The Truth According to Ginny Moon by Benjamin Ludwig (books to read for self improvement txt) 📕

throw the coat back and pull my backpack with me and get out of the car. I crouch low and tuck my head down. I blink in the bright light. It is 3:55 and I am scared, scared, scared.

“Stay close against the car! Don’t let anyone see you!” says Crystal with a C.

So I do. I am against the car in a tight, tight ball. Crystal with a C shuts my door. She runs past me. Behind the car. I peek to see where she’s going.

But across from me on the other side of the sidewalk I see a big yellow house I know.

I pick my head up all the way. Across the street is Cumberland Farms and the gas station attached to it. I see the post office too. We are in the middle of Greensborough right near my school. Down the street I see the road that goes down to the bus loop.

I hear a click. The sound of the car door locking.

Crystal with a C is standing on the other side of the car. “Ginny, I love you,” she says. Her face is different. “I tried. I swear I tried, but you’re just too much. A real handful. Now go straight to the school and tell your teachers you’re okay. But, please, don’t mention me to anyone, all right? Don’t mention the house or the fire or the color of the car or anything. Just tell everyone that you took a walk and got confused. You were perfectly fine these past three days, right?”

I am confused. “How will I get to Canada?”

Crystal with a C makes a breathing sound. “You’re not going to Canada. Not today, anyway. Just go back to school, Ginny. Go back and pretend that none of this ever happened. Pretend you don’t remember!”

But pretending would be the same as lying if I said it with my mouth. I want to explain that I just can’t do that but then Crystal with a C gets back in the car and the engine turns on. The car pulls away. I want to run after it because Crystal with a C is the only person who can help me get back to my Baby Doll. There are other cars coming now and I know it isn’t safe to run into a busy street but I am going to chase it anyway. I have to. I take one step forward. Then I hear a siren.

Blue lights come up the road fast. They come so fast I think they will rip the road in two pieces. Then there are more blue lights and a police car slides sideways in front of Crystal with a C’s car. The noise is louder than the smoke alarm. I see police cars with policemen getting out of them and people running and more police cars and policemen running at me. I turn to run but someone grabs me so I recoil and cover my face and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.

EXACTLY 12:08 IN THE AFTERNOON,

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23RD

My new Forever Sister was born on October 19th which was the day after the Harvest Concert. I saw it for approximately one minute yesterday. My new Forever Sister has blue eyes and small hands and feet. It mostly sleeps and cries. I stood watching it for exactly thirteen seconds in the living room while my Forever Mom held it. Then she said, “Welcome back, Ginny. Do you think you could back up a bit?” And then she said, “We’re glad you’re back from the hospital.”

Because that’s where I went before I came back to the Blue House. The police brought me to the hospital and after the doctors looked at me my Forever Dad came to bring me here. The doctors were all women. They wanted to see if I was injured because they all knew that Crystal with a C kidnapped me. I couldn’t pretend that none of this ever happened. Plus the police took Crystal with a C away. So I’m guessing they figured it all out.

My new Forever Sister is named Baby Wendy. It’s very little so it needs a lot of milk. You get milk from the refrigerator even though I know it comes from cows. But my Forever Mom says she is breast-feeding it instead. She is upstairs in the bedroom doing it right now.

I am in the living room picking at my fingers. My Forever Dad is making lunch. He doesn’t understand. Finally I walk into the kitchen and grab my breasts to show him. “There’s no milk in these,” I say.

He drops a bowl of potatoes and puts his hands on his forehead. “No—Yes—Ginny, just slow down,” he says.

“I gave my Baby Doll milk from a towel. Every day.”

“From a towel?”

“You dip the towel in the milk and then let the baby suck. You get the milk from a carton in the refrigerator. Not from these.”

He looks the other way. “It sounds like Gloria didn’t breast-feed you,” he says. He starts picking up the potatoes. “You couldn’t remember something like that, though. You were too young. Did you really use a towel when you wanted some milk? Didn’t you have any cups in the apartment?”

But that was two questions so I don’t say anything.

He keeps talking. “Some moms feed their babies with milk from their breasts,” he says, “and some moms feed their babies with cow’s milk. It’s called formula, actually. But it’s a matter of personal choice.”

He doesn’t understand. “My new Forever Sister needs milk,” I say.

“Right,” he says.

“It has to drink a lot of real milk,” I say.

“Right again,” he says. “But let’s not call your sister ‘it,’ okay? And remember, she is drinking real milk. Upstairs right now with your mom.”

“No,” I say. “That isn’t real milk. Real milk comes from the refrigerator.”

He opens the refrigerator and takes the milk out. Then he pours a glass and puts it on the counter.

“There,” he says. “That’s real milk. Real cow’s milk.”

“Exactly,” I say