You May Already Be a Winner

by Ann Dee Ellis

  Mom came inside.

  I waited. Maybe she’d come sit down and tell us everything.

  But she walked back to her room and slammed the door.

  And Berk took the guy’s liver out.

  That night I made a decision.

  What if Mom really did lose her job? What if things were falling apart? What if Mom couldn’t get it together, what then? Would we lose the house? Would we have to live on the streets?

  I had to do something. I was trying to help her, trying and trying and trying but it wasn’t working.

  So I decided.

  I had to find Dad.

  Right?

  Right?

  I listened for my gut and it said nothing.

  I went to the computer.

  Bryce National Park.

  Greyhound buses?

  Taxi rides?

  Craigslist carpool board?

  I could go. I could go there this weekend. I could find him.

  I printed up the map of Bryce.

  I wrote up a list of things I should take.

  I didn’t know the best way to get there, though.

  So then I did this:

  ............

  Dear Bart,

  I’m going to try to get to Bryce to get my dad to help us. Can you help me? Do you think going on a Greyhound bus is good or should I do one of those Uber ride things? The Greyhound will take twice the time but I don’t know about the ride stuff. What do you think? And you could come but you don’t have to but you could. Will you email me back and if you can’t, it’s okay. I’ll find you at school.

  From,

  Olivia,

  Your friend

  ............

  Please God. Please let Bart come.

  That he’ll do this with me.

  I’m coming Dad.

  I didn’t sleep.

  When the sun came up, I got up.

  Got dressed.

  Put my hair in a ponytail.

  Stared at myself in the mirror.

  Walked into the kitchen.

  Checked the computer.

  Didn’t get an email from Bart but I’d find him and he’d come with me probably. I thought maybe he’d come. Because he loves to travel.

  Please.

  Please let him come with me.

  Entered eight more contests, including a coastal Dream Home Giveaway in Merritt Island, Florida.

  Sat down.

  Ate Honey Bunches of Oats.

  Said hi to Berkeley.

  Got her Honey Bunches of Oats.

  Mom came out.

  She had on lipstick.

  She looked at me.

  She said, “You look strange.”

  I looked at her.

  I said, “No I don’t.”

  She said, “Yes you do. Did you sleep very well?”

  I wanted to say, “No, I didn’t because are you going to lose your job and why are you working at another job at night, and if you are, why aren’t you putting Berk in day care and what are you saving for and why won’t you talk to me and what is going on? I am going to find Dad and if I go alone I might get lost and wind up in the wilderness and then no one will know where I am and three years later they’ll dig me up and I’ll just be a very small bone.”

  I wanted to say all that.

  But instead I said, “I’m fine.”

  And she sighed.

  Then she drove me and Berk to school. It was a dark day, the whole world damp and cold.

  Berkeley said, “Something bad’s going to happen.”

  I glanced back at her, my heart thumping. Was this her gut telling me not to go?

  She had her hand on the window.

  I looked at Mom whose face was tight.

  “Why do you say that Berkeley?” Mom asked.

  She shrugged. “I can feel it. It’s like when Peep’s sand castle got washed out.”

  Peep and the Big Wide World was Berk’s favorite cartoon.

  Mom gripped the steering wheel. “It’s a perfectly wonderful day,” she said. “We need the rain. It makes me feel refreshed.”

  Her voice was hollow. We were in a play.

  Once Mom dropped us off, I stood in the crowd and searched for Bart.

  Searched and searched.

  “What are you doing?” Berk asked.

  “Just a second.”

  “Don’t we need to hurry?”

  I nodded. We did. We did need to hurry and where was he?

  Then someone said something. They said, “Olivia.” I turned, shoved Berkeley behind me, and turned. It was Carlene.

  And Bonnie.

  “Why’s Berk here?” Carlene said.

  My throat closed. Carlene looked concerned. Bonnie looked not concerned. At all.

  “I’m taking her across the street,” I said, and pointed at a house. “To a day care.”

  “There’s a day care over there?” Bonnie said. “It looks like a drug house.”

  “It’s not a drug house,” I said, even though it did look like a drug house.

  Carlene said to Bonnie, “I’ll meet you inside,” and Bonnie said, “No. I’ll wait.”

  “Really,” Carlene said. “You’ll be late.”

  Bonnie gave me a glare. Then she said fine and went inside.

  Carlene turned to me. “I can walk her over with you.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I can do it. You should get to class.”

  She nodded. Then she said to Berk, “Do you like it there?”

  Berk didn’t say anything and my heart was breaking.

  “It’s just temporary. We’re trying to find a different place,” I said, squeezing Berk’s hand.

  Carlene said, “I know. I’m so sorry about what happened with Tandi yesterday. I don’t know what her problem is.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “It’s not okay. She can be such a witch. I love your mom. She’s so cool.”

  I almost laughed.

  I almost cried, too.

  And mostly I tried not to throw my arms around Carlene and tell her everything and tell her I missed her and that I wished things were how they used to be and how I wanted to go to the Monster Jam and that I was so grateful she told dumb-bum Bonnie to shut up and that I was going to try to find my dad because everything was falling apart and I was going to ask Bart if he could go with me but maybe she could go with me and would she dare go with me? We used to play in the river and do scary things like trap a beaver that could have had rabies.

  I tried not to do those things. In fact, I didn’t. I just said, “My mom is cool, I guess.”

  She smiled. Then she said, “Well, I’ll see you later.”

  And I said, “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

  And then she turned and went into the school.

  Berkeley said, “I like Carlene.”

  And I said, “I like her, too.”

  ~

  By then most everyone was inside. The first bell had rung.

  I walked Berkeley down the sidewalk to the side of the building.

  “We’ve never gone this way,” she said.

  “I know,” I said. “I just wanted to try something different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s safer.”

  “Safer? Safer from what?”

  I said, “It’s safer in case there’s a fire.”

  This was stupid and I think Berk knew it was stupid but she just held my hand as we walked through the gym where I’d seen Bart and where maybe I’d see him again? Maybe the gym coach made him mop the floors or wipe the walls before school every day? But there was no one there, so we walked through the gym and then waited by the door until the second bell rang.

 
“When I say go, we’re going to run.” We were clear on the other side of the building from the closet.

  “Okay,” she said, without asking questions.

  Soon the halls were empty.

  In some ways, this was not smart. You can blend in when there’re hundreds of people.

  But on the other hand, if you do it that way, there’re hundreds of people to see you.

  So we waited.

  Once there was no one in sight, I said, “Now!”

  Then she and I, holding hands, ran through the hall, me trying to keep my steps as quiet as I could, her stomping her boots like she was in the army but I couldn’t do anything about that.

  Luckily, as we were going up the stairs the national anthem came on and we made it to the closet before it was over, avoiding any teachers or people coming late or the hall monitor Peaches, who was a large lady with curly blond hair and a ski pole that she used to point at people and say, “GET TO CLASS.”

  We avoided all of them and Berkeley was safely at the boxes we’d made into a desk.

  “I’ll be back after my second class.”

  “Okay,” she said. She was pulling out the circus tickets and her crayons and her scissors, like this was normal. Like this was where she belonged and for a brief moment, I saw how good she was. How she was willing to do anything for me and Mom.

  I gave her a kiss on her head and she said, “Can you get me more paper?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  And then I left.

  All through class I was filled with love for my sister.

  I was going to take care of her.

  I was going to fix this.

  I was going to get Dad.

  I’d find Bart at lunch. I’d find him. And we’d go to Bryce. And if he couldn’t go, I could ask Carlene now. Carlene was my friend. Bart and Carlene. One of them would come with me and we’d get Dad. And Dad would come. And he’d help Mom. And everything would be okay. I’d be okay. Berk would be okay. Maybe we’d even have a circus.

  In English we were talking about similes and I wrote down, “Berkeley is like the sun, warm and bright.” It was dumb but it was how I felt.

  In math, I drew a picture of a part dragon, part dog. I knew she’d like it. I even shaded the dog’s face with a pink pen I found in my backpack.

  When the bell rang after math, I ran to take her my drawing and drop off more scrap paper that I got from math. I wanted to tell her I loved her and that I had a plan. And even if the plan didn’t work, school was going to be out in two weeks. Two more horrible weeks and then we’d ride bikes to the rec center every day and I’d go down the waterslide and I’d take her to the park and we’d read books and play on the tramp.

  I ran to tell her all that and when I opened the door to the storage closet, saying BERK!

  I froze.

  Like a bad dream, my little sister was gone.

  Steve Fossett was not always successful.

  It all started when he was a Boy Scout and he went on a fifty-mile hike.

  He didn’t think he could do it.

  He thought he was going to die and he cried and cried and cried.

  I don’t know if he really cried but I know he said it was hard.

  But he told himself, keep going. Keep going. One more day. One more footstep.

  And by the end of the week, blisters and swollen toes and mosquito bites and sunburn later, he was at the top of a mountain.

  “Never give up,” he says in his memoir. Never give up. Even if it’s just a fifty miler with a bunch of Boy Scouts.

  Or a missing sister who you promised you’d never let down.

  Never give up, said the best adventurer in the world.

  I sat in the office.

  Mom was in with the principal and a social worker and I hadn’t seen Berk.

  “Where is she?” I asked the secretary.

  “Who?”

  “My sister?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “You don’t know? How can you not know?”

  She looked at me. And then she looked at the other secretary who looked at the student secretary and why were there so many secretaries? And why didn’t any of them know anything?

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” one of them said, the second one.

  They didn’t know what they were talking about. No one knew what they were talking about.

  I stood up.

  I sat back down.

  I stood up again.

  The student secretary who I knew was named Rudy, which was a stupid name, she said, “Are you okay?”

  They were all watching me and I said, “Did you know a monkey can rip your face off?”

  The girl’s eyes got all big and I was like, “Oh yeah. Yours too.” I said to the other secretary.

  And then to the other one, “And yours for sure.”

  Then I said, “And you know what? I am done with all of this. I am done with all of this.”

  I climbed up on the front desk and the main lady was like, “Uh, you can’t do that.” And I said, “Oh I can’t? I can’t? I can’t do this?”

  And I kicked the stapler off.

  Then I kicked the papers.

  Then I kicked a pile of yellow papers. Ahhhahhahahahhahahahaha!!!!!!!!!

  I suddenly knew what Grant felt when he’d gotten in a rage. I was kicking everything. I was jumping from table to desk to table and the student secretary was crying and the main secretary was calling Peaches and another kid who had clearly been sent to the principal’s office came in and went right back out and then soon, the hall was filled with people.

  There was Carlene and Bonnie and stupid Jared who called me a retard. There was Grant and Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson and Melody. There was Lala and Delilah and Paul with his UFC friends. And then there was my dumb-bum dad, holding hands with Bart.

  I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT. I CAN DO WHAT- EVER I WANT AND I’LL KEEP DOING IT UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHERE MY SISTER IS!

  “Olivia.

  “Olivia?”

  The principal was looking at me.

  I was sitting in the same chair.

  The main secretary was typing something. Rudy, the stupid student secretary, was stapling and listening to her headphones, and the third one was watching me.

  I closed my eyes. Please let me hold it together. Please let me hold it together.

  “Olivia,” she said, “I’ve been talking to your mother.”

  My mother.

  “And it seems that there are some problems at the home right now.”

  The home.

  “We are going to take some measures.”

  Measures.

  I looked over. Mom was standing now, the social worker talking in her ear. My mom bent over.

  Then I had a thought.

  Had Bart told on us?

  Would he tell on us?

  Maybe he did work for the FBI.

  Or maybe Carlene.

  Did Carlene tell on us?

  Did she know? Did she see us walk into the building?

  Did she have enough time? Would they act that fast?

  Did one of my friends tell on us?

  Was Mom going to jail?

  Was I going to jail?

  I’d once seen a reality TV show that followed around juvenile delinquents who all lived in a youth detention center together and they sat around in circles and talked about their problems and then went around with vests on picking up trash and one girl named Nina said she was going to be a doctor some day and all the other juvenile delinquents were like ha-ha. No way, you dumb-bum. You can’t be a doctor. They look at your record when you apply for college and if you’ve been in juvie you can’t do crap and she starts bawling and they have to take her away on a cart and I’m sure they do electric shock on her, t
hough they don’t show that, and when I asked Mom she said, “No, Olivia. No one does electric shock anymore,” which I know is not true because I saw it in real life on another show.

  But anyway, I might be going to jail. And getting electric shock therapy.

  “Do you understand?” the principal was saying.

  I looked at her.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Mom came out.

  The social worker came out.

  Mom didn’t look at me at first and the social worker said, “You’re going to come with me, sweetheart.”

  I looked at her. “What? With you?”

  “Just for a bit,” she said. “We’re going to go to a place that’s really fun. Just for a bit.”

  “What about Berkeley?”

  “Your sister’s already there,” she said.

  That was good. That was good.

  “Mom?” I said.

  Mom said, “It’s okay.”

  “What’s okay?”

  “Just go with her.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “It’ll be okay,” Mom said. “I made a mistake.”

  The principal and the social worker nodded.

  The secretary who was watching us but acting like she wasn’t, actually all three secretaries were watching, they nodded.

  My mom made a mistake.

  I hated this place.

  “It was my idea,” I said. “This was my idea,” I said to the lady. And then to the principal. “This was my idea. My mom said no. We can’t do this, take a little girl to middle school and I lied to her. I told her everyone brought their sisters to school. I was in charge of Berkeley. This was my idea.”

  The social worker and the principal gave each other looks. Looks that made me crazy.

  I hated it when adults thought they were smarter than me. When they thought they were deep and I wasn’t deep. When they thought they had a gut and I didn’t have a gut.

  When they thought they knew better when you know what? You know what? I know a whole lot fifty times better than all of you. I wanted to scream that. I wanted to scream at everyone.

  ~

  I looked at Mom.

  If she was not herself before, she was really not herself now.

  The lady who just two days before had settled a neighborhood brawl and who Bart said was tough and Carlene said was cool, that lady was now standing there but not standing there. She was curled up on herself, her eyes glazed. Her hands shaking.