California Diaries # 11: Dawn III: Missing Read Online Free Page B

with you.”
    “How do you know?”
    “He tried to kil himself. He tried to kill himself.”
    “But maybe I wasn’t a good enough friend to him.”
    “Oh, that is so self-centered. Don’t give yourself so much credit.”
    Ducky looked wounded, just for a moment. Then he burst out laughing. “I
    don’t know whether to feel insulted or comforted,” he said.
    I laughed too. “Look, don’t worry. Maggie is not going to kill herself
    because you didn’t give her a ticket to a concert by a group she’s never heard
    of.”
    Gracie started to fuss then, and Carol appeared at the back door, tugging
    at her blouse. Ducky leaped to his feet and announced that he had to leave. I
    couldn’t blame him.
    Monday night 2/22
    Carol and I sat on the back steps while she fed Gracie.
    “What do you think it means that Mrs. Winslow is already back in the
    hospital?” I asked.
    “I think it means that it turned out to be more difficult to care for her at
    home than the Winslows had imagined,” Carol replied. “Right now she needs to
    many procedures that are more easily done at the hospital.” Carol shifted Gracie
    to her other breast.
    I couldn’t tel is Carol was telling the truth or not.
    Either way I felt horrible for Sunny.
    Tuesday night 2/23
    I visited Mrs. Winslow at the hospital this afternoon.
    Yikes.
    This time she wasn’t joking about pirates or hairstyles. All she did was lie
    in her bed. She could barely move. I saw that she didn’t have the energy to
    move. I mean, she could barely raise an arm or turn her head. Her mouth is
    covered with sores from the chemo and they hurt her so much that she can’t eat.
    The sores go al the way down her throat, I think. Even sipping water hurts her.
    She looked SO ill that I thought she might not want me to stay. After al ,
    she couldn’t talk. So after I’d told her absolutely everything I could think of about
    school, my family, the concert (I even told her about being in love with Pierre X
    and I think she tried to smile), I stood up and said that maybe I better leave.
    But that was when Mrs. Winslow did manage to move a little. She put her
    hand on my arm. So I sat down again.
    Now what?
    What was left to talk about? I couldn’t think of anything, so I reached into
    my backpack and pul ed out Franny and Zooey, by J.D. Salinger. I’m real y
    enjoying the book and I thought Mrs. Winslow might like to hear it, even if she’d
    already read it.
    I read to her until Mr. Winslow appeared. Then I left.
    Later Tuesday night 2/23
    Things to tell Mrs. Winslow if she stil can’t talk the next time I visit her:
    1. Jeff got an honorable mention in the science fair for his project, “The
    Food Chain.”
    2. Mary Anne might visit over spring break.
    3. The plots of any movies I’ve seen lately.

4. What Carol tried to fix for dinner
    5. (Nothing else is coming to mind.)
    Wednesday afternoon 2/23
    I popped into the hospital after school today. Mr. Winslow had been there
    at lunch, and two of Mrs. Winslow’s friends were just leaving. I had been hoping
    for some miniscule improvement in Mrs. Winslow’s condition. Truly. A miniscule
    improvement would have been acceptable. But she seemed worse. She was just
    lying in bed with her eyes closed. I thought she was asleep. So I whispered to
    her friends, “I’l come back tomorrow.”
    But one of the friends said, “No, that’s okay. She’s awake.” Then they left. I
    watched them hurry down the hall.
    I fished around in my pocket for the list of things to tell Mrs. Winslow,
    glanced at it, and put it back. Nothing felt right.
    Then I opened Franny and Zooey and continued reading.
    Cafeteria, Thursday 2/25
    Pouring rain today.
    Ducky was just here. We split a juice.
    I asked Ducky if he’s visited Mrs. Winslow recently.
    “I’ve only been to the hospital once,” he said. “A couple of months ago.”
    I forget that Ducky hasn’t known us very long. He seems like such an old,
    old friend.
    “Oh. I went yesterday,” I told