” Courtney asked, her mouth still full of food. Pickles saw the half chewed mass in her mouth and grimaced.

  “Well…” Pickles eyeballed her nervously.

  “I’m your friend, aren’t I?” Courtney asked. “You can trust me. I know you came here under odd circumstances. The whole school has been talking about it.”

  She couldn’t think of a reason why she couldn’t trust Courtney. The other girl was nice to her, and she kept the other girls away with her frightening temper. Before she could stop herself, the whole story spilled out, just like it had with Mrs. Beazley. When Pickles was finished with her story, Courtney’s mouth dropped opened.

  “You’ve been through all that?” Courtney asked.

  Pickles nodded.

  “Wow.” Courtney ate another bite of spaghetti. “Double wow. So now you’re trying to figure out how to get home in the middle of the day without getting in trouble?”

  “That’s about it,” Pickles said. “Honestly, I don’t know if it’s worth it. They look to be so perfect.”

  “I guess I can see things both sides,” Courtney said, shrugging, “but one thing I know for sure…”

  Pickles frowned at her. “What’s that?”

  “I know if a plan involves troublemaking, I’m all in,” Courtney said, with a triumph
ant smile. “I think I know exactly how I can get you home early today.”

  Her eyes widened as Courtney’s mouth formed a sinister smirk. Pickles wasn’t sure she was going to like Courtney’s plan.

  ****

  Pickles’ fears about Courtney’s plan turned out to be well-founded. It involved pulling a fire alarm and Pickles sneaking out of the emergency line-up.

  At one o’clock, right after lunch, Pickles sat in her regular spot in English class. Her hands shook.

  The fire alarm rang as planned, cutting off her thoughts. The Spanish teacher, Mrs. Florez, grunted and gazed up, as if she might just see fire pouring in from the ceiling.

  “Do you think it’s a real one this time? I left my cell phone in my locker. My parents won’t buy me a new one for at least a month,” Mary Lou whispered to the neighbor across the aisle, Clarissa.

  Pickles couldn’t help herself. Feigning a concerned frown, she said, “Oh no, I can’t believe Courtney blew up that garbage can like she said she would. Now the whole school’s going to burn down.”

  Mary Lou gasped with horror and stared at her. Pickles hid a smile.

  Mrs. Florez called the class forward. Pickles walked toward her and waited. The other classmates did the same. Her heart thudded in nervousness. What if she got caught? If Mrs. Florez noticed she had disappeared on the way to the soccer field, she could be in big trouble.

  Miranda’s face filled her vision, so her resolve strengthened.

  “This way, class,” Mrs. Florez said, leading them forward. “Everybody calm down now.”

  The class moved in a massive, swarming herd out the door. Halfway out, Pickles left the line then walked out of the school via the front door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fifteen minutes later, Pickles arrived, gasping and shaking, at the front door of the condo. Like usual, Miranda’s car was parked in its normal spot. What did I expect? Miranda is the nicest human on the face of the planet. Prudence was silly for thinking this would work. Her stomach sunk as she lingered by the front door.

  She pressed her face to the window and peered through a small gap in the curtains. Miranda was where she was supposed to be, sitting at the table in jeans and a T-shirt while staring at a computer screen filled with data. A mug — probably coffee — sat at her elbow.

  Since Miranda was home, it meant no sleuthing. No sleuthing meant she couldn’t force Miranda and David to keep her. Pickles knew what that meant for her. She would be going back to foster families who didn’t know her name and schools where she had to be checked for weapons at the front door. It meant no bedtime stories and no ice cream past midnight. She suddenly felt as if she was choking on her emotions.

  I can’t go back to school. I just can’t. She turned from the house and began to run. Her feet pounded on the ground and her toes burned with pain. But she ignored it until she reached her destination — the park she had come to the first day.

  Currently, it was empty. Pickles was grateful for that. She climbed up the stairs of the play land and found the slide. She slid inside of it, curled up at the bottom, and then began to weep. Already, her stomach hurt.

  ****

  When Pickles awoke after she had cried herself to sleep, her head was blurry as if she was trying to see through an ocean of fog. She didn’t know how much time had gone by, but darkness had fallen outside. She knew she was in trouble. Miranda would have gone to her school and figured out she had left. Pickles knew she should go home, but she couldn’t bear it.

  Maybe I knew all along the list wouldn’t work. I just wanted something to hold on to in order to give me hope. But it’s gone now. All gone. She almost wished she had never come to Miranda and David. At least then she wouldn’t have realized how much she was missing. But now that she knew, she would never forget.

  As she laid her head back against the plastic, she heard the sound of familiar giggling outside of her slide. She glanced up and saw the soles of two bright white sneakers. Agony electrocuted her forehead, and then she heard a loud bang in her ears as her head met plastic. The pain gave way to a sea of darkness.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When she awoke, she wasn’t at the park. She was at home, sitting in her living room. Strange alien faces loomed above her, making her heart quicken in her chest. Where am I? Who is that? Fear caused her teeth to chatter. The strange alien flashed a light in her eyes, which made her brain ache as if he had poured acid into her eyeball.

  “Ouch,” Pickles said, shaking her head. She felt as if her brain was going to fall out her ear it ached so badly. “Where am I? What happened?”

  Then she blinked and realized there weren’t aliens after all. It was her foster family and a strange man in a jacket with a patch on it. Her heart filled with relief but her head still ached in pain.

  “Oh, Pickles,” Miranda said. “Oh, thank heavens.”

  Then Pickles heard David. “Is she going to be okay?” He was breathing hard. “Please tell us she’s going to be okay.”

  Someone said, “She’s going to be fine.”

  The strange man in front of her, who she realized had a beard, a belly, and blue eyes, smiled at her then patted her head. She squirmed beneath his touch. She didn’t like it. Also, she didn’t like the unanswered questions running circles in her head. How had she gotten there? Why wasn’t she in the park? Why was the only thing she remembered shoes?

  “I think you should bring her to the hospital. We can take her in the ambulance, but it isn’t necessary. You can drive her yourself,” the strange man in front of her said, stepping aside. “She’s sound. See? She’s already awake.”

  Before she had time to blink, Miranda was above her too. Miranda leaned down, seized her, and then held her tight. Pickles gasped in her arms.

  “Pickles, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Miranda said. “So glad.”

  “What happened?” Pickles groaned.

  Another familiar face appeared above her. It was their neighbor, Nancy, the one who had stolen Miranda’s decoration. Pickles groaned again. She had to have been dreaming. That was the only way any of this made sense.

  “I took my son to the park,” Nancy said. “I pushed him down the slide — and then he screamed — then I heard this awful clunking noise. I ran down the slide and saw you and my son at the bottom. I didn’t have my phone and wasn’t thinking too clearly, so I put you in the stroller with my boy and pushed you back here. I’m sure glad to hear you were okay. My heart was beating so fast.”

  Then the Harrises called the ambulance. Pickles moaned, shook her head to try to clear the pain and the fuzziness. It didn’t go away. Tears filled her eyes.

  “My head hurts,” Pickles said.

  “I’m sure it does,” Miranda said, her voice soothing. “We’ll put you in the car and take you to the hospital, okay? The EMT says we need to get your head X-rayed, but you should be well enough to drive with us.”

  Pickles didn’t like the idea of going anywhere. More than anything else, she wanted to just lie on the couch. She heard David speak to the man who had been shining the lights in her eyes, then the two men disappeared. Once the door shut, she covered her ears with her hands and groaned again.

  But too soon David scooped her up, holding her tight against his chest. Her head pounded as she fought down the urge to cry. She thought those men were wrong. She was sure she was dying. How could anybody hurt so much and not be? She moaned and buried her face in David’s shirt.

  David carried her to the garage and gently placed her in the back seat. After walking around to the front of the car, he climbed in as Miranda took the passenger seat. David pushed the automated button on a black device and the garage door opened. He pulled the car out of the garage. Pickles didn’t like the movement because it made her head ache even more.

  “Why was she out of school?” David asked. “Was she abducted?”

  Pickles saw Miranda cast a look at her with a pale face and massive eyes.

  “I don’t know, David, but this is no
t the time,” Miranda said.

  “If she was abducted, then it is the time.” David’s fists tightened on the steering wheel. “We have to call the authorities.”

  “She’s been through enough.”

  Pain filled her body, but this time it wasn’t because of her headache. It was because, when she stared at Miranda, Pickles saw she had tears streaming down her face. She also saw how angry David’s face appeared, though he never looked like that. Ever. She was the cause behind it. She didn’t deserve to be a part of such a great family, no matter how much she wanted to be.

  She let out a loud sob.

  Miranda swiveled in her seat then grabbed her hand. “It’s okay, Pickles. It’s okay.”

  “I knew we should have let the EMT take her.” David stared at her through the rearview mirror. “What did they mean, sound? She is obviously not sound.”

  This only made Pickles cry harder. She wanted her head and heart to stop aching. Between the two, she felt as if she was being ripped apart.

  “I went to the park. I left school early.” Pickles wept harder. “I’m real sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Pickles.” Miranda massaged the top of her hand. “You don’t have to talk about this now. You can explain it to us once we get some medicine for your head.”

  “No, I have to tell you now,” Pickles said, “or else I feel like I might die.”

  Both Miranda and David exchanged glances. David pulled over to the side of the road then stopped the car. Pickles could see through blurry eyes they were by a house and not at the hospital.

  “Okay, Pickles,” Miranda said. “Tell us, then.”

  “I wanted so much for you two to adopt me. When I found out you were having a baby, I started to get scared. It happens to kids like us all the time. After a new baby comes, there’s no room for us,” Pickles said, tears streaming down her face. “I thought maybe if I had some information on you that you didn’t want me to tell anyone, then I could make you keep me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”