The Lions of Little Rock

by Kristin Levine

  She wasn’t there.

  I was disappointed. Instead, two young men were standing there, their belongings spread out all over our bench. They were throwing stones at the lions. One of them, a big burly guy with a leather jacket, had bad aim, but the other, a blond guy, had a strong arm. He hit the poor cats again and again, and there was nowhere they could run to get away. I opened my mouth to yell at him to stop when he turned around to pick up another rock and I saw his face.

  It was Red.

  I ducked down behind a bush, trying not to shake. What was he doing there? The zoo was my place, the place where I felt safe and comfortable, and he was ruining it! For the first time, I had an inkling of what it might be like to be Liz, to feel compelled to say something, and I actually had to recite the nines times tables to keep my mouth shut.

  So I was already thinking about Liz, which is maybe why it didn’t quite register when I saw her walking toward me. Right past Red and his friend.

  I stood up when I saw her, but that was stupid because Red might see me, so I ducked back down again. Of course Liz had seen me, and through the bushes I watched as she opened her mouth to call out my name. I jumped up again, throwing my hand over my mouth to tell her to be quiet, and pointed over to the monkey cage.

  My heart was pounding as she made her way over to me. “Marlee, what was that all about?” Liz asked. At least she had the good sense to whisper.

  “That was Red,” I said. “You walked right by Red.”

  Liz went pale. “Where?”

  “By the lion cage.”

  Liz glanced back, though she couldn’t see him from where we were standing. “I didn’t recognize him. Not without his football uniform.”

  “I don’t think he knows what you look like. But if he sees you with me . . .”

  I didn’t have to finish the sentence.

  “What do we do?” asked Liz.

  “JT said he has the dynamite in the trunk of his car.”

  “So?” said Liz.

  I was doing it again. Thinking aloud. It seemed kind of dangerous to me. “Maybe we should check.”

  “How?” asked Liz.

  “On the bench. Where we met and you gave me the magic square book. I saw a football jacket and some beers, and I think there was a ring of keys.”

  “That’s crazy,” said Liz.

  It was crazy. “But the police aren’t going to do anything,” I said. “Daddy already called them.”

  “Well,” said Liz after a long moment, “I guess it’s up to us.”

  I nodded.

  “By the way,” she said, “it’s nice to see you.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “You too.”

  We spent the next hour hiding in the bushes, waiting to see if there would be an opportunity to snatch the keys. Red and his friend were drinking beer, which wasn’t really allowed at the zoo (and they were too young anyway), but there was no one there to stop them.

  Finally, just when I was beginning to think this would never work, they both went off to the bathroom, leaving their belongings on the bench. Including the large ring of keys.

  I looked at Liz. This was our chance. Liz was here, Red was here, and his keys were on the bench. It couldn’t be coincidence. This was fate. We’d never get an opportunity like this again.

  “Then I’ll watch the bathroom,” said Liz. “You get the key.” Before I could say another word, she ran off toward the bathroom.

  I glanced over at the lions. One of them lifted her head and looked at me, as if saying, “Please save me from those rocks.” Thinking about the rocks made me angry, and being angry made me forget about being scared, so I walked over to the bench and picked up the keys.

  It was a simple silver ring, but there must have been a hundred keys on it. Okay, so it was probably more like fifteen, but still. Why did a guy like Red need so many keys? It felt like my fingers suddenly swelled to three times their size, like cooked sausages splitting their skin, as I tried to flip through them all. There were two with the word Chrysler on the top. I didn’t know which one was for the trunk, so I decided to take both.

  The first key came off easily, but the second one kept slipping. Liz came running back around the corner. “They’re coming!”

  I put the ring back on the bench, and we ran to the safety of the monkeys and the bushes. Red and his friend came back, picked up their stuff and went deeper into the zoo.

  Liz sighed. “Thank goodness. They didn’t notice anything was missing.”

  “But there were two keys,” I said. “I only had time to get one.” I’d been clutching it in my fist so tightly, it left a little indentation on my palm when I opened my hand to show it to her.

  Liz nodded. “Some cars have one key for the door and ignition and another key for the trunk and glove compartment.” She picked up the key and looked it over before placing it back into my hand. “Let’s hope you got the right one.”

  We ran up the hill to the zoo parking lot, my clenched fist with the key by my side. My heart was beating as loud as an airplane engine. No one paid us any attention at all. There were only a few cars in the parking lot. One of them was the old gray Chrysler Windsor. I glanced inside. There were fishing rods and a tackle box on the backseat of the car.

  “Is this it?” Liz asked.

  I nodded.

  “It was your idea,” she said. “You try the key.”

  I knew I had to do it. I took deep breaths, trying to remember that I was brave, but I couldn’t move. I was literally frozen to the spot. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to ruin our one and only chance to steal the dynamite back because I was too big of a coward to open a trunk.

  Then the lions did something I’d never heard them do during the day before. They roared. It was just a little roar, but it worked. I counted 2, 3, 5, and then I tried the key in the lock.

  It got stuck. The lock was rusty, but the key probably wasn’t the right one anyway. I sighed and tried once more. The key turned, and I heard a click.

  The trunk popped open.

  Inside was the dynamite.

  My old satchel was in the trunk too, but the sticks had fallen out of it and were now strewn all about the trunk.

  “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Liz said. “JT was right.”

  I glanced around the parking lot. There was no one there. If someone did see us, we were just two girls, standing in front of an open trunk.

  “Let’s go,” Liz said. “We’ll call the police.”

  “No,” I said. “We have to take it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I already called the police,” I reminded her. “They aren’t going to do anything.”

  “If you tell them you saw it with your own eyes—”

  “Red’ll move it! Even if we leave the key in the lock, he’ll know someone was—”

  Liz sighed. “Of course you’re right.”

  We looked at the dynamite in the trunk. The cylinders stared up at us.

  “I don’t want to touch it,” Liz said.

  “Neither do I,” I said.

  “On the other hand,” said Liz. “If it’s been rolling around in his trunk for a week now and hasn’t gone off yet, surely it’s okay to . . .” She reached in and picked up a stick, and placed it carefully back into my satchel. “Just like picking up a crawdad,” she said, but neither one of us smiled.

  I picked up the next stick. No one blew up. It felt cool, kind of like a crawdad. I placed mine carefully in the bag and then it was Liz’s turn again. We worked in absolute silence. I was sweating by the time I got to the last stick.

  Liz reached in and picked up the bag.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “Take it to the police station.”

  “And tel
l them?”

  “We found it in the woods,” Liz said, and shrugged. “It’s almost the truth.”

  We started to walk away when I realized we’d forgotten to close the trunk. I ran back. I’m not sure what made me look in the trunk before I closed it. But I did. And there were two more sticks that had rolled out of the bag, way in the back.

  I glanced toward the zoo entrance. No one was in sight. I just couldn’t face the thought of leaving any loose ends, so I climbed into the trunk to reach the last two sticks of dynamite. But I accidentally kicked the lid as I scrambled in, and it fell shut.

  “Liz,” I screamed, “let me out!”

  That’s when I realized I was still clutching the key in my hand.

  More voices. One I was afraid I recognized. I peeked out of an old rusted spot in the trunk.

  Red and his friend.

  They walked straight to his car. I could feel it lurch as they climbed inside. Red started the engine and drove off.

  With me in the trunk.

  48

  GOD BLESS MOTHER

  It was dark in the trunk, with only bits of light coming in. I was terrified, on-top-of-the-high-dive, getting-on-an-airplane, passing-as-a-white-girl-when-you’re-really-colored terrified. If there was ever a time to prove Mother right, this was it. I tried to picture my four-year-old self, too stupid to be afraid. I tried to pretend it was dark because I was home in bed. I imagined so hard, I could almost hear the lions roar.

  I felt a little better. The church bells chimed quarter after three. Red turned left, then right, then went straight for a long time. The air was terrible, full of exhaust. I wanted to cough, but I was afraid they would hear me. Red turned right onto a bumpy road. Just when I was sure he was going to drive forever, the car stopped.

  “It’s three forty-five,” I heard one guy call out. “You’re an hour late.”

  “Sorry,” said Red. “This old clunker doesn’t go over twenty-five.”

  “Bring anything to eat?” he asked.

  I peeked through the rusty hole. Burly leather jacket guy slapped his friend on the back. “We’re going fishing. I’ll catch you something.”

  They finally walked off. When I couldn’t hear them anymore, I made myself count to a hundred, then I tried to open the trunk. Only one problem. I could feel the lock, but there was no catch on the inside. Why would there be? Who would be stupid enough to jump into a trunk? I kicked at the trunk, even made a dent in the metal, but it still didn’t open.

  Think, Marlee, think. There had to be some tool, something I could use to pry it open. I felt around. My fingers closed on a cold, round cylinder. Yikes! The dynamite. I’d forgotten it was still there.

  I dropped it like a hotcake and backed away, as far as the trunk would allow, which was only about an inch or two. I tried to imagine a magic square or the area of a circle or solving for y, but it didn’t work this time. All I could think of was how when Red came back and opened the trunk to put the fish he’d caught inside, he was going to kill me.

  Then I had a worse thought. What if he didn’t open the trunk? How could he? I still had the key. Would he even notice it was missing? He thought the dynamite was still in there, safely locked away. What if I was locked in there for days? What if I had to go to the bathroom? How long could I survive in there? I hadn’t even had a chance to say good-bye to Liz. Or David or Judy. Or Daddy. Or Mother.

  Mother! Oh, God bless Mother. If I had my purse, the letter opener would be inside. I felt around in the darkness. My purse was still slung over my shoulder. I pulled out the opener and, fumbling in the dark, placed it next to the trunk latch. Maybe I could use the letter opener like a prybar to force the trunk open. I took a deep breath and slammed my hand down on the letter opener.

  The blade broke off the handle. I felt around in the darkness, but the blade must have slipped down somewhere because I couldn’t find it.

  I kicked at the lock. Nothing. Panicked, I picked up the letter opener handle and pounded at the lock, again and again, until finally, the trunk popped open. Sunlight shone in, blinding me. I gulped in deep breaths of fresh air. I was free.

  Then I froze, because I wasn’t free. I was stuck in the woods with three scary boys, who would likely kill me when they realized I’d stolen their dynamite. So I did the only thing I could do. I grabbed my purse, counted 2, 3, 5, then jumped out of the trunk and ran.

  I made it about twenty feet before I fell down. For a second, I’d thought I’d been shot, then I remembered they were fishing, not hunting. I listened. There was silence. The boys must still be down by the river. There was no one around.

  Slowly, I got to my feet and began to walk home. I stayed close enough to the road that I wouldn’t get lost, but far enough into the forest so that Red wouldn’t see me if he drove by.

  It was slow going. There wasn’t really a path, and I felt achy all over. Brave? Stupid was more like it. How did I think we could prevent something bad from happening? Every time I tried, I made things worse. My thoughts got darker and darker, as did the sky. Pretty soon, it started to rain.

  Finally, I came to a farmhouse. I didn’t even care about getting in trouble anymore. I just wanted to go home. I went up on the front porch and knocked at the door. No one answered. There was no car in the driveway. I tried the front door. It was unlocked.

  “Hello?” I called out. “Hello, is anybody home?”

  Now, usually I’d hesitate at least a minute or two before I went into someone’s house without permission. But I’d already stolen some dynamite and jumped into a car trunk today—what was a little breaking and entering? So I opened the door and went inside.

  49

  GOD BLESS DAVID

  It was a pretty farmhouse, with old furniture, but neat and tidy. I walked into the kitchen. There was a phone on the wall.

  I picked up the receiver and dialed Liz. She answered on the first ring.

  “It’s me,” I said. My voice shook so much, I wasn’t sure she’d recognize me.

  “Marlee?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, thank God! Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” I was dripping water all over a clean white rug.

  “I just about died when Red drove off.”

  “He decided to go fishing,” I said.

  “Fishing? Where are you?”

  “I don’t know.” I looked around as if I expected to see a street sign in the kitchen. “What happened to the dynamite?”

  “I left it by the back door of the police station with a note saying I’d found it in the woods. I don’t think anyone saw me.”

  “Thank goodness,” I sighed.

  “Where are you?” Liz repeated. She sounded like she was about to cry.

  “I don’t know!” I was the one who was lost. There was a pile of mail on the otherwise neat table. I picked up a piece. “I’m at forty-three Salamander Road.”

  “Where’s that?” asked Liz.

  “Do you have a map?”

  She did.

  “Start at the zoo. We went left, then right, then straight for a long time.” Thank goodness I’d paid attention. “And finally another right.”

  “I see it,” said Liz, “but it’s a long road. How will I know where . . .”

  I had an idea. I picked up a piece of mail and rummaged in my purse for a pen. It was three fifteen P.M. when Red drove off. I knew that because I’d heard the church bells. And it was three forty-five when we arrived. So that was thirty minutes. Red had said the car only went twenty-five miles per hour, and he was late, so he’d probably been driving that fast the whole way. I made a few notes on the piece of paper. Thirty minutes was half of one hour, and half of 25 miles was 12.5.

  God bless math. “I’m about twelve miles down the road,” I said.

 
“How—”

  “Just find someone to come and get me.”

  “Who?” Liz moaned.

  My brain felt thick and slow. If I called Mother or Daddy, I’d be going to Pine Bluff for sure, no matter how many pretty speeches Mother made about taking a stand. Maybe David would come. He didn’t have a car, but perhaps he could borrow one.

  “Call my brother,” I said, and gave her the number. “Tell him it’s an emergency and to please come now.”

  I heard the front door open and steps in the living room. A moment later a figure appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “Who are you?”

  Startled, I hung up the phone.

  It was an old lady, with a faded dress and worn hands.

  I burst into tears. I swear it wasn’t calculated, but apparently it was just the right thing to do. I must have looked pretty pitiful, because instead of getting mad, she turned concerned. “It’s all right, sweetie,” she said. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I got lost in the woods,” I mumbled. That much was true. “I was fishing with my daddy, and I wandered off and . . .” A fresh batch of tears. I wasn’t quite sure if I was acting or not anymore. “I knocked, but no one answered and . . .”

  “There, there,” she said. “Calm down.” She patted my back like I was a puppy. I slowly stopped crying.

  “I have a granddaughter your age,” she said. “Let me go see if I can find you something dry to wear.”

  I was still sniffling but felt better. Maybe she’d even offer to drive me home. I could call Liz back and . . . I turned over the piece of paper I’d used to get the address. It was a CROSS flyer.

  I stood up and ran. Out the front door and down the street. Ran and ran and ran. I figured out pretty quickly that was a stupid thing to do. It was still raining. And it wasn’t like being a CROSS supporter made her a wicked witch who ate children or anything.

  It wasn’t exactly cold, but my skirt was soaked through, and my feet were wet. I hate wet shoes. They squish and squash, and twelve miles was a long way to walk in squishy shoes. David probably wouldn’t be able to come. No, Liz would have to call my parents, and I’d be in Pine Bluff before I could even say good-bye. Well, at least we had gotten rid of the dynamite.