Hiding in Plain Sight by Valerie Sherrard Page B

chair beside the bed.
    â€œI
was
,” he grumbled, “but this here food, if you can even call it that, ain’t fit to eat. Ruined my appetite.”
    I looked at the dinner plate, where a thin slice of meat lay in congealed, nearly transparent gravy. Beside it, limp green beans sat in a puddle of water next to a blob of mashed potatoes. I saw that he’d taken a few bites but most of it was undisturbed. I have to admit it didn’t exactly look appetizing.
    â€œIt looks cold,” I said slowly. “Maybe there’s some-where I could heat it up for you.”
    â€œNah,” he said, “it was warm when it got here. It just doesn’t taste like real food.”
    â€œIs there anything I could get for you? From the cafeteria, maybe?” I asked.
    â€œThanks, little one,” he said, “but it’s probably all the same. I’ll have a bite of toast later. Anyway, how’s Ernie?”
    â€œHe’s fine.” I smiled to show I meant it. “A bit headstrong, maybe.”
    â€œHe is at that,” Mr. Stanley chuckled. “But he’s still a fine fellow underneath it all. I’m awful thankful you’re taking care of him.”
    â€œThe days must be long for you in here,” I said after we’d chatted for a few more minutes. “Would you like me to bring something for you to read?”
    â€œWell, now, I think I would,” he said, nodding. “If it’s not too far out of your way, would you stop at the library and get me
Seventeen
by Booth Tarkington?”
    I’d never heard of either the book or the author, so I hauled out my notepad and scribbled them down, told him I’d do my best to have it for him the next day, and left. The thought of his cold, dismal dinner made me stop in the hallway and add “fruit and snacks” underneath his book request.
    I stopped to call Mom before continuing on to the Thompsons’ house, just to let her know I’d be late fordinner. She asked how my first day had gone, said she’d put a plate in the fridge for me to reheat later, then told me she and Dad were going to the Austers’ place to play Canasta.
    As I made my way along Hubert Street, I couldn’t help thinking that Mom was starting to loosen up a bit. There was a time not too long ago when she’d have asked me a thousand questions about why I was going to be late, where I was going, how long I’d be there, and on and on. It used to drive me crazy, so it was kind of strange how I felt almost, well, sad that she’d let up on the interrogations. It’s not like I was feeling sorry for myself or thinking she just didn’t care anymore or anything crazy like that. Just that it was a bit strange to be treated less and less like her little girl. Which, of course, I no longer am.
    Anyway, I got to the Thompsons’ house and went around to the side door, which everyone uses. Betts answered my knock, shoved the door open, and turned away as I stepped inside.
    â€œSomething wrong?” I asked.
    â€œYeah,” she said, her voice heavy and helpless. “The police arrested Mom.”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œAbout three hours ago. They took her to the station, but Dad went down too because they said she’d be released once the charges were laid. Then I think theysaid she’ll have to go to court for a plea or trial or however it works. I wasn’t listening all that carefully, if you want the truth. Do you know anything about that stuff?”
    â€œNo, not really. Anyway, that’s down the road. The best thing to do is deal with things as they happen and not worry too much about what’s supposed to happen later. Did your mom call her lawyer to meet her at the police station?”
    â€œI think she told Dad to do that when they were taking her to the car. Can you imagine!” Betts’s voice suddenly quavered and her mouth trembled as tears began. “My mom! In jail! I just