by Mary Penney
He pulled a half-smoked butt out of an empty pack of cigarettes and lit it up. Took a deep drag from it and held it in. Then drank from a beat-up Styrofoam cup. I watched a moment, temporarily fascinated. He finally blew the smoke out in a big, stinky gust, stubbed the butt out with care, and put it away in his little empty pack.
“Um, excuse me,” I said. “Was that bus that just left going to downtown Los Robles?”
Smokey ignored me.
I stepped up closer. “Sir, could you at least tell me if the next one coming is to Sixth Avenue? It’s kind of an emergency that I get there.”
He dumped out the rest of whatever was in his cup and dried it out carefully with a filthy bandana.
I crossed my arms and cleared my throat—neither of which inspired him to speak to me.
Looking at my watch, I did the math. I had just three and a half hours left to get downtown, find my dad, convince him to come home, and get back to Switch by six. Hopefully, provided we still had Ginger’s bike, that would put us in Constance by ten p.m. If I was any later, my mother would have every cop in the state out looking for me.
I needed a back-up plan in case we didn’t make the ten p.m. cutoff. I chewed the underside of my lip, and the knot of scar tissue that lived there from years of me gnawing at it.
I’d have to call Twee and come clean about this. She’d find a way to help cover for me. That is, after she killed me. I couldn’t stand to think about the hurt that was going to set up camp on her face once I told her I’d come to Los Robles with Switch instead of her.
A large blue van pulled up at the bus stop, and Smokey rolled over to it. The driver eased out of the front seat and came around to open the side door. He looked like a California version of Santa Claus. He had a long white beard and an enormous Hawaiian shirt that stretched tightly across his middle. But it couldn’t quite cover the large hairy canyon that served as his belly button.
He threw out a casual salute. “Hey, Jerry. What’s up?”
Smokey grunted.
Santa cracked open the panel door and slung it back hard. He flipped a switch inside the back, and a wheelchair lift came out. He helped the guy roll his wheelchair on it.
My eyes locked on the writing on the panel door.
DEPARTMENT OF VETERANS AFFAIRS
SOUTHERN COLORADO HEALTH CARE SYSTEM
PROUDLY SERVING OUR NATION’S VETERANS
I licked my lips. Put my hand in my pocket.
Santa tucked his passenger in safely. “You going back to the Dom, Jer?”
Smokey nodded, looking straight ahead.
The driver grabbed the door handle with a beefy arm. “Let’s go, then!”
“Wait!” I shouted, lunging for the doorway. I put my hand on the wheelchair. “Uncle Jerry! You said I could go with you this time. I’ve never seen your Dome, um, I mean your Dom! Mom can pick me up there later. Please, please, please?” I stepped up into the van next to him. Put my hand over his, quickly stuffing my last ten under his hand. “C’mon, Uncle Jerry, huh, what’ya say?”
He looked down at the ten and closed his hand tight. Flicked his eyes over me and held them for a split second. His eyes were deepwater blue, set against a white backdrop that was covered in red, bloody trails. I looked down a second and held my breath.
“Okay. Just don’t bug me,” he said in a voice all raspy, probably because he never used it. He nodded at the driver and shrugged. “Dang niece.”
I collapsed into the backseat and drew a long deep breath. “Thanks, man,” I said.
“I said, don’t bug me.”
I waited at least five minutes after the van pulled away before I leaned forward. I didn’t want to blow our deal, but I did need to get some direction here. “What’s a Dom?” I whispered near the back of his head.
Silence.
“Where are we going?”
Nothing.
“Can you help me get to the Department of Veterans Affairs?” I asked. “It’s on Sixth Avenue,” I added helpfully. “Are we headed to Sixth Avenue?” I might as well have been talking to a corpse.
“Jerry, c’mon. I gave you ten bucks. That’s going to buy you more cigarettes than you’ve seen in a long time.”
He stuck a long, dirty finger in his ear and dug around, like he was looking for something. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Afraid to see what he might pull out, and worse yet, what he might do with what he pulled out.
After a couple of minutes, I started up again. “Look, my dad is a veteran too. He was in Iraq. I’m trying to find him. I gotta get to him this afternoon.”
He turned his head slightly and peered at me with one mean eye. “Be quiet, or I’ll open that door and shove you out.”
“Could you just tell me one thing and I’ll never speak again?” I pleaded. I took his silence as permission.
“Are we going to end up anywhere near Sixth Avenue?” I wasn’t too familiar with downtown Los Robles. Usually, when Mom and me came, we went to the mall, which was north of town.
“Iraq was a field trip with big toys,” he muttered. “’Nam was a war.”
Not very helpful, but it was the most words he’d strung together yet. “So, I’m guessing you were in Vietnam?” I asked. “Do you ever go to the Department of Veterans Affairs on Sixth Avenue for reunions? You know, to look up old buddies or anything?” Truly lame, but I was desperate.
The van came to an abrupt stop. I whiplashed back against the seat and hit my head. “Sorry, guys!” Santa yelled over his shoulder.
I put my nose up to the grimy window and peered out. Looked like we were at some giant elementary school. Big redbrick buildings, lots of trees—a minicampus set back on a busy city street. It had a big playground with basketball courts. But no kids. Just a bunch of guys in wheelchairs. I eased out of the back of the van after “Uncle Jerry” got lowered out.
“So, is this your Dom?” I asked him.
He pointed a long, dirty fingernail at a sign across the sidewalk. It had a right-pointing arrow after the word “Domiciliary.” Left arrow to “Medical Services.” Right arrow to “Chapel.” Left arrow to “Administration.”
Jerry wheeled up to me. Grabbed my hand and stuffed a sweaty ten-dollar bill into it. Pointed his chin down the way toward the corner.
I shaded my eyes against the glare as I looked up at a very tall building, probably ten stories high. Read the sign etched in its side.
LOS ROBLES VA MEDICAL CENTER
I looked down at the bill in my hand, then back at him. “So is this—” I started.
“The Department of Veterans Affairs,” he muttered, turning right and rolling himself down Sixth Avenue.
Dear Mr. Jimenez,
The Fifth Thing About Me: I come up with sensational ideas. Since my mom doesn’t want me to stay back a grade, what if Twee skips a grade and comes to Kit Carson with me? She has already read To Kill a Mockingbird, Treasure Island, Stargirl, Call of the Wild, Little Women, and Hoops. She is a wiz at history and math, and I can help her with science. I already have a brilliant idea for a science project, but you need four hands to do it. I only have two, of course.
Twee also likes boys already, so she is way ahead of the game there. She will remind me to wear lip gloss and won’t let me dress out of the dirty clothes hamper. I guarantee you I will be a much-better-adjusted seventh grader if I have her with me. If we are separated, and I am bored and unhappy, I could end up a juvenile delinquent, and my mom will be so mad. She might even think it’s your fault for not challenging me enough in class.
Believe me, you don’t want my mom on your case, Mr. Jimenez.
Yours very sincerely,
Macy L. Hollinquest
CHAPTER TWELVE
The glass doors swooshed open and a blast of air conditioning nearly knocked me over as I stepped into the Los Robles VA Medical Center. A swarm of people in white coats hurried by me with smartphones stuck to the sides of their heads.
I noticed the cops before they noticed me. A couple o
f them sat behind the information booth, and another one scanned people’s stuff with one of those X-ray machines, like they have at the airport. They were big cops and didn’t look as friendly as Officer Marley. These guys had big, bulgy muscles and tight pants. I scootched up next to a guy with crutches trying to balance a cup of coffee.
“Here, I can carry that for you,” I said. I gave him my most winning smile.
“Thanks,” he said with a smile missing most all its teeth. We cruised by the cops in the information booth, and the X-ray cops who were busy checking people through some secure area.
I helped my guy get settled in an oversize chair, then hurried over to a large directory sign and studied it. Looked like they had about a gazillion different departments. I didn’t know where to begin. It was mostly hospital stuff, like laboratory, MRI, and radiology. I was all the way down to the S section when my heart leaped into a half gainer. There it was in black and white: “Special Projects: Ninth Floor.”
That had to be it! I bolted for the nearest elevator and then chewed down my last fingernail while I read the big sign on the wall: “An adult must accompany all children under the age of 14 on floors 2–9.”
I did a quick boob check. At my age I hear they can almost grow right before your eyes. I hadn’t really looked at them for a few days. I sighed. Nope. My chest was still an elementary-schooler’s. No way I’d be passing for fourteen with these puppies. Plus, no fourteen-year-old girl would be caught out in public with clothes as stained and stinky as mine.
I backed away, trying not to attract attention. As I hunted for the stairs, I found myself wishing for one of those Harry Potter invisibility cloaks. It would come in very handy about now.
Nine flights of stairs is way more than it sounds like! I had a good sweat going by the time I got there. I followed the signs for “Reception,” which, turns out, should read “Reception and Nosy Guard.” He was leaning up against the counter, all eight hundred muscly pounds of him, talking to a girl working on a computer. His eyebrows lifted when he saw me.
“Lose your way, miss?” he asked.
I tried to straighten the front of my shirt, which was stiff with something gross from the Dumpster. “Uh, well, no, not exactly, sir. Not lost, I mean.” I hooked my hair behind my ear. “My mom sent me up. We’re looking for my dad, and I think he works up here in Special Projects.”
“What’s your dad’s name?” the girl asked.
“Montgomery Hollinquest—but everyone calls him Gum.”
She shook her head. “No one by that name on this floor.” She looked over at the cop. “DeVaughn, does that name ring any bells for you?”
“Can’t say that it does. You sure this is the right floor, young lady?”
I tried to pick my heart up off the ground while I reached for my pack. Pulling out the letter from my dad, I showed him the return address first and then pulled out the letter.
“See? Says here he’s working on a special project.”
While the cop read through the letter, I scanned it over again. My eyes caught on the last line, which I loved and had memorized. I see your smile everywhere, even in—
“Is your dad a patient here?” the girl asked. A little too kindly, I thought.
“Nope, he’s not sick or anything. He works here,” I explained.
“Hold on a sec, let me check our directory.” Her fingers raced over the keyboard.
“And your mom doesn’t know what floor to find him on?” the cop asked, eyeing me over and reaching for his walkie-talkie.
I could feel a case of serious cop-itis coming over him quick. His nostrils twitched, like he might be smelling something fishy.
“Uh, yeah, she’s looking on the fourth floor. Sometimes my dad works in a lot of different places. We never know when we come exactly what floor he’ll be on. But we always find him,” I assured him. Hot beads of sweat popped up on my scalp. “Then we all go to the cafeteria together. My dad loves the pizza there! In fact, that’s probably where they both are now, so I better go. They’re probably wondering where the heck I am.” I backed toward the elevator. “Thanks for everything, ma’am, sir!”
I lunged for the elevator, which had mercifully opened, like presto! just when I needed it. That almost never happened in real life. It was packed, and I ducked in and wiggled my way to the back. It was like a doctor convention in there, and it smelled like very clean hands. A few docs had turbans on their heads, and all of them had stethoscopes draped around their necks. There were a few nurses I noticed, too. Mostly, they just looked very tired.
I couldn’t even reach the elevator buttons, because we were so squished. But it didn’t matter because I was fresh out of ideas.
The elevator plunged downward, as if the cable had snapped, and I gasped. Everyone else kept talking, like they hadn’t noticed. I turned myself to face a small tight corner. I tried to breathe into that tiny space. It was the worst elevator in the world! It took big swoopy plunges and made fast stops. I seriously was going to call my congressperson, maybe even the president, when this was all over to complain about the elevator at the VA. This thing wasn’t an elevator; it was a plungevator!
I thought about getting off, but I was betting Gorilla Cop would be waiting for me. He probably had all the floors covered with his buddies.
At last the mob exited, freeing up big pockets of air. Secondhand air, but air all the same. I took deep mouthfuls of it. I added elevators to my list of transportation systems I hate. It was stairs for me for the rest of my life. As I neared the front of the elevator at last, another VA cop came into view. His mouth was plastered to his radio, and he was checking the crowd that had just gotten off.
I fell back into the elevator and pressed myself against the side. I stabbed every possible button to make the elevator go now. The cop got a visual on me and started moving toward the door.
Ding, ding! The doors slid closed, almost—
A hand shot through the opening, parting them. But not big hairy hands ready to grab me by the neck. A slim hand with light-blue nail polish and three silver bands stacked up a thumb. Then the rest of her stepped in. Thankfully, without a pair of handcuffs, a pistol, or a club. She gave me a nice smile. She pressed the nine button and then looked at me. “Going up?”
She didn’t assume I was up to no good, so I loved her immediately. I stole a long glance at her. She had red, woolly hair and a delicate face. Her name badge read “Karen Eckstein” and then a lot of letters after that. Like she had a lot of college degrees. Under that in large letters, it read “Project Evenstar.”
As if she felt me staring, she looked over at me. “Not a big fan of elevators, are you?”
I shook my head slowly, wondering how she knew.
“I saw you on the ride down in the corner,” she said. “Looked like you were having a tough time. I thought maybe your mom was on the elevator, and she’d get you off and you’d be okay.” She paused a moment. “But then everyone got off and you were all alone. You looked like you might need a hand, so I came back for you.”
I bit my lip.
“That officer looking for you?”
I let out a big shaky breath.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
I tried to talk, but I’d lost my voice in all the plunging.
“Macy,” she said, her voice soft as a pigeon’s coo. “Are you here to see your dad?”
My mouth dropped open, like the tailgate of an old Ford truck.
“You look just like him, you know.”
My eyes dropped back to her name badge and burned a hole into it.
“Project Evenstar,” it read. I see your smile everywhere, even in the stars.
My heart started to gallop. “Do you know where my dad is?” I asked, breathless.
“Yes,” she said simply. “He’s with me.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I splashed a bucket’s worth of water on my face in the ladies’ room and tried to rub some of the stains out of my shirt with
a wet paper towel. I hated to have Dad see me looking so awful. Dr. Eckstein came back a few moments later and handed me a soft, gray T-shirt. “I found this in my gym bag. It might be a little big, but you can tie it at the bottom. Want to wear it?”
I nodded, grateful, turned my back a second, and exchanged shirts. I stuffed my dirty one in my pack.
“I just tried to call your mom, but she’s not home,” she said.
Uh. Oh. I tried to look nonchalant, but the tips of my ears grew hot.
Dr. Eckstein leaned up against the sink. “I just wanted her to know you had arrived safely.”
“Oh, she never worries when I’m with Twee and her mom. Twee’s mom is completely responsible. She’s been driving for years.”
She just stared at me, her head to one side, like she was waiting for something else.
That was it, I decided. I was going straight to hell someday. In fact, I was probably going to get elected president of hell. I hurried on to fill in the uncomfortable hole that my lie had dug. “Yeah, when I told Mom last night I wanted to come visit Dad before school started, she thought that was a great idea. Twee and her mom were headed here for some shopping, so it worked out perfect.”
“Macy, did you and your mom talk at all about why your dad is here?”
I had a feeling this was leading somewhere, but I couldn’t tell where, so I played it supercool.
“Oh, yeah, we had a long talk about it,” I improvised. Well, we did have a talk, but not exactly about why he was here. It was more about why he wasn’t at home, but that was a minor detail.
“So, how are you feeling about all this?” Her eyes were intent on my face.
Boy, I knew there were some right answers and wrong answers here, but which was which? “Well, I miss him a lot, but I know Project Evenstar is very important. If it wasn’t, he’d be home with us.”
She gave me a half smile, and I could tell I’d hit on a right answer.
“Well, then, let’s head on over, shall we?” she asked, putting out her hand.
