Do You Know the Monkey Man?

by Dori Hillestad Butler

  Wow! Angela and I knew the mall would be big, but we had no idea it was this big. All we could do was stare at it in awe. You have to understand, for two girls from Iowa, the Mall of America was mind-boggling. More than five hundred stores under one roof?

  The bus let us out on the lowest level of a big parking ramp. The guy I talked to at the Hill Valley bus station said we’d be able to see where the city buses picked up when we got off the Hill Valley bus. And sure enough, there they were across the parking lot. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to go over there and get on the next bus. I wasn’t sure I was ready to face whatever I might find at 7430 Sheridan Avenue South.

  But Angela was already halfway across the parking ramp. She turned when she realized I wasn’t with her. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Don’t you want to do this?”

  I blinked. “Of course I do,” I said, hurrying to catch up with her. This was why I was here.

  We went down the line checking for the Penn Avenue bus. “This is it,” Angela said, stopping in front of a big white bus.

  The door opened and we climbed on. “Are you going to Penn Avenue?” Angela asked the bus driver.

  He was an old guy with dark skin, glasses, and clumps of white hair that looked like pieces of cotton stuck to the sides of his head. He didn’t answer out loud, just nodded once.

  We dropped our money in the slot, then found a seat in the middle of the bus. We weren’t even moving yet, but already I felt bus sick. I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts and leaned my head back against my seat.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Angela crossed one leg over the other. “We’ll just go up to that house, ring the bell, and see what happens?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “What if nobody answers the door?”

  “I don’t know.”

  As the bus started out across the Mall of America parking lot, my stomach heaved.

  “Okay, what if someone does answer the door?” Angela persisted. “What then?”

  “I don’t know!” I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I just wanted to rest my head against the hard seat and think. Because believe me, those questions and more were swirling around in my head.

  I was starting to have some major doubts about this whole thing. Let’s get real. Running off to Minnesota without my mom’s permission? Getting on the Mall of America bus instead of the Cedar Rapids bus? Taking another bus across town to a total stranger’s house?

  What was I thinking?

  I turned to the window. There was so much traffic here. So many cars, so many horns. So many buildings. So many people. And here we were, two girls alone in a big city. We could get hit by a car or something up here and no one would ever know because no one even knew we were here. Unlike Clearwater or Hill Valley, there were real dangers in a place like Minneapolis.

  But then I thought back to that voice on the answering machine and my hairs stood on end once more. That was my dad’s voice on that machine. I was sure of it. And I was pretty sure my sister was still alive.

  I had come a long way to find out the truth. So when I saw the sign for 74th Street, I reached up and pulled the cord above the window. A bell rang and the bus slowed.

  Was I ready for this?

  By the time the bus finally stopped, we were up to 72nd Street.

  “We’re going to have to walk back a couple blocks, then cut over to Sheridan Avenue,” Angela said.

  “I know.” I didn’t care. I needed the few extra minutes to calm myself down.

  Angela peered at me. “Are you okay?” she asked as cars whizzed past on the street.

  I shrugged. “I’m scared,” I said in a small voice.

  Angela took my hand. “I don’t blame you,” she said. “But remember, you’re a half-full kind of person. Whatever happens, you should be able to handle it.”

  It occurred to me that this was all just a big adventure to Angela. She was away from home. Away from her dad. She didn’t know whether I was right about my dad living at 7430 Sheridan Avenue South and my sister possibly living there, too. But she was willing to come along and find out.

  Me, I was pretty sure I was right. But what if I was wrong?

  We crossed the street, then started up 74th Street. The houses around here were small and sad looking. There were no flowers out front. Just lots of scraggly bushes, an occasional big, ugly pine tree, and patches of dead grass. A couple of the houses had cracked windows. Many of them needed paint. Did my dad really live around here? Or had he up until a few days ago?

  There was a cemetery up ahead. I hated cemeteries. Why would anyone want to live so close to a cemetery?

  “I don’t think this street goes all the way through,” Angela said. “Should we turn here and see if we can get to Sheridan Avenue going this way?”

  “Okay,” I said. So we made one turn, then another. Finally we came to Sheridan Avenue. Sweat dribbled down my back. My stomach felt funny again.

  At least the houses looked a little better along here. They were still small, but they looked more like our little house back in Clearwater. The grass even seemed greener down here and a few houses had flowers out front.

  “It shouldn’t be much farther,” Angela said. “What’s the number again?”

  “7430.”

  There were only two houses on this side of the street, then a playground and what looked like an elementary school. But across the street there was 7418…7424. And then 7430.

  I stopped. It was just an ordinary brown house with a big picture window and two tiny bedroom windows. A huge tree towered over it.

  “You sure this is it?” Angela asked.

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

  Angela grabbed my arm. “Well, let’s go ring the bell and see what happens.”

  I don’t know how I even made it across the street. You know how when you stare at something too hard, the whole image sort of melts apart? That’s what was happening to me. Plus my arms and legs were so tingly that I didn’t think I could walk. But somehow I found myself standing at the front door.

  “Go ahead. Ring the bell,” Angela said.

  My heart raced. My stomach lurched. I was in serious danger of throwing up. But I stuck out a shaky finger and pressed the button. I heard the bell ring inside the house and a dog came running to the door.

  That was unexpected!

  “Someone lives here,” Angela said.

  “Someone with a dog,” I added.

  The dog scratched at the door and barked at us. But no one yelled at him to stop and no one came to the door.

  A fuzzy memory popped into my head. My mom and dad arguing.

  “Come on, Suzanne. It’s just a dog.”

  “I don’t want a dog. Dogs are too much responsibility.”

  Angela lifted the top on the black mailbox beside the front door.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Checking to see whether Joseph Wright really does live here and whether he’s picked up his mail recently.”

  There was some mail in the box, but not a lot. Two ads from JCPenney and Home Depot. And a couple of bills. All of it addressed to Joseph Wright. There was definitely a Joseph Wright living here. Did Sarah live here, too?

  “What should we do?” Angela asked.

  Now that I knew for sure he was here, I had to see him. “Wait, I guess,” I said.

  “He’s probably at work,” Angela said.

  “Probably,” I agreed. “Hopefully he works an early shift somewhere and gets off mid-afternoon.”

  We walked over to the playground across the street and plopped down on the merry-go-round where we had a good view of the house. If anyone came in or out, we would see them.

  I had to admit it got a little boring just sitting there. Not to mention hot. But what did I expect? It was the beginning of August. I was determined to wait it out. My dad or Joseph—I wasn’t sure what to call him—would come back eventually. And I wanted to be there when he did.

  I ran my fingers thr
ough my hair. Oh no! After two bus rides and an hour or so sitting in the hot sun, my hair was probably a disaster! I so wanted to look good the first time I met my dad. So I whipped out my comb and gently pulled it through my hair.

  “Your hair’s fine,” Angela said, rolling her eyes.

  “Really?”

  “Well, considering we’re sitting out here in 85-degree heat, it’s probably as good as it’s going to get.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said. I kept right on combing.

  It was almost two o’clock. My stomach growled.

  “Should we go get something to eat and then come back?” Angela asked.

  “I don’t want to leave,” I said, finally putting my comb away. I knew that if I took my eyes off the house for one second, I’d miss something.

  “We’ll only be gone for a little bit,” Angela said. “Then we’ll come right back. And we’ll ring the doorbell again, in case we missed him.”

  I shook my head. “You go if you want. I’m staying here.”

  “Well, I don’t think we should split up,” Angela said. So we stayed where we were.

  After a while, Angela got up and started walking around. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. “Do you?”

  I did. Kind of. But I still didn’t want to leave. “I’m okay.”

  I noticed there was a door open at the school. “You could probably use the bathroom in there,” I told Angela.

  She glanced at the open door, then back at me. “Okay. You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

  “Nah.” I shook my head again.

  But once she was gone, I wished I had gone with her. It was kind of creepy sitting there by myself. I could hear birds chirping and wind rustling through the trees. There was absolutely nobody around.

  I felt better when Angela came back. She held out two bags from Taco Bell. One had food in it, the other drinks.

  “Where’d you get that?” I asked.

  “Over there.” She pointed to a busier street on the other side of the school. “Across the street.”

  We were so hungry we gobbled up the tacos and nachos in about two minutes flat. And of course after I drank the pop I really had to go to the bathroom. I knew I could run into that school like Angela did, but I didn’t want to. I was sure that the minute I left, my dad would come home. So I crossed my legs and tried not to think about it.

  Angela checked her watch. “We’re going to have to head back to the Mall of America in an hour or so. We don’t want to miss the bus back to Hill Valley.”

  I didn’t say anything. She was right, of course. But how could I leave if my dad hadn’t come back yet?

  “Sam? Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes!”

  “I mean, this has been fun and everything, but we don’t want to be stuck here all night. If this guy hasn’t come back by five-thirty, we have to leave.”

  “I know!” I said. To tell you the truth, though, I wasn’t sure I would be willing to leave at five-thirty. Not if my dad hadn’t come back.

  Before I could argue the point any further, I noticed this person around my age coming toward us. I say person because the whitish blond hair was cropped so short I honestly couldn’t tell whether it was a boy or a girl. But as the person drew closer, I could tell it was definitely a girl because she had…well, she had breasts.

  She wore a softball uniform and carried an equipment bag. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. All of a sudden, goosebumps dotted my arms and the back of my neck.

  I can’t explain it, but I just knew.

  “Sarah?”

  I didn’t even realize I’d spoken out loud until the girl turned and looked at me.

  Then I knew for sure. “Oh my God!” I gasped. “You really are alive.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The girl looked at me like I had three heads. “Huh?”

  I moved toward her. “You’re Sarah, right?” I said.

  “No.” The girl shook her head. “My name’s T. J.” She glowered at me, chomping on a big wad of strawberry bubblegum.

  T. J.? No! She was Sarah. She had to be. We were about the same age. Same height. We had the exact same shade of whitish blond hair. She wore her hair totally different than I wore mine. She wore it totally different than I ever would wear mine. But…she was Sarah. She had to be.

  Angela grabbed my arm. “I don’t think this girl is your sister, Sam,” she said. “She looks too—” Angela looked the girl up and down. “She’s too not like you to be your sister.”

  The girl snorted. “I don’t have a sister,” she said as she started to walk away.

  “But—” I wiggled out of Angela’s grasp and started after the other girl. She looked annoyed to find me walking beside her, staring at her face. She had kind of a tomboyish look about her. There wasn’t a single speck of makeup on her face at all. But aside from that, I was sure I saw a resemblance between us.

  Okay, maybe we didn’t look exactly alike, but we were definitely related. That much was obvious. Hey, maybe we were fraternal twins rather than identical twins. Didn’t she see it too?

  “You turned when I said Sarah,” I said to the girl. Didn’t that mean something?

  She looked at me like yeah, so?

  “You did!” I insisted.

  “She turned because you were talking to her,” Angela said as though I were a five-year-old. “You’d turn too if you were walking across the park and someone started talking to you.”

  She smiled nervously at T. J. “Sorry we bothered you,” she said as she tried to lead me away.

  “Sure.” The girl shrugged like I was just another nutcase, then continued across the park.

  She wasn’t Sarah.

  I looked at Angela. “I was so sure.”

  “I know.”

  “No, really,” I said. “The moment I saw that girl …” She was almost to the street now. “I just—I don’t know. I felt a connection.”

  “You wanted her to be your sister,” Angela said soothingly. “You wanted it to be true, so you thought you felt something when you really didn’t.”

  But I did feel something. Even now, watching her cross the street, I still felt it. That girl was my sister. Didn’t she feel it, too? A connection to me? Why didn’t she look back?

  “Come on.” Angela touched my arm. “We should head back to the Mall of America.”

  My eyes were glued to the girl’s back. Where was she going?

  She was going to my dad’s house!

  “Hey!” I yelled, running after her. “Wait a minute!”

  “Sam!” Angela cried.

  The girl turned as I barreled across the street. She had the screen door open and was about to insert a key in the lock when I came running up behind her.

  “You live here?” I gasped, struggling to catch my breath.

  She looked at me like what-are-you-babbling-about-now, like I was some pesky mosquito that wouldn’t go away.

  “Is your last name Wright?” I tried again. “Is Joseph Wright your dad?”

  She let the screen door close, then planted a hand on her hip. “Who are you?” she asked.

  Her eyes were exactly the same shade of green as mine. She also had a pointy nose. Just like mine. And her right ear was pierced two times while her left ear was pierced just once. Talk about weird. That was exactly how my ears were pierced.

  She had a mole on the left side of her chin. I had one on the right side of mine.

  “Come on, Sam! You can’t just—” Angela screeched to a halt beside me. Her eyes darted back and forth between me and the other girl, whoever she was. Then she frowned. “You know, you guys do look kind of alike.”

  Kind of? If I chopped off most of my hair to look like hers, we would look like twins. I could tell by the confusion in the other girl’s eyes that she saw it now, too.

  “Who are you?” she asked again.

  “I’m Sam,” I said as though that explained it all.

  She looked at me blankly. “Sam who?�
��

  “Samantha Wright.”

  Still no reaction.

  “Doesn’t that name mean anything to you?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Not really.”

  I didn’t get it. How could she totally forget me?

  “Is your last name Wright?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And is your dad’s name Joseph Wright?”

  “Yes.”

  “Joseph Wright is my dad!” I said.

  She didn’t look convinced.

  “I heard his voice on your answering machine. It’s him! I know it is!” Speaking of answering machines…and disconnected phones…“Why is your phone disconnected?”

  She frowned. “It’s not.”

  “Yes, it is. I called and left a message on your answering machine. But when I called back, the phone had been disconnected.”

  “Our phone number got changed—”

  Aha! “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Ask the phone company.” She looked at me like quit-bugging-me, but I couldn’t stop now.

  “You’re my sister. My twin sister. Can’t you tell? We have the same eyes and the same nose and we even pierced our ears the same way!”

  “Easy, Sam,” Angela said. “You’re freaking her out.”

  I was. The girl, Sarah or T. J. or whoever she was, looked nervous. Which was funny because I could tell she was the kind of girl who didn’t take crap from anyone. The kind of girl who punched first and asked questions later. The kind of girl who was very different from me.

  Angela stepped up to the girl and stuck out her hand. “Hi,” she said with a smile. “I’m Angela, Sam’s friend.”

  The girl shook Angela’s hand weakly, but didn’t smile.

  “We could probably clear this whole thing up really quick if you had a photo of your dad or something,” Angela went on. “Something so Sam can see for sure whether she’s got the right Joseph Wright.”

  “I know I’ve got the right one,” I insisted. I could not take my eyes off the girl. “And I also know…you’re my sister.”

  “Well, let her get a picture anyway,” Angela said. “Just to be sure. Do you have a picture?” she asked T. J.

  “Yes,” T. J. replied. She was sort of checking me out, too. “But I’ll tell you one thing. If Joe really is your dad, then there’s no way I could be your sister.”