Graham shook a bottle in front of her face. “Is this it?”
Ashley squinted. “I think so.”
“How many do you take?”
“It’s on the white sheet taped by the sink,” Ashley said.
Graham sighed. “We’re not at your apartment. There’s no sheet.”
I took the bottle and read the label. “I can’t pronounce it, but it says to take one every six hours as needed. I guess it’s needed, huh?”
Ashley swallowed the pill and curled up on the couch with Fred. “Will you rub my temples?” she asked. With her head on my lap, I rubbed circles. Her wig shifted, revealing tufts of hair and patches of scars. On the top of her forehead, there wasn’t a scar, really, but a small indent. If she lay straight on her back, you could put a marble in that indent, and the marble wouldn’t roll away.
“That’s nice, Daffodil. You’re so lovely.”
“So are you, Ashley.”
She smiled, eyes closed.
Graham came back with marshmallows and fat pretzel sticks. I rounded up pillows and blankets for beds while Graham turned off the lights. Then we mowed through the food while Ashley slept.
“Who invented the pretzel?” Graham wondered. “Stupid snack. Flour and salt. And it doesn’t even have salt, but salt pellets! Who goes to a store, walks past the chips and cheese balls and cookies and thinks, ‘Can’t wait to get me some pretzels!’”
“People who sell beer,” I said. “At the Rattlesnake you get mountains of pretzels. The Chemist says you get thirsty and drink more beer.”
Ashley lifted her head and said with a scratchy voice, “You shouldn’t have to pay water bills. Water’s everywhere. It should be free.” Then she closed her eyes, like she’d been sleep talking.
As we settled into our indoor campground, Fred ate marshmallows and pretzels and Graham counted money.
“I’m not sure he should be eating that stuff. He must have dog food in the barn,” I said. “Where are those Beefy Bits?”
“You screwed me up. Now I gotta start over. One, two…”
I took the bags from Fred, but man, dogs eat fast. The marshmallows were gone. I slid the pretzel bag under the sofa because I was too tired to go to the kitchen. I crawled under my blanket again. I thought about Mom and the Chemist. Who would I miss most? I figured the answer didn’t matter, because the Chemist needed help. Mom didn’t. At least she had Alex, even though he was old and had a ring of hair. Alex told her things like, she’s smart enough to get through nursing school, she deserves a good job, and he’s proud of her. Which is way better than old boyfriends who said stuff like, “Can you make some tacos, babe?”
So the answer was pretty easy. The Chemist.
And I really missed the Chemist. I missed how we’d sing together back when he had me for sleepover custody. He’d tuck me into the couch and we’d sing “Two of Us” until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
“So what’s the plan tomorrow?” Graham yackity-yacked right over my memory.
“Get our clothes. Fill up the trunk with towels and sheets and food.”
“We should bring Fred and one of the horses.”
“Fred’s exactly what we need for the distraction. But a horse? In a car? How’s that going to happen?”
“Listen. A storm led us to an empty house with horses. We need a crazy distraction for the plan to work, and here we are in this nice house with a barn and three horses. It’s a sign.”
“Could be one of those weird timing things,” I said.
“We need a distraction and a good one. Something that will stop people and make them stare at me instead of staring at you, the illegal person. When they see me, well, I’m a kid on a horse being chased by a vicious dog. A kid who falls off the horse in an explosion of ketchup blood. They won’t even notice the Chemist is wire cutting the top of the fence.”
“What’s wrong with you having a pretend seizure? That’s way simpler.”
“I don’t know what a seizure looks like!”
“Nice time to inform me of that little detail!” I punched my pillow. “Graham, did the Idea Coin tell you this?”
He shrugged.
“Well?”
“I sure wish we hadn’t tipped over the refrigerator. We could’ve made pancakes for breakfast. Or eggs. Or egg salad.”
“Answer me!”
He nodded. “Right. The Idea Coin.”
Still, if there was no seizure, I thought Fred chasing Graham was distraction enough. All we needed were the Beefy Bits, and the chase would be on. It was simple.
Ashley breathed soft little snores.
Graham turned off the light.
“Hey,” I said. “Will you give me my backpack? It’s right by Ashley. Don’t wake her up.”
I pulled the book from the pack. It was small and pink. The cover had a black outline of a big hand holding a little hand.
“What’s that?”
I showed him the cover.
“Daddies and Daughters: Stories to Inspire and Nurture. Sounds snoring-boring.”
I whispered, “It’s supposed to help me remember good times with the Chemist.”
“I guess it’s cool the Chemist gave you that. I mean, it’s all pink and boring and I wouldn’t want it, but you know, at least he knew you’d want something like that.”
“Go to sleep, Graham. I just want to read something short.”
“Read it to me.”
“It’s private,” I said.
“C’mon. I don’t have a dad who writes to me. I don’t have a dad at all. Read it.”
“Your dad might send you things if he knew you existed. He’d probably take you to baseball games and send you checks every week. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know about you. It’s your mom’s fault. She shouldn’t have dates with men she doesn’t know anything about.”
Graham snorted. “Thanks, Dr. Daisy. Just read it.”
“Fine.” I sat up so the moonlight lit up the page. “I like looking at a few pages, in bed, when it’s dark. Not when it’s quiet because River Estates is never quiet.”
“Right,” Graham said. “Roaring car engines, slamming doors, blaring T Vs.”
“Don’t forget the drunks,” I said. “But don’t you get used to the sounds? Eventually all that noise kind of rocks me to sleep.”
“I run a fan. Tunes it out pretty nice.” Graham shifted closer to me and the book.
I showed Graham the writing on the inside cover. Then I read it.
A special quote just for you: “Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad.” Your dad is gone for a while but never forgotten. Hang on to your memories, buddy.
Graham took the book and squinted at the signature. He said, “It’s not from the Chemist! It says, Sincerely, Alex.”
Graham flopped on his back. “So you’ve got two dads. What do you have to complain about? Give Alex to my mom. I’d take a stepdad like that.”
“If you like being left with a neighbor while he runs off to Mexico with your mom.”
My eyes squinted, and the words blurred. From my head to my toes, I was tired, more tired than I’d ever been. I yawned. “Just put it away. I’m so tired.”
“I will. I’m just gonna look at it for a while,” Graham whispered.
The pillow felt like a feather cradle. I sniffed the blanket. It smelled like the laundry sheets in the Powder Fresh box. Nice. Warm.
I hoped the world outside the River Estates Mobile Home Park glimmered and smelled Powder Fresh. In that world, every kid would know their dad and the Rattlesnake Bar and Grill would be the Rattlesnake Carnival. I slipped into the dream, the big beautiful dream, when Graham ripped a long rumbling fart.
He laughed. I laughed, too. We giggled until Ashley lifted her head and asked what was so funny and would we please stop.
Finally I closed my eyes, Graham on one side of me, still looking at my Daddies and Daughters book, and Ashley on the couch. I liked the three of us.
My mind swirled righ
t through the tired part. What if tomorrow was a failure—it wouldn’t be, but if it was—would there still be a three of us?
THE THIRD PART
DEAR JUDGE HENRY,
I will tell you three things about waking up to the sound of barking and puking.
Number one: When marshmallows return from a dog’s stomach, they come up slimy and whole. Not one single tooth mark.
Number two: Dog puke is slippery. Graham learned that when he looked out the window near Fred, who was barking and heaving on the floor. Graham landed flat on his back in marshmallow puke.
Number three: When Fred barks and growls and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he jumps at the door, it’s his way of saying, “Holy crap. There’s a guy outside.”
In fact, it was also Graham’s way of saying it. From the floor he shouted, “Holy crap! There’s a guy outside!” A car door slammed. I belly-crawled to the other side of the couch and peeked through the curtain.
Not only was he a guy, he was a teenage guy. He walked around the escape car, checking it out. The back door was still wide open. He picked out the wet map, which fell apart in his hand.
“Wake up.” I threw a pillow at Ashley’s head.
Her eyes popped open. “I’m awake.” She sat up, and her blond-and-pink wig shifted to the side of her head. A few brown hairs slipped out of the wig.
Graham made a face. “Man, this is gross.”
“I don’t think he lives here,” I said. “There aren’t any boy rooms upstairs. Everything’s all quilted and flowery and old.”
“So what’s he doing here?”
Ashley and Graham scooted by me and crouched down. The guy wore a baseball cap and a hoodie. Tall and skinny, he crossed the driveway in a couple strides and disappeared inside the barn.
Fred was licking the puke off Graham’s back.
I slapped him. “Stop it! Fred, you’re disgusting!”
“What are we gonna do?” Graham asked.
I grabbed our backpacks.
“He’s leaving the barn,” Graham said.
Fred growled. He put his head under the curtain and barked.
“Is he going to his car?” I asked. Please, please, please let the answer be yes.
Graham whirled around. “I can’t tell. The pickup’s in the way.” The longest ten seconds in my life followed. “He’s coming to the house! Run! Hide!”
We jumped up and froze, waiting for someone to take the lead.
“Upstairs!” I led Ashley and Graham to the bathroom. I pushed the shower curtain open, and we climbed inside the tub and closed the curtain. Ashley reached past the curtain and pulled the fancy guest towel into the shower. She wrapped it around her eyes. Her breathing came hard and fast.
I looked around for something we could use as a weapon. All I could find was shaving cream, so I picked it up and put my finger on the button in case I needed to spray a face. I held a pink razor in my other hand. Graham had the toilet plunger.
My heart throbbed and banged in my ears. The thumping was so loud I was afraid it echoed in the shower. Graham was so nervous he breathed in and out through his mouth, not his nose. Slimy marshmallows clung to his shirt. Man, it was the stink of all stinks! Dog puke and morning breath trapped behind a plastic shower curtain.
We listened. A door slammed, and the killer barking turned into hello barking.
“Maybe he’s a robber,” Ashley whispered.
“I don’t think so,” I whispered. “He looked at your car like he knew it didn’t belong here.”
There were footsteps across the creaky wood floors on the main level. Back and forth. Back and forth. And the clinking of Fred’s toenails. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Then a voice. Were there two people? Couldn’t be. I figured he was on his cell.
When he stood under the vent, we could hear him. “Mom, it’s like somebody partied hard, but there ain’t any bottles. No keg … Lillian never lets the dog in the house, right? He’s in the house!… Marv promised me forty dollars, and it’s not here … I am looking around, Mom … If he did crap on the floor, I’m not cleaning it up, that’s not what I signed up for … Man, it reeks in here…”
Then his voice got louder. “Yeah, it could be a burglary, but I don’t see anything missing … I mean, I’m not even sure what they had … nobody wants those stupid old records, Mom…”
The words faded. My breathing came easier until I heard those clinky toenails outside the bathroom. The door swung open, the shower curtain rustled, and Fred’s nose poked through. He was happy to see us. His tail thumped, thumped, thumped against the door.
“Go away!” Graham hissed. “Get outta here!”
“Is it Fred?” Ashley smiled. “Hi, Fred.”
“Get!” I pushed his face and pulled the shower curtain shut. In two seconds, his nose was back in the tub, sniffing. Thump, thump, thump went his tail.
“Hi, sweetie,” Ashley whispered.
I heard footsteps on the stairs and the boy’s voice. “… Maybe some kids turned it into their party house … Of course it wasn’t the storm, Mom, that’s just stupid.”
Then he was close. In-the-door close.
“Get outta there!” he ordered, and Fred barked at him. “Stupid dog.” The door closed, and Fred whined from the hall. “I think you should call Marv and Lillian. See what they want to do. I’m just supposed to clean and feed ’em, not solve some mystery.”
Then the worst of the worst happened. His jeans unzipped and he started to pee. Graham swallowed giggles, and his face turned pink and then red.
“I guess I’d call 911.” The pee stopped and started again. “I’m not paranoid. Jeez … Okay, I’ll hang on.” Then he peed some more. And thank God for that peeing noise because Graham’s shakes were turning into quiet little snorts. I threatened to spray his face with the shaving cream. “What’d Dad say?… It’s stupid for him to come look at the place when I just told you everything.” The toilet flushed. “Damn, it smells. I think the dog barfed and I am not cleaning up dog barf … So what’d Dad say?… Whatever. Tell Dad I’ll get him at the office and bring him here so he can see for himself. But I don’t got all day.”
The bathroom door opened and closed, and I heard Fred’s toenails follow the guy down the stairs.
“He didn’t wash his hands,” Ashley said. It was the world’s loudest whisper.
I got in her face. “Quiet!”
Graham couldn’t hold back any longer. He buried his face against Ashley’s shoulder to stifle the giggles. I smacked his arm, which caused me to drop the shaving cream with a huge thud.
“Now that was loud,” Ashley said.
And it scared them enough to quit giggling. It seemed like an eternity, but the car engine started, and he rumbled away.
“Did you hear that ginormous leak?” Graham screeched. “I tried timing it but it was so funny I lost count.” He snorted and cleared his throat. “That had to be a record. Thank God he didn’t take a dump.”
“We’re screwed,” I said. “We’re absolutely, completely screwed.”
“There’s only one thing we can do,” Graham said.
“What?”
“Get the hell outta here.” He ripped back the shower curtain. “Go!”
We stumbled out of the tub. I grabbed some towels and toothpaste from the cupboard. “Ashley,” I yelled. “Go get all the food you can find. Load it in the car! Graham! Get those sheets and pillows. Go in the garage and see if there’s extra gas.”
“You are bossy,” Ashley said.
“Daisy, you get the sheets and pillows,” Graham said. “I’m getting Honey.”
“Honey?”
“The horse needs a name, too. And that’s all I got. Honey,” Graham said. “Just go!”
“Graham, maybe the Idea Coin doesn’t get everything right. We don’t know anything about horses, big or little.”
“I do. I watch cowboy movies. I read horse books.”
“Horse?” Ashley mumbled.
<
br /> “I need Honey,” Graham said. “Now I’m sure it’s going to work.”
I threw my arms in the air. “You weren’t sure before?”
“Um, I was pretty sure. Now I’m really sure.” Then Graham ran outside. Debate over.
There wasn’t time for me to chase him down. So we raced in different directions. Graham was outside. Ashley dropped the towel and followed me to the kitchen. I tossed a paper bag at her and grabbed a plastic one for myself.
Ashley stood at the pantry and stacked cans of soup in the bag. “Do you like cream of mushroom? Because I don’t like cream of mushroom.”
“Who cares! Just move it!” I yelled. I dug through every drawer looking for money. I found a few dollars and lots of change. And a checkbook. I stared at it a moment. Well, they were animal abusers, and this was a desperate time. I put the checkbook in the plastic bag with the money I’d found.
Then I put it together: The church people weren’t animal abusers. The forty dollars was for that guy to care for the animals until they got home.
Man, oh, man. We needed to fix the farmhouse mess for the church people who loved their animals. I wanted to clean up—cross my heart and hope to die—but a bomb was ticking.
Forward. We could only go forward.
I swear, Judge Henry, it was like you said when you frowned with those thick eyebrows. I needed to be accountable. I promised myself we’d send them a letter and a check when we were safe. A big check, too, not one that only covered the cost of the mess. At least an extra thirty dollars.
I whirled around to yell at Ashley to hurry, but she’d taken her bags to the car. I dug around for more stuff.
The porch door opened. “Daisy!” Ashley yelled. “Daisy!”
“What?”
“The car won’t start. Graham says the battery’s dead.”
DEAR JUDGE HENRY,
Was it because we left the car door open too long? Was it because Graham turned on the dome light while he read the map? Or was it a Universal Force telling us to stop!
The Graham Cracker Plot Page 8
