Betti on the High Wire

by Lisa Railsback

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!

  The sky flashed with color. FLASH! Whites and Reds and Blues. Gray smoke filled the air. My body froze and my heart practically stopped. BOOM BOOM BOOM!

  I plugged my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut. No, no, no. No one was even ducking on the ground! I covered my whole head with my arms. I remembered everything. The circus camp shaking, the helicopters making dust storms, the soldiers hollering and running in big boots through the village and the woods.

  “Help ...” I said in a muffled, tiny voice. Barely a squeak. “Help help.”

  “Help,” said another tiny voice.

  George was curled up next to me like a little bug on the blanket. But no one could hear us. The BOOMS were too loud.

  Maybe the Buckworths, and the rest of the Americans, didn’t know about BOOMS. All of them were very busy pointing at the sky. “Ooooooo,” they cooed. “Ahhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhh!” Some rose to their feet and a few Melons in the audience were actually clapping.

  Auntie Moo said there was no war in America, but sometimes war comes out of nowhere. Sometimes it comes for no good reason at all. A people disaster.

  George peeked up from the ground. “Babo?” His eyes were scared and sparkly and wet. We looked at each other and nodded. We didn’t even have to say a single word.

  I grabbed his hand and we shot up from the blanket and...

  We ran like crazy.

  We dodged bicycles and old people waving flags. Instead of trees and prickly vines, we jumped over baskets and blankets and babies. I was much faster than any old soldier. Even George ran sort of fast when he had to. We were like smart night animals that could see everything in the dark. It wasn’t our land, we didn’t know it like we knew the circus camp, but we were used to running.

  Once I tripped and fell hard on the ground, taking George with me. Falling was very dangerous in a war because then you lost time. Then they could catch you. But George and I stood up in about one second and ran again. My birthday party dress was covered in spaghetti or pizza or something, and my red buckle shoes were covered in cake. Someone shouted, “HEY!” But George and I didn’t care.

  In one quiet moment I thought I heard: “BETTI! GEORGE?” Maybe it was Mr. Buckworth, it was hard to say. But then the BOOMS started again, louder than the last booms.

  George was tired, I could tell, but I kept pulling him along anyway.

  “Come on George,” I’d say. “Just a little farther.”

  “Can’t we hide here, Babo?”

  “No. Just a little farther ...” I couldn’t stop until we found someplace safe.

  Then I practically tripped into Mayda and Nanny’s wooden bench. It didn’t look the same. Melons were sitting on it. But I stopped in my tracks and George had to stop with me.

  “Here?” asked George, scrunching his eyes.

  “Under here.”

  We squatted down behind it and crawled underneath. We were next to the Melons’ feet, but they were too busy ooooohing and ahhhhhing to notice us.

  We squeezed each other’s hands.

  “It’s not really a war, is it, Babo?”

  “It is! Well, I think it is. I’m pretty sure it is, but—” I wasn’t a bit sure.

  “My mommy will wonder where we are. And the Buckworths. If they don’t know about wars, if they don’t know what to do, they’ll—”

  “I know.”

  I’d been thinking the same exact thing. I had to go back to save them. That’s what happens in a war. Most people try to save each other.

  “You have to stay here, George,” I whispered.

  “But ... where are you going?”

  “Back. To our blanket.”

  “It’s dangerous, Babo,” George squeaked. “Auntie Moo always tells us not to move. We’re not supposed to make a noise.”

  “I’m not afraid.” I gripped the bottom of the bench with my hands until they turned white. “I’ll be right back. With your mommy and the Buckworths. I promise.”

  “But—”

  I closed my good eye. I took a big, big breath. “I’m not afraid.” My voice was smaller than a peep. “I’m not afraid. I’m not—”

  Before I could even think about being afraid, before I could even stand up, and run like crazy, and save the Buckworths, I saw BIG BLACK BOOTS. By the bench. The boots stopped.

  “George! SHHHH!”

  I peeked between the Melons’ feet and looked up.

  I was right.

  “George,” I whispered, “it’s a SOLDIER.”

  The soldier was wearing a uniform. He was the tallest man I’d ever seen. And he had a gun right on his hip.

  “A soldier?”

  “Shhhhh.”

  “Do they have soldiers in America?”

  “There are soldiers everywhere, George. Shhhhh.”

  We stayed completely quiet. It seemed like forever, even though it was just a few minutes. I heard the soldier say, “What a great night. Isn’t it, folks?”

  And a man sitting on our bench answered, “Sure is, Officer.”

  George gave me a little nudge with his finger. “Some soldiers are very nice, Babo.”

  This soldier sounded nice, nice enough, but it was all very confusing. Tricky. And we had to be very, very careful. I inched out from the back of the bench and pulled George up with me. Because I couldn’t leave him alone. So we had to run, again.

  I thought we were running in the direction of the Buckworths and their blanket. Once I stopped cold and George ran straight into my back. I looked around, I turned in a circle, and took off again in the opposite direction. We ran and ran all over the place. We ran past the volcano table, where people were sitting. We ran past the jungle gym and the monkey bars, where kids were swinging and throwing sand.

  Soon George and I stopped running because there were no more people. We were at the end of the play yard. It was quiet and dark in a faraway corner. Very far away from the Buckworths and their cake. All I saw was a small white building, like a pantry or a secret room closet. I opened the door and George and I snuck in.

  “Pew,” said George. “Pee you.”

  We plugged our noses.

  It was pitch-black inside, but I felt a lock on the door and clicked it shut. We scrunched down. I could barely see the white in George’s wide-open eyes.

  We waited. We were shivering and it wasn’t even cold.

  Finally, from the dark I said, “Do you think we’ll ever get to go home?”

  George touched my cheek with his finger. “To the circus camp?”

  Before I could even think about things, I sucked in my breath and answered, “No, to the Buckworths’ house. To your mommy’s house.”

  “I hope ... so.” George started crying.

  “I am the brave one,” I blurted out in a voice smaller than a peep. “But I got—I got so—”

  “Scared,” said George. He understood everything. “It’s okay, Babo. I got scared too. My mommy said it is okay to be scared sometimes.”

  I rubbed my good eye because it was very watery. I swatted at a few noisy bugs.

  George put his arm around me and put his head on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Babo. It’s okay.”

  He took a deep breath. “There is byooteeful girl. Her name Babo. She has friend name George. They swim. In George swim poo. At George house. Babo is ... circus girl. In America. She byooteeful ... star ...”

  Lost in America

  WE FELL ASLEEP., just like that.

  When I woke up the explosions had stopped. There was perfect quiet except for voices calling from far away. Maybe soldiers’ voices, it was hard to say. But I could tell that most of the people were gone. By now all the Americans were probably hiding or running. Everything was probably on fire. Or, if there wasn’t a war, they had all just gone home.

  I had been bad at the Buckworths’ so they’d send me back. Very very bad. I had planned to run away. I had been on guard at all times, just like I was supposed to. I had waited for the right time to escape. Now George and I were alone and
I felt sad because I couldn’t help it.

  We were leftover kids. Again.

  I thought of Rooney drooling all over me, and Puddles peeing in my room. I thought of Nanny with her special eyes, and Mayda with her special dreams. I wouldn’t get to hear Lucy talking in all sorts of crazy voices, or Mr. and Mrs. Buckworth telling me that everything was going to be okay. “You may not love us yet, little tiger, but we still love you.”

  They didn’t put me in the zoo for telling stories about the war. They didn’t lock me in the TV or throw me away. They didn’t want me to forget everything.

  I squeezed my eyes tight, really, really tight. I hoped all of them wouldn’t miss me too much, and I tried not to think about missing them forever.

  Then someone knocked on the door. Our little building shook.

  George sat up fast. I squeezed his hand. Not a peep.

  Knock. KNOCK, KNOCK.

  “Kids?” said the husky deep voice. “Are you in there?”

  I knew it right away. The soldier’s voice.

  My good eye grew huge even though I couldn’t see a single thing in the dark. I squeezed George’s hand even tighter, which made him squirm.

  “BETTI?” There was another loud knock. The soldier tried opening the door. “George?” The handle jerked up and down.

  “He knows our names, Babo,” George whispered in my ear. “He knows us.”

  “Shhhhh. That could be even worse.”

  Finally the knocking stopped. The handle stopped shaking and I heard big boots marching away in the dirt.

  I let out a sigh and George whimpered a little.

  “Maybe he wants to help us, Babo.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.” I used to think that Melons tricked people, but not a single American had tricked me. Very confusing.

  We were quiet.

  Suddenly I heard the handle shaking again. I heard the lock click. The door opened a crack and then it swung all the way open. I gasped. I could see stars in the sky. I could see the jungle gym and the monkey bars far across the play yard.

  The soldier never would’ve found us. Or he wouldn’t have found us if it hadn’t been for George.

  “I am HERE!” cried George in English. He was standing outside our little building. “It is ME!” he hollered louder. “My name is ... GEORGE!”

  POLICE MAN.

  He is here to help people.

  That’s what he told us as he held our small hands in his enormous hands.

  “Your parents have been worried sick about you kids. We’ve all been looking everywhere,” he said. “Inside the school, all over the neighborhood, in all the parking lots. We figured those fireworks must’ve scared you...”

  It was Mayda who saw us first. “Betti!”

  “Is it her?” cried Nanny. “Are they okay?”

  And in about one second Mrs. Buckworth was there, and Mr. Buckworth sprinted over with Lucy, and George’s mommy ran from the front doors of Betsy Ross Elementary. George dashed straight toward her with his arm out and almost knocked her over. He started sobbing and his mommy sobbed too.

  “Betti, oh sweetie, we were so worried!” cried Mrs. Buckworth.

  “Shhhhh. You’re safe now,” said Mr. Buckworth, hugging me like a big bear.

  “I was so afraid you were lost forever!” wailed Lucy. And me? All I could choke out was, “I was so—worried too. But you are—saved.”

  If anyone saw me in the center of this family circle, everyone hugging and crying and laughing, they may have thought it looked exactly like an American love story.

  The Best Circus in the World

  TODAY IS MY birthday.

  Mr. and Mrs. Buckworth asked me if I would like to pick my own very special day. Any day of the whole year. So I picked the last day of summer, after Day Camp and before the start of fifth grade at Betsy Ross Elementary.

  Last night I was sitting on the floor petting Rooney and Puddles, the Buckworths were sitting on the sofa, and Lucy was flipping fast through channels on the TV That’s when I saw something on TV and I said, “Wait.”

  People were running. Things were on fire. Smoke rose from the ground. Dirty children had holey clothes, buildings were burned out, and rubble was everywhere. There were faces crying. I could see every tear up close. I could almost touch them. It wasn’t a Big Mouth TV story. It was real. I knew immediately it was my country.

  I climbed right between Mr. and Mrs. Buckworth on the fluffy sofa.

  I was trying to be very brave but then ... my good eye started to water. I was thinking about Auntie Moo and the leftover kids. I was thinking about Sister Baroo, who was tough as tree bark. I was thinking about Old Lady Suri at the bean stand, and Big Uncle in his beat-up taxi, and all the people George and I saw in the bombed villages. And I was thinking about the circus people. If there were any left in my country.

  “Do you think my country will always be broken?” I asked in a tiny sniffling voice.

  The Buckworths thought about this. Finally Mrs. Buckworth said, “Someday it will be okay, Betti.” She breathed a deep breath. “I’m not sure when, but someday your country will have peace again.”

  Mr. Buckworth pulled me onto his lap even though I was about eleven years old and way too big. Mrs. Buck-worth took my head in her arms and ran her fingers through my crazy hair. Lucy crawled away from the TV with her freak dolls. She looked up at me and tilted her head. Then she bounced her dolls up my leg and on my toes, even where my toes were missing. “It will be okay, Betti. Don’t cry.”

  So then I cried some more. I cried and cried and I couldn’t even stop.

  But Auntie Moo believes that the world is beautiful, and I am her eyes. So today, on my special day, I cannot only think about the bad things and the sad things. I have to believe the world is beautiful too.

  Mr. Buckworth took me to the post office and we mailed off lots of big presents to the circus camp. He told me that I could mail things to Auntie Moo and the leftover kids anytime, even though it might take a very long time to get there.

  So ... I put a brand-new book of English words into the big box for Auntie Moo, along with my letter. I put some furry stuffed circus bears and cookies and marshmallows into the boxes for the leftover kids, and lots of stuff into the boxes for Sister Baroo’s Mission: dried food and flip-flops and some medicine for when anyone got sick. I also put pictures in the boxes, some that I had drawn myself, and some that Mayda had taken of me in America with her camera.

  Just before Mr. Buckworth and I sealed up my presents, I took my Empty Book out of Auntie Moo’s box. I decided to keep it. It wasn’t empty anymore; it was filled with all sorts of things, all of my stories about living in America. Maybe I’d want to look at it someday so I could remember.

  Then my special birthday party started like this:

  I got to swim in George’s purple plastic pool. George’s mommy brought it over to the Buckworths’ backyard. Lucy swam, and so did Mayda and Stephanie. George and I swam too, even though George’s purple pool was very small and we were all squished. We splashed around and threw water on each other and got all wet. Rooney and Puddles got all wet too.

  George got to pick a birthday too and his birthday was yesterday. George told his mommy that he wanted a monkey more than anything in the whole world. George’s mommy said that pet monkeys were a little hard to find in America. So today George got to pick a puppy and he didn’t want just any old puppy. He wanted Puddles, even though Puddles is an old lady and definitely not a puppy. But old ladies are very special in our country; they are the wise ones. When George held Puddles in his arms, George barked and Puddles wisely woofed back and everyone laughed.

  The best part of my birthday, though, was my very famous circus in the Buckworths’ backyard. I made the sign myself. It would have been very useful for scaring off hungry scavengers from the bean field.

  The Best Circus in the World.

  And the rest of my party guests arrived for our show.

  Mayda was the first beaut
iful circus star.

  She belongs in the circus. She comes to play with me all the time now. Especially on the days when Nanny is sick. Mrs. Buckworth likes for us to play at my house, instead of Mayda’s, so we don’t get into big trouble.

  Every time Mayda comes over she tells me stories about her dad and all the places they’ve lived, and she tells me how she imagines her mom, the lost photographer with a new family. And I tell Mayda Big Mouth stories about ... me.

  I told her how Auntie Moo found me eating lizards when the circus camp was burning like a bonfire. I told her how the leftover kids arrived, one by one, and how I had the very important job of being the brave leader. I told her about us walking down to the market every week, even though we didn’t have money to buy anything, and about George and me riding away in the Chevy taxi. I told her most of Old Lady Suri’s stories, too, even though so many of them weren’t exactly true. The best one was about my mama and dad, my circus people.

  “That one’s a nice story, Betti,” Mayda said one day. “And who knows?” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s true.”

  Mayda understands a lot.

  At my birthday party she was supposed to be the Animal Trainer, so she tried to get Rooney to jump over a swing on the swing set. But Rooney smiled at her and drooled. Then Mayda tried to get Puddles to jump through a plastic hoop, but Puddles just licked Mayda’s shoes. Mayda sighed as she took her bow, and Rooney lifted his leg and peed on Mrs. Buckworth’s flowers.

  Lucy was next. Mrs. Buckworth let her wear eye makeup because it was a special day. Lucy decided her act would be a Famous Puppet Show. She made all of her freak dolls, with teeny-tiny puppet heads, bounce up and down with different voices. Jessie Lynn still wasn’t married because Ramon liked Roller Derby Tina better. Lucy’s puppet show really didn’t make any sense, but she had quite a talent with her Big Mouth.

  I, of course, got to be the special final act. I got to walk on my high wire line in the sky. Actually, the line Mr. Buckworth made was wider than both of my feet, and lower than Lucy’s knees. It was a board. Hardly anyone could fall off Mr. Buckworth’s fat board, not even me.