Breadcrumbs - Anne Ursu [34]
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Campbell said. “He’s just fine.”
“Oh.”
What did Hazel expect? He went temporarily insane and we took him to a doctor and he got a pill and now he’s better and wants to see you?
“He’s just gone away for a while,” Mrs. Campbell added.
Hazel blinked. “What?”
“He’s gone to live with his dear elderly aunt Bernice,” she said, voice gaining strength. “She needs help, you see. He’s doing just fine, and we needn’t worry.”
She smiled at Hazel again, and both parents turned and disappeared into the house.
Chapter Eleven
Magical Thinking
Hazel stood staring at the doorstep where Jack’s parents had been. Maybe they would come out, tell her it was all a big joke, tell her Jack would be out in a minute, tell her everything was going to go back to normal.
But they didn’t.
Hazel replayed the words Mrs. Campbell had spoken, trying to find the sense in them. But there wasn’t any.
Her mother agreed. “I didn’t even know he had an elderly aunt,” she said, after Hazel told her what had happened.
“Me neither,” said Hazel.
“Maybe she means great-aunt. But why would they send Jack? I mean, what about school?”
“I don’t know,” said Hazel.
“And it’s not like he’s particularly qualified for elder care. I mean, he’s eleven. What do they expect him to do, teach her to play Zombie Assault?”
“I don’t know,” said Hazel, shifting a little. She was beginning to feel like it was her fault.
“Weird.” Her mom shook her head. “They have to be making it up. But why wouldn’t they make up something believable? I mean, his elderly aunt is named Bernice.” She shook her head again. “And Mrs. Campbell told you this? How did she seem?”
“Um . . . “ Her mom wouldn’t respond well to the soul-switching theory. “Kind of . . . weird.”
Hazel’s mother sighed. “I suppose it’s none of our business. Maybe it was better to have him away right now. It has to be so hard on him. But at least this will make it easier for you, right? Not to have to see him all the time?”
Hazel looked at her feet.
“Come on, hon. I’ll make some pasta.” She let out a small laugh. “I know, I know. For a change.”
“Mom?” Hazel pointed her toe. “What if he doesn’t come back?”
Her mother put her hand on Hazel’s shoulder and looked into her eyes. “Then you’ll be okay. You will. Now, come with me.” She straightened and motioned to the kitchen. “I’ll teach you how to boil noodles.”
Hazel smiled a little. “And microwave some sauce?”
“Don’t get carried away,” said her mom. “I can’t give you all my cooking secrets in one day.”
Hazel looked down at her feet, poised in perfect third position, and then undid them and followed her mom into the kitchen.
When Hazel woke up on Tuesday morning, the truth of things finally hit her. Jack was gone. Just gone. He didn’t call her, or come over, or leave a note, or anything. He didn’t say good-bye, because he didn’t care to. He didn’t try to explain the things he said, or the way he acted. He was perfectly happy to leave her feeling like this. And there was no witch, no wraith blade, no evil corporate brain-thingy that had caused the change in him. He had just changed. He just didn’t like her anymore.
And that meant, even if Jack came back from his elderly aunt—or wherever he was—he was still gone.
She dragged herself down to the kitchen for breakfast to find her mother sitting at the small breakfast table waiting for her, with a face that made Hazel think she should turn right around and crawl back into bed until summer.
“Sit down, hon. I need to talk to you.”
Hazel slid into the hard chair.
“I talked to your father,” her mom continued, and Hazel’s eyes snapped to the long gouge she’d made in the table when she was seven and wanted to play Excalibur. “I’m so sorry. About the ballet lessons. Your dad says he can’t do it right now. With the wedding, you know . . .”
Hazel moved her head in an approximation of a nod.