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  “Hey,” the man said. His shirt had the word “Security” sewn onto it. Where his belly sagged, the shirt hung out over his pants. He carried a long-handled flashlight. He wore a pistol at his belt.

  Dicey didn’t answer, but she didn’t look away.

  “Hey kid,” he said, as if she had shown signs of running and he needed to halt her. He was heavy, out of shape. He had a pig-person face, a coarse skin that sagged at the jowls, little blue eyes and pale eyebrows, and a fat, pushed-back nose. When he came up next to her, Dicey stepped back a pace, but kept her finger on the number in the book.

  “You lost?”

  “Naw. I’m making a phone call.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Just over there,” Dicey said, pointing vaguely with her free hand.

  “Go home and call from there. Run along now. If you were a girl, I’d walk you over, but—”

  “Our phone’s broken,” Dicey said. “That’s why my mom sent me here.”

  The guard shifted his flashlight, holding it like a club. “Phones don’t break. How’s a phone break?”

  “We’ve got this dog that chews things up. Slippers, papers, you know. He chewed the phone. The cord, actually, but it’s all the same—the phone’s broken.”

  “Are you bulling me?”

  “I wish I was.”

  “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Danny.”

  She felt funny, strange, making up lies as quickly and smoothly as if she’d been doing it all her life.

  The man took a piece of gum out of his pocket, unwrapped it, folded it in half and stuck it into his mouth, chewing on it a couple of times.

  “Danny what?”

  “Tillerman.” Dicey couldn’t make up a new last name, except Smith, and nobody would believe that even if it was true.

  “You don’t look more than ten. Isn’t it late to be out?”

  Dicey shrugged.

  The guard grew suspicious. “Who’re you calling?”

  “The bus company. My sisters and me are going down to Bridgeport some time soon, to stay with my aunt.”

  He chewed and thought. “Sometime soon wouldn’t send you out after ten at night to phone. What’s the rush?”

  “My mom just got back from the clinic and she’s gonna have her baby, any day now the doctor said, and my aunt needs to know what time the buses arrive so she can meet us on Monday. So’s we can take a bus it’s good for her to meet. My mom asked me to come find out so’s she can call first thing in the morning, before my aunt goes to church. It’s hard for my mom to get around now—you know.”

  “Where’s your father?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Dunno. He just up and went, way back, last winter.”

  The guard nodded. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the pack of gum. He offered a piece to Dicey, but she shook her head.

  “Can I call now, mister?”

  “Sure thing,” he said. “I wouldn’t have bothered you except that there’ve been some windows broken around here. We think it’s kids. I’m the security guard. I’ve got to be careful.”

  Dicey nodded. She inserted the coins and slowly dialed the numbers, hoping he’d go away. But he stood there and listened. Behind him lay the parking lot, a vast open space where occasional clumps of planted bushes spread long shadows over the ground.

  An impersonal voice answered. Dicey asked about tickets to Bridgeport, how much they cost.

  “From where to Bridgeport.”

  Dicey grabbed at a name. “Peewauket.” That was what the map said. She pronounced it Pee-Walk-It. The guard, listening narrowed his eyes.

  “From Peewauket?” the voice asked, saying it Pwuk-it.

  “Yeah.”

  “Two dollars and forty-five cents a person.”

  “What’s the rate for children?”

  “The same. The charge is for the seat. Unless you’ve got a child under two.”

  “What time do buses run?”

  “Every other hour, from eight to eight.”

  Dicey thanked the voice and hung up the phone. She stood with her arms hanging down at her sides, waiting for the guard to leave.

  He was studying her with his little piggly eyes. He held his flashlight now in one hand and slapped it into the palm of the other. “You better get back now,” he said and then added, “You didn’t write anything down.”

  “I’ve got a good memory.”

  “Yeah? I’ll give you a test.” His body blocked the way to the safe darkness of the parking lot. “You don’t remember anything about broken windows in the mall, do you? For instance, just one for instance, at Record City.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I wonder about that. I really wonder, Danny. You said Danny, didn’t you? Tillerman, wasn’t it? You see, we figure it was probably kids did it, account of nothing’s been stolen. Or maybe just one kid did it, that’s what I’m thinking.”

  Dicey glared at him. “I said I don’t know anything about that.”

  He put one arm out to bar her in, resting his hand against the side of the phone. “I can’t think of why I should believe you. Nope, now I come to think of it, I don’t think I do believe you. The only question in my mind is, what do I do with you?”

  Dicey thought fast, then acted just as fast. She lifted her right knee as if to hit him in the groin where she knew it would hurt bad. He lowered his arm and stepped back, to protect himself. In that one second while he was off balance, Dicey took off. She sprinted into the darkness of the parking lot. As soon as she was in the cover of the shadows, she turned left around the corner of the building, away from their car. He thundered after her.

  Dicey ran smoothly. She was used to running on beaches, where the sand gave way under your feet and each thrust of your legs was hindered. Running over asphalt was easier. Dicey pulled away from her pursuer. His steps were heavy and his breathing was heavy. He was out of shape and too fat to catch up with her. She had time to crouch behind one of the little islands of green that decorated the parking lot. She had on a dark shirt and jeans, her face was tanned and her hair brown; she was confident nothing would give her away.

  He stopped by the front entrance shining his flashlight out over the parking lot, like one bright eye. Dicey watched him. He listened, but his chest was heaving so much that she was sure he couldn’t hear anything but the blood pounding in his ears. She smiled to herself.

  “You haven’t got a chance,” he called. “You better come out now, kid. You’re only making it worse.”

  Dicey covered her mouth with her hand.

  “I know you now. We’ll find you out,” he said. He turned quickly away from the parking lot and looked farther along the front of the mall. He hunched behind the flashlight. He used the beam like a giant eye, to peer into the shadows. “There you are! I can see you!” he cried.

  But he was looking the wrong way. Dicey giggled, and the sound escaped her even though she bit on her hand to stop it.

  He turned back to the parking lot, listening. Then he swore. His light swooped over the dark lot, trying to search out her hiding place. “Danny? I’m gonna find you.”

  Dicey moved softly away on soundless sneakers through the covering shadows. He continued to call: “I’ll remember your face, you hear? You hear me? Hear me?”

  From halfway across the parking lot, safe in her own speed and in shadows, Dicey stopped. Her heart swelled in victory. “I hear you,” she called softly back, as she ran toward the empty road and the patch of woods beyond.

  Much later, when she returned to the car, James awoke briefly. “Everything’s okay,” Dicey whispered, curling down onto the cold seat to sleep.

  CHAPTER 2

  Dicey awoke at the first light. A chilly dew beaded the windshield. James’s body leaning against her side was the only warmth in the car. He still slept, so she didn’t move, even though her stiff muscles ached to be stretched. She watched the su
n rise into a cold gray sky that turned warmer and brighter as the first peach-colored beams of light grew golden, then yellow, then white. Surrounded by sleepers, Dicey sat content. The car was a cave within which they were safe. It held them together; and it protected them from outside forces, the cold, the damp, people.

  At last James stirred, and his eyes opened. All four of them had the same hazel eyes, although Dicey and James had their father’s dark hair, not the yellow hair their mother had passed on to Maybeth and Sammy.

  James’s hazel eyes looked at Dicey for a minute before he spoke. “It’s still true.” His voice was hollow and sad. Their momma was really gone.

  Dicey nodded. Sammy surged over from the backseat. “I gotta go to the bathroom. Bad.”

  Dicey turned her head and a muscle protested all the way down her back. “Maybeth? You awake?”

  Maybeth was awake.

  “Okay, then. Let’s take our clothes bags and change. And the food bag too, if you’d like to eat breakfast outside.” Dicey took the map of Connecticut and jammed it into her clothes bag.

  It was Sunday and nothing moved in the parking lot, the same few cars stood empty. The air was clear, clean, lucid, lying lightly upon the world that morning. The children scrambled out of the car and Dicey led them across the highway to the woodsy patch where she had hidden the night before. She led them into the thickest clustering of trees, then they separated to go to the bathroom.

  They ate the last peanut butter sandwiches sitting on a low stone wall, listening to a few birds and watching the sunlight fall in bright, moving patterns onto the leafy floor of the woods. The air grew warmer.

  Dicey finished her sandwich and crumpled the wax paper up. She tossed it into the food bag. Then she stripped down to her underpants and put on a pair of cutoff jeans and a T-shirt. She also put on a pair of socks. The others changed too. Dicey insisted that they wear socks.

  “Why?” James asked. “It’s hotter with socks on.”

  “If we’re going to walk they’ll keep us from getting blisters.”

  “Is that true?” James demanded. “I never had a blister.”

  “Of course, it’s true,” Dicey answered. “Now let me look at the map and think, all of you.”

  The little ones explored the little patch of woods while Dicey studied the map. Route 1 was the road they’d been driving on. They could follow it for a while, then they’d have to go on the Turnpike to get over the Thames River, to New London. After that, they’d have to switch to a road that followed the coastline, because Route 1 turned into the Turnpike for a long while. There was the Connecticut River to cross, then Route 1 again, or maybe they could take a coastal road, to New Haven. After New Haven, the map showed a yellow patch connecting the cities, all the way down to Bridgeport. That meant heavily populated areas. But Route 1 ran the whole distance.

  Dicey looked at the map. Maybe two or three days, she judged. They had about seven dollars, so they could spend about two dollars a day on food. Half what they’d spent on one meal yesterday. But that was okay, because you didn’t starve in two or three days. You could get awfully hungry, but you wouldn’t starve.

  “James?” she called. “Maybeth. Sammy. Come here now.”

  They ran up and sat in a circle around the map. Dicey showed them where Bridgeport was and about where they were. Then she made her announcement: “We’re going to walk down to Bridgeport.” The idea was so factual in her mind that she was unprepared for questions.

  “What about Momma?” Sammy asked.

  “I don’t know where she’s got to,” Dicey said.

  “We can wait for her here,” Sammy said. His mouth puckered up.

  “No we can’t,” Dicey said, and she told them about the guard. “Momma will know we went on to Aunt Cilla’s,” Dicey said. Sammy’s mouth set in a firm line. “We can’t go back,” Dicey said, “and we’ve got to go somewhere.”

  “That’s all right,” James spoke, “but why don’t we take the bus?”

  “Because we don’t have enough money. Each ticket is two forty-five. That makes nine dollars and eighty cents all together and we’ve only got seven dollars.”

  “If we hadn’t had supper last night,” James said.

  Dicey had already been over that in her own mind. “But we did,” she cut him off. “So it’s no good thinking, if we didn’t. We’re going to have to walk. Maybeth?”

  Maybeth looked up from a pile of stones she was making into a long circle around herself. “That’s fine, Dicey,” she said. No questions, no worries in her round hazel eyes, just that’s fine. Dicey felt like hugging her.

  “How far is it?” James asked.

  “I don’t know for sure,” Dicey said.

  “How far can we walk in a day?” James asked.

  “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Dicey asked. Only Sammy didn’t smile in return.

  “It’ll be hard,” she added. “We have to carry as little as possible. Just one bag for all of us.”

  They sorted through their bags. Sammy refused to speak or help, just sat cross-legged with his jaw set, picking at the dirt with his finger. Dicey took out two changes of underwear and two clean shirts for each, then she added a pair of extra socks and one comb. Toothbrushes they could get at Aunt Cilla’s. There was about half a bag full when she was through. It felt light enough in the cool morning, but she knew that it would get heavier as the day went on. She inhaled the sun-sweetened air and looked around her.

  “I’m not going,” Sammy said. He glared up at Dicey.

  “What’ll you do?” James asked him, perfectly reasonably.

  “Wait here for Momma. Not here exactly, in the car.”

  “Sammy, you’ve got to come with us,” Dicey said. “First we’re going to stash these other three bags in the car, then we start walking. So get up.”

  Sammy shook his head.

  “Don’t you understand?” Dicey asked. “Momma’s not coming back, not here.”

  Sammy didn’t answer her. Sammy’s stubbornness was beyond measure. When he made his mind up, there was nothing you could do to move him. Threats didn’t work. He didn’t mind being spanked or slapped. Explaining was no good; it was as if he didn’t even hear what you were saying to him. Even Momma couldn’t bully him into doing something. Even James couldn’t trick him into it.

  But you couldn’t go off and leave a six-year-old alone, in the woods, in a strange place.

  Dicey crouched down beside him. The other two stood silent behind her. “Sammy? Momma’s not coming back here. That’s what I think. I think she’s forgotten.”

  “Momma wouldn’t forget me.”

  “No, she wouldn’t. But she’s forgotten where we are, I think. So if we go to Aunt Cilla’s that’s where she’ll probably be. We have to go find her.”

  “I don’t want to,” Sammy said. But he was thinking about what she’d said.

  “I don’t want to, either,” Dicey said. “But we have to.”

  “No, we don’t,” Sammy said.

  Dicey stood up in frustration and stamped her foot on the ground. “Then I’ll carry you,” she announced.

  “I’ll kick you.” He stood up.

  Maybeth stepped forward. “No, you won’t,” she said to Sammy. “Momma said to do as Dicey tells us. You heard her.”

  The two stared at one another. They were both sturdy little blond figures, with round bellies. Sammy shorter than Maybeth, but almost as heavy.

  “Please, Sammy,” Maybeth said.

  “Okay,” Sammy said.

  At the edge of the woods, where the grassy roadside banked above the macadam, they stopped to wait for an opening in the traffic. It was Sunday morning. People were driving to church, or to the beach. The children could look back and see their own car, green and lonely, in the middle of the parking lot.

  It was kind of like a home, the car, Dicey thought. She understood why Sammy wanted to stay there.

  They crossed the road, but stopped at the edge of the
parking lot. A blue police car was driving around the lot. It stopped by their car. A policeman got out and opened the door. He stuck his head in. He opened the glove compartment and went through the maps, as if he was looking for something. He walked all around the car. He wrote something down in a little notebook. Then he looked toward the mall.

  “Walk.” Dicey gave the order. She took Sammy’s hand. “Don’t anybody look at our car.”

  They walked on, away from the mall and the parking lot and the car. Dicey led them back to Route 1. There they turned south. They dumped the three grocery bags in the first trash can they saw. Nobody said a word.

  Route 1 was mostly garages and small shopping centers and discount stores and quick food places. There were no green patches and few sidewalks. They walked along concrete or asphalt, or on roadside gravel. Soon their feet hurt. Dicey walked at half her normal speed, because of Sammy’s short legs. Trucks roared by and the sun grew hotter. The air smelled of oil and gas and nothing else. After an hour and a half, Sammy began to complain. It was the first time any of them had spoken.

  At the next McDonald’s that had outside tables, Dicey let them sit down. One at a time, they went inside to the bathroom. They had to go through a room that smelled of hamburgers and french fries, and they all became aware of how hungry they were. Dicey ordered two large Cokes, which they all four shared.

  That refreshed them. Sitting still also refreshed them.

  “How much longer is it?” Sammy asked.

  “A long way,” Dicey said. “We’ll have to sleep outside tonight.”

  “Good-o,” Sammy said. “Can we have a fire?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on where we get to. This road is awful.”

  “That’s for sure,” James agreed. “Dicey? When do we get lunch?”

  “I’ve been thinking,” she answered. “If we walk for a while, then rest a little, that’s the best way. So we’ll walk another hour or so and I’ll go into a supermarket. We should have fruit every day, and maybe some doughnuts and milk. I’ll see what they have. We’ve got to make our money last.”