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She wasn’t taking that bag.
“There’s no way anyone will know what you’re doing unless you tell them.”
“What if Dad finds it?”
“Does your father go through your backpack?” Mom asked, sounding like she might get mad.
“No!” Kelsey quickly assured her. She didn’t want Mom and Dad to fight.
“Then just make sure that you don’t take it out of there and it’ll be safe.”
Yes, but…
“You trust me, don’t you, Kelse?”
Kelsey nodded.
“You see, if you don’t take this to Kenny, he might be so upset he’d tell on you, and then you would get found out.”
How could he tell on her unless he told on himself, too? Unless he just said that he’d seen her on the junior high side of the bushes and that she’d talked to him. That would get her in trouble without anyone even knowing about the bag.
But Kenny wouldn’t do that to her. Would he?
It was all so hard and confusing. And she was going to be in big trouble if she was late.
“There’s another problem,” Mom said, running her fingers through Kelsey’s ponytail. “If Kenny tells, I might get in trouble, too. Only my trouble would be much, much worse than yours.”
Kelsey stared at her mom, shocked. She wasn’t the only one in trouble?
“Why?”
“Because I gave the bag to you and I’m an adult. I could go to real jail and then there’s no way we’d be able to see each other—not even on Fridays like we are now.”
Frowning, Kelsey wanted to just take the bag and go. She also wanted not to take the bag and then go.
“Why is it breaking the law to take Kenny his crystals?” she asked. “Is his dad so bad that he can’t have anything to do with him?”
“Sort of,” Mom said. “Now just do as I told you,” she added, handing Kelsey the bag. “Put this in your backpack, take it to Kenny and don’t say a word.”
Kelsey looked at her mom
a long time. Even with her hair a mess and no makeup she was pretty. Kelsey loved her so much.
Her stomach didn’t feel good, but she grabbed the bag, shoved it in the side pocket of her backpack, kissed her mom goodbye and got out.
If nothing else, at least she’d be seeing Kenny again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE ANSWERING MACHINE picked up and Meredith disconnected the call, hanging the phone back in its holder on the wall. She was tired of speaking with her friend through answering machines. Susan wasn’t at the hospital—she knew, she’d called there, too. And her office had been closed for a couple of hours.
She turned off the kitchen light and wandered through the house. Seven o’clock on a Friday evening and she was at a loss.
Standing at the desk in her spare-bedroom office, she dialed again. And when the machine picked up, on a hunch, she hung up and hit redial. On the fourth try, she was rewarded with a click.
“Hello.” Susan’s greeting wasn’t friendly.
“It’s me.”
