Survival Strategies of the Almost Brave

by Jen White

  Shiny Head was talking to some guy in a cowboy hat. The man was tall, a lot taller than Shiny Head. He had on blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt. His face was hard and mean, like those hunters on the Discovery Channel. The blue car still sat in the parking lot. The Lavender Lady was messing with something in her trunk.

  The cowboy kept nodding his head. But I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  Was it the sheriff Shiny Head said he called? I made a list in my head:

  1. No uniform.

  2. No polished badge.

  3. No police car.

  Conclusion: It wasn’t the sheriff.

  Shiny Head’s crooked back was toward me, but just by watching him I could see he had a lot to say. He kept moving his hands. His arms went up and down, up and down, like he might fly away. Then he pointed toward the gas station, and I knew he was talking about us. They both turned and looked right at me.

  Break it up!

  Billie pulled on my shirt. “What?” she whispered. “What do you see? Is it Dad?”

  I grabbed her hand and dragged her back toward the bathroom. I scanned the gas station, looking for another exit.

  “Remember what I said about running?”

  She nodded. “But my shoe’s broken.”

  Then I saw it. Near the bathroom, behind a pile of boxes, there was a back door with the words EMERGENCY EXIT scrawled across the top in black marker. I leaned against the boxes and pushed. They were heavy.

  “I know. You’re going to have to forget about your flip-flop. You’re a cheetah, Billie. Run as fast as a cheetah. Come on, help me.”

  Billie pushed with her scrawny arms. Any minute, I expected Shiny Head to burst through the front door, jangling the bells that hung on the doorknob. But all I could hear was the blood rushing through my ears.

  Finally, the boxes budged. Clenching my eyes shut, I pushed with every bit of strength I had. I thought about the lady I saw on TV who moved a car just to save her kid. That was me. I had super strength. I did.

  And then the boxes moved some more, just enough room for Billie and me to squeeze through. I tried the door handle and it wasn’t locked.

  “Remember our plan. Run like the prairie dogs.”

  Billie nodded. And then I saw that frozen deer look.

  “You can do it,” I said. “Run fast.”

  I pulled the door open a crack.

  Then I heard the bells on the front door jangle. Boots stomped across the floor. My heart jumped, bumped, and banged, but I would not let it panic. Billie would never see me do that.

  Fight or flight.

  I wedged myself between the door and the boxes and pushed her outside.

  “Run! Run! Don’t look back!” I yelled.

  The break up had begun. We had to break it up so we could stay together.

  Billie’s hair flew behind her. Her bare foot slapped the pavement as she ran toward the burned-out car sitting in the desert brush. She was halfway there.

  “Hey!”

  I spun around. It was Shiny Head pointing a skinny finger right at me, and like a mountain, Cowboy stood behind him.

  I tried to pull the door open a little more, but the boxes still sat like boulders blocking my way. I hoped I was as skinny as Billie. Shiny Head rushed toward me, hand outstretched like a claw. I ducked my head through the door.

  Freedom!

  But my body stuck.

  The door pressed hard against my rib cage, and my back wedged against the frame. Billie was skinnier than me. Someone grabbed the back of my shirt. Adrenaline shot through my body.

  Fight or flight.

  I pushed with all my strength, and the boxes finally shifted. I squeezed through the door and felt my T-shirt rip as I pulled loose. I ran as if my life depended on it. And it did. Billie and me were like endangered species.

  Before I left the asphalt, I took one last look at the gas station and saw a hand reach through the slightly open door.

  Running as fast as I could, I went in the exact opposite direction as Billie. My heart felt like it was connected to her on a string. The farther away I ran, the tighter it pulled, until I felt all cinched up.

  She slipped behind a boulder.

  I had to lead Shiny Head and Cowboy away from her. I ran toward a little hill and ducked into the brush.

  Stay away. Stay away.

  I hoped they wouldn’t find her. I hoped they wouldn’t find me. Were the prairie dogs as scared as me while they waited for the snake to come? Did they feel any better once they had escaped?

  So why didn’t I?

  Survival Strategy #7:

  CAMOUFLAGE

  Crawling on my hands and knees, I inched my way to where I thought Billie was hidden. Behind me, Cowboy and Shiny Head stomped around in the desert brush, calling for us.

  “Hey, girls!” said Shiny Head. “Come on out. We’re not going to hurt you.”

  Not even for a second did I believe that. Maybe it was the way his voice crept up my spine and stayed there. Pebbles and stones cut into my hands and knees. Before I came here, I thought desert sand was like beach sand, but it wasn’t. It’s hard and dry and rocky. Nothing at all like the beach. Dry brush scratched my face, and my dirty T-shirt blended in perfectly with the weeds that were as high as my body. Camouflaged.

  Camouflage is the most important part of desert survival … besides venom. If you have venom you’re, like, invincible. In my opinion the top three strategies for desert survival are:

  1. Venom.

  2. Camouflage.

  3. Speed.

  If you’re a poisonous snake or a scorpion, you’re okay. But I wasn’t a snake or a scorpion. So I had to rely on three things:

  1. Camouflage.

  2. Brains.

  3. Sound.

  And my ears told me that Shiny Head and Cowboy were getting closer.

  “Come out and talk to us,” said Cowboy. He kicked the bushes in front of him. They were at least two semitruck-lengths away and too close to where Billie was supposed to be hidden.

  I willed her to stay with my mind control.

  Stay. Stay. Stay.

  Mom told me about dangerous people who wanted to hurt kids. They’d act real nice. And then, forget it—sometimes they’d keep you forever, or worse. I wouldn’t be fooled that easily.

  Thorns poked through my jeans and tiny rocks stuck into my palms, but I ignored them. Sometimes survival meant pain. Squatting deeper into the brush, I watched Shiny Head and Cowboy like a cheetah watches her prey.

  Cowboy stopped and looked back toward the gas station. “Didn’t you say there were three girls?” he called.

  Shiny Head shook his head. “Two.” He was only a few feet from Billie.

  I stood up and sucked in my breath. I had to do something. “Hey—” But my words were swallowed up by Shiny Head, who tripped on something and fell to the ground.

  He rolled around, cursing and moaning.

  “Little white trash nothings!” he yelled.

  I crouched back down to watch.

  “I think I broke my ankle,” said Shiny Head.

  Cowboy pulled him up.

  Shiny Head limped toward the gas station. “Stupid kids.”

  “Let’s go on back,” Cowboy said. “I need to radio Chuck.”

  Radio Chuck? He turned and glared out at the desert. Then he and Shiny Head went back into the gas station.

  I couldn’t trust anyone. No way was I going to let them get us.

  Survival Strategy #8:

  ESCAPE, IF YOU DARE

  “Billie,” I whispered. “Billie.” Behind the boulder, where she should have been, I found nothing but a Twinkie wrapper licked clean.

  Scrambling, I searched everywhere around the boulder, but she had disappeared.

  Suddenly, I spied a long brown shape. Was it a snake? No, just a stick. But it reminded me of something very important Dad told me. When walking through the desert, you should always make noise to scare away predators, like:

 
1. Talking.

  2. Singing.

  3. Shuffling your feet.

  But right now I didn’t care about any of that. Let the rattlesnakes come. I ran toward the back of the gas station, scanning the brush for a flash of Billie’s hair. I whispered her name again, but there was nothing but dirt and red ants.

  I rounded the corner, and there she was, crying behind the ice machine.

  “Billie,” I said, pulling her into a bear hug. “What are you doing? I told you to stay behind the boulder.”

  She nodded. “I thought you left. I couldn’t see you. I thought you left with that man in the cowboy hat.”

  “I would never leave you. Never.”

  “Here,” said Billie, pulling away. She handed me my notebook.

  “Where was it?” I asked, clasping it to my chest.

  “In the dirt.”

  Water flooded my eyes, but I blinked it back. “Come on,” I said, grabbing Billie’s arm. I wasn’t going to lose her again.

  Shiny Head and Cowboy were nowhere to be seen. The blue car still sat, but where was the Lavender Lady? What was taking her so long?

  Billie and me hunched down and crept closer. I tried to peer inside the back window of the blue car, but the backseat looked like someone’s closet. Clothes hung in a long straight row along a bar stretched across the inside of the car, completely covering the back window. A shrunken someone sat in the driver’s seat, but it wasn’t the Lavender Lady.

  I inched Billie and me toward the empty highway, not knowing what else to do. We obviously couldn’t stay here. I hesitated and turned back toward the gas station.

  “Where are we going?” asked Billie.

  Suddenly the gas station door opened and the Lavender Lady slid toward her car.

  “Billie,” I said, pulling her with me. “Follow me. And be silent.”

  Billie nodded.

  I crept to the opposite side of the blue car as the Lavender Lady. Blood whooshed through my veins, and it felt like my heart might pop. But that didn’t matter, because when she opened her door, I opened the back door on the opposite side. It clicked open easily. I pushed Billie in, swishing her through dry cleaner bags and long gauzy dresses. I slid in after her, swimming in a cocoon of plastic and fabric. Silently I pulled the door closed. Billie and me crouched behind the seats, surrounded in a perfect, hidden nest.

  “Orson!” said the Lavender Lady, still standing outside the car.

  I grabbed Billie’s hand and squeezed. Please don’t make a sound. But I didn’t even need to try to use my mind powers, because she knew. The look on her face said it all—she would not make a peep.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The Lavender Lady demanded. “Orson, no driving for you. I know you think you’re well enough, but honest to God, you will kill us.”

  Orson mumbled something.

  “Nope. Nope. Get out.” She shoved her BeDazzled bag through the rack of clothes and into the back. It sat perched on the hump in the middle of the floor like it was watching us, right under Billie’s nose.

  “Let me drive. Orson, I said out!”

  I gulped and peeked out the back window. Cowboy was standing there. Staring at the blue car like he had laser beams for eyes. Like he could see us crouched in sweat and plastic and cloth.

  I ducked and pulled Billie down with me.

  Now I had to use my ears. That’s what animals do when they’re trapped. They use all their senses. Every one. And I wasn’t going to be caught lacking now. I closed my eyes and listened.

  The Lavender Lady made shuffling noises, and then it was quiet for a second. Then she was on the other side of the car with Orson.

  “Come on,” she grunted, like she was carrying something heavy. “I’ve gotcha.”

  A deep voice murmured something.

  “I don’t know where your cane is right now. Use your legs and lean on me. Lean on me.”

  Then, I think Orson got into the seat in front of me. And the Lavender Lady got into the seat in front of Billie.

  “There!” she exclaimed. “That’s better.”

  Orson mumbled.

  “You would not believe the filth inside that place! And I had to wait forever for that dingbat attendant to ring me up. I sat and waited and waited. I have half a mind to call the owner,” said the Lavender Lady. The sound of her voice was ten times the normal talking voice. Orson obviously couldn’t hear very well. Hooray for deafness.

  The engine clicked and then purred. Even through our cocoon, a blast of cool air shot toward the backseat.

  Orson grunted and said something, but I couldn’t understand a word. Plastic crinkled.

  “No, they didn’t have the ones you like. That was all I could find. That’s all they had,” she said louder. “Old broke-down gas station out in the middle of nowhere. I was lucky they had anything we wanted. Broke-down, just like us, huh, Orson?”

  Orson mumbled.

  “Never mind,” she said. “I said never mind.”

  The car pulled forward slowly. The more it inched toward the road, the more the knots surrounding my heart loosened. We were doing it! I could almost breathe. I didn’t care where we were going, or in what direction. All I knew was that we needed to get away from the Jiffy Co. Gas Station and predators like Cowboy and Shiny Head.

  From my window, I saw the gas pumps roll past. The road should only be just a few feet away. Would we actually make it? Then the car jerked and the Lavender Lady slammed on her brakes.

  “Well, I never!” she exclaimed.

  Survival Strategy #9:

  TIMING IS EVERYTHING

  My heart stopped. Like someone had plunged it into a bucket full of cold water. Was this what it felt like to have a heart attack? I had always wondered. Some animals have one the moment before they are devoured.

  Billie grabbed my hand. Her eyes were afraid, but trusting.

  I heard the car window roll down.

  “Can I help you, officer?” The Lavender Lady sounded annoyed.

  Cowboy’s voice rumbled through the open window and filled the car.

  “Yes. Yes, you can,” he said. “I’m Sheriff Boyce. We’re looking for two little girls who were here. We think they may have been abandoned.”

  Immediately I hated that word: abandoned. Like we had no one in the universe who could care for us. Didn’t he know I was in charge?

  “Oh, dear,” said the Lavender Lady. “Those poor things.”

  “Um, yes. Yes they are,” said Cowboy. He sounded like he had a mouth full of rocks. And at least now I knew he was a real sheriff. All the more reason to steer clear of him.

  “Have you seen any girls on their own or maybe even with someone? About yea tall?” he asked.

  The Lavender Lady must have shaken her head.

  “Have you seen anything suspicious at all?” he asked.

  Orson mumbled something.

  “What did he say?” asked Cowboy.

  Yes, what did Orson say? Had he seen us? He seemed so frail and useless, I hadn’t really worried too much about him knowing we were here, but now worry bubbled through my blood like carbonation. Should we run for it?

  I slipped my hand through the backseat door handle.

  “Oh, don’t mind my little brother,” the Lavender Lady said. “He had a stroke a few years back that affected his speech, but he’s as sharp as a tack. We’re on our way back from visiting my granddaughter. I hardly ever get to see her, and she just had a baby, so I said to myself, why not? It’s been quite a drive, and we’re just on our way home—”

  Cowboy interrupted. “We’re really anxious to find these girls. It’s hot out and we have to make sure they’re safe.”

  I inched the handle open, felt it resist as I pulled it toward me, on the verge of a click, which would release us into the heat where we could run and run.

  Orson mumbled something again.

  “He said he hasn’t seen anything.”

  “Okay then,” said Cowboy, thumping the hood. “Thanks for
your help. Here’s my card in case you think of anything.”

  “Sure thing,” said the Lavender Lady.

  The window rolled up. The car pulled forward. And Billie, me, Orson, and the Lavender Lady drove away into a long stretch of road that held only one hope for Billie and me: to call Julie at our next stop. But it drove us away from Cowboy, Shiny Head, and even Dad … who if he had wanted to come back and claim us couldn’t now, because we were gone. There was something sweet in that.

  Suddenly, I felt better. I was in control, even if it meant being chauffeured into who-knew-where by a loud-talking old lady bedecked in lavender and her deaf baby brother.

  The floor of the car hummed as the wheels plowed down the highway; the heat from the road warmed the carpet where we sat. I stretched out onto the floor with Billie and linked her hand through mine. I didn’t know what was going to happen when the car stopped, but right now I didn’t care. We were safe for the moment. I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

  I could relax now, couldn’t I? Even if it was just for a minute.

  Survival Strategy #10:

  BEWARE OF TRAPS

  At the beginning of the summer, two weeks after Mom died, we got into Dad’s camper and drove away—thinking he would make everything better. Dad was finally back. But it was like having to trade one parent for another.

  A trap.

  I thought being with him would be like magic, everything I had ever imagined. But that was a trap, too.

  After we put Mom in the ocean, a week later Dad came and got us. He picked us up at Julie’s condo, across from ours. Julie thought Dad was probably going to sell our condo, which sounded pretty awful because what about my best friend, Antonio, who lived next door and who had a real, live tarantula and a bearded dragon? And when school started I was supposed to go on the seventh grade overnight trip to Catalina Island, which was crawling with wild boar (I really wanted to see a wild boar up close). And could we take our goldfish, George and Martha? When we got them, Mom said Billie and me would kill them in a week, but I had been very responsible about feeding them and changing their water just right, and so far they had lasted over a year.