Anyway, if Izzy didn’t go, Ben would say she’d been afraid, and she wasn’t afraid. She was the kind of person who took risks, wasn’t she? The silver shoes? The yellow hair? Maybe she didn’t go to London like Pauline or kissing camp like Cookie, but her life could be exciting too. And even if they didn’t find Uncle Henderson, the trip might be just what Oliver needed. He’d be out of school for a few days and away from those mean kids, and maybe the excitement of going someplace new would help him stop worrying for a little while.
With every item she put into her backpack—a hairbrush, a paperback book, her toothbrush and toothpaste, extra underwear, a T-shirt, and a pair of shorts—Izzy got more excited. She was really doing this!
Of course, her mother would be terribly worried, and Izzy would certainly be punished. Her mother was so mad at her already, she’d probably ground her for the rest of her life. And Izzy would no doubt get a lecture long enough to give her mother a sore throat. But what the heck, Izzy hadn’t had any fun in ages. At least if she went with Ben and Oliver, she’d have stories to tell when she got back. If she didn’t go, she’d have to listen to their stories, and she could just imagine what that would be like. First this amazing thing happened, and then we met the weirdest person, and he told us the strangest story, and we had the best time, and the whole thing was ten times cooler than anything that’s ever happened to you! No, she was not waiting around here. She had to go—there was no other choice.
The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. In the middle of the week, in the middle of the night, she was sneaking off with her cousin and a boy her friends thought was dangerous (who she was pretty sure was only annoying) to take a bus to the middle of nowhere to find some rusty old trailer at the other end of New York State. And maybe they really would save Uncle Hen, and when they came back, they’d be heroes, sort of. And Cookie and Pauline would be so amazed she’d done it that they’d forget they were ignoring her, and everybody at school would be shocked by her fearlessness. She could hardly wait to get back!
Still, her stomach flipped over when she thought of her mother walking into her room in the morning. First she’d wonder where Izzy was, and then she’d realize Oliver and Ben weren’t in the house either. What would she think? Izzy knew her mother would be scared to death, so she did what she had to do: she left a note. Not much of a note—no big explanation, no clues, just enough information to keep her mother from having a full-on heart attack.
“We’ve gone to find Uncle Henderson. Don’t worry.” She put the note on her pillow and looked at it lying there, eight words in black marker where her head should have been. She was going to be in so much trouble.
The last thing she did before going downstairs was to try on every pair of shoes on the floor of her closet, but none of them fit her anymore. She’d hoped she could wear her old sneakers, but the sole of the right one was flapping off at the front now, and she couldn’t walk in it. (Her gym teacher, Mrs. Tollefson, had told her she had to fix it or get a new pair by next week, but she hadn’t gotten around to telling her mother yet. That would not be a good conversation.) Blisters or not, she’d have to wear the silver slippers. She got two large Band-Aids from the cabinet in the bathroom and slapped one on each heel before carefully wedging the shoes onto her feet. The Band-Aids helped. A little.
Oliver was already waiting outside when Izzy sneaked through the back door. He was hopping up and down with excitement and nerves.
“Where’s Ben?” he whispered.
“He’ll be here,” she said. “Do you need to go to the bathroom before we leave?”
“I did! I’m not dumb, Izzy!”
“I didn’t say you were!”
Ben came through the door so quietly that they didn’t hear him until he was on top of them, his backpack bulging.
“You told me I could only bring a few things,” Izzy said, “but you brought a ton.”
“I brought food. Did you think of that?”
Izzy hadn’t, but she didn’t admit it. Ben unzipped his pack and handed each of them a water bottle. “You carry these. I’ll lug the rest of the stuff.”
Oliver tried to see what else was in Ben’s pack, but it was too dark out. “What food did you bring?”
“Bread, peanut butter, apples, bananas, and a bag of chips.”
Izzy was surprised to hear it was such a balanced selection. She probably would have forgotten the fruit. Well, she hadn’t actually thought of bringing any of it.
“I’ve also got maps, a Swiss Army knife, a flashlight, and my cell phone,” Ben said as they left the yard. “The phone’s turned off, though—I don’t know when I’ll be able to recharge it, so it’s only for emergencies.”
Izzy thought of Jerry’s joke about the Swiss Army knife, but she figured they were all too nervous to listen to it. “What if our parents try to call?”
“I’m sure they will,” Ben said, “but if the phone’s off, we won’t know it. I just hope they don’t call the police. I think the cops could trace the phone even if it’s off.”
Oliver was not happy with that information. “They’ll find us, then!”
Ben shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll call the police. At least not right away. My dad won’t want to.”
“Why not?” Izzy asked.
“He just won’t, okay?”
“You’re such a know-it-all,” she grumbled. “What do we need a flashlight for? We’re just going to the bus station, aren’t we?”
Ben sighed. “Do you really think there’s a bus leaving Coolidge at midnight headed for the western edge of New York State? Or did you think we’d just sit in the station until tomorrow morning when your mother realizes we’re gone and puts out an all-points bulletin?”
“Well, I don’t know! You’re the one who said we’d take the bus!”
“I never said that, Dizzy. You jumped to that conclusion.”
“Well, then, how are we going to get there?”
Ben grinned. “How’s your thumb working?”
He loped off down the street, Oliver prancing along behind him, before Izzy thought of a reply. She ran alongside him. “Who’s going to pick up a bunch of kid hitchhikers in the middle of the night? Except maybe some deranged murderer.”
“I’m really starting to regret bringing you along, Dizzy.”
“You didn’t ‘bring’ me. I just came. What if somebody from Coolidge picks us up, and they know who we are?”
“Calm down. We’re not hitching until we get out of Coolidge. Farther up Route 9. Then we wait until we see a truck. Truck drivers will pick up anybody. I’ll make sure the driver looks okay before we get in. And we’ll have a story ready for him.”
“What story?”
“Our cover story. I’m thinking we’re brothers and sister. Our mother lives in Coolidge, and our dad lives in Eastman. Our dad’s expecting us, but…our mom’s car broke down, so she couldn’t drive us there.”
Izzy didn’t think that made sense. “Why didn’t she just call our dad to come get us?”
“She tried to, but his cell phone wasn’t on. Or maybe it wasn’t charged. He forgets to charge it sometimes.”
Izzy shook her head. “What kind of mother lets her kids hitchhike all over the place at eleven o’clock at night?”
Ben thought that over. “Okay, maybe she’s sick. Really sick. And we don’t know anybody else in town because we’re new here. So we’re going to our dad’s to get him to come down and take her to the hospital—”
“Because we’re too dumb to call 911?” Izzy asked. “That’s ridiculous.”
Oliver looked back and forth between them as they trudged down the street, waiting to hear the final word on what lie he was supposed to learn.
“Okay,” Izzy said. “How about this? Our mother’s sick, but not that sick. She’s coming down with the flu. Our father doesn’t charge his phone. We don’t want to hang around Flu-ville, so we decided to hitch up to our dad’s house. We do it all the time. No big d
eal.”
Ben tilted his head. “It’s not that different from my story.”
“Yours was too complicated. I think it’s better if it’s simple. We don’t need to make it a whole long story.”
Ben nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. You’re not a bad liar, Dizzy. Who knew?”
They tried to stay off streets that had lots of streetlights, so nobody would see and recognize them. Ben seemed to know every dark road and alleyway that zigzagged through Coolidge. They were approaching the city limits by the time something Ben said earlier floated back to the top of Izzy’s consciousness. She gave him a suspicious look.
“Wait. How come you said our father lives in Eastman?”
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. Just the first place that came to mind.”
“And if we’re headed west, why are we walking north? Where are we really going?”
“Lake Chautauqua. You know that.”
“I mean first. Where are we hitchhiking to now? Eastman, aren’t we? To your uncle Steve’s.”
Ben looked down at Oliver, and Oliver gave him a guilty smile.
“Sorry,” Oliver said. “I told her not to tell anybody, and she didn’t.”
“She might have, though,” Ben said.
Oliver shook his head. “No. I trust Izzy.”
Izzy was happy to hear it, but she still wanted an answer. “Tell me the truth, Ben.”
He sighed. “Yes, okay, we’re going to my uncle Steve’s.”
Izzy stopped walking. “I don’t want to go there! Oliver said he drinks beer and smokes pot.”
“Once in a while—not every minute.” Ben sounded exasperated. “He’s a good guy. The pot is only to help him sleep.”
“Your dad doesn’t like him,” Izzy reminded Ben.
“My dad liked him fine before my mom left. Now he acts like everything that has any connection to her is poisonous.”
“What about the tattoos?” Izzy asked. “He’s the one who let you get them, isn’t he?”
“So what? Everybody has tattoos,” Ben said.
“I don’t have a tattoo,” Oliver said.
Ben smiled at him. “Well, no, you don’t. You’re only ten.”
“And you’re only sixteen,” Izzy reminded Ben.
“Sixteen in human years,” he said. “But a lot older in divorced-parent years.”
A grin popped onto Izzy’s face, surprising her. She knew exactly what he meant. It was the first thing Ben had ever said that she agreed with completely.
With all the walking, the bandages on Izzy’s heels had slipped down into her shoes and were no longer protecting the right places. She didn’t want Ben to notice that she was limping, but it was hard to pretend it didn’t hurt. Finally she gave in to the pain and began to hobble.
“Why are you walking funny?” Ben asked.
“My shoes are too tight,” she admitted.
He’d already gotten the flashlight out, and now he shone it on her silver slippers. “Well, why did you wear those? You should have worn sneakers.”
“I couldn’t. My sneakers are falling apart.”
“She was supposed to buy sneakers, but she bought those shoes instead,” Oliver said. “Aunt Maggie was really mad.”
“Oliver, don’t be a snitch,” Izzy said.
“Well, we’re pretty far out of town now,” Ben said. “Let’s stop for a few minutes and see if any trucks come along. If one does, you two stand closest to the highway, and I’ll stand back in the shadows a little bit.”
“Why?” Izzy wanted to know. “So if the truck swerves, we get hit first?”
Ben’s mouth fell open. “God, why are you so suspicious of me? Have I ever tried to hurt you? We need to get a ride. People are more likely to stop for a girl and a little kid than a teenage boy. That’s just the way it is.”
Izzy felt bad for saying that about the truck hitting them first, but it was hard for her to apologize to people. Especially to Ben. “I just…I don’t know. I never hitchhiked before. I don’t know how to do it.”
“I know you haven’t. That’s why I’m telling you how to do it,” Ben said. “Okay, here comes a car. Get out there.”
“But you said it should be a truck—”
“The first one never stops anyway. This is practice.”
Stomach churning, Izzy stepped nearer to the highway and put her arm out straight, her thumb pointed into the air, the way she’d seen people do it in movies. What if the car did stop? What if it was somebody she knew? What if they called her mother? What if—?
The car whizzed past without even slowing down.
She was outraged. “They didn’t stop!”
Ben shrugged. “Most of them don’t. It’s not the fastest way to travel.”
Three more cars and a big truck passed them by without stopping. Izzy was starting to feel desperate. “Maybe they can’t see us,” she said.
Ben snorted. “Are you kidding? Your hair’s like a lighthouse.”
When was he going to stop making fun of her hair? Izzy folded her arms across her chest. “This isn’t going to work. Nobody ever stops. We’re going to have to walk all the way back home.”
“Somebody will stop,” Ben said evenly. And then, as if the whole thing had been prearranged, a pickup truck slowed down and pulled onto the gravel shoulder twenty yards up the road.
“Told you,” Ben said. “Trucks always stop. Come on!” He ran to the truck, yanked open the door, and peered in. Apparently he liked the looks of the driver well enough. He held the door open so Izzy and then Oliver could climb in. The cab was wide, but it was still a little tight with four of them across, so the driver, a middle-aged man with thick red hair and a two-day beard, suggested that Oliver sit on Izzy’s lap. Izzy figured Oliver had probably never ridden in a car without being buckled into a seat belt before. He gripped her arms with his sharp, untrimmed fingernails, looking both thrilled and terrified to find himself in such dangerous circumstances.
“Whatchu kids doing out here so late at night? Kinda dangerous, isn’t it?” the driver asked.
Izzy looked at Ben, wondering which of them would recite the lie.
Oliver beat them to it. “Our dad lives in Eastman, and our mom has the flu,” he said.
“Is that so?” The driver didn’t ask for any more explanation, and none of them offered any. “I can take you to Eastman,” he said. “It’s right on my way.”
“That would be great,” Ben said. “Do you know where Steve’s Automotive is? We’re going to the house right in back of that.”
“Sure I do! Steve’s a friend of mine. But if he’s your dad, he’s been keeping secrets from me all these years!” The guy laughed.
Ben gave a nervous laugh. “Well, actually, he’s more like my uncle.”
The driver put up his hand like a stop sign. “Hey, kid. I ask you no questions—you tell me no lies.”
They rode the rest of the way in a friendly silence. The truck driver pulled over in front of Steve’s Automotive, and they all got out.
“Thanks,” Ben said.
“No problem. Tell Steve that Ronnie says hi. And I’ll be waitin’ to hear his story about how he all of a sudden got hisself a buncha kids.” The driver laughed again and pulled away.
“Well, that lie stunk,” Izzy said. “We’ll have to come up with something better for next time.”
“I already have,” Ben said. “So when we get in there, follow my lead, okay?”
Oliver nodded.
“You’re going to lie to your uncle?” Izzy asked.
“I have to. It’s the only way we’ll get a car.”
“A car! You can’t drive!”
Ben put his finger to his lips and whispered, “Yes, I can. Uncle Steve’s been teaching me.”
“Do you have a license?” Izzy whispered back.
“Not yet, but—”
The door flew open. An enormous man with a thick black beard and tattoos up and down both arms stood in the doorway, resting his massive fists on his hips.
“I thought I heard something out here,” he said. “Didn’t I just see you this afternoon, kiddo? What the hell are you doing here this time of night? I was just about to go to bed.”
Izzy wondered if that meant he’d already smoked his bedtime marijuana.
“Hey, Uncle Steve,” Ben said. “Can we come in?”
The big man backed up and made a sweeping motion with his hands. “‘Course you can. Who’ve you got with you? Hey, I know. This must be that Oliver you were telling me about.”
Oliver stared up at the towering mass of Uncle Steve and nodded.
Ben’s uncle stuck out a big paw. “Pleased to meet you, Oliver.” Then he extended the same hand to Izzy, while his eyes took in her bright shock of hair. “And who’s this colorful little lady?”
“Oh, that’s Dizzy,” Ben said, as if he’d almost forgotten she was there. “She’s Oliver’s cousin.”
“Izzy!” she said as the man’s hand enveloped hers.
“Have a seat. Have a seat,” Uncle Steve said, motioning them toward a sagging gray couch that had been scratched to pieces, probably by the black cat whose lanky body was stretched across it.
“You hungry?” Uncle Steve asked. “I got some peanuts.”
“Sure,” Ben said. He shooed the cat off the sofa, and the three of them fell onto it. Oliver slumped against the arm of the couch, barely able to keep his eyes open. Izzy immediately kicked off her shoes, while Ben launched into the story he’d cooked up on the way.
“So, the thing is, Ms. Shepherd, Dizzy’s mom, is a nurse at the college and there was some kind of big emergency there tonight, and she got called in to help. So we were alone at the house, and the kids couldn’t sleep. They got kind of scared.”
“Kids?” Izzy piped up. But Ben’s cold stare stopped her from saying more.
“So,” he continued, “one of my friends gave us a lift up here. I thought we could bunk on your floor tonight, and maybe in the morning you could drive us to school. Is that okay?”
Uncle Steve looked skeptical. “Does Ms. Shepherd know about this plan, Bennie?” He put a big bowl of peanuts in their shells on the coffee table, and Ben grabbed a handful.
Someone Else's Shoes Page 11