Alex and The Other by Dowding Philippa;

Author:Dowding, Philippa;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2018-03-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Finkman’s Pharmacy

Alex rode to the edge of town. He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

The world’s gone crazy! The teachers, the kids at school, now Carl and Dr. Philips. Not to mention me. Or The Other. What am I going to do?

He stared out at the windswept fields of snow. The highway ran south to the city from there.

Could I ride to the city? Live there? Do I know anyone there?

But it would never work. He was a twelve-year-old boy on a bike in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of winter. He had no money. No friends. He had a job, but how much did you need to live on, anyway? Probably more than he earned stocking the shelves at Finkman’s for two hours a week.

But when he thought of Mrs. Finkman, he suddenly felt a tiny bit better.

Mrs. Finkman, the pharmacist, was the most normal, sensible person he knew. There was definitely no funny business about Finkman’s Pharmacy or Mrs. Finkman.

If anyone could help him, it was her. She was his last hope. He rode his bike against the wind, across the icy road, and back into town. He hoped Carl wasn’t looking for him, but he’d have to risk it. A few minutes later he pulled in front of the pharmacy.

“Mrs. Finkman!” The little bell over the door jangled as Alex ran in. It was so warm in the pharmacy, he suddenly realized how cold he was. He rubbed his hands together.

Please help me!

“Mrs. Finkman!” he called again. A pleasant-looking grey-haired lady stepped out from the stockroom at the back of the store.

Please see me, Mrs. Finkman!

He called her name again, and she looked up in surprise.

“Oh! Alex!” she said. “What are you doing here?” she asked, bewildered.

“It’s Friday after school, Mrs. Finkman. When I come and sort the new stock?” How could she forget?

“Well, of course, dear, but it’s just that you already did it.” Mrs. Finkman looked puzzled.

“What do you mean, Mrs. Finkman? I just got here,” Alex said.

Mrs. Finkman came from behind the pharmacist’s counter, opened the little swing door to the stock floor, and peered into Alex’s face.

“Are you okay, Alex? You look a little off,” she said gently. She drew close to Alex, like she wanted to put her hand on his forehead and check for fever.

“Mrs. Finkman, I’m telling you, I just got here,” he said. His mouth was dry, his heart started to pound. Mrs. Finkman was the nicest lady he knew. She was kind to him, paid him well, and always sent him home with a bag of peppermints each week. As the town’s only pharmacist, she was everyone’s friend. Finkman’s Pharmacy donated new hockey jerseys for the town team every winter and new baseball team shirts every summer. Not that Alex had ever had either of those things. But still, everyone loved her.

She wouldn’t tease him.

“Mrs. Finkman, I know this sounds crazy, but what do you mean that I already stocked the shelves?” Mrs. Finkman stared at him for a moment.

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