Comeback (6 page)

The driver grinds his cigarette out with his foot.

“Cypress? Twenty-eight bucks.”

My shoulders sink. This isn't going to work.

“That's for you. If your son is six or under, he travels free.”

Elliot says “I'm not her son” as if the driver just accused him of being an ax murderer.

I said, “I'll take two.”

I leave the guy's birth certificate at the convenience store. I don't know what he's going to think when he comes back, but I have nothing to be ashamed off. Twenty bucks isn't bad for a mint-condition LeSabre.

Chapter Thirteen

It's after midnight when the bus pulls into Cypress. It's a tiny little town, not the type of place you could get lost in, that's for sure.

Elliot is sound asleep. I should carry him, but I'm too tired. I wake him up as gently as I can. He's sweaty and confused, but he doesn't complain. He staggers off the bus like a little pint-sized drunk. Any other time in my life, I probably would have laughed, but nothing's very funny at the moment.

What are we going to do now?

I look at the benches in the bus station and I'm tempted just to crash there, but that's not going to work. Mom will have called the police by now. We'd be found in no time.

I've got about $10 left. We can't get a hotel for that kind of money, and we'll freeze if we stay outside.

Who cares? This is hopeless. Why
did I even think I could get away with
it?
Those are the kind of thoughts going through my head. I sit down on a bench and put Elliot on my lap. We'll just wait here until the police come and get us.

There's a noise. I look up and see a man walk out a door marked
Lost and
Found
.

Just like us, I think. Lost and found. Thinking that makes me feel smart, as if I was the only person in English class to identify the theme of the novel.

But then that Patterson part of me kicks in.

No. We aren't lost, and we don't want to be found.

We left on purpose. To make a better life for ourselves. This is what we want to do.

I jump up and run over to the door, dragging Elliot with me.

“Phew!” I say. “I'm so glad we weren't too late to catch you.”

The guy locks the door. “Well, actually you are, dear. It's twelve thirty and I'm going home.”

“Oh, please!” I say. “I left a bunch of stuff on the bus last week and I really, really need it!” The tears in my eyes aren't just for show—but they work. The guy rubs his hand over his mouth, sighs and opens the door.

“What did you lose?” He says it as if I'm always asking him to help me.

“Um…a blanket, a hoodie, a sweater…” I'm trying to think of what else we might need.

The guy holds up a hand. “Whoa. Okay, let's start there. What color blanket?”

“What color?” I say. I realize I've got to guess the right color or I'm not going to get the blanket. It's like some cruel game show. “Ah…gray,” I say.

The guy puts his fist on his hip and sizes us up. Elliot, shivering in his little sweater, me in my skinny rumpled jacket. It sure doesn't look like a $200 Club Monaco trench anymore.

“Right,” he says. “Wait here.”

He comes back with his arms full of stuff: a red polar fleece blanket, sweatpants and a U of T hoodie for me, a Superman tracksuit and parka for Elliot.

“Do these look like yours?” he says. He's just playing along.

Elliot says, “A Superman suit! Can I have it?”

The guy has a sort of Santa Claus laugh. “Yup. As long as you catch some bad guys for me.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Thank you so much.”

The guy shrugs and locks up again. “No problem. You take care of yourself now.”

I make Elliot change in the women's washroom with me. He's got a lot more pep since he snagged the Superman suit. I stuff our old clothes into my purse, and we step out into the cold.

It's a beautiful night. The stars are as sharp and white as led lights against the black sky. I don't know what I was thinking. This isn't the type of night to give up.

Chapter Fourteen

This is going to sound really out there, but I'll say it anyway.

It's as if Dad is here with us. Not in the flesh. Not walking along the deserted road with us. I don't mean that. (I'm not totally losing my mind.) Just sort of here in my head. It's almost like having a motivational speaker playing on my iPod, telling me to keep going, keep positive, keep the faith. We'll be all right.

I'm exhausted, but I don't stop. I just keep walking—and talking. The least I can do is make it fun for Elliot. I tell him all the old stories I can remember from our camping trips with Dad. When I run out, I make up some new ones. It keeps Elliot moving. We walk for a good hour or so. We trudge along past little brick office buildings and old wooden houses and the odd convenience store. I don't know where we are exactly, but I can see we're coming to the edge of town. The buildings are thinning out. There's a highway in the distance.

Elliot's barely able to walk upright anymore. His weight is pulling at my shoulder socket. I don't let it bother me. I tell myself it feels just like a good yoga stretch.

We come to a small park. Elliot sees a bench and plunks himself down before I can stop him. “I need to go to sleep, Ria.”

He's right.

I know I can't take him any farther—but he can't pass out here. If the cops see two kids sleeping on a park bench, they'd pick us up even if they didn't know we were missing.

“That's a terrible bed!” I say and pull Elliot back up onto his feet. I pretend I don't notice the whimpering. “Want to see a better one?”

I have no idea what I'm going to show him. I drag him around the park searching for a hiding spot to lie down.

I notice a big old pine tree with branches that go right to the ground.

“Look! A teepee!” I say it like it's the most exciting thing in the world, but Elliot couldn't care less. He's so tired, he's swaying around like a Fisher Price Wobble Penguin.

I pull back the branches, and we crawl underneath.

It's surprisingly roomy in here. Plenty of space for us to curl up in. I feel better right away. It seems so safe and cozy. There's something about the smell, too, that's nice.

At first, I think that's because it reminds me of Christmas, but then my heart thuds and I know that's wrong.

I'm not smelling Christmas.

I'm smelling Colin and that pine soap he uses. I suck back a big gulp of air and even still, I feel like I'm not getting enough oxygen.

Elliot says, “Ria?” and I can tell I've scared him. I shake Colin out of my head. He was from my old life. This is a new one.

“Remember Dad showing us how to make a mattress in the woods?” I say. “Should we make one now?”

Elliot helps me sweep the pine needles into a pile. I put my purse on the ground for a pillow. I spread the blanket over the needles.

“Crawl in,” I say to Elliot.

He lies down on the blanket. I take off my glasses and undo my ponytail, and then I snuggle in beside him. I pull the blanket over us. He nuzzles into my side and is asleep before I close my eyes.

I used to hate it when Elliot came into bed with me, because he gives off so much heat. Now I'm glad. He keeps me warm. I look after him. We're a team.

We'll be okay.

Chapter Fifteen

I'm freezing and my back is killing me. I open my eyes. I sit up and blink. For a second, I have no idea where I am—then the tree comes into focus, the red blanket, Elliot's Superman suit. I know where I am—and I don't like it.

I flop back down on the ground. My whole body is pounding.

What have I done?

The wind blows, and pine needles sprinkle down on us. I smell Colin again, and I have to open my eyes really, really wide to keep the tears from coming.

“Dad,” I whisper.

I don't know if he's here or not, but just saying his name helps. I picture him, his arm around me. He'd do that. He'd comfort me.

At first. Then he'd tell me to get on with it. “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”

I don't move. I'm not sure how tough I am.

“Fake it until you make it.” He also used to say that.

Right. What choice do I have?

I put on my glasses. I part the branches and look outside. No one's around. My guess is it's about 7:00 am.

Breakfast time. I remember passing a convenience store on the way here. I hope it's open. I'm suddenly starving.

I give Elliot a shake, but he just puts his thumb in his mouth and rolls over. The poor kid is beat.

I'm going to let him sleep. We've got a big day ahead of us.

I ease my wallet out of our “pillow.”

I check to make sure no one's around, and then I bolt out from under the tree. I've got to move fast. If Elliot wakes up while I'm gone, he'll totally freak out.

An older lady is just opening the store when I arrive. I pick up the big bundle of newspapers for her and carry them inside. I'm trying to be nice so she won't get suspicious.

Why would she get suspicious? I'm just a kid picking up some stuff for breakfast. It's not that unusual. Relax.

I wander up and down the aisles. Elliot likes yogurt, but it's a dollar for one little tub. We can't afford it. I grab a loaf of whole-grain bread instead. It's almost three dollars, but at least it will last a while. I look for the smallest jar of peanut butter I can find—but even that's too expensive.

I'm starting to get frantic again.

I put the bread back.

I grab a small bottle of juice, a box of granola bars and two bananas. I do the math in my head. It's over six dollars. That only leaves four.

I'll worry about that later.

The lady is putting the newspapers in the display case when I go to pay.

She wipes her hands on her smock and steps behind the counter to key in my stuff.

That's when I notice a big color picture of Elliot and me splashed over the front page of the newspaper.

Missing Stockbroker's Children
Disappear
.

Chapter Sixteen

The lady doesn't recognize me, but she must realize something's up. There's sweat streaming down my forehead.

“Will there be anything else?” she says.

I nod and grab a newspaper. I hand her my money. She gives me the bag and $2.43 change.

I say thank you and walk slowly out the door. I don't want her to remember the redheaded girl who bolted from the store.

I run as soon as I'm out of sight and don't stop until the park. Elliot's still asleep. I sit down and open the newspaper.

There's Mom—“the estranged wife of disgraced stockbroker, Steven Patterson”—pleading for our return. There's a quote from the guy I left the LeSabre with. There's a cop saying we're “believed to have boarded a bus to Cypress.”

No mention of the man at the Lost and Found who gave us the clothes. Did he just not want to rat us out? Or was he worried about getting in trouble for giving us stuff that wasn't ours?

Who knows?

At least no one will be looking for a kid in a Superman suit yet. I've got to look on the bright side.

In the picture, I'm wearing my contacts. People probably won't recognize me in my glasses. My hair is longer now, but it's still red.

I'll cover it with my hood.

I turn the page.

Steve Patterson, former darling
of the stock market, is suspected of
defrauding his clients of hundreds
of millions of dollars. With his company
now worthless, it's highly unlikely any
of his victims will ever be compensated. “Suicide is too good for that man,” says Dave MacPherson, who admits
that he will soon have to file for
bankruptcy as a result of having
invested all his savings with Patterson. “He wasn't just my financial advisor. He was my friend. And he ruined us.”

I shove the newspaper into the garbage can where it belongs—then I slip under the branches to wake Elliot up.

Chapter Seventeen

Elliot is confused. He doesn't know why he has to pee outside or why he can't just sit down and eat his granola bar. Luckily, he's learned not to complain.

I grab my purse, stuff the blanket into the grocery bag and get going.

We have to get out of Cypress—the farther out, the better. I walk as fast as I can—or rather as fast as
Elliot
can. It doesn't take me long to realize we have to do better than this.

I see a white-haired lady coming toward us. “Excuse me,” I say.

She looks up and smiles.

“I lost my wallet, and my little brother's late for his doctor's appointment. I hate to ask—but would you mind lending us bus fare?”

Her smile fades a bit. I doubt she really believes me—but Elliot is pretty irresistible. She hands me five dollars.

I thank her. I wait until she's out of sight before I try the same trick on someone else. We'll use some of the money for bus fare, some for food.

It doesn't take long to collect twenty-three bucks. We could get more, but I don't want to be greedy. I'm also worried by how much Elliot has started to enjoy this. He coughs every time I mention his doctor's appointment.

The term
scam artist
jabs at my brain, but I ignore it. We're only doing this because we have to.

I'm holding Elliot's hand, waiting to cross the street, when a cop car drives by.

Are they looking for us? We can't wait around to find out. I drag Elliot across the street and make him keep running until we get to a field. I hear the sound of another car approaching. I pull Elliot down behind some bushes.

“Isn't this fun?” I say.

He's confused. “Sort of…,” he says. He's trying so hard to be good.