“A map, Max,” I say as I walk over to the poster on the opposite side of the train. “A map.”
The poster is a map of the entire subway system with dots naming each of the stations on different-colored lines.
“Here,” I say, pointing to the station. The sign outside said we were on Thirty-Third Street. “If we take this train up, it’ll stop at Seventy-Seventh Street. That’s just three blocks away from my aunt’s apartment.”
“And the zoo is by Sixty-Fourth Street,” Max adds. “My parents are staying in a hotel close by. That’s right on the way there. We’re so close, Jason D! Maybe we can go to the zoo and then you go to your aunt’s house and I’ll go back to the hospital before anyone even realizes I’m gone.”
Seeing those crisscrossing lines and black dots makes me feel like I’ll make it to my aunt’s home. There are steps we can follow. The path is clear. We sit back down in the hard seats, feeling like our plan is coming together.
A long growl comes from Max’s stomach. She wraps her arms around her belly.
“I’m hungry too,” I admit.
“Let’s eat, then.” Max unzips her backpack and pulls out a couple of graham cracker packets and two juice containers. The apple juice is too sweet, but we need to wash down the dry graham crackers. I lean back and close my eyes, praying the train will start moving and amazed at how far Max and I have come this morning.
“Hey, you two!”
My eyelids fly open and the sweet taste in my mouth turns sour. There’s a man standing in the open doors of the train, his hands on his hips and his face stern. He’s wearing a navy-blue uniform with some kind of official patch on the arm, and his cap has a gold shield on it. I see a walkie-talkie hooked on his belt.
There’s a buzzing in my ear, and I look at Max.
“Oh no.” Max breathes those two faint words, her shoulders rising and falling. Gone is the confidence she had when we were stopped by the man with his dogs. She’s not in any shape to talk us out of this situation.
The man beckons us to follow him with one crooked finger. I bury my face in my hands. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere!
A few subway stops from freedom, we’ve been caught.
Fourteen
“What do you kids think you’re doing?”
I don’t want to answer that question, and, judging by how silent she is, neither does Max.
“I’m asking you a question. Can’t either of you talk?”
I slide back into the seat and groan. I’ve had about all I can take. I’m too tired to try to wiggle my way out of this. I’ve been doing my best to be brave since I saw my mom being taken away, but the truth is being brave is hard. I’m exhausted. Why was I too scared to jump into that car with my mom? At least now I’d be with her instead of on the run.
No more, I think. I don’t know how you did it for so long, Madar. I’ve only been at this for a day and I’m falling apart.
I’ve lied to the doctors and nurses who were trying to help me. Even worse, I’ve dragged Max into this mess too. The lump on my head throbs with regret.
“Fine!” I blurt out as I stand up. “Go ahead and lock me up or throw me into a home.”
“Uh, Jason . . .” Max tugs at the hem of my shirt.
“No,” I insist. “I’m done. It’s over.”
“Jason, you may want to shut your mouth for a second,” Max hisses. Her eyes are burning into me, but I’ve got to put an end to this.
“No, I’m ready for this. Where are the handcuffs? Let’s just get it over with.”
The man lets out a low whistle.
“Man, why don’t you save the theatrics for Broadway,” the man snaps. He’s shaking his head. “Sheesh! And on a Sunday morning? I’m already dealing with a stalled train, and now I’ve got to talk Billy the Kid here off the ledge? No way. This is not what I signed up for.”
“Billy the who? I’m not—”
“Whatever you’re going to say, save it. You were probably babbling when the announcement went on too. This train is out of service, kids. Now get up and get out before I call the cops!”
The cops? I look at the badge on the man’s cap and feel confused. Max is on her feet and sliding the straps of her backpack over her shoulders.
“Always gotta be Mr. Funny Guy, right?” Max says through a tight smile. “Please stop messing with the nice train conductor and let’s go.”
Train conductor? Oh no.
I bite my tongue.
“Man, kids today want to turn everything into some big protest.” The conductor is walking away from us now, shaking his head and muttering to himself as he plods through the empty train car. “‘Lock me up,’ he tells me. Man, when I was that age I never would’ve . . .”
His words drift off as he opens the door at the far end of the car and steps from this train car into the next. The metal door slides shut behind him.
Max jabs at my chest with one daggerlike finger.
“You almost did us in, Jason D!”
Why hadn’t I paid more attention to his uniform? It’s just starting to hit me how close I came to sabotaging our mission. I’m not going to get anywhere if I’m that ready to call it quits.
“Let’s get out of here before he comes back,” I say, finally able to breathe again. Max and I take the steps two at a time until we’re out of the station and back on the sidewalk. Luckily, the police car is gone.
“Come on, let’s get moving before that guy decides to call someone who will throw me in jail.”
We start walking, looking over our shoulders every few minutes and trying to put as much distance between us and the train conductor as possible.
“I’m so hungry,” Max groans. I am too but I try not to think about it.
“Let’s get a little farther and then we’ll find something to eat.”
Max nods her head in agreement. We are walking steadily, trying not to draw attention from any of the people around us. When we get to the end of the block, I look both ways and start to cross. Max pulls at my elbow.
“Uh, Jason . . .” she says.
I follow her gaze and look up at a green sign on the corner.
“Oh no.”
The sign says First Avenue. We’ve walked across the island instead of up! I cover my face with my hands.
“I think we’re both hungry. We better eat something before we make another big mistake,” Max says with a pained expression. “And if I don’t eat something soon, you’re going to have to pick me up and carry me.”
“We’re all out of juice and crackers,” I report, but Max already knows that. “We’ll find something soon. Try not to think about it.” Wanting to get her mind off her stomach, I remember a brain teaser game my teacher used to play with us. “Answer this. Twelve M in a Y. What’s the M and what’s the Y?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Twelve Months in a Year,” I explain. “Get it? I’ll give you some more. You have to fill in the blanks. Fifty-two C in a D.”
“I’m too hungry to think,” Max says with a scowl. We continue walking. The street signs tell us we’re actually headed uptown, which is a relief. After a moment, I hear my friend mutter something under her breath.
“Fifty-two Cards in a Deck.”
Once she gets one, she wants more, because it feels good to solve a puzzle. I know the feeling.
Sixteen O in a P. Five D in a ZC. Three hundred sixty-six D in an LY.
Sixteen Ounces in a Pound. Five Digits in a Zip Code. Three hundred sixty-six Days in a Leap Year.
“Hey, what does the D stand for?” Max asks.
“Which D?”
“In your name. Jason D. What does the D stand for?”
“Oh, that D.” I’ve never told anyone the story, mostly because I think it sounds weird that my mother came up with name by staring at a calendar.
“It’s a weird story.”
“Meaning it’s perfect for today.”
I grin.
“It stands for December.”
“December? That’s a strange middle name.”
“My mother wanted to give me an American name, so she chose Jason. When I was born, one of the nurses asked if she wanted to pick a middle name. She thought if I at least had a middle initial, maybe I’d seem more American. Then she looked at the calendar. July, August, September, October, November . . .”
“That is so cool.”
There it is again—that feeling that I’m a little more normal if Max says so.
After a couple of blocks, the number of people on the sidewalk has swelled. It’s starting to feel as if the crowd will absorb us and move us.
“Jason D, look! Let’s stop there.” We’re on Fifty-Seventh Street and definitely due for a break.
Max is pointing to a small grocery store with fruit displays out front. We cross at the light and walk through pyramids of oranges, apples, and kiwis. There’s also an open ice-filled cooler with bottled water and juices. The store is not very deep but has a few racks filled with packaged foods and a case holding premade sandwiches that make my mouth water. An older woman stands behind the cash register, ringing up customers and snapping paper bags open to stuff them with purchases. Max pulls out another ten-dollar bill and uses it to pay for a sandwich and bottle of cranberry juice.
I walk outside while she waits for her change. When she comes out, she pulls out the sandwich and gives me half. It feels good to eat something other than hospital food. We take a seat at the small table set up on the sidewalk and eat.
“My genius powers are recharging,” Max declares as she brushes the crumbs from her lap.
We’ve made it about two blocks when the sidewalk traffic thickens even more. There are people everywhere. A few people are holding up cardboard signs with photographs or messages on them. We’re bumping shoulder to shoulder just like we were when we went into the subway station.
“Is it always this crazy here?” I ask Max, but she can’t hear me because two guys behind us just started yelling.
“NYPD runners!”
NYPD stands for New York Police Department. I remember seeing those blue block letters on the side of the patrol car. I spy a couple of police officers standing in the street, right by the curb. They look like they’re scanning the flood of faces passing by them.
There’s chanting around us.
“Car-ter! Car-ter! Car-ter! After the twenty-six point two, we’ll be waiting here for you!”
Two girls much older than us are standing nearby. They’re snapping pictures of the crowd with their cell phones raised high over their heads.
“Hey, um, what’s all this about?” I lean over and ask, my voice a shout.
They both give me puzzled looks. One girl, wearing a pale-green windbreaker, tilts her head to the side.
“What’s what about?”
“All this,” I say, pointing at the crowd. “Is there something happening today?”
“You’re pranking me,” she says with eyes bright as headlights. “A jokester, huh?”
I wasn’t trying to be.
Her friend laughs. “‘Is something happening?’ That’s hilarious!”
“Had ya for a second, didn’t I?” I smile broadly and shrug before I turn back to Max in defeat. The girls shuffle forward and move a few yards ahead of us. I notice a man with 26.2 printed on the back of his long-sleeved shirt.
“We’ve got problems,” Max yells.
“You think?” My reply comes out slightly sarcastic but it’s too loud for Max to notice.
“My mom called. She’s—how can I put this? Do you remember the T. rex in Jurassic Park? She makes him look serene. She’s that kind of angry.”
“How did your mom call?”
Max holds up a flip phone. She gives her best mysterious look, eyes mostly closed and mouth a thin, serious line. She’s much calmer now that we’ve had the sandwich.
“You have a phone,” I say with surprise.
“Yeah, she’s really anxious about us staying in touch. It would be cool if this phone did something besides make calls and take pictures. I’m pretty sure dinosaurs used more advanced technology.”
“What did you tell your mom?”
“I told her that I’m fine and that I’ll be back, but I have something to do first. She’s flipping out, of course, and crazy mad at my dad for sleeping through our exit. She was begging me to tell her where we are.”
Max holds a red button and I see the phone power down.
“We?”
“Oh, yeah. The nurses realized we’d run off together. I got off the line quickly. You have to, otherwise they trace the call. Criminals always get caught like that on TV. She says they locked down the whole hospital looking for us. They thought we were still in the building. How cool is that?”
My heart thumps in my chest. I want to hide. I want to be tucked under my mother’s arm. I want to be small, but this is getting bigger and bigger with every passing minute.
I can hardly hear myself think over the cheering.
“Lookin’ good, runner!”
“Way to move!”
We’re pressed up against the back of a blue banner, a barricade between us and the street. Like the flash of a camera going off in my head, the number 26.2 comes alive with meaning.
26.2 M in an M.
Max and I are on the sidelines of the New York City Marathon—a race that’s twenty-six point two miles long.
Fifteen
“I guess the millions of people have decided to run today instead of taking the subway.”
Max has read my mind.
We stare at the cloud of runners, sneakers hitting the cracked asphalt of the city street with a steady rhythm. It’s a swarm of spandex pants, water bottles fixed to sports belts, and numbered bibs. Some runners smile or wave as they go by. Others keep their eyes trained straight ahead.
I know what my mom would say if she could see this.
So many people running because they want to—so many run because they have to.
The streets are clogged with spectators. Everyone is aboveground today. The police officers, I realize now, are here for crowd control. They aren’t looking at us. They’re looking at everyone. There are a couple of officers in the street and more standing behind the spectators. We’re sandwiched between them, and that’s not exactly a recipe for escape.
The runners are moving in the direction we should be going.
We’re now at Sixty-First Street and still three blocks away from the zoo. If we try to backtrack and put distance between us and the crowd, we’ll stand out like neon lights in a dark room, and the cops already have their eyes peeled. I’m careful not to look any of them in the eye, afraid that I’ll be finding myself staring at Officer Khan. I wouldn’t be able to sneak my way out of a run-in with him—not after our last encounter.
“Hey, Max, how do you think we should—”
But my question’s left hanging when I turn around and see Max leaning over the banner into the street. She looks like a turtle, her head poking out of her purple shell. She’s got both hands cupped around her mouth like a megaphone.
“Pound that pavement, people!”
“Max!”
“It’s a marathon, not a crawlathon!” She pulls out her phone again.
I grab her by the book bag and yank her back into the cover of the crowd. She’s got her cell phone in her hand. It’s turned on again, and she snaps a photo of the runners before she puts it away.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m cheering on these fine athletes—that’s what I’m doing! I’m demonstrating good sportsmanship. You should try it.”
“Seriously, Max? Do you not see the cops around here?”
One of the cops swivels his head in our direction as if I’d called him by name. I pull Max deeper into the crowd, back into the folds of people cheering. I duck my head and hold on to my friend’s arm, afraid she’ll be spotted.
“You’re going to have everyone staring at us!”
“I’ve never seen the New York City Marathon!” Max says sharply. She looks annoyed, as if I’ve pulled her away from her own birthday party. “I just want to see it! Is that too much to ask?”
I let go of her arm. The crowd around us goes right on cheering despite the fact that two runaway kids are starting to fall apart.
“Max?”
Max’s eyes look sad. She’s staring at her sneakers as she tells me. I have to lean in to hear her against the yelling.
“My parents keep me away from crowds and noise. They treat me like a delicate little flower, which I’m most definitely not.”
The cheering around us falls away and all I hear is Max.
“Can’t travel because we’d be too far from my doctors. Can’t go to a basketball game because of the lights. Can’t do sleepovers. Can’t. Can’t. Can’t.”
I pause, trying to imagine what it must be like to live in Max’s world. As far as I can see, she’s got everything. She doesn’t seem to think so. I see flakes of glue in Max’s hair and wonder what I’m missing. Why can’t she be too far from her doctors?
“Max, why can’t you travel too far from your doctors?”
Max inhales sharply.
“I didn’t say doctors.”
I blink twice. It’s loud here but I’m sure I heard her say doctors.
“I just heard you say—”
“Jason D,” Max says after she takes a deep breath and looks at me through softened eyes. “I’m not some career criminal. This isn’t my usual Sunday outing. I’m just trying to get a few good hours in before—”
The hollering gets louder. There’s another cluster of runners, faces flushed in this warmer-than-usual weather, coming up the avenue. Everyone’s eyes are on the runners, searching out friends or family members who have made it this far in the race. Max turns her attention back to the race, and I can see freedom in her eyes. Whatever it is she’s running from, it’s more than just some genius testing.
“There are so many people here,” I say as I lean toward her ear. “I don’t think anyone will even notice us. Let’s just watch for a few minutes.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “You know, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”
The Sky at Our Feet Page 8