CHAPTER 10

When I got to the center of town, I couldn't believe my eyes. A riot was in progress. There were broken windows and burning buildings, and people were running into the stores and grabbing clothes, stereos, jewelry, and anything else they could get their hands on. I even saw Alan Gray running down the street and also dropping almost everything he'd swiped.

"We're slashing prices! Everything must go!" he was shouting. I jumped out of the way as he ran headfirst into a nearby phone pole. After he fell to the ground, a bunch of muscleheads ran up and grabbed everything he'd had in his pockets, then ran off. I'll admit, seeing that was more than a little amusing.

That's what you get for your little terrorist act at the airport, dumbass, I thought. But I couldn't really think about that now, because my first order of business was to find Mom.

I'd just ducked a thrown Pepsi bottle when I heard a voice calling, "Kristy! Hey, Kristy!"

I turned around and saw Miriam running toward me. "Miriam?" I said. "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

Sweet Jesus, what am I saying? I thought.

"I thought you might be," she answered. "What's happened so far?"

"Well, I saw Abby working at the coffeehouse on the college campus, then my brother falling down drunk, and now this," I answered. "You?"

Before Miriam could answer me, I heard a huge deafening crash behind us. I spun around, and saw that the Pike triplets had thrown a trash can through a store window. As the store alarm rang, Nick, Margo, and Claire jumped into the store and grabbed everything in sight. I always knew the Pikes were a handful, but they never anything like this.

"Let's get out of here and find my mom," I told Miriam.

I just wondered what kind of shape Mom was in, and maybe I could find out what happened to Watson.

We had just turned the corner when I was in for another shock. Charlotte Johanssen and Becca Ramsey were running out of one of the stores, each carrying a shopping bag. At first, I'd assumed they'd just finished shopping, but when they ran by me, I saw pearls flopping against their chests and trickling out of their shirts and the bags. That's when I started to get suspicious.

I decided to follow the girls, so off we went. Maybe we could find Mom while we were at it.

"I really don't think you're going to like what you're about to see," Miriam warned.

"Hey, you know what?" I snapped as I spun around and got right in her face. "I haven't liked one single thing I've seen here! Why don't you go make some prank calls to Dionne Warwick and leave me alone?"

"Well, I would," Miriam said, "but she told me that if I made one more wisecrack about her nostrils, she'd murder me in my sleep."

I let out a scream of fury,, sounding exactly like Lily Finnerty from Grounded For Life. Apparently, it worked, because the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of Hurley's Garage, and Miriam was nowhere in sight. I don't know why, but I found myself remembering the time Dawn told me that she'd accidentally dialed that number when she was trying to reach Mrs. Barrett when one of her kids got sick, and well—let's just say that was one of several reasons why she nicknamed them the "Impossible Three".

Right on cue, the front door opened, and Charlotte and Becca sauntered out. "Girl, I never seen anyone with hands that fast!" Becca laughed as the two of them high-fived.

"Thanks, Becca," Charlotte grinned. "That's what happens when you don't nail anything down."

I felt like the sky had just fallen on me. I just couldn't imagine Charlotte Johanssen, a doctor's daughter, and the shyest, sweetest girl I know, doing such an about-face. I could only imagine how heartbroken her parents must be.

Charlotte and Becca had just run off when I saw Mom coming outside with a trash bag and making her way to one of the dumpsters. "Mom!" I called. On the one hand, I wanted to see a familiar face, but even so, I wasn't sure she'd remember me.

She looked up. The first thing I noticed was how tired and haggard she looked. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she was wearing a faded gray NYU sweatshirt that looked about two sizes too big, bleach-stained jeans, and paint-splattered high-tops. I waited, figuring she'd throw something at me and start cursing up a storm. Instead, she had the warmest smile on her face.

"Kristy! I'm so glad to see you!" Mom exclaimed in a scratchy voice. Dropping the bag, she ran up and gave me a hug.

"M—Mom?" I stammered. "Mom, that can't be you."

"Well, of course, it's me, honey. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, considering."

"Say, you look hungry," Mom said as she threw the trash bag in the dumpster. "I just put some soup on. Would you like to come up for some?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" I answered as we headed inside. At least my mom was the same way I remembered her.

Well, sort of.