Comeback (7 page)

Two cop cars speed by the other way.

“Want to wrestle?” I say and push Elliot down. He struggles, but I hold him there until I'm sure the cops are gone.

He comes up with such shock in his eyes. “You cheated!” he says. “You didn't wait until I was ready.”

“You're right. That isn't fair,” I say.
Nothing's fair
. I keep that part to myself.

Those cops are looking for us. I'm sure of it. It won't be safe to take another bus. I've got to figure something else out now.

I look around. There's a billboard on the edge of the field. It says,
This way
to Camp Bonaventure: Where children's
dreams come true!
A smaller sign below reads,
Closed for the season.

I hear Dad's voice.
See? Something
always comes up!

A big black arrow points down the next road. How far could the camp be? We could hide out there for a while. We might not even have to hide very long. They only looked for Dad for five days. Why would they look longer for us?

“Hey, Elliot,” I say. “How'd you like to go to a place where children's dreams come true?”

Chapter Eighteen

We cut across the field to the Camp Bonaventure road. I try to get Elliot singing songs that I remember from my own days at camp, but he's not going for it. He'll walk—but he's not happy.

He's even less happy when it starts to rain. Before long it's pouring, and the dirt road has turned to mud. There are too many hills to climb and nothing to take our minds off them. The only sights on the road are a few shabby houses tucked into the woods. My camp songs aren't cutting it anymore.

One of the houses has a satellite dish. Elliot says, “I want to stay with these people.”

I wipe the water off my face and say, “No, I know a better place.”

Elliot says, “Yeah, right,” and laughs in a surprisingly adult way.

I hear a car engine rev. Elliot's face lights up as if someone's finally coming to rescue us, but I yank him into the woods before we're seen. We land in a little gully, and my shoes fill up with water. The car pulls out of a driveway and heads back in the direction of town.

Elliot starts sobbing. I hand him a banana as if it's the best treat in the world, then get him back on the road. We walk past the driveway where the car came out.

There's an old bike left on the lawn.

I don't even think about what I'm doing. I just grab the bike, sit Elliot on the crossbar and start pedaling.

“Did you just steal this bike?” he says. He's not crying anymore. In fact, he looks sort of delighted.

“Yes,” I say.
Sometimes you just got
to do what you got to do
. I don't know if Dad ever said that, but it wouldn't surprise me.

I pedal as hard as I can. I'm tired, but it makes me happy to see that Elliot is almost having fun.

It takes us about half an hour to get to Bonaventure. The driveway is barred by a metal gate. That's good, I think. We'll be safe here. We push the bike under the gate, then get back on and ride all the way down the hill to the camp. I make a big whooping sound as we splash through the puddles.

We come to a dead stop at the bottom of the hill. I do my best to sound positive, but it's hard to believe anyone's dreams ever came true here. The grass is brown. The lake is cold and gray. There's a playground, but the swings, the teeter-totter and the ball from the tetherball set are all missing. The buildings—the big wooden one in the middle and the little red cabins by the lake—are boarded up. Their paint is peeling.

Elliot slumps down on a rickety step with his fists on his cheeks. Rain streams down his face. “I don't like this camp,” he says.

“You'll like it once we get inside!” My voice sounds fake even to me. I try all the doors and windows in the main hall. I yank away at the boards over each of the cabins. It's hopeless. Without a crowbar—and some biceps—I'm never going to get in.

I'm almost ready to give up when I notice another cabin tucked into the woods. It's got a sign out front that says
Cookie's Hideaway
. I see right away that the door is open.

“Elliot!” I wave at him. “C'mon!”

The door isn't just open. It's right off its hinges. We run in out of the rain.

There are a bunch of empty beer cans on the floor. The chair is turned over, and books have been knocked off a little wooden shelf onto the single bed. It doesn't take me long to figure out what happened here. Some local kids obviously broke into the cabin to have themselves a party.

I silently thank them for their vandalism. They gave us a place to sleep.

I turn the chair over, tidy up the books, kick the beer cans under the bed. The cabin is cold and has a moldy smell, but it's better than another night outdoors. “There,” I say. “Isn't this nice?”

Elliot tries to smile, but he's shivering. I can't let him get sick. I take our almost-dry clothes out of my purse, and we change. The mattress on the bed is damp, but it's softer than the floor. We snuggle up in the red blanket and share the last banana. We each have a granola bar for dessert. We play a game to see who can make it last the longest. Elliot only beats me because he hides a raisin in his hand. I take one tiny sip of juice, then let him have the rest. He's thirsty, and that's all he's had today.

We eventually warm up a bit. I'm feeling better about things again, but Elliot isn't. “I'm bored,” he says.

I have to laugh. We've run away from home. Slept outside. Begged for money. Stolen a bike—and he's bored?

“Me too,” I say. “Wanna play a game on my phone?”

I don't have to ask twice. Elliot's thrilled. Mom hardly ever lets him play video games.

I turn on my phone. I'm amazed there's coverage here at the end of the world.

My mailbox is full. I whip through the messages. I'm past the point of being disappointed that there's no word from Colin or even Helena—but I did sort of hope to hear from Sophie. I used to be able to count on her. Love sure ain't what it used to be.

(I guess I should have figured that out by now.)

Mom's the only one who tried to reach me. I hit
Delete
. I don't want to hear from her.

Elliot and I play Tetris for a while. I let him win every time, but he still doesn't last long. Even though it's barely dark out, he's ready for sleep. I turn off the phone, and we lie down on the lumpy mattress.

“I love you, Ria,” he says.

“I love you too.”

I've never meant anything more in my life. Some love is different.

Chapter Nineteen

I bolt up with a start. Someone's shaking me. It's so dark, I can't tell if my eyes are open or not. I'm not even sure I'm awake until I feel a sticky hand on my face and realize it's Elliot.

“I need my puffer, Ria.” His breathing sounds like chalk squeaking across a blackboard.

I'm wide awake now. “Okay,” I say in the most reassuring voice I can come up with. “Okay. Don't worry.”

Why didn't I bring his puffer? He's used it three times a day for his entire life. What was I thinking?

I wasn't thinking. Or at least I wasn't thinking of
him
.

I get out of bed and stand in the doorway.

Relax
, I tell myself. Elliot gets asthma attacks all the time. Lots of kids do. He hasn't died yet. He'll be fine.

How do I know that? This might be the one time he isn't.

What if something happened to Elliot? My heartbeats rattle off like machine-gun fire.

What do I do, Dad?

“Don't fret about your problems. Fix them.”

I've got about twenty-five bucks. I'll go into town and buy him a puffer. It's not that hard.

I look outside. It's dark and still pouring. I have no idea what time it is. It could be midnight, or it could be 4:00 am.

I can't take Elliot. The rain will just make him worse.

I can't leave him here either. He'd be terrified.

And anyway, how much do puffers cost?

What if I need a prescription?

I'll have to find a doctor. I'll have to make up a fake name.

I turn and look back into the cabin. It's too dark to see Elliot, but I can hear him breathe. He sounds like a rocking chair with a squeaky joint.

I don't have a choice. I've got to call somebody for help.

Sophie.

Could I trust her?

I don't know. It's too dangerous.

That thing—the Kid's Helpline. It just pops into my head. I remember the commercial. They don't make you give your name. They'll know what to do.

I fumble back across the room. I stub my toe hard against the bed, but don't swear. I deserve the pain. I crawl onto the mattress and rub my hands over the blanket. I find my phone hidden under my purse and turn it on.

The screen lights up: 5:40 am. Well, there's one question answered. It won't be long before daybreak.

I've got ten more messages. Six are from Mom. Three are from “Private Caller.”

One is from Dad.

Chapter Twenty

“Honey,” he says, “I'm so worried about you. Call me.”

I can't believe my ears. I jump up, screaming, shaking.

Is this for real? Am I hallucinating?

I need proof. I replay the message. “Elliot,” I say. “Who's that on the phone? Who is it?”

“Daddy! It's Daddy!” Even his asthma can't stop him from bouncing.

I check the date of the message. Last night. Just before midnight.

Is this a trick? Did some technical genius at the police department rig this up to fool us into calling?

I don't care. I dial the number.

Dad picks up on the first ring. “Ria?”

My hand slaps over my mouth. I can't answer for the longest time. “Is that you, Dad?”

Dad laughs. “Yes, it's me, honey.”

“But…but…” I'm suddenly overcome by sobbing. “I thought you were dead. They said you were dead.”

“Calm down, sweetie. It's a long story. I'll explain it all later. It's you we're worried about now. You and Elliot. Your mother says he needs his medicine.”

I try to pull myself together. “He does. Please help me.”

“Don't worry. We will. Tell me where you are. Someone will come and get you, right away.”

“I want
you
to come, Dad,” I say. “I want
you
to do it, Daddy.”

I sound like a baby, but I don't care. I have to see him. I won't believe this isn't a trick or a hoax or just my wild imagination until I actually see him again.

He's talking to someone. I can't hear what he's saying. Is my mother there? Maybe they're back together. Maybe she was so happy to find out he's alive that they're back together again.

My old life. My family. My house. Maybe this was all just some big misunderstanding, and everything will be okay again. Mom and Dad and Elliot and me.

And Colin.

“I'm coming for you, Ria,” Dad says. “Just tell me where you are.” It's only about an hour before we hear the first
thwack-thwack-thwack
overhead. Elliot and I run to the cabin door. The rain has stopped. The first glint of sun hits the blue and white police helicopter like a spotlight. Only Dad could have arranged that. It makes me think of an angel coming down from the clouds.

Elliot looks at me, confused. “Why are you crying, Ria? It's Daddy!” He says something else, but I can't make it out. The sound of the helicopter landing in the playground is deafening.

A policeman jumps out and races over to get us. We crouch down and run under the blades with him. I can see Dad sitting in the helicopter with that big beautiful smile of his. I'm so happy to see him.

I jump on board and throw my arms out to hug him. Last time I saw him, he hugged me so hard he made my bones squeak. This time, he doesn't even hug me back.

I'm surprised and hurt—until I pull back and see the handcuffs.

Chapter Twenty-One

I'm not very good at this. I got more strawberry jam on my uniform than in the donuts. I'm going to be sticky for the whole rest of my shift.

I'm standing by the sink, scrubbing at the bright red stain with a wet paper napkin when someone says, “Excuse me?”

I turn around and see Colin for the first time since I came back five months ago.

We're both embarrassed. He clearly wasn't expecting to see me here any more than I was expecting to see him.

I push my hairnet up off my forehead. He takes a step back from the counter and says, “Sorry. I just wanted a blueberry muffin.”

I nod about seven times. “We have blueberry muffins,” I say. I grab a napkin and turn my back to him. I have to lean against the donut trays to keep my balance.

I realize he's wearing a uniform too. He must be working as a courier. I guess he has to. I heard his parents lost their house and their business and everything.

He must hate me.

I reach for the biggest muffin there is. As if that's going to make it up to him. He used to be so excited about going away to university this year, and now he's stuck here, having to work.

My hand is shaking so much I drop the muffin on the floor.

He says, “That's okay.”

I shake my head. I put the muffin in the garbage and get another one.

Does he realize I didn't know anything about it? That my mother didn't know anything about it either until it was too late?

None of us had any idea Dad was capable of doing things like that. Stealing money. Scamming friends and relatives and helpless old ladies. Faking his own death. Taking off.

“Do you want it heated up?” I say. I'm so ashamed. I can't even look at Colin.

“No, it's good like that. Thanks.”

“Butter?” I suddenly want him to stay. His voice doesn't sound angry at all. Maybe we could talk. I could explain everything to him.