"I'll drive you."
"You don't have to," I say, whirling back around to look at her. Her shoulders are broad, like a swimmer's, but skinny. I don't know how she can be an EMT heaving all those people around, saving them when she's so old herself.
"I want to," she says, smiling. "Let me be your grammy for a day and take care of you. Okay?"
I smile back. "Okay. If you make me hot cocoa."
"Plus, you might have a slight concussion."
"I donot have a slight concussion."
"Of course you da" Betty drops me off at school. We sit in the truck for a second even though I'm already tardy and I'll have to go get a note from Mrs. Nix.
"Your mother misses you, Zara," Betty says out of nowhere.
Something tightens inside me. "Uh-huh. Did you know that some people are afraid of ugliness? Really.
There's a name for it and everything. It's called cacophobia."
"And some people are afraid of talking about their mothers."
"Oh, nice one."
"Don't roll your eyes," Betty says, but not in an angry way. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel.
"I'm just a little worried about your relationship. It seems like you're avoiding her."
I close my eyes so I don't roll them again. "She sent me away."
"Because she was worried about you. You lost your spunk." Betty reaches over and squeezes my knee.
The skin on her hand is fragile and paper thin. "I think you're getting your spunk back."
I raise my eyebrow, just one, on purpose, to show her what I think of that. She slaps my knee and laughs. "There's talent right there. Now, get going."
She honks her horn good-bye and leaves me, off to go rescue the world for another day. I drag myself through the freezing wind into school and down the corridors, past the big wooden Eagle statue and the art students' self-portraits. I really don't want to be here, but it's better than being home alone all day thinking about the voice in the woods.
The school secretary's office door is closed but I open it and stand by the counter waiting for Mrs. Nix to turn around and notice me. She's filing and trilling out a country song about wasting time and driving in cars. I clear my throat so she'll know I'm here. It works. She turns around and smiles. "Zara!" She puts down her papers on her desk and walks to the counter. Her eyes narrow in concern as she glances at my bandage.
"Zara, are you okay?"
I nod. "I fell when I was running last night."
Mrs. Nix shakes her head and signs a late pass for me. "Well, I hope your grandmother told you to wear your coat inside out."
The pass dangles from my fingers. "What?"
She slowly meets my eyes and her mouth opens. Her words come out winter slow. "Oh. I thought Betty would have told you that."
I shake my head.
"Your mother didn't either?"
"No. Why would she?" I ask, feeling more and more confused. I know Mrs. Nix is really sweet, but she's acting a little crazy weird, like she's the one who can't believe what's going on.
"Why would she? Everybody's in denial, but it's happening again," she mumbles. Her arm knocks against the top of the counter and a box of colored paper clips tumbles to the floor and scatters all over the picture of the school's mascot drawn into the tiles.
"Such a ninny!" she says and crouches down to pick up the clips. I squat down to help her and our knees almost touch as our fingers scoop up the clips. I can't believe she said "ninny."
"It's okay."
"You are such a sweet girl, Zara, just like your mother." She stands back up. "Thank you for helping."
"Not a big deal." I tuck my hair behind my ears. It was flopping into my eyes so I couldn't see her and I really want to see her, to figure her out. "So, why do you wear your coat inside out?"
She blushes and dismisses her own words with her hand. "You wear your coat inside out when you're alone outside at night. It's an old wives' tale. A superstition. I thought everyone knew that" "Why?"
Her face grows even redder and the phone rings. She looks thrilled to hear it. She gives me a little wave and answers the phone in an overly happy way. "Hello, this is Mrs. Nix, school secretary, and how can I help you this fine day?" I take my note and leave. Maine just keeps getting stranger and stranger.
Devyn finds me after Spanish. Ian's hanging on my elbow and Devyn says, "Hey. I need to talk to Zara for a second."
"Sure," Ian says, not changing his pace.
"Alone?"
"Oh," Ian fumbles. "Right. See you later, Zara."
"Sure," I say, watching him stride away. "Poor guy."
"He's fine," Devyn says. "I've been thinking about the book. Do you have it?"
"Yeah." I juggle my books around and show him.
"Can I borrow it?"
My heart drops. "Sure, yeah…"
"I'll take care of it, Zara, I promise. I know your dad wrote in it and that makes it special."
I put the book on his lap while we move down the hall. "I'm that obvious?"
"It would be special to me if I were you," he says. "I just want to read it whenever I get a chance."
"Yeah," I say. "I've been thinking about the quote about tigers."
"And?"