Snowbirds

by Crissa Chappell

  Crystal reaches for my hand. “You’re not really going, are you, Lucy?”

  “I have to.”

  “But why?” she asks.

  Because me and Alice are sisters.

  That’s why.

  I leave the table and head outside. If Sarah is telling the truth, then Alice is in more trouble than I ever imagined.

  Faron is waiting on a bench outside. “How did it go?”

  Before I can answer, the door swings open. Crystal pushes her wheelchair into the sunshine. She whips off her furry hat and tosses it at me.

  “For luck,” she says.

  “Thanks,” I say, tugging it over my head.

  Faron smirks. “Thought you didn’t believe in luck?”

  “I do now.”

  “Well, it will keep your lid warm,” she says. “And here’s a doggy bag for the road.” She hands me a Styrofoam carton soaked with grease.

  I pry it open. Inside is a mess of pancakes slathered with oatmeal and eggs.

  “Oh well,” says Faron, popping a strip of bacon into his mouth. “It all goes down the same hatch.”

  Crystal laughs. She pulls my sleeve and whispers, “Your boyfriend is pretty awesome. And he smells yummy too.”

  After two days in the truck, I doubt either of us smells yummy.

  “Call me when you get back to Florida,” she says. “We need to hang out. And I’m totally going to make that princess dress for you. Remember?”

  I remember.

  “And Lucy . . . be careful, okay?” she says. “That guy you’re trying to find . . . he sounds like a freak. I mean, he could hurt you.”

  I give Crystal a hug. “I’ll be careful.”

  “Good,” she says. “Or else I’ll hunt you down.”

  Did Tobias use Sarah’s money to get to Florida? He tricked her into believing he was for real. Alice too.

  How many girls believed his lies?

  If Tobias is here in Maine, I’m going to find him.

  I climb back in the truck. Another hour of driving and no guarantees. But we’ve come this far. I can go a little further.

  “So where are we headed?” asks Faron.

  “Gouldsboro,” I tell him.

  “What for?”

  “Because that’s where Tobias is.”

  If I’m lucky.

  chapter twenty-two

  fish bones

  The faded plywood sign rises above the cannery, so tall it almost reaches the power lines. It’s carved into the shape of a fisherman in a yellow rain jacket. Between his giant hands, he clutches a lobster trap.

  “This must be it,” says Faron as we walk to the docks.

  The oily stink of fish makes my stomach clench. Do the cannery workers ever get used to it? Or do they take three or four showers once they’re home?

  A woman in a plastic hairnet and overalls is talking on a cell phone outside the cannery. She watches the lobster boats as they bob on the harbor. I get the feeling she’s watching us too.

  “I’m on break right now. Ask Nana to get it for you. No, we’re out of mayonnaise,” she says, stretching out the word: may-uh-nayze.

  “Hello, ma’am,” I say in my extra polite voice.

  She turns around. “You folks lost?”

  “We’re looking for Tobias.”

  “Tobias? You mean that boy, Toby Granger?” She flicks her cigarette in the water. “He works the Slime Line, yeah?”

  “Can we talk to him?”

  “Not until five,” she says, snapping on a pair of gloves. “If you can wait that long.”

  “Doesn’t he have a break or something?”

  “Toby can’t get a break,” she says, shoving past me. She stomps ahead, the planks creaking under her rubber boots.

  Faron looks at me. “What now?”

  “Only one thing to do,” I say, sitting on the edge of the dock.

  We wait.

  • • •

  All afternoon, we wait. Nothing to see except boats and buoys drifting with the tide. That gets old real fast.

  Good thing I’m good at waiting.

  “You think he’s going to talk to us?” asks Faron.

  “I’ll make sure he does.”

  He’s been talking to a lot of girls.

  Now he can talk to me.

  Faron stands up and looks at the horizon. “There’s a harbor seal,” he says, pointing.

  “It’s a sign.”

  “There you go again, talking about luck.” Faron squeezes my shoulder. “You cold yet?”

  “I thought you never got cold.”

  He shrugs. “Let’s wait in the truck. Warm up a little.”

  “What if Tobias comes out and we miss him?”

  “It ain’t quitting time yet.”

  “I know. But we’re getting close.”

  “Won’t be gone long,” he says, walking away. “Holler if you get lonely.”

  I sit on the edge of the dock, swinging my legs over the slate-gray water. The beaches are different here, more rock than sand, but the same birds whirl in the sky—sandpipers and gulls. They didn’t leave for the winter. They’ll stick it out a little longer.

  So will I.

  At last, the workers begin to spill out of the cannery. Most are women with raw, windburned faces. They’re all wearing plastic hairnets. I squint at the crowd, searching for Tobias, but I don’t see any boys.

  As they leave, I reach into my bag and take out my prayer cap. Carefully, I pin my hair inside it. I wait for the last cannery worker to slip out the door. It’s the woman I saw on the docks. Mayonnaise Lady. She’s on her cell phone, walking straight ahead, gripping it like a compass. Back and forth she paces outside the door. Will she ever get out of the way?

  Now she’s yelling into the phone, spitting words I’d never say out loud. I feel bad for whoever is putting up with that. Still, she won’t move away from the door. Slowly, it begins to close.

  I can’t wait anymore.

  So I run.

  “Hey! You can’t just waltz in there,” she shouts.

  The door swings shut.

  I lean against the wall, my heart thudding in my chest. There’s a glassed-in booth at the end of the long corridor. Maybe it’s some kind of security desk. As the workers leave, they stop and talk to the man inside. I stumble along with the others, like I’m supposed to be there.

  The floor is slick with fish guts. My stomach tightens and I almost throw up, right in front of everybody. I’m not dressed like the cannery women. But I’ve got my hair tucked under my prayer cap. I slip into the crowd and keep moving.

  In the next room, fluorescent lights gleam off rows of metal machinery. I stare at the conveyor belt, the sardine heads gaping, their pointy mouths open in surprise. I can’t help looking at their delicate bones, the empty skulls and rib cages, like a piece of sculpture, and the bones inside me too.

  In the back of the cannery, there’s a door marked MEN’S. I really don’t want to go in there. Gritting my teeth, I push my way inside.

  There’s a row of sinks and only one stall. I tap it with the heel of my sneaker and the door bangs open.

  Tobias looks up at me, his eyes blank. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He’s wearing the skeleton T-shirt, only now it’s smeared with bloodlike splotches. The toilet lid’s down and he’s sitting on it, snapping pages in a comic book. We both stare at each other.

  “Get out,” he yells.

  “I want to talk to you, okay?”

  “You’re Alice’s friend.”

  “That’s right,” I tell him, stepping closer. “We’ve been friends a long time. Best friends.”

  “I hate that girl,” he says flatly.

  This isn’t what I expected to hear.

  “Why do you hate Alice?” I ask, trying to stay calm.

  “Because she lied.” He tosses the comic book on the floor. It lands with its pages flopped open—girls shooting bullets out of their eyes.

  “Please. Just talk to me.�
��

  Tobias rubs his face. For a second, I think he’s going to start crying. “She lied about everything.”

  He gets up and shoves past me. If Tobias disappears inside the cannery, I’ll never find him. I race after him, but he’s already out the door. My feet pound through the hallway, skidding on bits of bone and fish guts.

  I stumble into the room with the metal tables. There’s nowhere to go except outside. Tobias is ahead of me. He ducks under the conveyer belt and lands on his knees. I run to the other side, blocking his way out.

  “Where is Alice?” I shout at him.

  Tobias slumps over like he’s been shot. He groans and rocks side to side. “I didn’t do anything to her. Just leave me alone.”

  “I saw what you did.”

  He wipes his hands on his jeans. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s on Sarah’s camera.”

  “You’re friends with her?” he says, wincing. “That’s why you’re coming after me?”

  “I want to know where Alice is.”

  “Well, obviously she’s not here.” Tobias inches toward the door.

  When we leave the cannery, the sky is blank. It’s even colder outside than it was before. Across the parking lot, Faron is leaning against the truck.

  Tobias makes a face. “You again.”

  “It’s okay,” says Faron, like he’s trying to convince himself. “You’re okay,” he says, moving closer to us. “Everything’s okay.”

  Actually, nothing is okay.

  Tobias glances over his shoulder. The workers are smoking on the docks. One of them dumps a bucket into the water. The seagulls swoop down and wrestle over the mess, screaming and jabbing each other.

  “Just leave me alone,” he mutters.

  “Not until you start talking.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  When somebody says, “I didn’t do anything,” you can bet they’re lying.

  “What if I get us some beer?” Faron asks. “Then maybe you’ll feel like talking?”

  “We can’t drink at my house.”

  “Fine. Just tell us where to go.”

  “I’m not going with you,” Tobias says. He’s got this damaged edge to his voice, like people have been shouting over him for so long, he’s given up.

  “What about a hotel?” Faron asks. “You could take a shower, drink a couple beers. Does that work?”

  “We’re getting a six-pack, right?” Tobias says.

  Faron nods. “I’ll stop at a gas station.”

  Tobias stays quiet for a minute. He looks at the workers, then back at us.

  “Deal,” he finally says.

  When Faron pulls out the keys to the truck, Tobias stares at his hand. “You’re lucky. There’s this girl at the cannery who cut off her thumb,” he says, hoisting himself into the truck bed. “I couldn’t hear her screaming ’cause they make us wear earplugs.”

  “You don’t have to ride back there,” Faron says.

  Tobias hangs over the side like a dog. “I can be the lookout.”

  “Lookout for what?”

  “If the cops start chasing us.”

  Faron glances at me. I know what he’s thinking. We have to get rid of the truck. Not now. But soon.

  As we speed away from the cannery, I look at my sneakers, their laces soaked in fish grease.

  They will never be clean again.

  chapter twenty-three

  from away

  “Absolutely not,” says the guy at the front desk. “Everything’s booked. I’ve got nothing open.”

  I glance around the hotel lobby. A faded painting of a lighthouse hangs over a sagging leather couch. Beside it, a potted plant droops against the wall, its plasticky leaves flecked with dust.

  “You’re sure about that?” I ask.

  “Positive,” he says, smoothing a strand of hair off his forehead. I get the feeling he’s been here longer than the furniture. “Besides. I can’t book a room for someone your age. Hotel policy. You need a parent or guardian’s permission.”

  Now we’re stuck. I need to think of something. Fast.

  I grab Faron’s hand. “He doesn’t know,” I whisper.

  “Know what?”

  “He doesn’t know we’re married.”

  The man blinks. “Aren’t you two a little young for that?”

  Faron takes out his driver’s license and slaps it on the counter. “I’m twenty-one. It says so right here.”

  “And how will you be paying?” the man says, putting on his glasses. He squints at the license, then at us.

  “Here.” I reach into my bag and shove what’s left of my money at him. Everything I’ve saved up from my job. All gone.

  The man stares at the pile of cash. “Let me check. Sometimes we get a last-minute cancellation.” He pushes buttons on a computer. “Looks like there’s a single open,” he says after a minute. “King-sized bed. Is that okay?”

  My cheeks sting. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  Tobias is waiting for us in the truck. As we walk back to the parking lot, Faron smirks. “Good thinking, Lucy,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I should’ve thought of that, you know. The marriage thing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my family’s Old Order,” he says, staring at the highway in the distance.

  Is Faron really going to try and make peace with his family? I know this is important to him. I should be praying they welcome him with open arms.

  But I can’t.

  • • •

  As soon as we’re in the room, Tobias pulls out a beer. “Nice,” he says, trying to wrestle off the cap. “How did you manage to score the six-pack?”

  Faron snatches the bottle out of his hands. “Two words. Fake ID.”

  “That’s four words, actually,” Tobias says, looking around the dingy room. “Man, this is awesome.” He grabs the TV remote and clicks on a fishing tournament. I am definitely over fish at this point.

  “Here you go.” Faron hooks his lighter under the cap and pops it open. He passes it back to Tobias. “King of beers.”

  Tobias gulps it so fast, he almost chokes. “Thanks, man,” he says, flopping on the bed. He doesn’t even take off his dirty sneakers.

  “Does anybody want to take a shower?” I ask.

  “With you? Sure.” Tobias grins.

  Faron yanks him by the shirt so hard he almost falls off the bed. “You better start talking. And I mean fast. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” he says in a small voice.

  “Good.” Faron lets go.

  Tobias glances at me. “You first.”

  I don’t want to leave, in case he says something important about Alice. Maybe he’ll talk more to Faron, man-to-man. I close the bathroom door and let the shower pound my back. When I come out, Tobias looks wasted. He’s already finished off two beers.

  “I need another round,” he says, reaching for the six-pack.

  “All right.” Faron’s eyes meet mine. “You okay, Lucy?”

  I nod.

  He leaves me there.

  Alone.

  I sit next to Tobias on the flowery bedspread. “Are we going to talk about Alice now?”

  He grabs the TV remote. “That girl totally played me,” he says, slurring a little.

  “What happened?”

  Tobias keeps his gaze on the flickering screen. “Didn’t you hear me the first time? I already told you. She lied.”

  “You haven’t told me anything.”

  “Listen. This is between me and her.”

  “I was at that party, too.”

  He looks at me. “Alice wanted to get away from her mom,” he says, clicking channels. “Her family’s Amish. You know that, right?”

  “Yes. So is my family.”

  “For real? You sure don’t look it.”

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “Me? Hell no.” He stares at the commercial on TV. If you’ve moved to Maine ‘from away’ . . .

  All th
is time, I thought Tobias was running away from the Old Order. Now he’s saying it isn’t true.

  “How did you meet Alice?”

  “We started talking online last summer. When she told me about the Amish stuff, I thought she was making it up. I mean, come on. I met this girl playing World of Warcraft.”

  “So when did you get together in real life?”

  “I got Alice into LARPing,” he says. “Then she had to go and kill me off.”

  He’s talking so fast, I can barely keep up. “What do you mean, Alice killed you?”

  “She cast an Elemental spell on me. Basically, she froze time so I couldn’t move.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe she betrayed me like that.”

  I remember the video Tobias put online. The anger in his voice. “I’ll make up my own rules.”

  “After I got kicked out of the games, I didn’t see her for a while,” he says. “A couple weeks ago, I get this email from Alice, saying we should meet up in Florida. The Amish have this thing called Rumspringa. It’s kind of like spring break.”

  “I know.”

  “Alice’s mom was pressuring her to join the church. And you know what that means. I’d never see her again.” He gulps the beer, tipping his head back. “I tried to help her. But she was just using me.”

  My heart is thudding so hard, I wonder if he can hear it. “I thought you were running away together.”

  “We were supposed to go the bus station after the party, right? But Alice got so wasted. I mean, she was really out of it. Then I find her sleeping in this guy’s car. I tried to get her out. But she wouldn’t listen.”

  “I saw what you did.”

  “You weren’t there, okay?” Toby’s upper lip is dotted with sweat.

  I wait for him to blame Alice.

  And he does.

  “It’s not my fault she got so wasted,” he says. “I mean, I’m not in charge of her life or anything.”

  “So you just left her in the park.”

  “Isn’t that what you did?” he says.

  I flinch.

  It’s not the same thing.

  That’s what I keep telling myself.

  “Where did you go after the party?” I ask, looking right at him.

  “I got a ride to Lido Key. Didn’t stay long. The cops showed up and kicked everybody out.”