“Not calling me today?” Rio swallowed. “You mean she’s going to call tomorrow, instead? I can speak to her then?”

Fran shook her head. “The thing is . . . the doctor treating your mom at the clinic says your she’s taken a very small turn for the worse . . . and that there’s a possibility she might have to stay a few weeks longer.”

Weeks? Longer? Rio stared helplessly at his grandmother. She was staying there? She was worse?

“B-b-but she’s supposed to be getting better!” he cried. “The pictures! I sent her the pictures!”

“What pictures?” Fran asked.

“Pictures of White Beak!” he said angrily, knowing he was shouting but unable to stop himself. “I’ve been sending her pictures every night of White Beak and the whales!”

“You have?” Fran looked puzzled. “But why?”

Rio’s heart clawed and ripped and shredded. He wanted to beat his fists against the table. Against himself. Against the world. “Because the whales made her happy!” he said desperately. “You said so yourself! You said they were the most magical thing she’d ever seen. That they made her heart smile. And I thought . . .”

“Oh, Rio,” she said softly. “Oh, my dear child.”

“And now I have to stay here!” he yelled, unable to bear the pity on her face. “I have to stay here while she’s over there, and I can’t . . . I can’t do anything to help her!”

His grandmother bent over and gripped his shoulders. She leaned forward so close he could smell the peppermint on her breath. “Rio, listen to me. Nothing you can ever do will make your mother well again. Do you hear me? And that’s not because you don’t love her. I know you love her.” She paused. “But it’s never, ever been your responsibility to make her better.”

“But you would say that!” he roared, shrugging her off and unable to stop the words hurling themselves out. “You’re on the other side of the world! You’ve never been there for her like I have!”

His grandmother opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, two growing spots of color appeared on her cheeks. But still Rio couldn’t stop.

“You don’t even know what it’s like!” he cried. “I’m the one who’s been with her all this time. I’m the one who makes her cups of tea in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep. I’m the one who buys her ginger biscuits because she won’t eat anything else! I’m the one who holds her hand when she cries. Not you!” he yelled. “It’s never ever been you!”

His grandmother uttered a small cry. The kind a wounded animal might make. And then Rio ran all the way up the stairs, slammed the door behind him, and threw himself on the bed.

27

Missing

The next morning, Rio was up early, hoping to sneak out of the house and head out before Fran was even awake.