Comeback

by Vicki Grant

  The guy shrugs and locks up again. “No problem. You take care of yourself now.”

  I make Elliot change in the women’s washroom with me. He’s got a lot more pep since he snagged the Superman suit. I stuff our old clothes into my purse, and we step out into the cold.

  It’s a beautiful night. The stars are as sharp and white as led lights against the black sky. I don’t know what I was thinking. This isn’t the type of night to give up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  This is going to sound really out there, but I’ll say it anyway.

  It’s as if Dad is here with us. Not in the flesh. Not walking along the deserted road with us. I don’t mean that. (I’m not totally losing my mind.) Just sort of here in my head. It’s almost like having a motivational speaker playing on my iPod, telling me to keep going, keep positive, keep the faith. We’ll be all right.

  I’m exhausted, but I don’t stop. I just keep walking—and talking. The least I can do is make it fun for Elliot. I tell him all the old stories I can remember from our camping trips with Dad. When I run out, I make up some new ones. It keeps Elliot moving. We walk for a good hour or so. We trudge along past little brick office buildings and old wooden houses and the odd convenience store. I don’t know where we are exactly, but I can see we’re coming to the edge of town. The buildings are thinning out. There’s a highway in the distance.

  Elliot’s barely able to walk upright anymore. His weight is pulling at my shoulder socket. I don’t let it bother me. I tell myself it feels just like a good yoga stretch.

  We come to a small park. Elliot sees a bench and plunks himself down before I can stop him. “I need to go to sleep, Ria.”

  He’s right.

  I know I can’t take him any farther—but he can’t pass out here. If the cops see two kids sleeping on a park bench, they’d pick us up even if they didn’t know we were missing.

  “That’s a terrible bed!” I say and pull Elliot back up onto his feet. I pretend I don’t notice the whimpering. “Want to see a better one?”

  I have no idea what I’m going to show him. I drag him around the park searching for a hiding spot to lie down.

  I notice a big old pine tree with branches that go right to the ground.

  “Look! A teepee!” I say it like it’s the most exciting thing in the world, but Elliot couldn’t care less. He’s so tired, he’s swaying around like a Fisher Price Wobble Penguin.

  I pull back the branches, and we crawl underneath.

  It’s surprisingly roomy in here. Plenty of space for us to curl up in. I feel better right away. It seems so safe and cozy. There’s something about the smell, too, that’s nice.

  At first, I think that’s because it reminds me of Christmas, but then my heart thuds and I know that’s wrong.

  I’m not smelling Christmas.

  I’m smelling Colin and that pine soap he uses. I suck back a big gulp of air and even still, I feel like I’m not getting enough oxygen.

  Elliot says, “Ria?” and I can tell I’ve scared him. I shake Colin out of my head. He was from my old life. This is a new one.

  “Remember Dad showing us how to make a mattress in the woods?” I say. “Should we make one now?”

  Elliot helps me sweep the pine needles into a pile. I put my purse on the ground for a pillow. I spread the blanket over the needles.

  “Crawl in,” I say to Elliot.

  He lies down on the blanket. I take off my glasses and undo my ponytail, and then I snuggle in beside him. I pull the blanket over us. He nuzzles into my side and is asleep before I close my eyes.

  I used to hate it when Elliot came into bed with me, because he gives off so much heat. Now I’m glad. He keeps me warm. I look after him. We’re a team.

  We’ll be okay.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I’m freezing and my back is killing me. I open my eyes. I sit up and blink. For a second, I have no idea where I am—then the tree comes into focus, the red blanket, Elliot’s Superman suit. I know where I am—and I don’t like it.

  I flop back down on the ground. My whole body is pounding.

  What have I done?

  The wind blows, and pine needles sprinkle down on us. I smell Colin again, and I have to open my eyes really, really wide to keep the tears from coming.

  “Dad,” I whisper.

  I don’t know if he’s here or not, but just saying his name helps. I picture him, his arm around me. He’d do that. He’d comfort me.

  At first. Then he’d tell me to get on with it. “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”

  I don’t move. I’m not sure how tough I am.

  “Fake it until you make it.” He also used to say that.

  Right. What choice do I have?

  I put on my glasses. I part the branches and look outside. No one’s around. My guess is it’s about 7:00 am.

  Breakfast time. I remember passing a convenience store on the way here. I hope it’s open. I’m suddenly starving.

  I give Elliot a shake, but he just puts his thumb in his mouth and rolls over. The poor kid is beat.

  I’m going to let him sleep. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.

  I ease my wallet out of our “pillow.”

  I check to make sure no one’s around, and then I bolt out from under the tree. I’ve got to move fast. If Elliot wakes up while I’m gone, he’ll totally freak out.

  An older lady is just opening the store when I arrive. I pick up the big bundle of newspapers for her and carry them inside. I’m trying to be nice so she won’t get suspicious.

  Why would she get suspicious? I’m just a kid picking up some stuff for breakfast. It’s not that unusual. Relax.

  I wander up and down the aisles. Elliot likes yogurt, but it’s a dollar for one little tub. We can’t afford it. I grab a loaf of whole-grain bread instead. It’s almost three dollars, but at least it will last a while. I look for the smallest jar of peanut butter I can find—but even that’s too expensive.

  I’m starting to get frantic again.

  I put the bread back.

  I grab a small bottle of juice, a box of granola bars and two bananas. I do the math in my head. It’s over six dollars. That only leaves four.

  I’ll worry about that later.

  The lady is putting the newspapers in the display case when I go to pay.

  She wipes her hands on her smock and steps behind the counter to key in my stuff.

  That’s when I notice a big color picture of Elliot and me splashed over the front page of the newspaper.

  Missing Stockbroker’s Children Disappear.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The lady doesn’t recognize me, but she must realize something’s up. There’s sweat streaming down my forehead.

  “Will there be anything else?” she says.

  I nod and grab a newspaper. I hand her my money. She gives me the bag and $2.43 change.

  I say thank you and walk slowly out the door. I don’t want her to remember the redheaded girl who bolted from the store.

  I run as soon as I’m out of sight and don’t stop until the park. Elliot’s still asleep. I sit down and open the newspaper.

  There’s Mom—“the estranged wife of disgraced stockbroker, Steven Patterson”—pleading for our return. There’s a quote from the guy I left the LeSabre with. There’s a cop saying we’re “believed to have boarded a bus to Cypress.”

  No mention of the man at the Lost and Found who gave us the clothes. Did he just not want to rat us out? Or was he worried about getting in trouble for giving us stuff that wasn’t ours?

  Who knows?

  At least no one will be looking for a kid in a Superman suit yet. I’ve got to look on the bright side.

  In the picture, I’m wearing my contacts. People probably won’t recognize me in my glasses. My hair is longer now, but it’s still red.

  I’ll cover it with my hood.

  I turn the page.

  Steve Patterson, former darling of the stock market, is su
spected of defrauding his clients of hundreds of millions of dollars. With his company now worthless, it’s highly unlikely any of his victims will ever be compensated. “Suicide is too good for that man,” says Dave MacPherson, who admits that he will soon have to file for bankruptcy as a result of having invested all his savings with Patterson. “He wasn’t just my financial advisor. He was my friend. And he ruined us.”

  I shove the newspaper into the garbage can where it belongs—then I slip under the branches to wake Elliot up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elliot is confused. He doesn’t know why he has to pee outside or why he can’t just sit down and eat his granola bar. Luckily, he’s learned not to complain.

  I grab my purse, stuff the blanket into the grocery bag and get going.

  We have to get out of Cypress—the farther out, the better. I walk as fast as I can—or rather as fast as Elliot can. It doesn’t take me long to realize we have to do better than this.

  I see a white-haired lady coming toward us. “Excuse me,” I say.

  She looks up and smiles.

  “I lost my wallet, and my little brother’s late for his doctor’s appointment. I hate to ask—but would you mind lending us bus fare?”

  Her smile fades a bit. I doubt she really believes me—but Elliot is pretty irresistible. She hands me five dollars.

  I thank her. I wait until she’s out of sight before I try the same trick on someone else. We’ll use some of the money for bus fare, some for food.

  It doesn’t take long to collect twenty-three bucks. We could get more, but I don’t want to be greedy. I’m also worried by how much Elliot has started to enjoy this. He coughs every time I mention his doctor’s appointment.

  The term scam artist jabs at my brain, but I ignore it. We’re only doing this because we have to.

  I’m holding Elliot’s hand, waiting to cross the street, when a cop car drives by.

  Are they looking for us? We can’t wait around to find out. I drag Elliot across the street and make him keep running until we get to a field. I hear the sound of another car approaching. I pull Elliot down behind some bushes.

  “Isn’t this fun?” I say.

  He’s confused. “Sort of…,” he says. He’s trying so hard to be good.

  Two cop cars speed by the other way.

  “Want to wrestle?” I say and push Elliot down. He struggles, but I hold him there until I’m sure the cops are gone.

  He comes up with such shock in his eyes. “You cheated!” he says. “You didn’t wait until I was ready.”

  “You’re right. That isn’t fair,” I say. Nothing’s fair. I keep that part to myself.

  Those cops are looking for us. I’m sure of it. It won’t be safe to take another bus. I’ve got to figure something else out now.

  I look around. There’s a billboard on the edge of the field. It says, This way to Camp Bonaventure: Where children’s dreams come true! A smaller sign below reads, Closed for the season.

  I hear Dad’s voice. See? Something always comes up!

  A big black arrow points down the next road. How far could the camp be? We could hide out there for a while. We might not even have to hide very long. They only looked for Dad for five days. Why would they look longer for us?

  “Hey, Elliot,” I say. “How’d you like to go to a place where children’s dreams come true?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  We cut across the field to the Camp Bonaventure road. I try to get Elliot singing songs that I remember from my own days at camp, but he’s not going for it. He’ll walk—but he’s not happy.

  He’s even less happy when it starts to rain. Before long it’s pouring, and the dirt road has turned to mud. There are too many hills to climb and nothing to take our minds off them. The only sights on the road are a few shabby houses tucked into the woods. My camp songs aren’t cutting it anymore.

  One of the houses has a satellite dish. Elliot says, “I want to stay with these people.”

  I wipe the water off my face and say, “No, I know a better place.”

  Elliot says, “Yeah, right,” and laughs in a surprisingly adult way.

  I hear a car engine rev. Elliot’s face lights up as if someone’s finally coming to rescue us, but I yank him into the woods before we’re seen. We land in a little gully, and my shoes fill up with water. The car pulls out of a driveway and heads back in the direction of town.

  Elliot starts sobbing. I hand him a banana as if it’s the best treat in the world, then get him back on the road. We walk past the driveway where the car came out.

  There’s an old bike left on the lawn.

  I don’t even think about what I’m doing. I just grab the bike, sit Elliot on the crossbar and start pedaling.

  “Did you just steal this bike?” he says. He’s not crying anymore. In fact, he looks sort of delighted.

  “Yes,” I say. Sometimes you just got to do what you got to do. I don’t know if Dad ever said that, but it wouldn’t surprise me.

  I pedal as hard as I can. I’m tired, but it makes me happy to see that Elliot is almost having fun.

  It takes us about half an hour to get to Bonaventure. The driveway is barred by a metal gate. That’s good, I think. We’ll be safe here. We push the bike under the gate, then get back on and ride all the way down the hill to the camp. I make a big whooping sound as we splash through the puddles.

  We come to a dead stop at the bottom of the hill. I do my best to sound positive, but it’s hard to believe anyone’s dreams ever came true here. The grass is brown. The lake is cold and gray. There’s a playground, but the swings, the teeter-totter and the ball from the tetherball set are all missing. The buildings—the big wooden one in the middle and the little red cabins by the lake—are boarded up. Their paint is peeling.

  Elliot slumps down on a rickety step with his fists on his cheeks. Rain streams down his face. “I don’t like this camp,” he says.

  “You’ll like it once we get inside!” My voice sounds fake even to me. I try all the doors and windows in the main hall. I yank away at the boards over each of the cabins. It’s hopeless. Without a crowbar—and some biceps—I’m never going to get in.

  I’m almost ready to give up when I notice another cabin tucked into the woods. It’s got a sign out front that says Cookie’s Hideaway. I see right away that the door is open.

  “Elliot!” I wave at him. “C’mon!”

  The door isn’t just open. It’s right off its hinges. We run in out of the rain.

  There are a bunch of empty beer cans on the floor. The chair is turned over, and books have been knocked off a little wooden shelf onto the single bed. It doesn’t take me long to figure out what happened here. Some local kids obviously broke into the cabin to have themselves a party.

  I silently thank them for their vandalism. They gave us a place to sleep.

  I turn the chair over, tidy up the books, kick the beer cans under the bed. The cabin is cold and has a moldy smell, but it’s better than another night outdoors. “There,” I say. “Isn’t this nice?”

  Elliot tries to smile, but he’s shivering. I can’t let him get sick. I take our almost-dry clothes out of my purse, and we change. The mattress on the bed is damp, but it’s softer than the floor. We snuggle up in the red blanket and share the last banana. We each have a granola bar for dessert. We play a game to see who can make it last the longest. Elliot only beats me because he hides a raisin in his hand. I take one tiny sip of juice, then let him have the rest. He’s thirsty, and that’s all he’s had today.

  We eventually warm up a bit. I’m feeling better about things again, but Elliot isn’t. “I’m bored,” he says.

  I have to laugh. We’ve run away from home. Slept outside. Begged for money. Stolen a bike—and he’s bored?

  “Me too,” I say. “Wanna play a game on my phone?”

  I don’t have to ask twice. Elliot’s thrilled. Mom hardly ever lets him play video games.

  I turn on my phone. I’m amazed there
’s coverage here at the end of the world.

  My mailbox is full. I whip through the messages. I’m past the point of being disappointed that there’s no word from Colin or even Helena—but I did sort of hope to hear from Sophie. I used to be able to count on her. Love sure ain’t what it used to be.

  (I guess I should have figured that out by now.)

  Mom’s the only one who tried to reach me. I hit Delete. I don’t want to hear from her.

  Elliot and I play Tetris for a while. I let him win every time, but he still doesn’t last long. Even though it’s barely dark out, he’s ready for sleep. I turn off the phone, and we lie down on the lumpy mattress.

  “I love you, Ria,” he says.

  “I love you too.”

  I’ve never meant anything more in my life. Some love is different.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I bolt up with a start. Someone’s shaking me. It’s so dark, I can’t tell if my eyes are open or not. I’m not even sure I’m awake until I feel a sticky hand on my face and realize it’s Elliot.

  “I need my puffer, Ria.” His breathing sounds like chalk squeaking across a blackboard.

  I’m wide awake now. “Okay,” I say in the most reassuring voice I can come up with. “Okay. Don’t worry.”

  Why didn’t I bring his puffer? He’s used it three times a day for his entire life. What was I thinking?

  I wasn’t thinking. Or at least I wasn’t thinking of him.

  I get out of bed and stand in the doorway.

  Relax, I tell myself. Elliot gets asthma attacks all the time. Lots of kids do. He hasn’t died yet. He’ll be fine.

  How do I know that? This might be the one time he isn’t.

  What if something happened to Elliot? My heartbeats rattle off like machine-gun fire.

  What do I do, Dad?

  “Don’t fret about your problems. Fix them.”

  I’ve got about twenty-five bucks. I’ll go into town and buy him a puffer. It’s not that hard.

  I look outside. It’s dark and still pouring. I have no idea what time it is. It could be midnight, or it could be 4:00 am.