The Tiny Mansion

by Keir Graff

  And, What’s going on? How’s summer?

  And, Where ARE you, Dagmar?

  You get the idea. Between the four of them, they’d texted me 178 times. That made me feel pretty good. But after a while, because I wasn’t answering, they stopped asking. They kept me on the thread as they started messaging about the plans for Imani’s birthday party. Imani and I had been friends the longest, and I really liked Olivia, but sometimes I felt like she wanted me to think she was really Imani’s best friend, not me. With me gone, Olivia was acting like she was in charge of Imani’s birthday party and had even gotten permission to have it at her grandpa’s house, where there was a swimming pool and a barbecue grill. The whole thing was going to happen tomorrow, and there was no way I could be there.

  It was just like my dream. They were having fun together, but they couldn’t see or hear me.

  I needed to tell them I was still alive, but before I did, I had to answer Kristen, who had been texting every day asking me to Please check in.

  She answered after four rings, sounding sleepy. Dubai is twelve hours ahead of California.

  “Hi, honey,” she croaked.

  “Hi, Kristen,” I said.

  “Hi, Mom,” she corrected me. After she and Trent uncoupled, she’d changed her mind about the whole first-name thing, but calling her Mom felt weird after so many years.

  “I met a guy whose parents are in Dubai, too,” I told her.

  “Oh, who’s that?”

  I almost said Blake Berthold, his dad is Reynold Berthold, but for some reason I didn’t. Well, I know why: because Kristen would have been super excited about the famous connection, and that’s what she’d have wanted to talk about. And that’s not what I wanted to talk about.

  So I said, “Just a kid.”

  “Oh,” she said. “How was camping?”

  That was what I wanted to talk about.

  “You should ask me, ‘How is camping,’” I said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, sounding a lot more awake now.

  “Things aren’t exactly like Trent told you. We got evicted, so now we’re living in a forest.”

  “You’re living in a forest?” She sounded shocked, which was good. I needed her to be mad at Trent.

  “Well, next to a forest,” I admitted.

  “I don’t understand how Trent and Leya could have been evicted. I’ve been sending money. Are you telling me you’re homeless?”

  “Trent invested all the money into building a tiny house, but then the people he was building it for didn’t pay, and then Trent didn’t have enough money to pay all the bills he’s behind on, so we’re living in the tiny house. Well, they are. I’m camping outside because I can’t stand sleeping in the loft with Santi.”

  She was quiet for a moment, and I wondered what she’d say next. I hoped she was going to come up with a solution to rescue me and save the summer. Like, I’ll be on the next plane home, and we’ll fix this. Or I’ll send him a year’s rent right now because I want you moving back to Oakland.

  Instead, she said, “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Well, good luck, because we don’t have cell service out there. I’m calling you from a mall right now.”

  “Then I’ll send him a letter.”

  “We don’t exactly have an address, Kristen. We don’t even have a mailbox.”

  “Then tell him to get in touch with me,” she said.

  If I did that, then he’d know I was ratting him out to her, so that would be an absolute last resort. I didn’t say anything.

  “Is everything okay otherwise?” she asked.

  Otherwise? How could she possibly be concerned about otherwise? That’s when I really knew she wasn’t going to rescue me.

  “I really want to go back to Oakland, Mom,” I said, accidentally forgetting to call her Kristen and getting a little bit mad at myself about it. “Imani and Olivia are going to have a whole summer without me, and I don’t even know if we’ll still be friends when I get back.”

  “I’m sorry, Dagmar, but I can’t just jump on a plane right now. I promise I’ll find a way to get in touch with your dad, and when I do, we’ll get things sorted out.”

  “Can’t you just give him more money?”

  “It’s not that simple, honey.”

  I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t try to explain why, because I didn’t want to hear it.

  “Dagmar, are you still there?”

  “Sort of,” I mumbled.

  “Just give me a little time. I’m sorry summer isn’t going the way you wanted. Life is complicated right now, isn’t it?”

  My thumb hovered over the disconnect button.

  “Call me anytime,” she said. “I’m always here to talk.”

  “Bye, Kristen,” I said, and hung up.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  I HID OUT for another five minutes, texting my friends that I was all right even if I was being held hostage against my will in the boonies. I didn’t give them many details because it was too depressing. They had sent pictures of themselves, nothing special, just a bunch of selfies, but seeing them together and happy made me so sad that I deleted them all.

  Happy early birthday, Imani! I wrote, adding every party emoji I could think of. Wish I was there.

  Nobody answered. Maybe they were all at a movie together or something.

  Then I heard Santi’s voice.

  Not speaking words. He was making more of a wheeeeeeeeee sound.

  I heard the whir of rolling wheels, and his voice got louder and louder and closer and closer—and then started getting quieter again.

  Unplugging my phone, which was now at 17 percent, I stuffed it and the charger into my pocket.

  Santi’s voice was getting closer and louder again: wheeeeeEEEEEEEEEEE!

  I went to the front of the store and peeked out. Blake was zooming past on one of those long, electric-powered skateboards, and Santi was clinging to his back like a baby monkey—a very big baby monkey.

  Vladimir was about thirty yards behind them on a hoverboard. I couldn’t see his feet, but that had to be what he was riding, because if it wasn’t, he was levitating like an avenging ghost.

  I waited until they went past and took off in the opposite direction, running as fast as I could. Of course, that wasn’t nearly as fast as the skateboard and hoverboard, and about thirty seconds later, I heard Blake yell, “Hey, slowpoke!”

  I glanced over my shoulder. They had done a lap, and now Blake and Santi were headed right for me with Vladimir in hot pursuit. I pictured him picking me up and tucking me under his arm like a football.

  And then I realized that to my left was the store where they’d swiped the wheels. The owner was standing out in front with her hands on her hips.

  “Free ride’s over, folks! Bring them back in!” she yelled angrily.

  When Blake and Santi got close, she ran a few steps and lunged, trying to grab them, but Blake was a good rider and dodged her easily.

  While she was distracted, I ran into the store, which was called Wheels R Us. It had everything from skateboards and Rollerblades to wheelchairs and mobility scooters to folding bikes. I’m actually not too bad at rollerblading, but I didn’t have time to lace up a pair, so I grabbed a bike, rolled it toward the front of the store, and climbed on.

  “HEY!” yelled the owner as I pedaled past her into the mall.

  Then she yelled, “THERE THEY ARE, OFFICERS!”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A Soft Landing

  You know how people say time slows down when something crazy happens? Well, this wasn’t like that at all. This felt more like video that had been sped up. All that was missing was a soundtrack of silly music.

  I came out of the store behind Vladimir, who was behind Blake and Santi, and I would have been able to just
turn around and go the other way if there hadn’t been two cops behind me. Fortunately, they were mall cops, not real cops, but they were riding Segways and moving pretty fast.

  The Segways even had flashing red lights on the handlebars, which I wouldn’t have expected.

  “Pull over,” said one of them through a little loudspeaker, which also surprised me. It reminded me of the time Trent got a speeding ticket on Interstate 80.

  Except, unlike Trent, I had no intention of pulling over. Blake started this, so if anyone was going to explain things to the authorities, it was him. I just had to somehow rescue Santi first.

  And I had to do it on a bike that was small enough for him to ride. The folding travel bike I’d grabbed had a seat that could be extended for a full-grown adult—I’d seen people riding them back in Oakland—but the seat on this one was so low my knees practically punched me in the chin every time I pushed the pedals. And when I stood up, I towered over the handlebars and felt wobbly and off balance.

  But unless I was going to turn myself in to the mall cops, I had to make it work. Crouching on the bike, I managed to speed up until I was just behind Vladimir’s massive back.

  “On your left!” I yelled, pulling out to pass and just missing a startled shopper, who dropped her bags as Vladimir and I swerved past her on either side.

  “Stop running, Dagmar,” said Vladimir calmly. “We must leave mall.”

  “I’ll stop when he stops,” I said, pointing my chin at Blake. “And besides, I’m not running, I’m pedaling.”

  When we slowed down to get around a group of mall walkers, Blake and Santi increased their lead. Vladimir glanced over his shoulder at the mall cops, who were gaining on us.

  “We need lower level,” he said.

  “I’ll get Santi and meet you at the car,” I told him. “Do whatever you want with Blake.”

  He nodded, and spotting an opening, I pedaled until my tires were spinning like hamster wheels. My thighs ached from the effort, but I was right behind Blake. His skateboard appeared to have reached maximum speed.

  “Santi,” I hissed.

  He turned around and looked at me, his eyes wide with excitement.

  “Blake’s a expert skateboarder,” he told me.

  “That’s great,” I said. “But it’s time to get off.”

  “I’m not slowing down,” said Blake, without looking back.

  “Then I’ll catch up, and you can climb onto my back, Santi,” I said.

  We were nearing the end of the mall’s upper level. To keep going, we would have to make a U-turn to the right. If my circus act had any chance of working, I needed a straightaway.

  I slalomed around behind them as we made the first turn, and then the second—when I saw Vladimir heading right for us! Anticipating our route, he had taken a shortcut across a bridge.

  With the mall cops zooming up behind and Vladimir in front, I didn’t know what to do, and things were moving so fast I didn’t have time to think.

  I swerved one way, and Blake swerved the other, right into Vladimir’s path. When Blake ducked, Vladimir scooped Santi off Blake’s back and tucked him under one arm . . . like a football.

  I had amazing powers of prognostication (foretelling from signs).

  Then, while I coasted and craned my neck to see what happened next, Vladimir had a head-on collision with a mall cop. The cop never had a chance. The bodyguard’s massive size, plus the little bit added on by Santi, was too much for even a fully grown cop on a Segway, and he was knocked aside like a ninepin.

  The other cop braked to a halt, checked on her partner, and then did a one-eighty after Vladimir and Santi.

  Blake and I were going the same direction, but there was a limit to how far you could go in any direction on the second floor, because there weren’t any exits. We were either going to have to keep doing loops and figure eights on the mezzanines and bridges, or we were going to have to head for an elevator or an escalator.

  On the opposite mezzanine, Vladimir’s hoverboard seemed to be running out of juice. The only way he was able to avoid the mall cop was by taking extreme evasive action and swerving in and out of shoppers, half of whom now had their phones out to record the chaos.

  One teenager was taking a selfie video and must have been saying something like “check out what’s happening behind me” when Vladimir and Santi clipped his arm and sent the phone flying over a railing.

  “Blake, forget about escaping from Vladimir,” I yelled. “We have to get out of here before we end up on YouTube!”

  “So you want to give up?” he yelled back, grabbing a soda out of a startled man’s hand and taking a sip before throwing the cup in the trash, all while still comfortably riding his skateboard.

  I could not believe he was being such a moron. “No! I do not give up! But I’m canceling your stupid challenge!”

  “It’s not over until I say it’s over,” he said with a shrug. “If you want to quit, be my guest.”

  I was so mad that the next sound I made started deep in my chest and escaped my mouth before I even realized what I was doing. I guess you’d call it a roar of frustration. I would have been super embarrassed if Blake hadn’t looked so freaked out.

  “RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!” I bellowed, my head feeling volcanic all over again.

  And then I knew exactly what to do.

  I was nearing the top of the escalators, and Vladimir and Santi were still a hundred yards away. As Blake rolled deeper into the mall, I pedaled for the escalators as hard as I could.

  When I was almost there, a stroller appeared out of nowhere, pushed by a mom who seemed to be having a loud conversation with herself but was actually facetiming with someone on a handlebar-mounted phone.

  The only way to avoid flattening her and her baby was to crash, so that’s what I did, steering into a large planter that stopped my bike and sent me flying over the handlebars. As I skidded to a halt, I looked up and saw a furry head peek out of the stroller—her “baby” was a dog. It was even wearing a pink bow.

  But I didn’t have time to be mad about that. Climbing to my feet, I staggered to the top of the escalator and looked down. Vladimir and Santi were headed my direction with one Segway-riding mall cop in hot pursuit. The other one had somehow climbed back on his Segway and was gliding toward me from the opposite side.

  I looked down. As usual, the escalators had a tempting, shiny metal slide between them. Also as usual, the slide was studded with raised metal discs every six feet to discourage daredevils from trying it.

  But I needed to get down. Fast.

  Swiping a stack of napkins from a nearby table, I hopped up on the slide between the escalators and kneeled, putting a half stack of napkins under each of my bare knees.

  Then I pushed off.

  My first thought was I can’t believe how stupid I am.

  My second thought, as I watched the raised metal antisliding devices whizzing between my knees, was This is actually super fun.

  My third thought was How do I get off at the bottom?

  I flew down the slide, ignoring the startled shoppers riding up (and high-fiving one kid who saw me coming), the napkins making my knees slide fast even as they started to shred (the napkins, not my knees).

  “Dagmar!” yelled Santi from above when he saw me.

  I didn’t know if he was warning me, cheering me on, or simply identifying me for the authorities, but if he saw what I was doing, that meant Vladimir did, too.

  I never did decide how to get off the slide—really, my only option seemed to be a face-plant that was going to give me full-body road rash—but fortunately, an eight-foot-tall bunny was shuffling past.

  I blinked, thinking I had to be seeing things, and then I was launched off the bottom of the escalator into the well-padded bunny, which must have been on its way to entertain some toddlers. I have no idea
if the person wearing the suit was seventeen or seventy, but I heard an “OOOF!” when I shot into them like a missile.

  There was no time to apologize or thank the bunny for breaking my fall. Climbing over the fallen furry, I got up as fast as I could and yelled, “Vladimir!”

  But he was way ahead of me: Santi was already coming down the slide.

  Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have the whole napkins-on-knees thing worked out and was bumping his butt every six feet.

  “D-D-D-DAG-m-m-m-MAR!” he yelped, trying to slow himself down with the soles of his shoes.

  When I helped him off at the bottom, he rubbed his butt and started walking bowlegged, like a cowboy who’d been riding a really bony horse. We started trotting toward the exit as, above us, Vladimir abandoned his hoverboard and ran from the mall cops on foot.

  So Santi and I had escaped.

  But how were we going to get home?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Blake Loses

  People pointed and laughed as we moved away from the bunny, who was sitting up woozily. I pulled Santi along until we were camouflaged by a crowd of shoppers who had no idea what was happening. While we hurried toward the doors leading outside, I weighed our options. There weren’t many. We could:

  turn ourselves in to the mall authorities and see what life was like in the mall jail,

  find our way back to the car and hope Vladimir and Blake escaped and showed up, or

  try to hitchhike back to the compound.

  I ruled out A because even though Trent always told me there was no shame in getting caught by security guards, there was no benefit to surrendering. The big problem with C was that I wasn’t sure I even knew how to get back. And I couldn’t call Trent because even though I had cell reception, he didn’t get it out in the woods.

  That left B, which wasn’t much of a plan. If the mall cops called in reinforcements, Vladimir and Blake would be surrounded, and we’d be out of a ride.