The Rule of Threes - Marcy Campbell (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📗

both on with his bus card, but he was a quarter short. The bus driver said not to worry and let us on anyway, and we went about halfway to the back and settled into the big blue seats. My hands were still sweating from my little mission inside the school.

The little boy had opened a plastic bag full of Cheerios and was happily popping them into his mouth.

Tony asked me, “You got any food in there?” He reached for the zipper of my backpack.

“No!” I said, pulling it away from him. “I mean, yes, I’ve got food. But let me get it for you.”

I didn’t want Tony to know about the Narcan. I was afraid he’d think I didn’t trust his mom and get mad at me. Better I keep it to myself.

I handed him one of the granola bars.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it. “Don’t you want one?”

“No, not right now.”

My stomach was jumping; there was no way I could eat. I was wondering how we were going to get back home, with Tony out of money on his bus card. Add that question to my already big list. He finished his granola bar and started shifting around in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his arms, glancing out the window.

“Less than ten minutes,” he said.

One of the older women pulled a cord, and the bus came to a stop by the curb. The mom and her son got off, too, and the little boy waved at us, and I waved back. Tony didn’t notice.

Just then, I felt a buzz in my pocket and pulled out my phone. Rachel, it said. My heart skipped. It had been a long time since I’d seen her name pop up on my text messages. It also felt like a long time since she’d been “Rachel.”

Is Tony with you? the message read.

I wrote back, Yes.

What’s happening?

We’re on a bus, going to his old house.

What?????

He thinks his mom might be there.

Maggie, I don’t like this.

What could I do, he was going anyway.

I couldn’t let him go alone.

There was a long pause. I stared at my phone, waiting. She must be at lunch. We weren’t supposed to have phones out during class.

“Is it Rakell?” Tony asked.

“Yes,” I said. “She’s worried about you.”

Tony got a slight smile on his face and tried to look at my phone. “Tell her everything’s going to be okay,” he said.

“I will. I did.” I scooted closer to the window, turning the phone away from him. I wasn’t going to tell her that. How did I know everything was going to be okay? The phone dinged.

Be careful, Rakell’s text read, then, You’re a good friend.

He’s my brother. Of course I’m going to help him.

Yeah, but I mean, you’re a good friend to other people, too.

My fingers hovered over the screen. Finally, I typed:

Hey, you know . . . Tony told me about your parents.

I waited a minute. Would she be mad that I knew?

I’m really sorry, Rakell.

My phone autocorrected to Rachel, but I changed it back.

Yeah, I was going to tell you but . . . you always seemed to think my parents were perfect.

She was right about that. Her parents always acted perfectly. I guessed the way people felt and the way they looked didn’t always match up. Maybe it barely ever matched up. I wrote:

Can we hang out sometime? Soon?

I wanted to say that I understood, at least a little bit, wanted to tell her about when my parents were fighting, but I didn’t. Maybe I would, probably I would, soon, but not in a text.

I could go to her house, and we could have a long talk on her bed covered with the pillows we’d bought when we did her room redo. There was one that looked like cheetah fur, one with a winking emoji. One said LOL in blue sequins that you could brush with your hand and make change to silver, and there were two or three more solid-colored ones. I remembered Rakell’s mom asking how a person could possibly need so many pillows and then Rakell looked at me and held up the LOL pillow, and we both fell off the bed laughing.

Sure, Rakell texted.

I’m going to apologize to the cheerleaders and Katelyn, too. As soon as I get back to school.

Don’t worry about Katelyn. She was totally saying stuff about our office design behind my back. The cheerleaders could use a design 101 class.

We should teach it!!!!!!!!!!!!

LOL! Yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Call me when you get home?

I put the phone back into my pocket. Nothing was perfect yet, far from it, but it was a start. I was reminded of this one famous painting in a book at Grandma’s. She had lots of art books in addition to design ones, which is why I knew Michelangelo wasn’t just a Ninja Turtle. I was thinking of his painting, of God and Adam stretching their arms out to touch fingers. Rakell and I were reaching out to each other again.

Just then, Tony leaned over me to pull the cord by our window. I guessed we were there. But where were we?

Breaking and Entering

“Here we are,” Tony said.

We’d speed-walked the two blocks from the bus stop, Tony for once walking even faster than me. We’d gone past a couple fast-food places and a store selling cigarettes that had bars on the windows. Down the street, the stores turned into apartment buildings and small houses, some with plastic toys in the yards.

Tony’s duplex was an old, wood-sided two-story house with a blue sheet hanging in the front window as a curtain. Three steps led to the front door, and a rickety staircase climbed along one side of the house and up to another door on the second floor.

“Do you have a key?” I asked.

“No,” he said, very matter-of-factly.

“Wait, no?” This seemed like important information, information we should have had before we began this little journey. “Then how are we supposed to get in?”

Tony stood by the front window, trying to