All That's Missing (2 page)

Arlo dragged his feet walking home. He hated lying to teachers. He wasn't the sort of kid who did that. But he didn't have a choice — not when it came to covering up the truth about Poppo. It was better that nobody found out what life was like at home.

It had been just last month when Arlo had come home to find Poppo staring at an old photograph in a wooden frame.

“Do we know this girl?” he'd asked.

“That's my mom,” he'd said.

Poppo squinted at the face in the photograph.

“She's your daughter,” Arlo said. “Her name was Amy. Remember?”

“Was?” Poppo said. “Did something happen to her?”

Arlo's throat swelled, blocking off his breath. “She died,” he said.

And Poppo kept on staring at the picture.

Sometimes Arlo felt like one of those mud-and-stick dams he and Sam liked to build in the creek. They mounded sand and dirt together with twigs and stones and waited for the water to break through. The current welled into tiny pools that pressed against the dam. They broke away a twig here or a pebble there. But the dam usually held.
Usually.

Poppo's mixed-up brain was breaking away twigs and pebbles in Arlo's life. So far, his dam had held. But how long before Mrs. Gretzky or someone else at school found out? How long before Arlo's dam sprang a leak and the water came gushing through?

As Arlo rounded the corner toward his house, his thoughts turned to running. He headed for his room and changed into gym shorts and a T-shirt. Talking to Mrs. Gretzky had slowed him down. He needed to hurry. Sam would be waiting. After a run, everything would feel all right again. Running evened out the world. It took Arlo's mind off his troubles and let him focus on a quiet place inside, where everything was just as it should be.

Before going outside, he left a note on the kitchen table for Poppo.

Gone for a run with Sam.

Then he hightailed it to the corner, turned onto Jefferson Street, and kept a steady pace as he headed toward the river. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement in the alley behind the West Side Grill.
Three boys.
Arlo groaned inwardly when he recognized them. Nick Halvorson with Mike Ackley and Danny Hyde. Waiting for Arlo.
Obviously.
Ever since Mr. Fanucci had accused Halvorson of shoplifting, when it was really Poppo who had tucked the package of pepperoni rolls inside his pocket, Halvorson and his two goons had made it their personal mission to terrorize Arlo.

“Hey, Jones. Looking for your grandpa?” Halvorson had a way of curling his lip as if it were part of the punch he was going to deliver as soon as Arlo dared to walk in front of him.

“You're as crazy as he is.” Ackley pushed up the sleeve of his right arm. “Pathetic,” he said.

“Yeah,” Hyde added.

“I'll bet your parents didn't really die in that accident.” Ackley slid closer. “I'll bet they dumped you at your grandpa's house because they couldn't stand to look at you.”

Why didn't Halvorson get it over with? Go ahead and hit him if that's what he had in mind.

Bam.
It was Ackley's fist that came out of nowhere. Arlo felt the blow to his left shoulder. He fell back.

“What's the matter with you?” Ackley feinted from one foot to another. “Afraid to fight back?”

“He's chicken. That's what.” Hyde's voice was squeaky for a boy his size.

Arlo lifted his head and met Halvorson's eyes, bracing himself for another punch.

“Bwak, bwak, bwak.”
Ackley made flapping motions with his arms. “Oh,
pwetty pwease,
boys. Don't hurt me.”

Both boys looked toward Halvorson, who gave Hyde a nod. Then Hyde slipped behind Arlo and dropped to his knees. While Arlo was trying to figure out what was going on, Ackley shoved him hard. Arlo tried to step back, but Hyde was in the way. Arlo fell backward, landing on his elbow. Pain shot up the back of his arm, while rainwater from the sidewalk soaked into his shorts.

Arlo shot Halvorson a look.
Happy now?

Halvorson shrugged. He rolled a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Nice job,” he said to Ackley and Hyde.

By that time, Hyde was back on his feet. He and Ackley gave each other a high five.

“Go on,” Hyde sneered at Arlo. “Run home to your smelly grandpa.”

“Yeah,” Ackley added. “Don't he ever change his underwear? Man, he stinks.”

As Arlo pulled himself up, he tested his right arm to see if it would still bend. He raised his chin at Halvorson before turning toward the park. Neither one of them spoke. He heard Ackley and Hyde laughing behind his back as he walked away.

“What took you?” Sam yelled when Arlo finally made it to the corner of Chesapeake and Elm. “I thought we were going for a run.”

Arlo came to a stop a few feet from the bench where Sam was sitting. He felt Sam staring at his wet shorts.

“Man. What happened to you?”

Arlo's cheeks burned.

“Halvorson?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Arlo said. “Along with his two friends.”

“Geez.” Sam shook his head.

“I know,” Arlo said.

“How bad was it with Gretzky?”

“I got off easy,” Arlo said, pulling his leg back to stretch the muscles in preparation for their run. “No extra work.”

“Lucky,” Sam said, bending over to tighten his shoelaces. “Too bad you had to run into Halvorson and those two morons.”

“I know. Could be worse, I guess.”

“Yeah. I guess,” Sam said. “You and I should do something about them.”

Arlo laughed.
Yeah? Like what?
he thought. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble for starting a fight. “Maybe someday,” he said.

Sam smiled. “It would be nice, wouldn't it?”

“Sure,” Arlo said. “Really nice.” He nodded toward the lower path that ran parallel to the sidewalk along the boulevard. “You sure you want to run down there today? It looks pretty muddy.”

“It'll be all right,” Sam said. “And besides, we won't have to worry about Halvorson down there. You can't even see the path from up here on the boulevard.”

“Good point,” Arlo said. He followed Sam down the twenty-six steps that led from the street level to the path.

Sam always liked to run in front. Arlo kept a steady pace behind. He skirted the deep puddles and tried to avoid patches of mud. After the first half mile, Sam's rhythm changed. The mud was deeper here, and it slowed them down. Sloppy goop sucked at the soles of Arlo's shoes, releasing them with a loud
pop
that sent mud spatters up the back of his legs.

They came to a point where the riverbank had slipped and the path was covered with a slough of mud, dirt, and rocks. An orange cone blocked the path in front of them.

“Come on!” Sam yelled, climbing on top of the squishy mound.

Before Arlo had time to argue, the mud pile shifted. There was an odd groaning sound as the whole hillside started to slip.

“Hold on!” Arlo yelled.

Sam dropped to his knees and scrambled to find a way off the mound. But the earth was moving faster now, and after a few steps, Sam lost his footing and toppled onto his side.

Arlo stumbled where the ground had slipped but managed to stay on his feet. He watched helplessly as the mudslide carried Sam toward the river. There was a small bump and then a sickening splash.

“Sam!” Arlo climbed onto a boulder that jutted out over the water. He spotted Sam lying on his back with his legs half in and half out of the water. “Hang on,” Arlo yelled. “I'm coming.”

Arlo's first thought was
Rats!
The riverbank was inhabited by cat-size rodents that nested in the giant culverts that drained the city storm sewers into the river. Arlo lowered himself to the sand, squinting into the tall weeds. He set his foot down gingerly, keeping an eye peeled for movement. Then, mustering his courage, he sprinted over to Sam.

“I fell,” Sam said as Arlo offered him a hand.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Arlo said. “Are you all right?”

“I think so.” Sam wiggled his arms. He sat up and tried moving his legs. “Everything seems to be working,” he said.

“Good.”

When Sam stood up, he wobbled.

“What's wrong?” Arlo asked.

“Nothing,” Sam said. “I twisted my ankle a little, but it's OK.”

Nearby, something rustled in the grass. Arlo glanced sideways long enough to catch two beady eyes staring back at him.

“Uh, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't look now, but there's something over there.”

“Yeah?”

The rustling drew closer.

“Oh, geez.” Sam moaned.

“I know. Don't move. OK?”

“Don't worry,” Sam said.

Keeping the rat in his peripheral vision, Arlo bent his knees and stretched his left arm backward to pat the ground until he located a rock. He closed his hand around it. The rock was bigger than he'd have liked, but it would have to do. He held his breath as blades of grass twitched again. The creature was close enough to offer a glimpse of its teeth.

“Anytime you're ready,” Sam whispered.

“OK,” Arlo whispered back. “On the count of three. All right?”

“Sure.”

One shot. That's all he'd have. Better make it count. Arlo narrowed one eye and heaved the rock as hard as he could, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder from swinging at an unnatural angle. No matter. How close had he come to the rat? That's what was important.

“Run!” Arlo yelled.

“No kidding!” Sam yelled back.

They sprinted up the riverbank. Sam must not have been hurt too badly, moving as quickly as he was. Arlo was relieved to see that. It wasn't until they were back on the sidewalk at the top of the hill that Arlo dared to look down. There was the rat, sniffing around the top of the boulder.

“Good riddance,” Arlo said.

Sam screwed up his face. “I hate rats,” he said.

“I'm not exactly crazy about them,” Arlo said. “I mean, a rat's a rat. Right?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, but I got bitten by one once. And it looked just like that rat down there.”

“How'd you get bitten by a rat?”

“It was in that foster home they put me in,” Sam said.

“They had rats?”

“In the basement. The dad got mad at me one day for messing around with his tools, so I was hiding down there, waiting for him to leave. I was afraid he was going to hit me or something. And then all of a sudden, somebody comes crashing down the stairs. And I knew from how loud his shoes were that it had to be him. So I tried to squeeze in the space between these metal shelves and the furnace. Only I got my hand stuck on one of the shelves. And that's when something bit me. I guess it had been hiding on the shelf the whole time. I must have stuck my hand right in its face.”

“Yuck,” Arlo said.

“I know,” Sam said. “It had these beady eyes. And it was like it was telling me to get out of there before it ate my whole arm. So I moved. I mean, I was on those stairs in minus twenty seconds. Then the dad's yelling at me, and pretty soon, my foster mom comes down the stairs and she sees the rat and she starts screaming.”

“Then what happened?”

“My hand was bleeding.” Sam pointed to a thin line of raised tissue in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.

“That's where it bit you?”

“Yeah. Its teeth made this creepy crunching sound.”

“Gross.”

“I know, but at least it got me out of that foster home.”

“What do you mean?” Arlo asked.

“They had to take me to the emergency room because they were afraid I'd get rabies or bubonic plague or something. The nurse gave me a shot. I had to have a bunch of shots. Then the social worker came and she said it was time to find another place for me. She started looking for relatives.”

“They hadn't done that before?”

“Sure, they had. But nobody ever found any because I didn't have addresses or phone numbers, and my grandparents were dead. And what did I know? I was only four when my mom died. But this time, there was this other lady. She was real nice and she got obsessed with finding somebody for me. She kept looking till she found my great-aunt.”

“So the rat did you a favor,” Arlo said.

“Maybe,” Sam said. “But there's got to be a better way. Right?”

Arlo shivered.

“You cold?” Sam asked.

“A little,” Arlo said. “How about you?”

“I don't know. I was mainly worried about getting bitten. But, yeah, now that you mention it, I'm kind of freezing.”

“It's only another block to my house,” Arlo said. “You can come in if you want.”

“Your grandpa won't mind?”

“Nah. It's OK. He's probably not even home yet.”

“Where does he go?” Sam asked. “I thought he sold the doughnut shop.”

“He did,” Arlo said. “He just likes to take long walks sometimes.”

Sam nodded. “OK,” he said. “As long as I'm home before six, Aunt Betty won't mind if I go to your place, I guess.”