Survival Strategies of the Almost Brave (14 page)

Star Wars Kid led the way, limping and running. “To the bushes!” he yelled.

And for a second I was really glad that I had met that weird kid, because he was a survivor just like us. And maybe we needed one another.

 

Survival Strategy #30:

GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING

Star Wars Kid's bike was still in the bushes, like nothing had happened at all. But now it felt like everything had changed. He had a huge scratch across the middle of his forehead and it was bleeding.

“Are you okay?” whispered Billie, trying to get comfortable as she squatted and leaned against the apartment building. She had leaves in her hair. Now I knew why Star Wars Kid had to make all these tunnels. This was the only way he could stay safe.

“What?” he asked.

“Your head.” Billie pointed.

The blood smeared as he swiped his hand across his forehead. “This? No, I'm good.” His face was still red and his curly hair was even crazier, like he had been in a fight with a tiger. Which I guess he kind of had been.

We were supposed to be watching for the Spoon Guy, but all I could do was think about Star Wars Kid.

“Seriously, are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Yeah. I mean, I'm pretty used to it.”

Goose bumps covered my arms even though it was hot out. “Aren't you worried your brother is going to find us?” He looked pretty mad when he was getting up after I hit him with the bowl.

“No, Jax has no idea I have this place.” Star Wars Kid pulled out a smallish plastic box that had been partially buried in the dirt and opened it. He had all sorts of things in it—Star Wars figures, a flashlight, string, a yo-yo, an unopened Sprite, a used Band-Aid. He picked up some gum and held it out to Billie and me. “Want some?”

We shook our heads. For once, Billie wasn't interested in her stomach. She pulled the army guy she found at the pool out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Here,” she said. Star Wars Kid took it without a word and stuck it into his box.

“Why's your brother so mean?” she asked.

Star Wars Kid shrugged and snapped the lid back onto his box. “He's been like that for a while. I usually just stay outside if he's home. Sorry, he's an idiot.”

Billie and me didn't say anything. 'Cause what do you say when someone is an idiot and there's nothing you can do about it?

“When's your mom coming?” he asked.

“She's dead,” said Billie. I started to shush her, but then it seemed like after everything, we owed him the truth.

He looked confused. “Then who'd you call?”

“My mom's friend,” I said.

“Oh.”

And it felt sort of awkward crouching there in the bushes with Star Wars Kid. Like we were breathing one another's air juice. I stood up a little—my legs were cramping.

“Our dad left us,” said Billie, her voice catching on the last word.

“Billie…” But then I stopped. Someone needed to know the truth.

Star Wars Kid nodded. “My dad, too.”

“No,” said Billie. “He left us at the gas station, but he's probably coming back. Any minute. I bet he's probably looking for us right now.” She stared at me with laser beam eyeballs.

I shook my head. “I don't think so.”

“He is,” she insisted.

“Wait,” Star Wars Kid interrupted. “Like, just now? He left you at that gas station?” He pointed toward the parking lot.

It was probably better that he thought that. It sounded so much worse explaining that it was yesterday at a different gas station, hours away. I crawled toward the makeshift exit.

“It's fine. I'm handling it. Just forget it. Thanks for letting us use your phone.” I turned to Billie. “Come on.”

She inched toward me. “Yeah, and thanks for the cookies. They're my favorite.”

“Stop,” said Star Wars Kid. “You can't just leave. You need help.”

I peered out of our hiding place. The gas station looked the same and the semitruck was there, I guess still broken. Now I wished Billie hadn't said anything. “We're fine. I told you, I called our mom's friend. She's picking us up; she's probably there already waiting for us.” I swallowed. Faking it sometimes made my throat hurt.

Star Wars Kid calmed down. “Okay, only if you're sure she's there. But if not, I mean, you can stay with me.”

Jax's face floated in my brain. “No, she's on her way.”

“All right,” he said, picking at the dried snot on his T-shirt. “Let me at least check to make sure that weird guy is gone.” He poked his head out of the bushes for a second and then came back in. He smiled with his eyes and did an awkward little bow. “All clear.”

It was nice to see that after everything, Star Wars Kid was acting more like himself.

Billie crawled out first, and I started after her when Star Wars Kid put his hand on my shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said.

I shrugged. “You would have done it for me.”

“Yeah.” He put his hand over his heart, crossed his eyes, and flared his nostrils. “May the Force be with you.”

“Okay. It will be. Thanks, Star Wa—I mean, Roger.” I smiled. It felt good to use his name. He deserved it after everything we had been through. Then I followed Billie out onto the sidewalk.

Roger stayed inside the bushes, but he pushed his fist out of the leaves and pumped it up and down. “Win and conquer!” he yelled.

I laughed. And I pumped mine back at him. I wondered how long it would be before he could go home. Would Jax be there, ready to beat him up again?

“Come on,” I said to Billie. “We're going to wait at the gas station.” We were getting really good at waiting.

Billie's shoulders slumped, but she followed me anyway.

We walked toward the gas station. The right side was hidden by some trees, but I could see the back wheels of the semi. We were about ready to pass the trees when we heard someone yell, “Hey!”

Billie and me turned.

It was Jax.

He stood on the sidewalk, right in front of Roger's hiding place. Then Jax barreled toward us.

Roger popped up out of the bushes. His head looked like it was floating in a sea of green leaves. “Run!” he yelled.

Jax spun around.

Then Roger jumped out of the bushes and tackled his brother.

Billie and me skittered past the trees and turned the corner. The cab of the semitruck sat with the door wide open, and Tattoo Guy was nowhere in sight.

“Come on,” I said, pushing Billie up the steps of the truck. We only had seconds before Jax got away from Roger.

Billie stumbled into the truck with me following close behind.

“Get in the back,” I said, pushing her behind the two front seats. We hunched down next to a little pullout table and bench. Except for us, the cab of the semi was empty.

We sat for a minute, and then I crept forward, trying to see out the window. Jax stalked around the parking lot in circles. What had happened to Roger? I shuddered. He had given away his special hiding place just to help us. My heart thumped. It felt good to have a friend, even if it was just for a minute.

Jax looked behind the air pumps, and then he walked toward the truck. He looked underneath and started to walk to the open door when Tattoo Guy rounded the side of the gas station.

“Hey!” he yelled at Jax. “Get away from there!”

Jax jumped. “Bite me,” he said, then ran toward the apartment building, disappearing around the side.

Tattoo Guy cursed.

He could not catch us hiding here.

Tattoo Guy slammed the cab door shut.

No, no. Don't close the door.
I jumped back to where Billie was crouched. We would sit and wait. As soon as he started working on the engine again, we'd sneak out.

“There's a cat back here,” Billie said. “A black-and-white one.”

“Be quiet,” I whispered. “We don't want the driver to catch us.”

Billie nodded.

Just then the cat skittered to the front of the cab, claiming the passenger seat. It glared at me with its bright yellow eyes, its animal instincts on high alert. It was wondering if we were a threat. After a few seconds, the cat curled up into a ball on the seat, its yellow eyes still on me, but it looked more relaxed.

“I love cats,” whispered Billie.

“Shh,” I said.

The cab kind of jiggled, and then we heard all sorts of slamming and clanging from the engine.

This was our chance. I crept closer to the door, and looked out the window to make sure it was safe.

“What is it doing in here?” asked Billie as she reached two fingers out to the cat. “Come here, pretty kitty. Come here.”

“Stop it,” I whispered.

We inched closer to the front so I could see out the window.

The cat pretended not to watch us, but it was.

“It's like a camper back here,” Billie whispered. “It has a little table and benches and a TV and a sink and a little fridge—”

It reminded me of the first time we got into Dad's camper.

“—and I think there's a bed up there.” She pointed toward a ladder that headed over the table. “That's cool.”

My heart continued to thud. “Come on, we've got to get out.” I put my hand on the door handle, but before I opened it, I checked outside one more time. It sounded like Tattoo Guy was still working on the engine. What if he found us? He could be like Jax or worse.

Just as I reached for the door, I heard footsteps.

“Hurry, he's coming,” I said, pushing Billie back toward the table, but even here I felt too exposed. This was not a great hiding spot.

The cat stood up on the passenger seat and meowed.

“Come on,” I whispered, pointing to the ladder. I pushed Billie ahead of me. We climbed up the ladder over the table and landed on the bed that was tucked high over the eating area.

The door opened and Tattoo Guy climbed into the front seat, his hands on the steering wheel, all black with grease. He turned the key. The radio came on to some loud, screamy music. The truck rumbled and started to die out like before, but he slammed his foot on something on the floor and the engine came back to life.

“Yes!” he said, hitting the dashboard. The engine continued to roar. Tattoo Guy left the truck rumbling and climbed back down.

No. No. No.
We couldn't stay here. Not with the scary-looking Tattoo Guy. For a minute I missed the Lavender Lady and Orson. I inched toward the ladder and swung my leg over, but before I could get down, he climbed back in and closed the door.

We were trapped.

I crawled back up the ladder and scooted Billie and me as far as I could onto the same side of the semi as Tattoo Guy so he couldn't see us if he turned around. I had to formulate a new plan quickly.

Billie grabbed my hand. “What do we do?” she whispered.

Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

I might burst into a thousand tiny pieces. My heart felt like it was full of moths, their little wings beating against my aorta. I held my hand over my chest. I had to have a plan.

“It's fine,” I whispered to Billie. I closed my eyes, begging my brain for some kind of brilliant inspiration. Instinct? Genius? I needed whatever it was that could help keep us safe.

Billie squeezed my hand.

1. We could sneak out wherever he stopped next. At another gas station?

2. Try to call Julie again, but I had no idea if she would ever answer the phone.

3. I would have to call Antonio's mom now. Even if it proved that Dad was everything she'd said.

4. Maybe buy a bus ticket or something.

It was the best I could come up with under these conditions. I reached into my pocket for the bag with our money, just to count it one more time, but it was gone.

Tattoo Guy pulled the truck forward with the music even louder. He must have turned it up.

“Billie, did you see our bag?” I whispered, trying to hide the panic in my voice.

She shook her head.

I felt all over the bed for it, lifting up the dirty-looking pillows. Nothing. I looked out the little baby window on the side of the bed. Maybe it had fallen out of my pocket and landed in the parking lot, but there was nothing.

Did it fall out at Roger's apartment? Or I could have dropped it when we were crawling through the bushes.

The semitruck jerked, hitting something on the road. Tattoo Guy cursed.

“When did you last see our bag?” I whispered to Billie, trying to act like I had everything under control.

“What?” she asked. The music was so loud.

“Do you have our plastic bag? The one with the money?”

She shook her head. Cat hair stuck to her lips. “It was under our table when we were eating breakfast.”

And then I remembered I had put it under our table at the hotel. Everything, all that money, sat at our table in the breakfast room. I never even took it to Roger's house.

Something inside me deflated. How could we get anywhere without that money? And if Julie never answered her phone, then how would we get back to our condo? San Diego was a universe away. How could I ever save us now?

 

Survival Strategy #31:

BEWARE OF SHARKS

“What's the matter?” asked Billie.

“Nothing.”

My stomach felt like it was full of rocks pressing me down onto the mattress so I might never get up again. We had to have that money.

The cat meowed even louder. It had been sitting at the bottom of the ladder meowing for at least ten minutes. I knew it was trying to tell Tattoo Guy we were here.

“Shut up!” yelled Tattoo Guy.

I pulled Billie closer to me and held my finger to her lips.

She nodded, her stringy hair stuck in her eyelashes. Good Billie. Sweet Billie. When it came down to it, she always did what I said. Or mostly. We were a team. I grabbed her hand, threading her fingers through mine. “It's okay,” I whispered. “We're going to be okay. Don't worry.”