Read Online Fragmented by Eliza Lentzski - Free Book Online

number of missed phone calls, all from Mrs. Henderson. There were no voicemails, but the calls were from only a few minutes prior. I called her back, not quite sure what to expect. After my mother’s attempt to file a missing person’s report on me, unprompted contact from the Henderson’s made me nervous.
    “Harper, thank God,” Mrs. Henderson answered in a rush. “Sasha’s school just called. She got sick and needs to come home, but I can’t get out of my meetings, and I haven’t been able to get a hold of Thad. I know this is asking you to go above and beyond the call of duty, but would you be able to pick her up from school and stay with her until I get home?”
    I thought about my schedule for the remainder of the day—lunch with my friends and psychology. “Yeah, I can get her.” It was only one class, I reasoned to myself. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if I missed one lecture, and I knew Mrs. Henderson wouldn’t have called me if it weren’t an emergency.
    “You’re a life safer,” she exhaled. “I’ll call Sasha’s school and let them know to expect you. And I know you usually take the train, but could you possibly get a cab? I hate thinking about my baby girl sitting in the office, not feeling well. I’ll pay you back.”
    “No problem. I’m on my way right now.”
     
    + + +
     
    Sasha’s elementary school was a short cab ride away, and only a few blocks from the Henderson’s house in Lincoln Park. She was sitting by herself on a chair too tall for her swinging legs when I entered the school office.
    I crouched down to her level. “Hey, kiddo. I hear you’re not feeling your best today.”
    She looked at me with eyes the size of dinner plates. “I puked on my teacher,” she whispered hoarsely.
    I choked back my laugh. “Hey, at least you’ve got good aim.”
    My reaction coaxed a small smile out of my somber charge.
    “C’mon,” I said, patting her knee. “I’m busting you outta this joint.”
    I signed Sasha out of school like I was borrowing a library book, and we began the short walk to her parents’ brownstone, hand in hand.
    Sasha dumped her backpack and shoes in the front foyer and flopped down on the couch with the remote while I moved her things out of the way and began to search for saltines and white soda. I made chicken noodle soup out of the can for lunch. I couldn’t find any crackers, but Sasha had a fistful of pretzel sticks to dip into her soup. She slurped the noodles and they flicked the tip of her nose, splashing chicken broth on her face and the dining room table.
    “You’re a total mess, kid,” I said, handing her a paper napkin.
    Sasha wiped her face and giggled, a sign that she was already feeling better.
    When I was younger, I used to fake being sick all the time to avoid going to school. It had been right after my mom had been taken away, and my Aunt Olive, with whom I had lived until I graduated high school, had allowed me to stay home as often as I needed to. She didn’t work, so we’d sit on the couch watching television and eating Neapolitan ice cream right out of the tub until my Uncle Jerret got home from work. At the time, I’d thought I’d done an admirable job of fooling her, but in hindsight, she’d known exactly what I was doing.
    After lunch, Sasha and I retired to the living room couch. I’d thought she might take a nap, but she’d lost herself to afternoon cartoons instead while I read my psychology textbook. A few hours later, Mrs. Henderson got home from work before her husband.
    “Fancy duds, Mrs. H,” I approved from my place on the couch. She always looked nice, but her power suit that day looked even more power-y than usual.
    “Thank you,” she said, slipping out of high-heeled shoes that would have me breaking my ankles. “I had a meeting with a big client this afternoon. I would have rescheduled, but these guys have been super wiggly and hard to pin down lately.” Her stocking feet padded into the family room