Page 4 of Graveyard

“I know you do,” I tell him. “But I also know you almost died that day. If it weren’t for Tory and Mama, you would’ve died. It was no small miracle I was able to get you back to health. It was a long process.”

He gets quiet, and I remember the long months of recovery he had. I brush past him and leave Daisy’s room, heading toward the stairs and back down to the spacious living room. He follows on my heels.

Abigail sits on the couch, awaiting my verdict. Her presence essentially puts an end to our conversation, because Pocus will never tell her how much he misses his old job. He would never want her to feel guilty.

“All will be well,” I tell her, and look at Pocus meaningfully. “I gave Pocus a prescription, and Daisy will be better in no time. Now, let’s talk about you.”

I sit down next to Abigail and take her vitals quickly, happy her levels are totally normal. She confirms this pregnancy is much easier than the first, and I order her to have a good night’s rest. We all need it.

As Pocus walks me out, I turn on him and remind him of my advice.

“All will be well,” I repeat.

CHAPTERTHREE

Charlie takes a small, slow bite from her cheeseburger and avoids my gaze. She knows I’m angry with her. She’d rather act like nothing happened. She’s in so much trouble. I sit across from her at the dingy diner as she stares out the window, ignoring me completely. Anger bubbles inside me. I take a deep breath and remind myself to stay calm.

She wants to get a rise out of me. She wouldn’t have run away if she hadn’t. She knows I’ll find her and I’ll always bring her back where it’s safe. I think she resents me for it. She’d rather believe she isn’t worth saving and deserves to be alone on the streets where anything could happen. It’s too much for any ten-year-old to carry.

“Charlie, we need to talk about what happened yesterday,” I say firmly.

She rolls her eyes and continues to stare out the window. I see the reflection of her face in the glass. A mix of defiance and boredom. Deep down, the words reach her. Maybe somewhere very deep down. Under several layers of resentment and anger.

“This is the third time this month you’ve run away from home,” I try again, as if she needs the reminder. “Do you understand how dangerous that is? You can’t wander on your own, especially at night.”

My warning falls on deaf ears. Her face remains impassable in the reflection of the mirror. She swallows her small bite of food and pushes the plate away without looking at it. Not only won’t she talk to me, but she won’t eat, either. I groan in frustration.

“I can take care of myself,” she mutters. So quietly I barely hear it.

It’s laughable. In what world can a child take care of herself? Years of broken promises and trauma have made her like this. I’m the last person she wants to trust. But I won’t give up on her. Not ever.

“That’s not the point, Charlie,” I answer with as much compassion as I can muster. “You’re only ten years old. You’re not invincible. The world is a dangerous place, especially for someone like you.”

“What do you mean ‘someone like me’?” she snaps, turning to face me.

This gets a rise out of her. It’s the first time she’s looked at me since I found her hiding in a dumpster earlier this afternoon.

“You know what I mean, Charlie,” I say. “You’re different from kids your age.”

“Duh.” She crosses her arms. “Which is exactly why I don’t need you,” she spits out hatefully. “It’s because I’m different that I don’t need anyone else. I can take care of myself.”

I sigh, heavily and roll my eyes. How many times have we had this argument over the last three months? It gets us nowhere. Only more frustrated and angrier. The only way to end this fight is if she thinks she’s winning.

“I’m not saying you can’t.”

She looks at me suspiciously.

I continue carefully, pretending to be think about it. “But you need someone to help you watch your back. You never know who might be after you.”

Charlie shrugs and looks away again. My frustration grows, but I force myself to stay calm. She’d prefer to get a rise out of me, and I won’t allow it. I know better.

“Charlie, please listen to me,” I plead. “I want to keep you safe. That’s all I care about.”

She doesn’t respond. We sit in silence for a few minutes. I’m about to try again when a man walks too close to the table. I’m annoyed and think little of it until Charlie slumps in her seat and falls to the ground, shaking as she goes.

“Charlie!” I scream, jumping out of my seat and running to her side. I put my hand under her head so she doesn’t hit it against the cold tile floor. She can’t hear me or respond. She’s not in control of her body. I sit there horrified, frozen in panic.

She convulses on the floor, her body writhing uncontrollably. People are gathering, staring, but I don’t care. All I can think about is Charlie. A kind waitress tells the crowd to move aside and shouts for someone to call 911. She’s probably trained for these situations. She knows what to do.

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