The Truth About Twinkie Pie Part 19

She knew nothing about Mama. Or Cherries in the Snow.

"Forget it. It's just-" She began studying the map again. "Forget it. Here, give me your phone."

I didn't know what to do for a second; then I fished Haven's phone out of my bag and handed it to her.

"I'll add my number just in case you-you screw up and need me to bail you out."

I watched as she busied herself setting up the phone for me.

When she was finished, she handed the phone back. "I guess you're ready."

I took it. And still didn't say anything. There was a long stretch of quiet.

And then it got a little longer.

Finally, Mace looked up at me. "Do you-do you want me to come wi-"

I shook my head.

She looked down again and got busy in her backpack. "Here." She pulled a bright-pink water bottle from her bag and held it out. I just stared at it.

"It has a filter, so you can drink water from anywhere and it won't be gross. My mom always says a body can handle just about anything as long as it's properly hydrated."

I took the water, because taking it just somehow felt like the only way I could actually give her something.

There was nothing more to say. She folded the map and handed it to me, then picked up the phone to call for a cab.

I held the map tightly.

Like it was filled with answers, and I didn't want a single one to escape.

thirty-eight.

The cab was easy. Maybe it was too early, but the cabdriver wasn't super-talkative, so I didn't have to hear stories about wooden legs or crazy relations or anything. She just said, "Sure, I know the place. Real easy to pa.s.s. Unless you know what to look for, you'll never see it coming." Other than that, she stayed quiet. Truth is I could have used the distraction. I tapped my fingers against the window, until the cab took a sudden turn and pulled to a stop. It was just like she'd said: If you hadn't known it was there, you'd never have seen it coming. It was barely a road. Mostly dirt, with a crooked path leading into rough land that was part open and part small woods.

"What number did you say?"

"You can just drop me off at the entrance," I said, reaching for the money Mace had given me. I needed a minute to get my thoughts together. I didn't want to just pull right up to 39 Red Cedar Road in a big noisy cab, demanding to see my Not Dead Mama.

"Sure thing," said the taxi driver. She watched me for a second. "I'm just finis.h.i.+ng up a s.h.i.+ft, so I'll be visiting my girlfriend at the diner just a ways down the street. If I'm still around when you want a ride back, just look for me there. Okay?"

I had no idea how long I would be. Or even if I would just end up turning around and making a run for it. But I nodded and thanked her.

There were some spa.r.s.e trees on either side of the entrance, and the road was rubble and dirt. But I was used to dirt roads and this was Verity. The place I was born. DiDi never wanted to talk about the details of where we lived before we moved to Lori's town-only that we'd left after Mama died and it made her too sad to think about it. I hated making DiDi sad, so I never asked. I peered down the twisty length of Red Cedar Road.

Was this it? If I looked long and hard enough, would I see the sooty remains of a long-ago fire? Had there ever even been a fire? And was Mama still here?

I thought of our old place in Lori's town. I thought about Davey Dylan and his nine fingers, out poking around for snappers. The neighbors coming over with cookies for no reason at all. No one would've looked down on DiDi's job there. Why, they would've thought it was amazing that she worked in such a beautiful place with big windows painted in curly black letters and a fancy sofa that everyone called a divan. Not to mention free chocolate chip cookies and coffee all day long.

Would Red Cedar Road feel the same?

Would it feel like coming home?

A few steps in let me know that this trailer park was nothing like our old one. No big strong sign. No nicely kept flower boxes in the windows. No whites hung up to dry in neat rows on laundry lines. No early-morning couples having coffee and reading the paper in folding chairs.

This was different. This was the kind of place that DiDi would prefer I didn't go.

Our old place had clean homes in neat rows on paved streets. The trailers here looked beaten down by life, and Red Cedar Road dipped and turned. I wasn't sure how the taxi driver would have figured out how to find Number 39 even if she had driven in.

I made my way along the path best I could, watching the numbers on the trailers as I walked by... 3... 6... 9.

It was still pretty early. I didn't even know if anyone was up yet.

The path took a sharp turn into the trees.

12... 15... 18.

I realized I was humming the counting-by-threes song the librarians at my old school used to sing... 21... 24... 27... 30.

I stumbled over a rock and caught myself before I fell on my face. The road looked like it went down a hill where there were a few scattered homes.

I didn't see Number 39 right away. It was set back on the wooded side of the property in this sort of shady area. The numbers were hammered into a tree in front.

I reached out to touch them and all the What Ifs I'd been keeping quiet inside me started to break out. What if there had been a mistake? What if Mama hadn't died in that fire? What if she had run away and knocked her head and woken up in some strange hospital not knowing her own name or even that she had children? I imagined Mama sitting alone and not knowing who she was. Needing us. Not knowing how much we needed her.

I could hear my breath turning harsh and raspy.

I tried to calm myself and slow it down. But it only got louder.

I tried holding it.

... But it still didn't stop.

Instead, it turned into a low growl.

Coming from the shadow beside me.

I saw the dripping, snarling teeth first. Flattened ears and low tail. Then yellow eyes, glaring.

A voice spoke.

"Oh, you're going to have to buck up a bit braver than that if you think you can get in here and steal from me, you little thief. Move one muscle and I'll set him on you."

Whoever was speaking didn't have to worry.

I couldn't move a muscle. I couldn't even breathe.

thirty-nine.

What are you doing here and what do you want?"

"I-I'm looking for my-I'm looking for Delta Dawn Barnes, sir. I'm not a thief-I swear."

"Delta what? No one here by that name. Don't make me show you what Lucifer does when he's hungry." The growling from the shadow grew even louder.

"Thirty-Nine-she's supposed to be at Number Thirty-Nine Red Cedar Road." My legs shook like dead leaves on a tree. I turned my eyes toward the voice. All I could see was shadow and s.h.i.+rtsleeve.

"Thirty-Nine? You mean Miss Dawna?" The dog was still growling, all low and mean, but now he was down on the ground. Lying there as if to say, Oh, I can leap up and kill you in about a second. I just want to rest for a bit. "Three doors down. I believe you best be going."

I turned and stumbled back to the main path.

It wasn't until I got to the tree with the house number on it that I knew I was breathing again. I looked up and saw that I had been at Number 36 with the 6 flipped upside down from being on a broken nail.

I sank down onto the ground by the road, my heart pounding, waiting for the mess in my head to start making sense again. I reached into my backpack and took out the pink water bottle that Mace had given me. I couldn't remember the last time I had something to drink. To eat. I felt weak and empty. And walking from Number 36 to Number 39 suddenly seemed impossible.

As I sat there, I heard the sudden crunch of gravel. A pale-blue car pulled up and the front window went down. A woman peeked out and called, "You must be lost, baby girl, because I don't remember you and I think I know just about everyone around here. Can I help you find someone?"

I made myself get up, brushed off my jeans, and went toward the car.

"Hi," I said. "I'm looking for-"

DiDi was in the car.

And that was the last thing I remembered before everything went black.

forty.

Dang. It's kind of early in the morning for drama, don't you think? C'mon now. Be a nice little girl and get on up."

Someone was giving me little slaps around the face. Then shaking me. Kind of hard. I didn't understand why. And then I remembered the yellow-eyed dog. And DiDi.

I opened my eyes. I was still on the ground. The blue car was parked next to me, and this woman was bending over me. She snapped her fingers a few times.

"Are you-" I tried to get up too quickly and my head spun again.

"Whoa there! Take it easy. I think you better come along with me. We'll get you where you need to go."

Her face looked exactly like an older version of DiDi's, down to the little tilted point of her nose. And the pretty curve of her lip.

Mama.

"Let's get you into the car. My place is right up here, but it won't do anyone any good to have you fainting again."

As she leaned over to support me, something about her reminded me of Lori. Lori on those late party nights when I'd have to babysit her.

She helped me into her car and drove up to a trailer that looked like maybe once upon a time it was really pretty. And now just hanging on to the last bits of pretty.

Out front, a chippy blue mailbox was hammered to a tree with a little stuffed teddy held on with a faded ribbon. It was wearing a T-s.h.i.+rt that said KEEP OUT! THIS BEAR GIVES HUGS! I thought of that nice drugstore clerk, Ida, and her little pink KEEP OUT sign. That day seemed like a million years ago. And a million miles away.

Mama parked the car and came around to the pa.s.senger side. "Come on in now. I can't promise it's clean, but..." She opened the front door. "Not so bad now, is it? Can you stand on your own?" When I nodded, she let go of me.

I couldn't help staring as she made her way to the kitchen, slipping off her coat and tossing it onto a faded sofa. I waited for her to look at me twice. For some kind of small piece of recognition to show in her face. "I'm making you a cup of coffee-lots of sugar and creamer." She looked me up and down. "You know, you sure do stare a lot, baby girl. But then"-she did a little s.h.i.+mmy-"everyone stares at me."

As soon as she had coffee brewing, she reached into a cabinet and pulled out a bottle, and it didn't take a genius to see that it wasn't coffee she was pouring into her own mug. She took a big gulp, and as she drank, she looked nothing like DiDi.

She picked up a pack of long skinny cigarettes and offered one to me.

"No?" She laughed and lit one for herself. "Might as well start now. I did when I was about your age. Now tell me, what are you doing wandering around and fainting in the middle of the street?" She sat down on one of the two chairs and nodded that I should take the other.

A tiny ragged dog came padding up to her. She shoved it away with one high-heeled foot. It came back and she shoved it again. Hard.

I gasped and then coughed to cover it up. I didn't know what to say. How to begin.

"I..." I looked around the room, searching for an answer.

"Okay, take it easy. Let me get your coffee so you can get your mind back together." She toasted the air with her mug. "While I work on getting my mind back together."

As she fixed my coffee, she glanced at my backpack. "So what are you doing, some kind of school report or something?"

My mind started working. "Yes, I'm-I'm-interviewing people-for a paper on-the Truth."

"The Truth? What the heck kind of school paper is that?"

"It's a paper on the truth about-" I blinked and looked up. "Names."