The Truth According to Ginny Moon, Benjamin Ludwig [good books for high schoolers .txt] 📗

So I don’t say anything. Instead I make my shoulders go up and down. Sometimes that means I don’t know. And sometimes it’s just your shoulders going up and down.

“At any rate, I think you might have bought yourself some time. Just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. I don’t think it’s too much for me to tell you that I’d like you to stay with Maura and Brian. Saint Genevieve’s is a great place, but—Let’s just see what happens, all right? Let’s just keep letting things get better, and we’ll all just see. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say.

Patrice looks at a pad of paper. “And I have some more news for you from some of my social worker friends.”

I sit up straight and listen.

“They said that they helped Gloria register Krystal with a K with Social Security. They helped Gloria get her to a doctor and to an ophthalmologist. It turns out she needs glasses, just like you.”

“Is Gloria hitting it?” I say.

Patrice bites her lip. “It’s hard to say,” she says. “Hitting doesn’t always leave marks. And there are different kinds of abuse, too, that are harder to detect. But for right now, the social workers didn’t see a reason to remove Krystal fro—”

“Krystal with a K,” I interrupt. I am picking at my hands.

“—Krystal with a K,” says Patrice, “from Gloria’s care. I’m sorry that I don’t have more information than that. But you know, I was hoping we could talk a little more about her today. It must be frustrating to know that she’s still living with Gloria.”

“It is very tedious,” I say.

“I can only imagine,” says Patrice.

“Gloria doesn’t know how to take care of babies.”

Patrice makes a big smile with her teeth and lets out a breath. “Right, well—”

I interrupt. “She doesn’t remember to change diapers. Or give it food.”

Then Patrice interrupts me. “I know Gloria was abusive and neglectful when you were with her,” she says. “You kept Krystal with a K alive. You kept her safe and fed. You were a really good girl, Ginny, and I’m proud of you. But things are different now.”

So I say, “How are things different now? Gloria used to get really, really mad. She forgot to bring food home.”

“I know it,” says Patrice. “I remember how thin you were when we first met at the hospital.”

“They put a needle and tubes in me,” I say. “Plus a cast on my arm. Then they let me eat a lot of food.”

“I’m sorry that you still remember all that,” says Patrice. “It was a scary time. But like I said, things are different now.”

I remember that Patrice didn’t answer my question. So I ask it again. “How are things different now?”

“There are two reasons,” she says. She looks up at the ceiling and counts. “Actually, three.”

I wait.

“The first reason is that Crystal with a C did a good job of taking care of Krystal with a K. She made sure she had plenty of food after you left.”

I wait for the second reason.

“The second reason is what I already told you. There weren’t any marks on little Krystal with a K’s body when she went to the doctor’s,” says Patrice. “The doctor couldn’t find any signs of physical abuse.”

“There were signs on my body,” I say.

Patrice touches her eye. “Yes, there were,” she says. “And now that we know about Krystal with a K, we know why. Little babies cry a lot. You were protecting her.”

“Gloria used to come downstairs to yell and hit when there was too much noise. And Donald—”

And then I stop talking.

Now Patrice is crying. I don’t know why. “You were a good girl, Ginny,” she says. “You kept the baby safe from them. And all this time we didn’t know it. Thank goodness your aunt stepped in and took charge. Did you know she kept the baby for a few months after you left? She took care of little Krystal with a K while Gloria got some help. Then a few years passed, and—”

Patrice stops.

“How many years have passed since you were taken out of the apartment?” she says.

“Five years,” I say.

“Five years?” says Patrice. She is still crying. “Are you sure it’s been that long?”

“Yes,” I say. “Crystal with a C took care of it after I left but now she’s in jail. I need to go keep it quiet or—”

“Ginny,” says Patrice, “it’s time to tell you the third reason. I’m going to tell it to you straight.”

I listen.

Patrice swallows. “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once. I know this is probably the worst possible time for you to have something else to deal with, but it’s causing you a ton of stress. So I have to tell you.” She stops and her face changes. “Ginny, your Baby Doll is six years old.”

I don’t say anything. I am thinking.

“Does that make sense?” says Patrice.

“My Baby Doll is a baby,” I say.

“No,” says Patrice, “she isn’t. She’s a big girl now. She doesn’t wear diapers anymore. And if there’s food in the apartment, she can get it herself.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true,” I say.

“It is true. A baby who was one year old five years ago needs to be six years old today. Because five years have passed. Right?”

In my brain I check the math.

5 + 1 = 6

But I also know my Baby Doll is way too little to be six.

I shake my head again. “No,” I say. “Crystal with a C said she’ll always be your little baby. It needs me.”

“Ginny, that’s just an expression. Krystal with a K is six.”

“No, she isn’t!”

I cover my face with my hands. Crystal with a C knows I don’t like expressions. She doesn’t lie. She’s the one who tells the truth. If the truth is that my Baby Doll is six then I’m too late to stop all the things that happened to me from happening to it. Because