Crystal

  As I ran out of Bernie's house, tears streaming down my face, I couldn't help but feel I was wrong to have ended our experiment. I wanted to be able to return. Bernie was my friend. I didn't mean to make him feel we'd done something dirty. In fact, I was beginning to think there was something special between us, that what we were doing meant something. And I hoped maybe Bernie thought that, too. Now I guess I'd never find out how he really felt about me. If his thoughts were of me when we were kissing . . . or if he was really only thinking of charts and graphs.

  Maybe Thelma was right--it was much easier to be involved in someone else's life on TV than it was to be involved in your own real life.

  At my house, I stopped and sat on a lawn chair to catch my breath. I didn't want to go inside looking and feeling as I did. They would wonder why I was home so soon, anyway. Before Bernie, I thought, I had never had a boy even try to kiss me.

  The night air chilled me. I embraced myself and rocked back and forth. I couldn't throw off the bad feelings.

  How hard it was to get someone to love you in a way that made you happy, I thought, but how desperately we wanted it and needed it. Suddenly, Thelma didn't seem as silly and distracted to me as I had believed. She only wanted to be loved as much as the characters on her soap operas were loved.

  Karl and Thelma looked up when I entered. "Home so soon?" Karl asked.

  "There wasn't much to study." I gazed at the television set. "So I thought I would come home and watch the program with Mom."

  "Really?" she cried.

  Karl looked at me suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. "Everything all right?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "Why wouldn't everything be all right?" Thelma demanded. "She's home to watch the show with me. That's all."

  She absolutely glowed. Her eyes were bright with happiness.

  "Yes," I said. "Yes, I am."

  "You're just in time," she said, and made a place for me beside her.

  11 Shattered Dreams

  Bernie was waiting by my locker in the morning. I glanced at him and went right to unlocking my combination lock.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I think we just went too fast on the chart. Can't we try again?"

  "No. I think we were right yesterday. Let's wait and see what happens naturally." I hoped I sounded more sure of myself than I felt.

  "You're the only person I would have ever done this with," he said sadly, turned, and walked away.

  Ashley was watching from across the hall. She hurried over to me.

  "My parents said I could come to your house for dinner Friday night," I said. Her eyes brightened like Christmas tree lights. "Don't ask me any other questions," I said sharply. "Not a single one."

  She took one look at my face and nodded. Bernie wasn't there at lunch, and he avoided looking at me in class. I put all my concentration into my schoolwork, driving every other thought from my mind. Ashley was so afraid of my demeanor, she walked and sat quietly beside me all day, becoming talkative only after the final bell, when we were on our way to the bus.

  "I'll tell my mother you're coming After we eat and study our math, maybe we can listen to some music. I bought two new CDs this week. Do you like Timmy and the Grasshoppers?"

  "I never heard of them." I turned to look at her. "I rarely listen to rock music."

  "Oh," she said softly.

  I sighed deeply. "But maybe I should be brought up to date. Sure," I said. "We'll listen to some music." "Great."

  She bounced ahead of me onto the bus. Bernie was in the rear in his usual seat already. He kept his eyes on his book. I took a seat in the middle, and Ashley got in beside me.

  "Aren't you two becoming the cozy ones?" Helga quipped as she walked past.

  "Jealous?" I asked with a cold smile.

  "Of what?" she shot back, glancing at her friends for the applause she expected in their eyes.

  "Of intelligence, personality, charm, wit, in short, everything you're missing," I fired back.

  Her mouth opened and closed as she searched for some proper response, but the kids behind her in the aisle shouted for her to move along, and she just twisted her shoulder and tossed back her hair.

  "You're not afraid of anyone, are you?" Ashley asked with a voice full of admiration.

  I thought. "Yes," I said.

  "Who?" she wanted to know.

  "Myself," I said.

  Of course, I knew she wouldn't understand. It would be years before she would.

  The next two days were much the same. I put most of my attention and energy into my schoolwork, my first term paper, my first big set of exams. At night, I took some time to watch television with Thelma, and she and I began to talk about other things. I learned more and more about her own childhood, her dreams and disappointments. Karl looked pleased and came up with the plan for us to take a weekend holiday in Montreal, in Canada, in two weeks. That made Thelma even happier, and I began to believe that maybe we could be a real family after all.

  On Friday, after school, I returned home, changed, did some of the schoolwork I wanted out of the way, and then walked over to Ashley's house. Her mother was very happy to see me. I was actually embarrassed by all the attention. No one, not even Thelma, was so attentive, fawned over me so much, and worried that I wouldn't like what she was preparing for dinner, concerned that she had what I liked to drink and what I liked for dessert.

  "How often is your father away like this?" I asked Ashley when we were alone in her room after dinner. The empty chair at the head of the table was conspicuous. It gave me an eerie feeling, as if a ghost were sitting there. Whether out of habit or just to keep the table looking balanced, Ashley's mother placed a setting at the head of the table.

  "Almost every other week these days. They fight a lot about it," Ashley revealed. "Last week, my mother accused him of having another family."

  "Does he have to work like that?"

  "He says he does," she replied sadly. "I feel sorry for her. She's alone so much."

  I nodded sympathetically. So many of the kids I had met in school who had families were just as lonely as I had been. In various ways, their homes and lives were shattered and held together by the weakest glue, and although they didn't live in an institutional setting as I had, they often wore the faces of orphans, faces that revealed their loneliness, a longing for more affection and love, their eyes searching the faces of their friends, J9oking to see if anyone had more.

  I went to Ashley's math book and helped her understand our newest assignments. She seemed to understand.

  "You should be a teacher," she said. "You're better than Mr. Albert."

  "Hardly." I laughed.

  We were about to listen to music when we heard the phone ring. Ashley paused. I could see she was hoping it was her father calling from wherever he was. She was practically holding her breath. That was why we both heard her mother cry out so clearly.

  "Oh, no! When?" she screamed.

  Ashley's eyes were flooded quickly with fear. Moments later, her mother came to the door of Ashley's bedroom. I glanced at Ashley's face. She was nearly in tears, anticipating the worst.

  "Crystal," Mrs. Raymond said, turning to me instead. "There's been a terrible accident. Do you know your uncle Stuart's number in Albany?"

  "I'm sure it's in my father's Rolodex," I said. "I'll go look it up." I ran from the room before she could tell me another thing. My heart was pounding so hard that my legs felt like rubber. I nearly tripped at the front door. Outside, I broke into a trot. Tears were already blurring my vision. What sort of an accident? What did it mean?

  I charged into my house and down the hall to Karl's den. After I found Uncle Stuart's telephone number, I took a deep breath, unable to swallow down a lump in my throat that threatened to choke off my air.

  Nevertheless, I ran out again and back to Ashley's house. I went in and thrust the telephone number at her mother as if I were a relay runner passing the wand. She took it slowly, her eyes on me, filled with tears. She told us
she'd explain after she'd talked with Uncle Stuart and asked us to wait in the living room. I left the room with Ashley but lingered outside in the hall. I just couldn't wait any longer to hear what had happened.

  Ashley looked scared but moved down the hallway to be near me. We looked at each other and then turned as Mrs. Raymond began to speak.

  "Stuart," she said, "this is Vera Raymond, Thelma's friend. Yes, yes, I'm fine. Stuart, a friend of my husband's in the police department here just called me. There's been a terrible accident. A car accident. Karl and Thelma . . . both of them have been killed, Stuart. I'm so sorry," she said.

  Ashley stifled a cry with her fist in her mouth. I shook my head at her.

  No, that's not true, I thought. Karl's too good a driver. He's the most careful driver in the world. They're too young to die.

  "Yes, it happened today, just a few hours ago. A drunk driver in a pickup truck crossed the median to their side of the highway. They had no chance. I'm sorry."

  Pickup truck? A drunk driver? For a moment, it was like eavesdropping on someone else's life. I felt I was watching and listening to one of Thelma's shows. It was make-believe, fantasy, some serial show. Boy, is Thelma going to be angry about this one, I thought. Just when she got so attached to the characters, they write them out of the show. I shook my head.

  Ashley was staring at me in the strangest way. She looked frozen in time, a wax figure of fear.

  "Yes," Mrs. Raymond said quietly. "She's with us. What do you want to do?"

  There was a silence, and my mind raced with what Stuart could be telling her. What would happen to me? Would I be sent back to the orphanage?

  "I understand, Stuart, but what do you want me to do in the interim? Really? All right. I'll find out and take care of it," she said. "I'm very sorry, Stuart. It's hit me so hard, I'm having trouble absorbing it myself. I'm sorry."

  She hung up and slowly walked out into the hallway. From the look on her face, I could tell that she was startled to see me standing there but also a little relieved that she didn't have to explain the tragedy all over again.

  "I'm sorry, Crystal," she said. "It's so horrible. I'm sorry, honey."

  "I've got to go home now," I said. "I promised my mother I wouldn't stay out too late. They like me to be there when they return."

  "No, honey, listen to me."

  "Thank you so much for dinner, Mrs. Raymond. Thanks, Ashley. I'll call you. Thanks," I said, and rushed to the door.

  "Crystal!" Mrs. Raymond shouted, but I was out the door again, running hard this time until I was gasping for breath at my front door. I charged through and shouted.

  "I'm home!"

  The silence greeted me. It was like being in Bernie's house. I stood there with my hand on my side, breathing hard, listening.

  That was just some show, I kept telling myself. Ashley's mother is like Thelma. She loves her shows, too. I bet I know which one it was, I thought. I laughed. Sure, I told myself, I bet I know.

  When the doorbell rang, I was sitting in Thelma's chair watching television. I ignored it, and it rang again and again. Someone started to pound on it. A voice threatened to break it down. The doorbell rang again. There was more pounding. When the commercial came on, I rose and went to the door.

  A man and a woman were standing there. The man was in a suit and tie. He wore glasses and carried a small briefcase. The woman was short and wide in the hips. She had dark brown hair cut in a short, straight style. I could smell the child welfare agency on them. They had the look.

  "Hello, Crystal. My name's Mr. Kolton, and this is Ms. Thacker. We're here to help you," he said.

  "I can't go anywhere yet," I said. "My show is still on."

  "What?" he asked.

  "I'm watching something on television, something Thelma would watch and want to know about later when she returns. She forgot to set up the video recorder."

  They looked at each other, and the woman shook her head.

  "You're going to be all right," the man said with an institutional smile. To me, it looked as if they were both wearing familiar masks, masks I had seen all my life.

  "I don't know that yet," I said. "We have to wait for the ending."

  I left them standing in the doorway and returned to the television set. They came in. The woman sat with me while the man made some calls. A few hours later, I was in the rear of their car, heading back to the lair of the monster, the system, the only real mother and father I had ever known.

  Epilogue

  " This is going to be a lot better than the orphanage, Crystal," Ms. Thacker promised as we approached the driveway of the Lakewood House.

  Ahead of us was a very large two-story house of gray clapboard with a wraparound porch. There were maple and weeping willow trees in front and lots of green lawn. As we drew closer, I saw there was a lake in the rear.

  "Louise Tooey is probably the best foster mother we have. She treats all her wards as though they were her very own children. All of them say so," Ms. Thacker continued.

  "This actually was once a resort," Mr. Kolton added. "And a very popular one at that. There's a rather big dining room, a nice lobby, ballfields."

  "Beautiful grounds," Ms. Thacker emphasized. "Maybe you would like to move in with me," I said dryly.

  She just glanced at me and then smiled with that syrupy look of understanding I hated and continued to look out the window.

  "There are other girls your age here, and the school system you'll attend is one of the best," Mr. Kolton said.

  "How do you know that?" I queried. He glanced back at me and kept driving without replying.

  "Crystal does well wherever she goes to school," Ms. Thacker said. Mr. Kolton laughed. "She'll probably end up tutoring the other kids here, won't you, Crystal?"

  I didn't reply. I stared out the window, but I wasn't looking at my new home. My thoughts were back at the funeral I had just attended. Ironically, Karl had been right in planning it all before his and Thelma's deaths. The agency had decided I could attend the service even though Karl and Thelma had not completed the adoption process. Their family members all offered me their condolences and then guiltily explained that they had no place for me. Karl's brothers couldn't take me in. His father and Thelma's father were incapable of being guardians, and Thelma had no relatives who were interested.

  Ashley and her mother were at the funeral, as were Uncle Stuart and some people from Karl's office. Before the ceremony ended, I looked back and saw Bernie standing near a tree, watching. After the final prayers were said, I headed toward the car with Mr. Kolton and Ms. Thacker. Ashley ran up to hug me and to promise she would write me if I would write her. I nodded. I hated promises. They were like those balloons I had seen drifting in the wind. They had shape until the air escaped, and then everyone forgot them.

  Bernie stepped out from the tree, and I stopped. "I thought you didn't approve of funerals," I said. "I don't, but I wanted to be here for you."

  "What's that, step seven?" I asked.

  He looked down.

  "I'm sorry," I said. He looked up at me. "We were both wrong. We both should have just said what we felt and not used any disguises."

  He nodded.

  "I guess we did learn something important, then," he said.

  "Yes. I guess we did."

  I got into the car. He stood there and waved as we drove off.

  I could still see him standing there now. I blinked and woke to the present as Mr. Kolton brought the car to a stop in front of the big house. They got out my things, and we walked inside. A boy and a girl, not older than ten or eleven, were playing a board game on a big table. They looked up with curiosity. A door opened at the rear of the hail, and a tall woman with her shoulder-length brown hair swinging loosely about her face came hurrying out to greet us. Although she had a pretty face and bright blue eyes, the wrinkles in her forehead and at the corners of her eyes were deep enough to cause me to think she was older than she first appeared.

  "Hello," she crie
d with excitement. "I was in the kitchen and didn't hear you drive up. I suppose this is Crystal. Hi, Crystal. Welcome to the

  Lakewood. This is going to be a real home. You'll see. You have a nice roommate, too. Her name is Janet, and she's the sweetest little girl. She's shy, but I bet you'll get her to be more outgoing. They tell me you're very smart," she said. "We sure could use some help in that department," she told Mr. Kolton. He smiled. I thought she would never stop talking. "Although my kids usually do well. We insist they do their homework before anything else. There are rules here, but good rules. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Louise Tooey," she said, holding out her hand.

  I took it to shake, but she held onto mine and patted it.

  "I know you're a little frightened about being in a new place, but this is a special place. It was once one of the most popular tourist houses. It's really a very warm place, full of fun. You'll see. Anyway . .

  "Go on!" we heard someone shout.

  A boy about fourteen came charging down the stairway. His face was full of fear. Above him, a tall man with a wooden face towered above us all. He had thick shoulders and long, muscular arms, one of which had a tattoo on the forearm.

  "Gordon," Louise said, nodding at Mr. Kolton and Ms. Thacker. "The agency is here with a new girl." His threatening posture relaxed, and the face that had looked so dangerous moments before softened.

  "Well, hello there:' he said. He glanced at the boy. "Go on and do your chores, Billy:' he said sternly. Then he smiled at Mr. Kolton. "Got to maintain discipline around here."

  "Of course," Mr. Kolton said. The boy hurried out of the building.

  "This is Crystal. Crystal, this is my husband,

  Gordon."

  "Welcome," Gordon said. There was something in his eyes that frightened me, an animal look. I glanced at Mr. Kolton and Ms. Thacker to see if they saw it, too, but they seemed oblivious to everything but the task at hand, which was to hand me over and leave.