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

Gloria is completely unreliable and Crystal with a C does her thinking for her.

And now Crystal with a C is in jail.

EXACTLY 5:14 AT NIGHT,

TUESDAY, JANUARY 18TH

“The Special Olympics basketball tournament will be on Sunday, January 23rd,” says Maura. “Then, the day after that, we’re going to Saint Genevieve’s. We’re really hoping you like it. The pictures Sister Josephine sent sure are nice.”

That wasn’t a question so I don’t say anything.

“Ginny?”

“What?” I say.

“Are you...excited about going to Saint Genevieve’s? It will be nice to meet some new kids. Kids who are special like you.”

“The kids at Special Olympics are special like me,” I say. “And Room Five.”

“That’s right!” says Maura. “It will be a lot like Special Olympics. Everyone will be special.”

I look at Brian. He is sitting across from me at the table. Not talking. Maura stays downstairs now with Baby Wendy during the day and Brian stays home too. He is taking it easy until he gets 100 percent better, Maura said on Sunday when he got home.

Brian drinks some wine. He drinks red wine every night at supper now. And doesn’t eat things with lots of salt. He isn’t going back to work this year. “I’m looking forward to the basketball tournament, Ginny,” he says. “It will be nice to see the team again.”

“Rick said in his email that we should take pictures,” I say.

“Oh, I’ll take lots of pictures,” says Brian. “And I promise I’ll send some to good old Rick.”

I wonder if Rick will come up to Canada with me and Gloria. I don’t think he will but I really want to thank him. Because he gave me Return of the Jedi and Gloria’s phone number. I wanted to call Gloria last night but I know people can hear me when I talk in my room. So I need to find a quiet place when no one is around. I need to find a place that’s private. There aren’t any private places at school. There aren’t any private places here at the Blue House. There’s always someone here.

“Ginny?”

“What?”

It is Brian. “What’s on your mind tonight? You seem awfully distracted.”

“Is everything all right at school?” says Maura.

“Yes,” I say.

“It’s the trip to Saint Genevieve’s, isn’t it,” says Brian. His voice didn’t go up so he didn’t ask a question. Then he says, “How do you feel about going there?”

“We are going there on Monday, January 24th,” I say.

“Yes, but how do you feel about maybe going to live there?”

I don’t want to answer so I wait. Because sometimes if you don’t answer then someone will answer for you or someone will say something else to help you know what to say.

“It’s going to be hard for us, too,” says Maura. “Like I said the other day, we’ve had some good times together. But I’m glad that you’ll be in a place where people can give you what you need. You’re going to be very happy.”

“What was the question?” I say because now I don’t remember.

“I asked how you feel about going to live at Saint Genevieve’s,” says Brian.

“I feel like I would like to go to my room now,” I say.

He nods his head. “All right,” he says. “You can go to your room. I understand.”

I get up from the table.

“I’m really looking forward to the tournament,” he says. “Aren’t you? It will be like one last good time.” His eyes are wet.

“Yes,” I say. “It will be the last good time.”

EXACTLY 5:28,

TUESDAY, JANUARY 18TH

There are woods behind the Blue House.

I can’t see them because it’s dark outside. I can see only myself. My reflection is looking back at me from the dark, dark window. I see a skinny, skinny girl with long hair and glasses. She is wearing her hat and coat and boots. She is wearing her gloves and scarf. She is a big girl, not the little girl she used to be. Not the little girl she’s supposed to be. She isn’t nine years old anymore. She is (-Ginny) and she has a lot of work to do. She has to be really, really smart and not be a cave girl at all.

I open the window as quietly as I can. The screen is already up because I got it ready before I put on my gloves. I put my backpack out the window and drop it in the snow. It falls only thirty-two inches to the ground. I know because I measured the distance two years ago when I first came to the Blue House.

Next I put my leg out the window and let it hang there. I think.

Because there isn’t a ladder.

When I read the poem by Robert Frost about apple-picking there was a ladder and Mrs. Carter said the ladder meant heaven. Then when I drew the picture of me climbing out my bedroom window there was a ladder. Because when I escape and find my Baby Doll it will be like everything is good and okay and safe.

But thirty-two inches is easy to jump, no problem. I don’t need a ladder at all. So if I don’t need a ladder and a ladder means heaven then maybe it won’t be like heaven when I call Gloria and tell her to come pick me up. Or maybe no ladder means someone will stop me. Maybe someone will grab my arm right now and say, No, Ginny! Don’t climb out that window! Don’t try to call Gloria!

I look back fast at my door. It is shut and everything is quiet. Then I look outside. It is dark and there are no more reflections. No more (-Ginny) looking at me while I get ready. Instead I see the dark woodpile and the darker trees behind it. The open space of the yard under my feet. Empty and white. With or without a ladder I need to do this.

I need to go.

The snow is clean and waiting. I hop down and pick up my backpack and walk