Back on the Map

by Lisa Ann Scott

  Mr. Hanes continued, in a voice like he was telling a ghost story, “Joe left his first doom painting on the front door of New Hope’s Finest, and the very next day the developers disappeared, along with the money to finish the project. He’s been painting them ever since. And that’s why I’m leaving right now, and never coming back. With my luck, I’d find one on my doorstep tomorrow morning, and my life would be ruined.” His color was returning as he gathered his things and headed for the door. “Goodbye, kids.”

  I waved at him. “So long, Mr. Hanes. Maybe someday you can come back. If we get New Hope on the map. I mean, when we do. ’Cause we will.”

  He laughed. “I hope you do, kids. Lock the door when you’re done in here.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll just get this map, and then we’ll leave.”

  Parker and I got the map down, and I noticed the name and address of the map company printed in tiny letters at the top: CHARTER MAPS IN RALEIGH. I rolled it up. Parker looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

  I knew what he was wondering. I blew out a long breath, like it could take all my anxious feelings with it. “I don’t know how we’ll get New Hope back on the map. But we will.” Because if we didn’t, we’d get bounced right into the system, just like Nanny Gladys had warned us so many times.

  But I’d never let us go into the system. We’d run away together before the two of us got split up. I’d never let us be forced to live with folks who didn’t want us.

  CHAPTER 3

  We packed everything into the trading cart, and I grabbed my book and my letter from the desk. I put the letter in my pocket and tucked the book into my bookbag. I’d been so excited, loading up the trading cart, I’d forgotten for a while to worry about finding our stuff packed up at home. Maybe Grauntie was waiting until we got there to give us the bad news.

  Parker put on his sunglasses as we stepped outside. He didn’t like bright lights. To be honest, the sun didn’t shine very often in New Hope. It was usually tucked behind the clouds, like it was snoozing every time our bit of the earth passed by. Like we weren’t important enough to peer at. But Parker didn’t want to take a chance that it might peek out, so he always wore his sunglasses outdoors.

  He slid on his winter gloves—he hated the smell the metal handle left on his skin—and then grabbed on to the cart. “Your hair clip is behind your dresser.”

  “Thanks.” I didn’t even ask how he knew I was looking for it—or where it was, for that matter. Parker could find stuff you didn’t even know you were missing. It was like magic.

  We pulled the wagon train home, taking turns ’cause it was heavy. A tight, tight knot was building in my chest as I wondered if we’d find our bags waiting in the living room. People seemed to feel better about shipping us off once school let out, since it didn’t “disrupt our learning.” Like they should get a medal for sticking with us till summer.

  “Think we’re getting bounced?” Parker asked. “Maybe we could ask to go back with Uncle Dean. He always had ice cream in the freezer.” He sounded like he wasn’t even worried. He had no idea how hard it was, being in charge of us both.

  I stopped and shook a finger at him. “Parker Porter, you know what Mama told us. We don’t ask for handouts or help, and we certainly aren’t going to ask to be part of a family. A real family just wants you, no begging required.”

  Parker kicked a rock down the road until it bounced out of sight. “Wonder where we’ll go next, then.”

  “Hush,” I said. I didn’t want to tell him the truth: that we were out of options. That if Grauntie didn’t want us anymore, we’d be living in the wild lickety-split. “We want to stay here. Once we get New Hope back on the map, we won’t have to worry about moving around no more.”

  Parker stuck out his bottom lip. “I guess. I just liked it best at Uncle Dean’s. That’s all.”

  “And he shipped us off,” I reminded him in a nasty tone.

  He crossed his arms and looked away from me. “Wouldn’t hurt to ask if we could come back.” His voice had a nasty tinge to it.

  “Yes, it would.” I sighed. Thank goodness Mama had put me in charge. She said so in the letter she wrote me from the hospital, before she died. That was the number-one most important thing I owned. I could never, ever lose that.

  It wasn’t a long letter, but it was stuffed with serious things. Besides telling me I was in charge of Parker since I’d been born a few minutes before him, Mama had written that she was sorry for leaving us, and warned me that life isn’t fair—boy, was she right about that one. Plus, the letter had her three rules for getting by:

  #1: Don’t expect too much from the world. That way, you’ll never be disappointed.

  #2: Don’t ask for help. We’re not a charity case.

  #3: You should never, ever have to ask someone to love you.

  I always, always wished there was a page two of that letter, where she told me something about my daddy. At least one tiny little bit of information. Where was he? What great things did he do? I didn’t even know his name. No one did—trust me, I’d asked everyone. All the relatives on Mama’s mama’s side. “I don’t know who your daddy is,” cousin Janice had told us at a family party. “Darlene would never tell anyone. Broke her mama’s heart coming home pregnant with you two. Such a disappointment.” The other relatives frowned at us and shook their heads when she said that. I never knew who was the disappointment though—Mama or me and Parker.

  We walked on silently, past the cattails growing in ditches along the road. Parker wouldn’t look at me, probably still mad I wouldn’t ask Uncle Dean to take us back. We didn’t argue often. Left a bad feeling in my tummy when we did. Usually, he agreed with whatever I told him.

  Parker would never be okay on his own. He needed my help settling in to each new place so we didn’t cause much of a fuss. After Mama died, the first place we stayed was with Mama’s mama, Granny Lynn. We didn’t know her much, but I got excited, thinking we’d be there for good. Turns out we gave her too many migraines—and too many reminders of what Granny Lynn always said was her daughter’s biggest shame, having two brown children out of wedlock.

  I thought that was strange. Seemed like we’d be a nice reminder of Mama. Her only reminder. But, no, she shipped us to her mama, Nanny Gladys. She kept us till the end of the school year and complained the whole time we were there. I didn’t even bother getting hopeful the next few times we got bounced. We just didn’t fit right in Mama’s family. Maybe ’cause they were all snowy white and we weren’t?

  At least Grauntie didn’t seem to mind us. Maybe ’cause we did most of the work. Heck, maybe she’d just forgotten how to be mean. As we came in sight of her house, I noticed the grass was knee-high in the front yard. We’d need someone to cut it soon—if we were still here. I could trade for that. But most yards ’round the house were overgrown. It was like the town of New Hope, North Carolina, had fallen asleep one day and never woken up. The two of us just weren’t a problem here, with the boarded-up houses and crumbling roads. It was the perfect place for two kids no one wanted.

  I was in no rush to go inside to find out we were getting bounced, so we pulled the trading cart to the shed behind Grauntie’s house. She rarely left the house and had no use for the shed, so we took it over when we moved in.

  Daniel Boone went right on my family tree when I first created the trading cart. He traded furs when he was young. All his trading blazed the Wilderness Road through the Appalachian Mountains, right here in North Carolina, through Tennessee and into Kentucky. Thousands of people followed that trail—they were able to settle in Kentucky thanks to that road. How could I not be related to Daniel Boone after creating my trading cart? And he’d been in this very area—trading! I hadn’t blazed a trail yet, but I did know what people wanted and made trades for what we needed. Boone genes were in my blood for sure. I closed my eyes and reminded myself, I am the descendant of a great American pioneer.

  After we unloaded our stuff in the shed, Parker got
busy organizing it all, placing the posters with the paper goods and the paints with the art supplies. He set the four plants on the ground outside the shed and stacked the books on the floor inside. Parker loved putting similar things in piles or boxes or bags. Along with finding missing things, being a top-notch organizer was one of his talents. That and smelling things no one else could. A human hound dog, you could say.

  Maybe it was a waste to do all this organizing if we weren’t even going to be here tomorrow, but we had a load of perfectly good stuff that had to be put away. Maybe Carly and Chase would take it over if we left.

  Parker looked up at Grauntie’s house. It was a small, square house, dirty white paint peeling off it like a bad sunburn.

  “Yeah, we should go see what she needs,” I said. My heart started tap dancing, wondering if our stuff would be sitting by the front door.

  We left the wagons by the shed, then went inside. There was no sign of our things packed up in the living room. I dashed to my bedroom to see if a bag was in there, but everything was still stacked on the bed. I blew out a long breath.

  I went back to the living room, where I suddenly noticed Grauntie was asleep in front of the TV, the side of her face pressed against the high, curved arm of her pale-blue couch. It seemed just as faded and worn as Grauntie—she almost blended in with it. Threads were pulled loose on the arms from long-ago cats that’d scratched it. I sure wished she still had cats. I would’ve liked the company of a warm, furry friend when I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.

  The room was so quiet that Grauntie’s snores filled the whole space. I cleared my throat. “We’re home. Any chores for us today?”

  Grauntie’s eyes fluttered open. “Who’s there?” Her gaze darted around the room.

  “It’s us. Parker and Penny.” Sometimes Grauntie forgot we were living with her, especially when she first woke up.

  She nodded and blinked. “Yes, of course. Where’s my pocketbook?”

  “Right on your lap,” I told her.

  She patted her purse and smacked her lips a few times. “I could use a glass of water, Lucky Penny.”

  I gritted my teeth. Grauntie knew I hated being called Lucky Penny. Though she might’ve forgotten. She remembered stuff from long ago better than newer things. Maybe those things stuck to her mind better, having been there so long.

  But how could anyone think I was lucky? The more I protested the nickname, the more people insisted on using it. In one school, kids on the bus even threw pennies at me. At another, two boys in back of the bus lifted me in the air like they were going to flip a coin—the coin being me.

  Parker had gotten real upset when he saw what was happening, so I’d started screaming and kicking to set myself free. Then Parker and me got kicked off the bus, and shipped off from Uncle Dean’s house, since he couldn’t drive us to school and it was too far to walk. That’s how we ended up here at Grauntie’s.

  “Don’t call me Lucky Penny,” I said to Grauntie, but she acted like she hadn’t heard me.

  Parker showed up with a glass of water. Grauntie drank it down in a long, loud slurp. “We need something for dinner. Had something planned out, can’t remember what,” she said. “Oh, and the screen door isn’t latching when you kids leave for school in the morning. The cat keeps getting out.”

  No need reminding her we didn’t have a cat. “We can take care of that,” I said. “Anything else?”

  “Some of Jenny Gray’s strawberry jam would be nice for my … my bread in the morning. The crispy bread. I’m all out.” She was rubbing her hands together, like she was worried.

  “Okay. We’ll be back in a few hours with dinner and jam and someone to fix the door.” When we first came to Grauntie’s, she still took care of most things. But lately, we’d had to take over and keep things running smoothly. If not, she might decide taking care of us was too hard, and send us away.

  I didn’t mind the work. Besides, there wasn’t much else to do, besides watch her boring programs and go through the old children’s encyclopedias stacked on a bookshelf in the family room. I’d read them all twice. They were so old they said man was hoping to reach the moon one day. Maybe some of the books from Mr. Hanes would be interesting; it wouldn’t take much to improve life at Grauntie’s. But at least it didn’t seem like she had plans to kick us out.

  Unless she’d forgotten.

  CHAPTER 4

  If we weren’t getting bounced yet, I had time to get New Hope back on the map and keep us there. Course, I had no idea how, so I’d be asking some questions when we went into town with our trading cart.

  I went out to the shed to get ready, and Parker followed. “What should we bring today?” I asked him. We had a shed full of other people’s castoffs, things we’d picked up along the roadside on garbage days. We took anything people didn’t want. Couldn’t bear to see perfectly good things thrown away. Things someone had once needed or loved. Anyway, you never know what will come in handy.

  Somehow, Parker always knew exactly what people wanted to trade for. Stuff they didn’t know was missing from their life. “Bring tin can critters.” He looked around the dim space and pointed to a tall vase. “And the silverware, too.” Parker put two plants in the back wagon, and he nodded at me that he was ready to go.

  I set a few more things in there, just so people would have a chance to do some browsing.

  Parker slipped on his gloves before grabbing the wagon handle. Sometimes an odor set him off into a fit when the world became too much. He’d cry and kick, and he’d hold his hands over his ears—probably so he didn’t have to listen to himself. It was hard to calm him down. Rubbing the silky strip of his old baby blanket along his arms helped. Other times, I had to hold him tight until he stopped. Luckily, it didn’t happen that often.

  We walked down the dusty road toward town. Our first stop was Jenny Gray’s. She was an easy trade ’cause she always made too much jam and was eager to get rid of it. I always knew when Jenny had made a new batch, ’cause she’d be filled up with color. We pulled the wagon up to her porch, then rapped on the door. “Parker and Penny’s trading cart here to do business,” I said.

  No answer. But that wasn’t surprising. Most folks in New Hope had no use for visitors and little enthusiasm for opening the door.

  I pressed the doorbell a few times. “Trading cart’s here. We’ve got just what you need.”

  After a few moments, Jenny appeared at the door. “Hello.” She must’ve been inspired by her name, because everything she wore was gray: gray pants, gray shirt, gray shawl wrapped tightly around her. It was a very pale gray today. Guess she hadn’t been making jam lately.

  “Grauntie needs a few jars of jam, and we’ve got plenty to trade, all in the cart.”

  Jenny’s eyes darted around like she was making sure it was okay to come out. Then she shuffled down her steps to look in the cart. She picked up the vase, but her eyes kept coming back to the plants. She rubbed one of the velvety green leaves between her fingers. “I haven’t had a houseplant in years. And this is a lovely one.” She picked it up, holding it against her. “This would be fine for a trade, if it’s okay with you.”

  I smiled at Parker. He’d been right to bring the plants. “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll get some jam.” She took the plant inside and returned with three jars.

  We waved goodbye to Jenny, then headed toward the center of town. “Mr. Gaiser should be able to fix the screen door. Plus, he’s got all the parts at his store.” I took the handle from Parker and pulled the cart.

  New Hope’s Finest loomed over us as we went into town. The boarded-up windows had big black X’s painted across them. It felt like the building’s wide eyes were watching us as we walked along, daring us to look up at it without feeling bad. The trees rustled even though there was no breeze. A flock of birds flew off the roof like a burst of wind. Some people thought the place was haunted. Others said it was cursed. You got a certain feeling walking by it, that was for sure. I st
udied my feet as we made our way past.

  Main Street was quiet, just a car or two driving by. A few black-and-white-sketch people quietly walked down the street.

  Parker stuck his nose in the air. “The Carlsons made meatloaf today.”

  “We’ll get there in a bit,” I said.

  “I’m hungry now,” Parker whined.

  I sighed. “If you can be patient and wait, you can ask for dessert, too.”

  His smile returned, and we pulled the cart into the hardware store. Mr. Gaiser was hunched over on his stool, watching a show on a little TV behind the counter. Sitting like that, he looked even older than he was. “Fifty-nine and feeling fine,” he liked to say. He always wore a flannel shirt, even in the summertime.

  “Parker and Penny’s trading cart, here to do business,” I announced.

  “Ah, my favorite young entrepreneurs.” Mr. Gaiser’s color returned a bit when we visited. “And my first customers of the day. If business doesn’t pick up one of these days …” He sighed. “What can I do for you?”

  “Grauntie says the screen door isn’t latching and needs to be fixed. We were hoping you could do that in exchange for something from the cart.”

  “Of course. Now, let me see what you have.” Mr. Gaiser took a long time deciding, probably because he didn’t have much else to do. First he picked up the plant and set it next to his register, then shook his head and put it back. He considered a few more things before he finally chose the vase. “I can stick my complimentary paint stirrers in here.” He set it on the counter. “I’ll stop by after supper tonight to fix the door.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Gaiser,” I said. “Just be sure you don’t go inside and disturb her. She might be sleeping.” But that wasn’t the whole truth. I just didn’t want him to see how forgetful she’d become. We didn’t need busybodies nosing around in our business.