by Jen White
“I don’t think so,” he said, still trying to look friendly, but the way he grasped the spoon in his right hand wouldn’t let me believe it.
“I’ll be the judge of that. What are you doing with these girls?”
He ran his hands through his hair, his smile now gone, replaced by a sneer. “I’m waiting to speak to these girls’ parents. Last night they woke me up in the middle of the night screaming and carrying on in the hallway. I want to have a few words with the people who let their children run around like wild animals. In. The. Middle. Of. The. Night!” He jabbed the air with his spoon just for emphasis.
Apron Lady turned and bent low to face Billie and me. “Is this true?” she asked, like he had just accused us of landing a spaceship in the parking lot.
I shook my head.
Billie nodded.
I stood now, my legs jelly, and pointed at Billie. “We were…” My arm shook as I stretched it toward the man. “He was…”
Billie now stood right behind me, her face buried in my T-shirt.
Apron Lady looked at me with worry in her eyes, laced with a smidgen of curiosity. I should tell her what happened to Billie and me. About being left by Dad. About being all alone. Maybe I could.
“I…” I hesitated, my body vibrating with adrenaline.
“If you don’t do something about this reckless behavior in your hotel, then I certainly will,” interrupted the man, grabbing hold of my arm. “I’m not leaving until I’ve talked to this girl’s parents.”
And just in that moment, I made a choice, like many hunted animals do, acting out of pure instinct. First, I kicked the man in the knee as hard as I could. Second, I grabbed Billie by the hand.
“Oh, oh, oh!” he yelled as his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. And just for a split second, out of the corner of my eye, I saw pure shock on Apron Lady’s face as we bolted out of the breakfast room and into the lobby where the Lavender Lady still sat complaining to a brand-new person holding an official-looking clipboard. Everyone turned and stared.
“Run!” I yelled to Billie over my shoulder.
She stumbled and tripped as I pulled her behind me, my grip like a boa constrictor’s. We tumbled through the front door and ran for the road that welcomed us back with a sun-scorched hello. Our reply was the sound of Billie’s one bare foot as it slapped the pavement.
Survival Strategy #25:
HIDE
“Stop,” said Billie after about five minutes of sprinting. She was panting so hard, I could barely understand her. “Pleeease,” she said, falling onto her knees, sucking in huge gulps of air.
I slowed down. There was no noise of anyone chasing after us—no yelling, or running, or pounding feet. So I stopped, too, throwing myself down next to her on the little patch of grass in front of a Texaco gas station.
Billie lay facedown in the grass, mumbling something.
“What?” I asked, crawling closer. Still worried there were people after us, I looked down the sidewalk in the direction of the hotel, but a large group of hedges made it impossible to see. But I couldn’t hear anyone. And I couldn’t get that man’s creepy smile out of my mind. Why was he so determined to get us in trouble? The press of his fingers still haunted my arm.
Billie mumbled again.
“What?” I asked, pulling her over so I could hear.
She was as red as a Starburst. She pulled some grass out of her mouth. “When’s Julie coming?”
She looked so pathetic, I couldn’t possibly tell her I didn’t know. “Soon.”
“When?” she asked.
“Pretty soon.”
Then I heard the clack of footsteps coming down the sidewalk from where we had been. “Come on,” I said, pulling Billie up.
“What?”
“Someone’s coming.”
Now I could see legs and shoes. Tan pants and black shiny shoes. Was it that guy from the hotel? I couldn’t remember what he was wearing—only the spoon he had held in his hand.
“Come on,” I whispered. Billie and I jogged toward the side of the gas station building and hid behind a parked car.
Billie’s face was pinched, just like when the doctor had told us about Mom. I was so tired of that look on her face, I could hardly stand it.
“I’m sure it’s just a random person,” I said, forcing a smile and trying to make my voice sound happy. “I’m just being safe, okay?”
Billie nodded, peering at the sidewalk from behind me.
Then he appeared. His hands were on his hips as he glared down the road, then at the sidewalk, and finally he scowled at the gas station. His eyes zeroed in on the car we hid behind. It was him. The crazy Spoon Guy from the hotel.
I pulled Billie back against the wall. “I can’t believe it,” I said.
“Believe what?” asked Billie.
I guided her toward the back of the gas station. “It’s that guy from the hotel.”
“It is?” Now her face was even more petrified. What was I thinking, telling her that?
We turned and slunk down along the wall until we were directly behind the gas station, hopefully camouflaged by the shade.
“Watch out,” I said, pointing to a pool of black stuff right beside our feet.
Billie nodded.
Once we were out of the Spoon Guy’s line of sight, my heart began to return to normal. He wouldn’t come all the way back here just to look for us. Would he?
Animals on the run need to use everything in their environment to help themselves. The gas station parking lot was next to some apartment buildings. My fingers itched for my notebook, tucked in my back pocket, so I could plan our next move, but we had no time. There was:
1. A guy fiddling with his tires near a machine that said AIR.
2. Some kid about my age riding his bike around in circles.
3. A black semitruck with its hood open, pulled over to the side.
Painted on the door of the semitruck was FIRE BROTHERS TRUCKING—BARSTOW, CA, with bright, beautiful flames circling around the words, like the whole thing just might catch on fire. The door to the cab sat open, and I couldn’t see anyone inside.
Billie waved at the kid on the bike.
“Stop that,” I said, pulling her arm down.
She stared at her feet and whispered, “He waved at me first.”
The kid smiled at us, his legs pumping harder as he cruised around the guy putting air in his tires.
“We don’t wave at strangers.”
“You did at breakfast.”
“No, I didn’t.” Then I remembered waving at the man with the muffins. “Well, that was different; that guy didn’t even see me, and I had to wave to pretend he was our…” I stopped.
Billie sometimes seemed so much younger than she actually was.
“You’re right,” I said. “I did wave. But I shouldn’t have. So let’s just say that we’re not going to wave at or talk to strangers, okay?” That seemed to satisfy her.
The kid now rode his bike closer to where we sat. The rusty chain let out a huge squeal.
“Hey,” he said, stopping the bike two feet from us. A smear of dirt sat above his right eyebrow.
I stared straight ahead and pretended he wasn’t there.
“Hi,” said Billie.
“Billie,” I hissed. “What did I just say?”
She shrugged, her face turning red.
“What’s up?” the boy asked. He had a thicket of red hair that grew in all different directions. His face was sprinkled with freckles. He jiggled his knee like he needed to use the bathroom. And it was getting harder to pretend he wasn’t there.
“Don’t you talk?” he asked me, rubbing sweat out of his eyes, right into the smear of dirt. “Well, I know you do, ’cause I heard you talking to her.” He pointed a meaty finger wrapped in a Band-Aid at Billie.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to point?” I asked.
His arm came down to his side. He wiped his hand on his Star Wars T-shirt and shrugged his shoulders i
n a way that reminded me of a five-year-old, even though he looked about my age.
Go away.
But still he wouldn’t leave. He glanced at the guy working on the semi, trying to look bored.
The semi guy had the most tattoos I had ever seen. On his arm was a picture of a tongue with a ring pierced through the center. It made me shudder just to look at it. He walked around to the front of his truck, and then half of him disappeared under the hood.
“What are you doing?” the boy asked, turning back toward us. The freckles on his face turned a deep shade of red.
Billie just smiled.
“Nothing,” I said.
He shrugged in his annoying way and stared back at us, chewing a huge wad of gum.
“And anyway, it’s none of your business what we’re doing,” I said.
“Okay. What happened to her shoe?” he asked, his foot fiddling with the bike pedal.
“It broke,” said Billie.
“You should get another one.”
“Yeah, we know. Thanks a lot,” I said, turning my back away from him, hoping he would take the hint.
Still he stayed.
I pulled Billie closer to me.
Then he said, “So, do you guys want to do something?”
“Yeah,” said Billie.
I pushed up off the ground, completely exasperated, wishing I did have bearded dragon spikes to wave around and tell him to leave. “Of course not,” I said. “Go away.”
He shrugged, completely unfazed. He looked in the direction of the apartment buildings, then he blew a big bubble. When it popped he said, “Well, why are you just sitting here? What are you doing?”
Slowly, an idea formed.
“We’re hiding,” I said. Sometimes even animals help one another. Like the dolphin that led a whale and its baby out of too shallow water. Sometimes they help.
“From who?” he asked, leaning in closer, super happy to be let in on the secret.
“Some weird guy,” I said. “He’s at the gas station and he’s totally creeping us out.”
The boy nodded, like creepy gas station guys were a normal thing. He pulled out a pack of gum from his pocket. “Do you want a piece?”
“No,” I said.
Billie nodded. She shoved the square of purple gum into her mouth, her jaws struggling to chomp down on it. Finally, she got it going and blew a huge bubble.
“You sure?” he asked, holding out a cube to me.
I shook my head.
“So, do you want me to go see if he’s still there?” he asked after he shoved the gum back into his pocket.
“Yes.” I nodded slightly. “That’s exactly what I want you to do. Could you go see?”
Now he stood up taller. “Does Luke Skywalker carry a lightsaber? Of course I can. What does he look like?”
“Um … he’s pretty skinny.”
“And not very much hair,” said Billie, interrupting. “Like he has no hair in the middle of his head.”
I stared at her.
“What?” she asked, pulling her hand away from the top of her own head. “He doesn’t.”
The kid looked serious. “Okay, you guys wait here. I’ll check it out.” He disappeared around the corner.
“I thought we weren’t talking to strangers,” said Billie, watching him go.
“We’re not. Unless they seem all right.”
She had a dumb smile on her face. “I knew he seemed all right.”
Survival Strategy #26:
USE EVERYONE
Billie and me were still waiting for Star Wars Kid to come back. We sat under the gas station awning and watched Tattoo Guy struggle to get under the truck.
“What wears glass slippers and weighs over four thousand pounds?” I asked.
“What?” asked Billie.
“Cinderelephant.”
Billie nodded, distracted. Usually that one got a smile out of her.
“Why is that guy following us?” she asked.
“He isn’t,” I said, trying to make the worry leave her eyes. “He’s just hungry for gas station chips or something.” I was a great pretender, but the knot in my stomach told me I couldn’t fool myself.
Billie smiled. “So am I.”
“You could not possibly be hungry after all those muffins you ate.”
I watched the corner, waiting for the kid to come back. But maybe it would be the Spoon Guy instead. My skin felt all crawly.
Then Tattoo Guy stood up and pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket. As he mopped his forehead with it, his arm muscles rippled surrounded by a barbed wire tattoo. He had so many tattoos, I could barely see plain skin; he did not look even sort of nice. As if he could read minds, he turned and glared at us, and then went back to making clanking sounds underneath his hood.
I stood up.
“Where are you going?” asked Billie, grabbing my hand.
“Nowhere,” I said, putting her fingers in between mine. The inside of the cab looked pretty big. Like it was probably big enough for Antonio’s whole family in the back.
Tattoo Guy coughed.
Finally Star Wars Kid rode up, his chest puffed out like he was the Jedi Knight on his T-shirt.
“Yep, he’s in there. Standing by the magazines. A white shirt, right?”
The Spoon Guy’s creepy face appeared in my mind, but I couldn’t remember the color of his shirt. I nodded. “I think so.”
The kid stuck his hands in his pockets, his bike balanced between his legs. “Welp. What should we do?”
“We?”
“Yep. Now I have to help.” He seemed proud of himself.
Tattoo Guy turned the key to the semi. The truck roared to life and then died again just as quickly. He cursed and kicked the door, then walked toward the front of the gas station. I wondered how long he had been trying to fix it.
“I live just right over there.” The kid pointed to the apartment buildings. “You wanna come over? You know, until that guy leaves?”
I shook my head.
Billie nodded.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t concentrate. Billie and me, we were trapped. It made me want to throw something. Or hit something. Or maybe sit down right here and have a screaming fit like Billie because I was so mad.
I turned to Star Wars Kid. “Go look again.”
“I just did.”
“I know. Do it again,” I demanded. “I need to see if that weird guy left yet.”
“But I was just in there—”
“Fine, if you don’t want to help us, then go away.”
That hurt his feelings. He scrunched up his eyes. “I am helping.”
“Please,” said Billie, giving me a look.
I hated asking anyone for help. “Fine,” I said. “Please?”
“All right, all right.” He turned his bike around. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re pretty bossy?” he asked.
Billie nodded.
Whatever. If bossy meant saving us and keeping Billie and me together, then I’d take it.
He turned the corner and was gone. Now it was only me and Billie. The Air Guy, gone. Tattoo Guy, gone. Star Wars Kid, gone.
Billie blew another bubble into the air, then poked it so the tip of her finger was covered in gum.
Above us, the leaves on the trees hung limp and tired, the heat sucking energy from every living thing.
“Hey.”
I turned. Star Wars Kid was back. He rode his bike over, scared. “He’s coming.”
“Who?” He couldn’t possibly mean the Spoon Guy.
“What do you mean, who? That guy you told me to check on. He’s coming right now, walking around the side of the building, heading back here. Hurry. Follow me.” He headed toward the apartments.
Billie grabbed my hand.
I didn’t have one second to plan or think of a better idea, so we followed Star Wars Kid.
He stopped in front of some tall, thick bushes and pushed his bike right in and then ducked behind it, complete
ly hidden. “Come on,” he said, pushing branches out of the way and motioning to us. “We’ll be safe in here.”
Not knowing what else to do, I pushed Billie ahead of me and followed close behind. The branches whipped my face, scratching my cheek like the bush had claws it used as a defense system to keep out branch-breaking kids. From here we had a perfect view of the back side of the gas station. And just in that moment, the Spoon Guy appeared.
“Ouch,” said Billie, holding up her foot. “I stepped on something.”
“Shh!” said Star Wars Kid. His eyes narrowed and then he smiled, pushing the sweat out of his eyes with his dirty fingers. He probably hadn’t had this much fun in weeks. “Be quiet.”
We crouched down like Star Wars Kid and waited. To him it was play, but for us it was too real.
Survival Strategy #27:
NEVER TRUST LUKE SKYWALKER
“See, I told you,” Star Wars Kid said, pulling back some branches so I could see the Spoon Guy better. He stared into the parking lot with his hands on his hips.
“Come on,” said Star Wars Kid, burrowing deeper through the hedges into a small tunnel of branches, just like a beaver making a burrow. “Don’t worry about my bike,” he said, climbing over it. “It will be safe here. I’ll come back and get it later.”
Someone had clearly made this secret path, and I had a strong suspicion it was Star Wars Kid. We crawled on our hands and knees through the bushes until we rounded the corner of the apartment building. He stopped and peered out from inside the bush. “Okay, all clear.” He did some sort of weird karate roll and popped out onto the sidewalk.
Billie stared after him, and looked not quite sure if she had to do the same thing.
I pushed ahead of her. “Come on, you don’t have to do the somersault.” I crawled through, stood up, and brushed dirt off my hands and knees.
Billie’s face poked out from inside the bush. “But what if I want to?”
“Billie.” We didn’t have time for karate rolls.
“Here,” said Star Wars Kid. “Just tuck your head under like this and then roll.” He did another ridiculous roll just to prove he could.
