Zip (12 page)

The cannibal girl laughed again—so hard that she snorted a little

“You’re real funny, you know that?” cannibal girl said. Lyssa laughed along, shrugging, like she’d wanted to be funny all along

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you,” the cannibal said. A glimmer of hope flickered to life inside Lyssa’s chest. Escape. The cannibal girl was going to get her out of here

“Really?” she asked

The cannibal didn’t answer. Instead, she picked up one of her stress balls and rose to her knees on her seat, taking careful aim

Before Lyssa could say another word, the cannibal pelted her stress ball across the room, where it smacked the fat police officer sitting at his desk right on the nose

The officer started to choke on his sandwich, spewing chunks of bread and meat across his desk. A tall, skinny officer near the entrance dropped his water glass and hauled the choking officer out of his seat, throwing two arms around the officer’s chest and beginning the Heimlich maneuver

The fat officer finally spit up his sandwich—and it landed with a splash in a policewoman’s coffee mug, splattering brown liquid all over her blouse. When the officer she was speaking to pointed at her chest, an offended look
spread across her face and she slapped him, hard, across the cheek

Lyssa turned back to the cannibal girl, her eyes wide

“What are you waiting for?” the cannibal asked. “Run!”

Lyssa didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing her backpack, she leapt to her feet, stumbling a little as she darted for the door. Chaos had erupted around her—all the officers were fighting and yelling and not one of them seemed to be paying attention to the door. As Lyssa ran, another stress ball came whizzing past her, smacking into the gumball machine. The gumball machine rocked on its pedestal, then crashed to the floor. The glass broke and bright blue gumballs rolled out into the room. The officers trampled over the gumballs until the sticky blue mess covered the floor

One of the officers glanced up as Lyssa pushed the front door open

“Wait!” he shouted, “Get back here!”

As the officer reached out to grab her, he tripped over his gum-covered shoes and tumbled to the floor. Lyssa leapt over his arm and out the door

“Thanks,” Lyssa shouted over her shoulder to the cannibal girl as she raced outside to freedom

L
yssa burst into the parking lot and immediately let out a cry of pain. She had stubbed her big toe on a big metal something that was leaning against the curb. She hopped up and down in place, trying not to scream. When she looked down, her mouth fell open.

Her scooter

Bright yellow paint winked in the sun, and wind ruffled the remaining pom-pom so that it waved. A soaring feeling filled Lyssa’s chest—like dozens of dizzily spinning kites sweeping through her insides. She pulled her scooter upright—and that’s when she noticed a little tag hanging from the handlebars

Lyssa Lee,
the tag read
Evidence.

Evidence?
Lyssa’s throat got dry. The policewoman must’ve gone back to the diner and found her scooter…

Lyssa hesitated. Could she possibly hope to outrun the police? The cops knew who she was. If she went back into the station, the police would call Michael and she would go home. The Missing Person posters could come down and no one would be worried anymore. Lyssa’s home in Austin would be torn down—but at least she wouldn’t feel so guilty about what she was doing to Michael

Inside, someone shouted. Lyssa gripped her scooter handlebars tighter. She couldn’t give up—not when she’d come so far!

She climbed onto Zip. Time to go

Two roads branched away from the police station: a narrow, twisty one that led past a field full of tall grass and a road paved in cement headed toward the taller buildings in the distance. Lyssa aimed her scooter down the paved road and kicked off, hoping to find a bus or a train station once she got farther into the city. As she coasted down a hill, she realized Zip’s hand brake was broken. The hand brake made a high-pitched squeaking noise every time she touched it. It almost sounded like Zip was crying. Lyssa squeezed the brake three times and still couldn’t get it to slow down

Up ahead, she saw a big intersection: cars whizzed by, a blur of silver, blue, and red paint

And Lyssa was racing right into their path

She planted a foot on the ground, but she was going too fast to stop. One of her shoelaces got caught in a wheel and her scooter whirled out of control, spinning around and around like a giant blue top. Lyssa spun out into the street, cars honking as she wove in between bumpers and tires.

She careened through the traffic, bumped up onto the sidewalk, and landed, miraculously, in a heap on the other side of the road. Picking herself up, she tentatively rotated her wrists and ankles, checking for any breaks. Every inch of her skin felt a little bit bruised or bumped, but the only mark Lyssa found was a tiny cut running along her elbow

“Thanks, Mom,” Lyssa whispered. As she sat up, she bumped Zip and her scooter’s hand brake squeaked. “Thank you too, Zip,” she added

Her heart still racing, Lyssa pulled her shoelace out of the scooter wheel and wove it around her handlebars, tying her hand brake back into place. She tried the brake again. This time it didn’t squeak but gave off a low groan, like Zip was returning her thanks

“You’re welcome,” Lyssa said, patting Zip’s handlebars. That should hold…for a little while

She lay back in the grass, taking a moment to catch her breath. She pulled her journal out of her backpack

Sighing, Lyssa closed the journal and shoved it back into her bag, too tired to finish. She’d been running ever since the diner. At the thought of food, her stomach rumbled pain–fully, like it was warning her a storm was coming. She’d eaten that peanut butter and jelly sandwich and big bowl of soup a long time ago. She only had $13 left in her backpack—barely enough money for dinner, let alone a ticket to Austin.

She stood up and pulled Zip upright, tightening and loosening her fingers around the handlebars

“What are we going to do, Zip?” she said out loud. Glancing at the sun, she realized it must be at least four o’clock. “How are we going to eat?”

Zip just sat in smug silence. Obviously Zip wouldn’t be as worried about the food situation as Lyssa was

“Lucky,” she muttered. Without any real plan she continued along the street, suddenly feeling very weak as she pushed Zip along

Just a few blocks ahead, Lyssa saw yellow-striped tents and whitewashed stands silhouetted in the late-afternoon sun. Yellow—that was a good sign. Bales of hay stood near the stands, covered in red-and-white-checked tablecloths. When the wind blew, the air smelled sweet: like apple cider and gingersnap cookies. Lyssa’s mouth watered. The stands reminded her of the huge farmers’ markets in Austin where she and her mom used to buy their fruit and vegetables every Sunday

The markets in Austin always had free samples to give away. Maybe there were some broken bits of gingersnap cookie or tiny cups of apple cider sitting on those red-and-white-checked tables?

Lyssa climbed off her scooter and wheeled it toward the market. A sign hanging on one of the stands read
Gopher Flats Farmers’ Market
. Lyssa reached for her braid and frowned—she was still in Gopher Flats? She’d been going so fast on Zip she was sure she’d passed through four or five cities by now.

There were people
everywhere
. A man wearing a green knit stocking cap stood over a huge metal pot ladling out apple cider to a crowd. Next to him was an upturned crate,
which a woman with dreadlocks was piling high with fruit and jars of honey. Across from them were several other stands filled with people selling homemade scarves, clay coffee mugs, and hunks of blue, stinky cheese. A tall woman with brown hair was bending over a cheese stand. Lyssa’s heart skipped a beat—she looked just like Athena! But then the woman turned around and Lyssa’s heart sank. This woman’s face was lined and her hair was streaked with gray. She was much too old to be Athena.

The air around the market was thick with the smell of fresh herbs, cinnamon-flecked cider, and the honey-sweet scent of ripe apples. A line of people snaked around every stand, everyone carrying reusable bags heavy with their purchases. But Lyssa didn’t see any free samples anywhere.

She found a vacant patch of dry grass and propped Zip against a tree, watching the people come and go. There was a man with a guitar on the other side of the marketplace, and for a moment Lyssa’s spirits lifted. She thought he might sing, but he began to pack up his guitar and she realized she must’ve missed his show. Before he put the guitar back into the case, he pulled out a thick wad of green bills and slowly counted them

Lyssa watched him, transfixed. He had made all of that just by playing?

She thought of Demo and how he told her he performed
on the streets in Seattle for money. Lyssa could try that. She still had the cowboy hat; she could set it in front of her and sing for the people walking past. Someone would toss in a dollar or two. She even had her mom’s maracas in her backpack

But a nagging thought pulled at the corner of her brain. Her stage fright. She tried to push the thought away, but it stayed, like a spider in the corner of the room that you tried to pretend wasn’t there because you didn’t have a shoe to smoosh it

Maybe, she thought, I’ve never been able to sing in front of other people before because I wasn’t ever motivated enough. She was hungry and she needed a bus ticket to Austin! If that wasn’t motivation, she didn’t know what was

Lyssa reached into her backpack and wrapped her fingers around her mom’s maracas

She hesitated. Seconds ago the market had looked small and friendly, but now it seemed like the people had multiplied. And everyone was so tall. They towered over Lyssa like giant, moving trees—all dressed in flannel

Lyssa swallowed and pulled one of the maracas out of her bag. No one paid any attention to her, and someone even stepped on her toes. She winced. Maybe if she was good enough, they’d all stop moving and listen?

She dropped her cowboy hat onto the ground in front of her. Someone bumped into her and the maraca she was holding went flying. She had to drop down to her knees and crawl between a woman’s legs to retrieve it. Standing back up, she wiped the dirt off her jeans and tried to remember the words to her favorite Athena song.

But when she opened her mouth to sing, her throat felt dry and hot. Her head grew hot-air-balloon light. Lyssa closed her lips, frustration bubbling up inside her. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to picture her mom dancing around on the Talent Show stage or Athena belting out the lyrics to “Let’s Hear It for the Cowgirls” that night almost a year ago

Lyssa had
always
wanted to be a singer. This was her chance—so why couldn’t she find her voice?

When she opened her eyes again, she had to blink through a film of tears to see an unexpected sight: a fat, pink pig squatting on the dry grass in front of her. The pig snorted, then pawed at the dirt with its hoof

“What are you looking at?” Lyssa asked

One of the pig’s little pink ears twitched. It looked thoroughly unimpressed with her, and why wouldn’t it? She couldn’t even sing to a tiny crowd of people at a farmers’ market.

“Mabel!” a shrill voice shouted from behind her. Lyssa
whirled around. Charging toward her was the strangest-looking woman she had ever seen in her life

She was very thin and very tall, almost all arms and legs. Her hair was gray and wispy, like it had been fashioned from dandelion seeds and dental floss, and she wore thick glasses that made her eyes look small as ladybugs. Lyssa wondered if the lenses had been put in backward

The woman stormed past Lyssa and bent down, giving her pig a rap on the head. “I told you not to wander off like that,” she said. Then she spun around to Lyssa, putting one hand on her hips. She smelled strongly of peaches—almost as though she’d bathed in their juice. The smell made Lyssa’s mouth water

“You trying to steal my pig, girl?” The woman shifted her eyes to Lyssa’s cowboy hat and glared at it suspiciously, as though she always knew girls with cowboy hats weren’t to be trusted

“What?” Lyssa said, startled. “I mean, no, ma’am. Your peach—I mean your pig—wandered over here. I…I was just about to look around for its owner.”

Lyssa swallowed. The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. But if the woman thought Lyssa was going to steal her pig, she might call the police. Then Lyssa would be right back where she started

The woman sniffed and turned around once again
toward the pig. She wobbled a bit when she walked, like a baby giraffe that wasn’t quite used to her legs

“Well, what’re you waiting for, Mabel?” the woman said. “Get back to the truck.”

Lyssa couldn’t be sure, but she thought the pig looked a little embarrassed as it turned to head back to the truck, its curly pink tail tucked between its legs. The strange woman gave Lyssa one last suspicious look, then started to lumber away. She had a strange gait, almost like her knees didn’t bend. But Lyssa couldn’t get a good look at the woman’s legs because she wore a baggy dress that was at least four sizes too big and so long it dragged on the ground behind her. The dress was tie-dyed yellow, orange, and blue. As Lyssa watched, the woman dug into her pockets and produced the largest, juiciest-looking peach Lyssa had ever seen. Lyssa’s stomach gave another thunderous rumble

“Do you work here?” Lyssa took hold of Zip and trailed behind the woman and her pig but kept her eyes locked on the peach. Maybe, just maybe, she could convince the woman to give her a bite…