Banished

CHAPTER 19

HE CROSSED THE LAWN in a few long strides and barely looked at me before giving Prairie a careful hug.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she said, wrapping her good arm around his shoulders. “You’re so tall! I think you were only twelve last time I saw you.”

“Let’s get to the car,” he said urgently. “Mom’ll kill me if I don’t get you home fast, Aunt Eliz-”

He stopped and shook his head like he was embarrassed. “I mean, Prairie. Sorry. Mom told me.”

“It’s okay,” Prairie said. “I was Elizabeth for a long time… don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, it’s just… I mean… Anyway, I’m Kaz,” he said, finally turning to me and offering his hand. I couldn’t make out his features in the darkness, but the faint light from the streetlamp glinted off his teeth as he smiled.

When I took his hand, I felt the electric connection I often experienced around the Morries. It wasn’t as strong as when I touched Milla, but it was alive with energy. Kaz’s skin was chilled by the night air, and his fingers were rough and callused, but his hand felt good in mine, and I held on for a second longer than I meant to.

And in one way he was different from any of the Morries I knew except Sawyer: he felt safe.

“I’m Hailey,” I managed to say. “And this is Chub. And that’s my dog, Rascal. Nice to meet you.”

He nodded, then turned his attention back to Prairie. “We can talk more at home, but Mom’s got everything ready and it looks like you’re going to need it. How did you get here?”

“Drove,” Prairie said, gritting her teeth. “But the car’s fine where it is, no one will notice it for days.”

“And… does the dog come?”

“If it’s okay with you,” I said quickly. “He’s good.” I couldn’t leave Rascal after he’d come so far with us.

“Doesn’t bother me. My car’s seen worse. Okay, Prairie, how bad off are you?”

“It looks worse than it is.”

“If you say so.” He took her good hand and pulled her carefully to a standing position. “I’d offer to carry you, but-”

“Considering I used to read you Elmo books, that might take a little getting used to,” she said with a weak laugh.

I followed, carrying Chub, who was nodding off. When we got to the idling car, Kaz helped Prairie into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt while I got Chub settled next to me in the backseat, Rascal in his usual spot on the floor.

Kaz pulled away from the curb and accelerated fast. We didn’t talk much on the drive, winding through tight- packed streets to the core of the city. Kaz took a road that curved along the lake, and suddenly there it was-all of Chicago laid out like a sparkling wonderland on the right, the black emptiness of Lake Michigan on the left. I couldn’t take my eyes off the view, but soon we were back in a grid of city streets. Beautiful old buildings rose up all around us, but as we went farther, they gave way to plainer neighborhoods with run-down buildings.

“Almost home,” Kaz murmured. “Hang in there.”

He turned down an alley and into a tiny garage behind a little house tucked between others just like it. As soon as he turned off the engine, he got out and went around to help Prairie, easing her out of the car.

“I’d better get her inside,” he said, almost apologetically.

Chub had fallen asleep again, and I tried to unbuckle him without waking him. I finally got him out, and found myself on a neat concrete walk in a tidy square of shrub-lined yard, tall fences separating it from the neighbors’. Rascal followed me and made an efficient tour of the yard. Three steps led to a brightly lit back stoop, where a woman waited, silhouetted in the door.

Yet another new thing to face. I took a deep breath and headed for the steps.

“Hailey,” the woman said softly. She was about my height, with softly rounded curves and pale hair curling around her shoulders. “I am Anna. Welcome. You come in. Dog too, is okay.”

The door opened directly into a kitchen. It was warm and cozy and smelled like bread and spices. Prairie was seated at a round table, and Kaz was setting a steaming cup in front of her. He had pulled his sweatshirt hood down, so I could see his face. He had sandy brown hair that was just a little too long, and a strong jaw. When he smiled, his eyes glinted like blue ice.

“You’re safe here,” he said, and I felt his words as well as heard them, his low voice skimming along my skin, my nerves.

Anna went to the sink and began scrubbing her hands with a small plastic brush and a generous amount of soap. “Please do not think I am rude. I think I must fix Elizabeth now. I mean, Prairie. Yes? Then, we talk.”

“We have tea,” Kaz said. “Milk for Chub, if you think he’d want any?”

“Uh… I don’t think he’s going to wake up,” I said. A clock on the wall read 1:40. I couldn’t believe it had gotten so late, but a lot had happened already tonight. I was exhausted down to my bones, and Chub was unbearably heavy in my arms. I longed to sit, but the kitchen table was covered with first-aid supplies-gauze, scissors, plastic bottles-and I was afraid I’d be in the way.

Anna turned from the sink and shook her hands, droplets sprinkling the air. “Kaz, show Hailey their room. This handsome boy-”

“Chub,” I said. “His name is Chub.” I’d carried him for hours, and my spine felt like it might never be straight again. I could smell the stink of my sweat and fear. Even worse, I felt the hot pooling of tears that threatened to spill onto my cheeks.

“Chub,” Anna repeated. “Let’s get boy to bed, okay? You and Chub have Kaz’s room tonight. Prairie will stay with me, I have big bed. I will take good care of her-I am studying to be nurse, so no need for worry.”

“I can’t take your room,” I protested, but the hitch in my voice was obvious even to me.

“Oh. Oh, ukochana. You poor child, go with Kaz now.” Anna pursed her lips as she settled in the chair next to Prairie. Then she took Prairie’s arm gently and began to cut away the shirt I had knotted in place. Prairie stayed silent, but her skin was pale and shiny with sweat, and she had purple circles under her eyes. Her hair hung in greasy clumps and her mouth was set in a bunched line.

“Come on,” Kaz said. “Do you want me to take him?”

Before I could protest, he lifted Chub out of my arms and laid him over his shoulder, Chub’s face tucked into his neck. I slid my backpack off and dangled it in my hand, my muscles numb from carrying Chub. Anna was dabbing at Prairie’s wound with cotton, and there was a strong smell of antiseptic in the air. The skin around the wound was black with blood, but the cotton came away bright red. I shivered and turned away.

I hoped Anna knew what she was doing.

The hall was narrow. At the end I could see a tidy living room. On one side were a bathroom and another room, with its door slightly ajar and a lamp glowing softly inside. Kaz opened a door on the opposite side.

“I’m, uh, sorry about the mess,” he said. “I didn’t have a lot of time to clean before you got here.”

It wasn’t cluttered or even messy, like kids’ rooms on TV shows or in the movies. I had been a neat freak my whole life, but I knew it was due to the rest of my life being so out of control, and Kaz’s room wasn’t like that either. It was comfortably disordered, with an iPod and books lying open on the desk and an empty soda can on the floor near a big bean-bag chair.

On the shelves, books were lined up neatly along with lacrosse trophies and a compact set of speakers. Posters of lacrosse players lined the walls, as well as pennants from Johns Hopkins and Syracuse and a few other teams. Crates on the floor held gear-gloves twice the size of an average person’s hand, rolls of tape and elbow pads and other things I could only guess at. A blue and white helmet sat in a place of honor on top of the dresser along with more books and a Mac laptop. The bed was made-barely, a quilt pulled crookedly over a lumpy comforter and pillow.

“If you pull back the covers, I can set Chub down and maybe he won’t wake up,” Kaz said.

“You’re good with him,” I said as we got Chub settled.

“I babysit for a family down the street,” he said with a shrug. “They have four kids. I like this age. They’re so… determined, you know?”

I did know. It described Chub perfectly. And suddenly I wanted to tell Kaz all about him, about our life with Gram, about the way it had all ended. I felt like I could talk to him for hours, without the staggering shyness I usually felt around kids my age.

Maybe there would be a chance, later. But right now I had other things to focus on. “I need to go see how Prairie’s doing.”