I’m not telling her I was in the ocean because I don’t want her telling Brock. He’ll give me another lecture on the dangers of the beach and how I shouldn’t be out there.
Maria’s brows draw together. “A man gave you clothes?”
“Long story. Anyway, that’s really all I need to wash, unless you want to toss in what I wore yesterday.”
She takes the clothes from me and gets the rest from the hamper. “What about your supplies? I’ll be getting them for the boys. I’m happy to get yours too.”
“What supplies?”
“The school has a bookstore on campus. They ask that students pick up their books and other supplies before the first day of class.”
“They have a bookstore? Like a college?”
“Yes. It’s a beautiful campus. You really should go see it before your first day. Would you like to come with me?”
“What time are you going?”
“After lunch. Probably around two.”
“Maybe. Can I let you know later?”
“Of course.” She smiles. “I’ll stop by before I leave.”
She hurries off.
I like Maria. She reminds me of my mom, except my mom didn’t clean. Our place was always a mess. My mom was an artist and said artists need to be surrounded by stuff. She said a spotless room was uninspiring. She had a painting studio she went to during the day, but sometimes she’d paint at home, and there’d be metal cans filled with water and brushes lined up on the kitchen counter. There’d be no place to eat, so I’d sit on a stool by the windows, looking out at the city.
I miss New York. I miss my mom. I miss home.
“Where the hell is it?” I hear Brock yell, followed by a loud thump.
Jumping up from my bed, I race to the door and open it slightly.
“Sir, I promise you,” I hear Maria say. “I didn’t take it.”
I open the door a little more.
“You expect me to believe it just disappeared?” Brock yells.
“I wasn’t even in there,” Maria says. “I’ve been picking up the living room and dusting. I was just about to do laundry.”
“I’ve told you numerous times you arenotto go in there without my permission.”
“I didn’t. I’m telling you, sir, I haven’t been in there.”
“Then where is it? What happened to it?”
“Maybe one of the boys needed it?” she asks in a timid voice.
“The boys each have an account, and if they need more, they know I’ll give it to them. I thought I could trust you, Maria, but maybe it’s time to consider letting you go.”
“Mr. Halliway, please, let me help you find it. Maybe it fell off your desk or got shuffled with your papers.”
They’re talking about the money. The money I took.
I run out to the living room and see Brock standing across from Maria, who’s still holding my laundry. On the floor a few feet away is the silver bookend that had been on the shelf next to Brock. It’s sculpted in the shape of a horse’s head and is really heavy. I picked it up when I was looking around earlier.
Did Brock throw that at Maria? Something that heavy could’ve seriously hurt her or even killed her if he hit her in the head.
