by Brian Rowe
“Here goes nothing,” I said. I leaned my belly against the sill and stuck my legs out into the air. I just dangled there for a second, like I was on a teeter-totter, until I crashed down inside and rolled out onto a gray carpet.
I kicked the curtains away and looked out on a charming, if stuffily decorated, game room, complete with a TV, lounge chairs, dartboard, and pool table.
I started walking toward the table, when a pool ball launched from the corner of the room, all the way up to my face. I ducked at the last possible second, just in time for the ball to whizz past my shoulder and slam against the curtain behind me.
“Whoa. Whoa!” Another ball came for my head, and I dropped down to my knees and stuck out my hands. “Put the pool balls down!”
I waited. Nothing. I looked up. A little girl was crouched down in the back of the room, her head buried between her legs.
“Please don’t hurt me,” the girl said.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said. “Trust me, I’m as scared as you are.”
A loud bang at the door almost made me scream. “Let us in!” Mr. Balm shouted.
“Hold on,” I said. “Just stay back for a second!”
I crept up to the girl, slowly. I thought she would try to run, but she didn’t move. I stopped about a yard away.
“My name is Zipporah,” I said, in the sweetest voice possible. “What’s yours?”
The girl’s head finally emerged. She had a soft halo of dark frizzy hair, and skin like milk chocolate. She was seven years old, maybe eight. When she looked at me, I smiled back.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I said. “I promise. I’m on your side.”
Mr. Balm knocked on the door again. “Can we come in yet?”
“I’m going to open the door now,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on the girl. “It’s just me, and two friends of mine. All right?”
I unlocked the door and pulled it open. Frankie and Mr. Balm stood in the hallway, annoyed.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Balm asked. “Is someone in there?”
“Yes,” I said. “A little girl. Don’t frighten her.”
I kept the door wedged open, and the three of us walked to the pool table, me out in front. We peered down at the girl; she looked the size of a shoebox in the back corner.
“Can you tell me your name?” I asked.
She glanced at me again, with her baby brown eyes. “Elle.”
“Hi Elle. You can call me Zippy. This here is Frankie and Mr. Balm.” The dog barked a few more times behind me. “And that’s Judy.”
The girl’s attention veered toward the dog. “Judy, you said?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it a girl dog?” She shifted her body toward us. “She looks like a boy to me.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but then closed it. I glanced at Frankie, who shrugged.
“You know what? She brings up a good point,” I said. “I mean, we never actually checked.”
I figured the sooner this child trusted me, the sooner she’d cooperate, and answer all our questions. I marched into the hallway, toward Judy.
“Come here, girl,” I said.
Judy was in a playful mood; as soon as I rubbed her head, she fell to her side and let me tickle her belly.
“Oh jeez,” I said.
“What?” Frankie stepped toward me.
I re-entered the room. “Elle’s right. She’s a he.”
“Huh?”
“Judy’s got a wiener.”
“Oh,” Frankie said. “Weird. But it’s such a girly dog. And why would her owners give her a female name?”
I shrugged. “Maybe Judy’s gay, too.”
The girl giggled in the corner of the room, then smiled at me. “You’re weird,” she said.
I put up my right hand. “Guilty as charged!”
Mr. Balm cleared his throat, loudly. We all turned to him. “This is real cute and all, but could we get to the matter at hand?” He marched past the pool table, with a bit too much aggression, and approached the frightened girl. “Can you tell us where your parents are?”
Her smile faded, and she drew back into the curtains.
“Mr. Balm, no,” I said, and rushed forward. “Let me handle this.”
Elle pointed at the old man. “I don’t like him.”
I nudged Mr. Balm away with my elbow and kneeled down in front of the girl. “Elle, you aren’t hurt or anything, are you?”
She shook her head.
“That’s good. Do you think you could answer a question for me?”
She pursed her lips and looked down at the carpet. “What kind of question?”
“Can you tell me where your mom and dad are?”
The girl bit down on her bottom lip, so hard I thought it might bleed, before she nodded, again.
“Okay.” I waited for a response. “Where are they?”
“They’re… gone,” she said. She clamped her hands together and started rocking back and forth.
“When did they leave?”
“Yesterday.”
“They left you here? All by yourself?”
Another nod. I scooted closer to her.
“What happened?” I asked.
I wanted to hug her tight, but I didn’t want to scare her; I kept my distance.
“It wasn’t just my mom and dad,” she said. “It was everybody, my whole family. We were having breakfast. I finished early and came in here, to play Mario Kart. The house got all shaky, and I hid under the pool table. When I walked back into the kitchen, they were gone.”
“Everyone?”
“All fifteen of them.”
“Fifteen?” Frankie asked. He scratched his chin. “Big family.”
“My mom and dad, all my big brothers and sisters. None of them came to get me.”
“So you’re lucky number thirteen,” Frankie said, with a chuckle.
“How old are you, Elle?” I asked, after a quick glare at Frankie.
“Seven.”
I sighed, and struggled wrapping my head around the obvious conundrum. “It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “If God took everyone else in your family, why would He have left you behind? Why didn’t He take you?”
“God took my family? What?”
I smashed my palms together, didn’t say anything for a moment. “Something happened yesterday, something unimaginable. What’s important is that those of us who are still here need to stick together. We’re going to Seattle. Do you know where that is?”
“I go up there every summer,” Elle said. “My cousins live there. They call it the Emerald City.”
“The Emerald City?”
“Yeah.”
“Really? Why?”
“I don't know.”
I peered back at Frankie and Mr. Balm. Frankie sat in the middle of the pool table, while Mr. Balm leaned up against it. They both looked ready to hit the road.
I turned back to Elle. “Would you like to come with us? See your cousins, maybe?”
“Now?”
I nodded.
“But my mom told me never to go anywhere with strangers.”
“We’re not strangers,” I said. “We’re your family now.”
The girl smiled.
Frankie stepped toward me. “Do you think that's a good idea?”
“What?” I asked. “Bringing Elle?”
“No. Leaving right now. It's dark out. Shouldn't we stay here for the night, leave in the morning?”
My eyes darted toward Mr. Balm. He was the one driving, after all. “I'm not gonna be able to rest until I get to Seattle, and to Mira,” I said. “What do you think?”
“Sorry, Frankie,” Mr. Balm said. “I'm with Zippy on this one. I want to get to Seattle as fast as we can, too. Don't you want to find your dad?”
He lowered his head. “Yes, of course.”
“Plus I don't want to hang around some big, old house I'm not familiar with.”
I grinned at him. “But Mr. Balm... don't yo
u break into big, old houses all the time?”
He glared at me, then turned to Frankie. “You can sleep in the passenger seat. I'm like Zippy. I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if I tried.”
Frankie nodded at both of us. “All right. If you guys think we'll be okay.”
“We'll be fine,” Mr. Balm said. He stepped toward Elle, much slower this time. “Do you know where your father’s car keys are, little one?”
“No.” She shook her head real fast, without looking at him. “Sorry.”
He clasped his hands behind his head, and turned toward the pink curtains. “Damn. It’s gonna take us hours to find them—”
“But I know where the key to my mom’s Ford Explorer is. It’s in her purse. In the kitchen.”
The three of us all looked at each other.
Then Mr. Balm walked up to Elle and patted her on the top of her head. “Little one, you’re my favorite in the group already.”
“Hey!” I said, with a playful scowl.
“Only kidding, Zippy.” He rushed into the hallway, out of sight. Frankie followed him, and waved me on.
“Be right there,” I said. I jumped up and put out my hand. “Come with us, Elle?”
She stared at the hand for a moment, like she didn’t know what to do with it.
“I’m scared,” she said.
“Don’t be scared. I’ll protect you.” And I meant it. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
“But you’re so…” She searched for the right word.
“So what?” I asked.
“You know. Tiny.”
I laughed. “I know I am. But it’s not the size that matters. In the end it’s about your confidence, your courage.”
She took my hand, and I pulled her up to her feet. We walked into the long hallway.
“Zippy?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s courage?”
I stopped her. “Courage is being brave. It’s fighting against the bad guys, even when you’re afraid to.”
Elle looked down at the marble floor. She rocked back and forth for a moment, as a frown appeared on her face. “I’m not like that,” she said. “I don’t have that.”
“You will,” I said. “In time. I promise.”
“Zippy!” Frankie shouted from the staircase. “Hurry up! We found the keys!”
“Excellent!” I shouted back. “Be right—” I stopped, peered into the office. My eyes focused on the slick PC computer. “We’ll be there in a minute!”
I ran inside and plopped myself down on the high rise chair.
“What are you doing?” Elle asked.
I pushed the ON button on the computer tower, tapped my fingers against the desk. “Just going to check my e-mail real quick.”
“But no one is allowed to touch my dad's computer.”
I kept my eyes on the screen, as it came to life. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”
I clicked on the browser and searched for America Online. It was the second application down, just below Address Book. I signed in and prepared myself for the minute-long wait to get to “You’ve Got Mail,” but the homepage opened fast. One e-mail awaited me.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please be her.”
I opened the newest e-mail. The subject line said, HURRY.
Z,
I can't believe you're coming.
I knew you would someday.
I've dreamed of it for two years.
But you have to hurry.
My parents say if things don't get better,
They're gonna leave and take me with them.
Things are getting worse, oh my god.
And have you seen the dinosaurs?
I can't believe it.
Our love for these things brought us together.
And now they might keep us apart.
I'm really scared. I hope you're okay.
And I hope you'll be here soon.
1231 Stone Canyon Road
Seattle, WA 98105
Across from Laurelhurst Park
I love you,
M
My arms prickled with goosebumps by the time I finished reading the e-mail. She had sent it at 7:58. Two hours ago. I checked the Buddy List to see if she was online, but the list was empty.
I wrote her address down on a post-it, then re-focused on the computer screen, and started typing.
Mira,
Just got your message. I’m just a few hours away. Me and three other people are heading to Seattle, we found a car. I promise I’ll be there soon. I love you so much. I hope you’re safe. And I hope you’ll be there when I arrive.
And as for the dinosaurs, we’re gonna have a lot to talk about when we see each other, won’t we?
Love you and miss you,
Z
I hit SEND.
Somebody honked the horn from the driveway. “What are the hell are you doing?” Mr. Balm screamed. “Let’s go!”
Elle still stood in the hallway; she wasn’t going anywhere without me by her side.
“Are you coming?” she asked.
“Yep. All done.” I grabbed her hand and walked back into the hallway. I went to put the post-it note with Mira’s address in a pocket, but then remembered my dress didn’t come with any.
“Goddamn this stupid dress,” I said. I looked down at Elle. It didn’t take long for the idea to hit me. “Did you say you had older sisters?”
“Yeah, six of them. Why?”
I pulled her close. “Could you show me to their bedrooms?”
#
The entrance door of the mansion, tall enough to fit three Frankies, was wide open. The Ford Explorer idled at the end of the driveway. Even though it took me five minutes to change into my new outfit, Frankie and Mr. Balm still hadn’t left. Mr. Balm was in the driver’s seat, and Frankie was on the passenger side, like before. I kept a firm grip on Elle’s hand as I bolted outside, into the darkness.
I opened the side door. Elle jumped in and scooted to the right. I looked back at the house, only once, before I sat next to her.
“Close the door!” Mr. Balm shouted. “What took you so long?”
“I got an address.”
Frankie gave me a double take. “Looks like you did more than that, Zippy.”
“What?” Mr. Balm asked.
I had swapped the tacky, old-fashioned white dress with a fresh and fun, low-cut red one, from the closet of Elle’s third oldest sister, Clara.
“You look nice, Zippy,” Frankie said.
“Thanks.”
“Incredible,” Mr. Balm said. “Frankie and I are sitting here all this time, and you two are playing dress-up.”
“I promise we weren’t,” I said. “I felt so gross in that dress. I needed to change into something nicer. Especially if I'm about to meet Mira.” I smiled and held Elle tight. “Anyway, I feel much better. Thanks.”
“So when we get to Seattle, where to first?” Mr. Balm asked.
I handed Mr. Balm the post-it note. He smiled, and set it down on the center console.
“Is that okay?” I asked him.
“Of course it's okay,” he said. “I'd be glad to take you.”
Frankie glanced at me, then at Mr. Balm. “Mira, right? Oh, this is so romantic!”
Elle tugged on my right hand. “Who’s Mira?” she asked.
I pushed my palm against her chin. “She’s a very good friend of mine.”
“Yes,” Frankie added. “A very, very good friend.”
“Shh.” I shook my head at him.
“We have to stop for gas soon,” Mr. Balm said. “There’s less than a quarter tank in here. Anyone have cash?”
He glanced at Frankie, then at me. We both shrugged.
“When I zipped myself into the suitcase, I wasn’t exactly thinking about gas money,” I said.
“I might have a quarter in my pocket. Hold on.” Frankie patted every inch of his weathered clothes.
“A quarter won’t help us,” Mr. Balm sai
d. “What are we going to do?”
I shrugged, then looked to my right. Elle held up a wad of twenty-dollar bills. She didn’t bring any attention to herself, didn’t flash the money in Mr. Balm’s face. She just held it up, the answer to all our questions.
“Elle, oh my God. How much is that?” I asked.
“200 dollars. I found it in my dad’s closet. I took it after they left. I thought I might need it.” She stared at me with pensive eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
I pulled the girl close, and hugged her tight. “No,” I said. “You did everything right.”
“All right, excellent,” Mr. Balm said, and turned on the ignition. “First stop, gas station. Second stop, Seattle!”
I clapped my hands.
We were so close.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saturday, June 12, 1999
Raymond stumbled into his home at 1900 Cedar Avenue shaken and confused. The door was unlocked—odd—and the family room light was on—even more odd, since it appeared as if nobody was around.
“Hello?” He waited. No response. “Connie?” Still nothing. The air was quiet and still.
He headed up to the second floor. A lone sock dangled from the edge of the staircase. Raymond sighed, irritated; it wasn’t like his Connie to leave clothes lying around. He marched up to the hallway.
“Connie? Are you here?”
He stepped into the master bedroom to find an explosion of clothes on the carpet, all piled next to the upside-down laundry basket. The bed was unmade, and the closet door was wide open. He scratched his head. Again, this wasn’t like Connie.
“Honey?” Raymond glanced in the closet. He looked in the armoire, then under the bed.
He sat on the edge of the mattress. His hands trembled.
“You’re not going to freak out,” he said. “You are the mayor of this city. You are not allowed to freak out.” He scanned the room one last time, then shouted at the top of his lungs, “Can anyone hear me?”
When more silence fell over the room, he kicked through the pile of clothes and raced back into the hallway. He prepared to shout again, when a piercing shriek cut him off—the fire alarm echoed through the house.
