by Bobbie Pyron
Dedication
To the girls of Girl Scout troop 6000.
You are our future; you are my inspiration.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
1. Piper
2. Baby and Jewel
3. Somewhere
4. A New Day
5. Signs
6. Good Folks, Bad Folks
7. Divided
8. Fancy Dog
9. We All Look Up
10. Listen, Baby Says
11. Just Piper
12. Jewel
13. No Dogs Allowed
14. Stormy Waters
15. Stay
16. Ree and Ajax
17. Baby Knows
18. They Eat First
19. Each Night
20. Hope House
21. Ree
22. Serendipity
23. The Girl
24. The Homeless Bus
25. Family
26. Gone
27. Lost
28. Two Books and a Key
29. Scent Trail
30. Finding Baby
31. Flying
32. The Key
33. Jewel
34. Postcards
35. Some Dogs
36. Clues
37. Questions
38. Anything for Jewel
39. The Wind
40. Telling About
41. The Scent of Hope
42. Light
43. Good News, Bad News
44. Sit! Stay!
45. The Power of Brownies
46. This Jewel
47. The Edge of the World
48. These Girls
49. A Story to Tell
50. Just in Case
51. The Power of Story
52. The Dog Next Door
53. Best Medicine
54. Baby and Piper
55. Apprehension
56. His Jewel
57. Serendipity
58. Baby and Jewel
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Bobbie Pyron
Back Ads
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
Piper
I rest my head against the cold window of the Country-Wide bus, watching the world go by. The full moon lights up empty fields. Cornstalks and stubble throw long shadows across the ground. It’s pretty and kind of mysterious too.
To tell you the truth, I think I’m the only person on the entire bus who’s awake. Well, except for the driver, but I can’t see her anyway. Her name tag said Doreen. She seems nice.
Across the aisle, my little brother, Dylan, sleeps with his head in Mama’s lap. His red superhero cape is spread across his body. It’s just an old red blanket he won’t give up without pitching a royal fit, so we pretend it gives him superpowers, especially when his asthma is bad. I can just see the tips of his sneakers peeking out from under the blanket. He has his best friend, Ted the stuffed shark, tucked under his chin.
I gaze back out the window at the headlights of cars ticking by; at the warm yellow porch lights glowing outside of houses in the neighborhoods we pass. Like our old neighborhood and our little house.
Thinking of home reminds me of the things in the backpack by my feet. Inside, along with my Firefly Girls sash, a jacket, and some other stuff, is my favorite book, My Side of the Mountain. I could take it out and read it—again—but if I turn on the overhead light, it’ll wake Daddy up.
Daddy snores lightly, almost like a purr, in the seat beside me. I lean my head against his arm and feel warm skin through the thin flannel shirt. I can smell his familiar scent of cigarettes and Juicy Fruit gum. And if I rub my nose just a little deeper into the soft flannel, I swear I can smell the salty sea air of home.
I close my eyes. The bus rocks so, so gently as it speeds through the night past farms and fields and towns, houses and neighborhoods, everyone sleeping snug as bugs in their beds.
Since I can’t read my book, I decide to run my favorite “imaginary movie” in my head. I’m not the world’s best sleeper, especially when I worry, which is pretty much most of the time. So when I can’t sleep, I make up movies. My favorite is Trudeau Family Wins Big! In it, we win the lottery and have all the things we’ve ever wanted: a house on the water and a big boat for Daddy, a fenced-in yard with a dog for me, college for Mama, and a brand-new bicycle for Dylan. And best of all, no worries about paying the bills.
I smile just a tiny bit. My mind latches onto the rhythm of the rocking bus. It whispers in time, over and over, “Maybe, maybe, maybe . . .”
2
Baby and Jewel
A small brown dog listens
to the beat of his world
in the chest of a woman
named Jewel.
He watches a raccoon waddle across the grass
in the bright moonlight.
Baby squirms with curiosity.
Is it doggish?
Is it cattish?
Oh! So many things to smell!
To see!
To make friends with!
Jewel stirs.
Baby settles
against her chest
quiet
a good, good dog.
He tucks his head beneath her chin.
Jewel’s scent fills every inch
of the little dog
with deep joy.
Baby and Jewel
a pack of two
warm and safe together.
3
Somewhere
“Time to wake up, Piper.”
I sit up and blink at the sunlight filling the bus. Outside the windows are tall, tall buildings, rushing traffic, trash pushed up against the sidewalk curbs by the wind. What happened to the moonlit fields? The tidy neighborhoods?
Daddy lifts his Atlanta Braves cap from his head and runs his fingers through his hair.
“You sleep okay, little chicken?” he asks around a yawn.
I yawn too. “I guess. The moon was awful bright.”
Everybody’s waking up now. They stand and begin gathering their bags, boxes, backpacks, and suitcases from under seats and overhead racks.
Mama gives me a tired smile as she shifts Dylan from one arm to the other. “Morning, sweetheart.” She stretches and tries to smooth her shirt. Her hair is coming loose from its braid.
“Your hair’s a mess, Mama,” I say. “Let me fix it.”
I undo her braid, smooth down her springy hair as best I can, and rebraid it nice and tight.
“Thanks, honey,” she says. She scoops Dylan up off the seat and into her arms. Dylan can sleep through anything. Once he slept through a tornado that hit near our street. Never made a sound. Me, I’m not much of a sleeper. I’m like Daddy that way.
Dylan’s eyes open. I watch as he slowly comes back to the world. His eyes are the same deep, deep sea blue as Mama’s.
“Where are we?” he asks in his croaky little voice.
I look back out the windows. Nothing looks familiar. Nothing looks like anywhere we’ve been. And we’ve been a lot of places over the last few months.
I reach out and push the hair out of his eyes. His face is hot and damp. For just a second, I let my fingers rest against his cheek.
“Somewhere,” I answer. “We’re somewhere.”
“Over the rainbow?” Dylan asks. Me and Dylan used to watch The Wizard of Oz every Easter when it came on TV, and we can sing every song.
I smile and click my red high-top tennis shoes three times. “Maybe.”
Mama hands me Dylan’s SpongeBob backpack, his red superhero cape, and Ted the Shark. I sling my backpack over one shoulder, Dylan’s over the other.
We step off the bus. Mama
sets Dylan on the ground while she checks to make sure we have everything. Two suitcases and one duffel bag.
I look around and up. I’ve never seen so many people and so many tall buildings. Even when we stayed with Mama’s cousin in Baton Rouge, it wasn’t like this.
“Look, Piper!” Dylan grabs my hand and clutches it hard. There, off in the distance, are mountains so high, they look like they’ve surely punched a hole right through the sky and into heaven. I feel myself light up inside. Ever since I read My Side of the Mountain, I’ve wanted to see the mountains. Be on a mountain like Sam Gribley.
I squeeze his hand. Just like Dorothy when she first sees Munchkinland, I say, “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”
4
A New Day
“Oh Lord, let me get these old bones moving
one more day.”
Jewel says this each and every morning
as she stretches her legs
arms
fingers
back.
Baby wags his bit of a tail
and pulls back his lips in a toothy smile
as he does every morning.
A frisky breeze
skitters across the grass, bringing
delicious scents
to Baby’s nose.
The sweet smell of rotting leaves.
The bitter smell of acorns.
The musky smell of squirrels.
Squirrels!
Baby runs tight circles
around and around and around Jewel,
yipping with delight.
A brand-new day to see old friends
and make new ones.
A new day to explore the city with Jewel.
Always with Jewel.
What could be better?
Baby does not understand why sometimes
the smell of sadness and confusion
spools from Jewel.
Like now.
Baby twirls and spins
on back legs.
Jewel laughs.
She lifts Baby and kisses the white patch
on the top of his head.
A patch shaped like a snowflake.
“Look, Baby,” Jewel says. “Just look at the world.”
And Baby does.
Trees, swings, picnic tables, a pond,
wet leaves carpeting the ground and
in the distance
tall buildings
and farther still,
mountains.
Baby licks Jewel’s chin and squirms in her arms.
Let’s go!
5
Signs
Outside the bus station the wind is cold. It seems like the farther we’ve traveled from home, the colder it is.
“This just doesn’t make any sense.” Daddy looks at the piece of paper in his hand, then up at the street signs, then back at the paper. “Three Hundred Eighty-Six West, Two Hundred South,” he reads out loud. He shakes his head. “What the heck kind of address is that?”
“I’m cold,” Dylan whimpers.
Mama wraps Dylan’s red blanket tight around his shoulders and strains to pick him up. Mama’s kind of small, so it’s not easy for her to lift him anymore.
I pull my denim jacket out of my pack. “You’re not a little baby, you know,” I snap at Dylan. Right away, I feel bad.
Dylan pops his thumb into his mouth and looks at the mountains.
Mama frowns. “I seem to remember, young lady, you asking to be held when you were five.”
I turn away to pull on my jacket. I don’t want her to see me try to swallow past the lump in my throat. I don’t want her to know that even though I’m almost twelve now, I’d give anything to climb right into her lap. Or Daddy’s. I quickly touch my Firefly Girls sash in the bottom of my pack for comfort, then zip it up.
Doreen, the bus driver lady, comes over to Daddy, still puzzling over the paper. “Can I help you?” she asks. She’s almost as tall as Daddy, which is saying something.
Daddy holds out the paper to her. “This is the address I have for where we’re going, but I can’t make sense of it.”
Doreen studies the address, then looks over at Mama holding Dylan. “I see,” she says. She clears her throat. “You’re going two blocks that way north”—she points—“and then you’ll turn west—left—and go three blocks. You’ll see the sign.”
“Thank you,” Daddy says.
Doreen nods and heads back to the Country-Wide Travel bus. She pauses before she climbs the stairs. “Good luck to you,” she calls.
“Okay, let’s get going then.” Daddy slings the duffel bag over one shoulder and grabs the heaviest of the two suitcases.
Mama sets Dylan down. She threads his arms through the loops of his SpongeBob backpack. “Time to be a big boy now,” she says, handing him his stuffed shark.
I pull my backpack on. I take Dylan’s hand. “Let’s go, Toto,” I say. I hold on to his little hand like a lifeline to normal.
We walk and walk and walk and walk.
After a while, Dylan whines, “I’m tired, Daddy. When will we be there?”
I see Daddy’s shoulders tense under his thin flannel shirt.
“Let’s play I spy,” I say.
Before Dylan can complain any more, I say, “I spy with my own little eye something yellow and black with big wheels.”
“School bus!” he yips, pointing at the bus waiting at the red light.
I squeeze his hand. “Good job. Your turn.”
Dylan looks around. He smiles and gives a little hop. “I spy with my own little eyes something small and brown and furry.”
Sure enough, there on a corner of the intersection stands a woman in a flowery dress holding up a cardboard sign. The sign says “Hungry! Please help!” Beside her sits a little brown dog with white paws and a white patch on its head. The dog looks straight at me and wags its stubby tail. The woman looks desperate, but the dog looks as happy as can be. I wish I could be like that little dog.
Dylan tugs on my hand. “Did you guess?”
I tear my eyes away from the woman and dog. “Yeah,” I say, hurrying to catch up with Daddy. “A dog.”
We keep playing as we follow Daddy through the city. I spy something big and green and overflowing with garbage. Dylan spies something silver and square with four small wheels: an abandoned shopping cart. Someone sleeps next to it right on the sidewalk. I pull Dylan closer and hurry past.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Dylan complains.
“We’re almost there, buddy,” Daddy says. Again.
Behind me, I hear Mama sigh.
Finally, Daddy stops. He looks down at the paper, then up at the sign. “This must be it,” he says in a voice so low I can barely hear him.
I look up at the sign. My heart drops fast, like at the very top of a roller coaster.
Mama comes up and stands beside me. She takes my empty hand. We both stand there looking up at the sign like it’s in some kind of foreign language.
“What does it say?” Dylan asks.
I look over at Mama. This can’t be right, can it?
Reading my thoughts, she looks away and blinks fast.
I take a gulp of air. “It says Sixth West Emergency Shelter.”
Dylan frowns and shifts his toy shark in his arms. “What’s a ’mergency shelter?”
I want to say it’s a place where people go who don’t have a home, but I don’t.
Mama runs her hand over Dylan’s curly hair sticking up all kind of ways. “It’s like a hotel, honey.” She looks at me and puts her hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”
But how can it? Every place we’ve been since we lost our home four months ago, every possibility that didn’t work out, has made our world feel smaller. I never realized until it was gone how something as normal as hope lights up your world.
6
Good Folks, Bad Folks
Baby stands at their corner with Jewel,
watching the traffic go one wa
y
and then the other,
stop and go,
then stop again.
Where are they going? he wonders.
He remembers riding in cars, on a bus.
Outside
in the wide-open world
is better.
Inside some cars
a thump, thump, thump
makes the inside of Baby’s ears beat like a drum.
Inside some cars
children press their faces,
sticky fingers, hands, and noses,
against the car windows.
They point, stare, and wave.
Baby yips hello, wags his bit of a tail.
Jewel holds up her sign. The wind tugs at the hem of
her dress.
“Please help,” she calls. “Please help me and Baby.”
At the sound of his name, the little brown dog
leaps
and twirls on his back legs
like leaves in the wind.
A window rolls down.
An arm sticks out holding
a dollar, maybe two.
“Bless you,” Jewel says.
Baby yips his thanks and spins in a circle of delight.
Another window rolls down.
Another hand holds out hope.
The light blinks.
The cars go.
Baby watches a crow fly overhead
with something in its beak.
“Bum!” someone yells from a yellow car.
“Get a job!” another someone yells from a black car.
Jewel wipes at her face.
Her smell of fear and despair
makes Baby want to run, run, run
after those cars and bite them.
A woman threads her way through the waiting traffic
and steps onto their corner.
She hands Jewel a delicious-smelling something
wrapped up warm and tight.
She touches Jewel’s shoulder.
She pats Baby on the head with a hand
that smells like flowers.
“Good boy,” she says. “Good, good boy.”
Baby sneezes in agreement
as the woman with the flower hands
walks away.
Jewel unwraps the paper.
The joyous smell of cheese, butter, meat
fills the little dog’s nose.
Rapture! He barks.
Jewel tears the sandwich,
puts half on the ground for Baby.
