Small as an Elephant (16 page)

“Slip out?” He could hear her sit down on a box. “You’ve got to be kidding. First of all, there’s no telling how long it’ll take for us to be discovered. We could be in here all day! Secondly, when we
are
discovered, Mrs. M. will be furious, and that’s
nothing
compared to what will happen if anyone finds out I let you go.”

“But no one would have to know you ever saw me. Like I said, I could just slip —”

“Slip out, I know. But how am I going to explain how I ended up in this vault in the first place without mentioning that I was following you? Besides, if I turn you in, I’ll be a hero. And if I don’t, and someone finds out about it — which they will — I’ll probably be grounded for the rest of eighth grade.”

Jack sat down on a box as well. His legs no longer felt like they could hold him.
“Please,”
he said. “I know turning me in seems like the right thing to do, but sometimes things aren’t what they seem.”

“Well, why don’t you enlighten me, then?”

“Huh?”

“Convince me that I’m wrong. And everybody who’s out looking for you, everybody in the state of Maine and your grandma and the police — convince me that we’re all wrong, and that you’re better off on your own.”

Jack wrapped his good hand around the plastic elephant in his pocket. All of his instincts were telling him not to trust this strange girl, not to let her get any closer than she already was. But he felt trapped, cornered. What choice did he have, really?

“I don’t even know you. . . .” he began, but he knew he was just stalling.

“Sylvie Winters,” she said. “Nice to meet you. I don’t remember if they mentioned your name on the news. . . .”

“I’m Jack,” he said, and left it at that. He took a deep breath. “The reason you can’t tell anybody is because if you do, I’ll be . . .”

He could feel her staring at him, waiting.

Just like that, all the fight drained out of him. He put his head in his hands. “I’ll be taken away from my mother,” he whispered.

Sylvie was silent for a moment more and then asked, “Because she left? That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

Jack nodded.

“Permanently?” Sylvie asked.

His head snapped up. “No! She’s gonna come back, I know she will. I just don’t know how long she’ll be gone.”

“OK, OK. I believe you,” Sylvie said, soothingly. “But what I meant was, do you think they would take you away from her permanently?”

Jack was glad for the darkness. It was easier to talk to her when she couldn’t see him. “I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s bad, right? I mean, could she go to jail for something like this?”

She paused. “I suppose,” she said, as gently as anyone could say such a thing. “I think it qualifies as abandonment or child neglect or something.” He could tell she was thinking. “So, what were you planning on doing?”

“Before I got locked in a vault?” Jack asked.

Sylvie laughed. “Yeah. Before that.”

He looked up. “I was going to see an elephant.”

“Would you like half of my sandwich?” Sylvie asked. They’d been trapped in the vault for at least two hours. “Or maybe we should each eat a quarter. Who knows how long we’ll be in here.”

Jack eagerly accepted and popped the entire portion of the egg-salad sandwich into his mouth before wishing he’d savored it.

“So, tell me another elephant story,” said Sylvie.

He gave himself a moment to finish chewing and asked, “Aren’t you tired of them?” though he was hardly tired of telling them. When Sylvie had questioned him about his determination to see Lydia, Jack had tried to explain his obsession with elephants by telling her some of the most amazing elephant stories and facts that he knew. He didn’t think he’d convinced her not to turn him in, but he
had
convinced her that elephants were pretty darned cool.

“Well, then, tell me how you were planning to get all the way to York,” Sylvie said.

“I don’t know. Walk, I guess. I’ve gotten this far.” Jack took off the hat he’d found. It had grown increasingly warm in the vault.

“Yeah, but
everyone
is looking for you now,” said Sylvie. “It’s all anyone wants to talk about . . . the missing boy.”

“Really?” Jack found it hard to believe that there wouldn’t be more important things to talk about — more important people to pursue — in Maine. Certainly, the state must have had its share of murders and burglaries, too.

“You’ve got to admit, it’s a pretty gripping story. An eleven-year-old kid, all on his own, has somehow survived without any food or money or help. Plus, it’s just driving people crazy that the entire Maine state-police force hasn’t found you yet. But I did,” Sylvie added with a good deal of satisfaction.

Jack declined her offer of some grapes, even though he’d eaten very little. He had to face the fact that at some point, this vault was going to be opened and Sylvie was going to announce to the world that she had found the missing boy. He’d be carted off, his grandmother would be called, and all the struggles of the week would have been for naught. In fact, maybe he’d be in a whole heap of trouble for not having gone to an adult — not to mention for stealing the elephant and the bike. Maybe he and his mom would
both
be going to jail.

But if he could just hold on a little longer, just make it as far as York’s Wild Kingdom, maybe by then everything would be OK. Maybe all he needed was to look into Lydia’s eyes, and he’d know what was supposed to come next, how this would all work out. He couldn’t give up now, not when he was so close.

Jack cleared his throat, not quite sure where his thoughts were going. “If you knew that you were going to be taken away from your mother, if you knew you’d never live with her again, is there anything you’d like to do first?”

Sylvie checked her cell reception again. She’d done it about fifteen times, even though there was never a signal.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Jack pulled his fingers through his hair. If he couldn’t even get her to put herself in his shoes, how would he ever convince her to let him go?

“I’d play Monopoly with her,” Sylvie said finally.

“Monopoly?”

“My mom is always trying to get me to play board games with her — especially Monopoly. But it’s so boring, you know? Except, there are some things I like. I like that my mom always tries to land on Indiana Avenue because she went to school in Indiana. And she always licks her finger twice before picking up a Chance card. And she always has to have the shoe.”

“That’s my mom’s favorite, too.”

“So, yeah, Monopoly. That’s the last thing I’d want to do with her before I left.”

Jack wished his one last thing could be something he did with his mom and not something he had to do on his own. But he knew, deep down, that even if he was alone, seeing Lydia would be his Monopoly.

Sylvie offered the grapes again.

“
Mudo,
” Jack said. He put one in his mouth and sucked on it slowly.

“Mudo?”
asked Sylvie.

“It means ‘thank you.’”

“Huh,” said Sylvie. “So, seeing the elephant, seeing Lydia, really means that much to you?”

Jack nodded. “It’s all I have left.”

“But your mom —”

Suddenly, there was a clicking noise.

“The lock!” whispered Sylvie. He’d expected her to sound relieved, but instead she sounded frightened. “Mrs. M.’s opening the lock.”

Jack held his breath, praying that she finally understood.

“Hide!” Sylvie commanded, pulling him toward a stack of boxes behind her.

Hope surged through him. Was she really —?

“Hide!” she said again.

Jack did as he was told and hid behind the pile of boxes —

And not a moment too soon. The heavy vault door swung open.

“Hi, Mrs. Magillicutty!”

“Good heavens!” Mrs. Magillicutty screeched. “Sylvie Winters, what on
earth
are you doing in here? You scared me half to death! How long —?”

“I came in this morning, looking for you, Mrs. M. I was checking to see if you were in here, and someone shut the door.”

“What do you mean,
someone
shut the door? I never shut this door. . . . The sales rep, maybe? Or one of the customers? They should all know better. . . . Someday, someone is going to make me permanently close this vault,” she muttered. Then she seemed to remember that Sylvie was there. “You’re all right, though, sweetie, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. M. Just happy to be free!”

Jack wondered if that last bit was for his benefit. Maybe she really
did
understand.

“What did you need me for in the first place?” Mrs. Magillicutty asked. Her voice sounded farther away, like maybe Sylvie was leading her to the front of the store.

“It was just a silly question about a book. I can’t even remember what it was, exactly,” said Sylvie, who was definitely farther away. “But, Mrs. M., can you take me to school and help explain? I have a test this afternoon. . . .”

Jack waited until he heard the bell jingle over the door, until he could no longer hear Sylvie’s voice. Then he slid out from behind the boxes, went directly to the front door of the store, turned the lock, and slipped out into the sunshine.

If what Sylvie had said was true — that
everyone
was looking for him — he had to hide immediately. He turned sharply to the left and headed back down behind the buildings on Main Street, following the same route he’d attempted earlier, when Sylvie was chasing him. He knew he shouldn’t stay on the street — not when every kid in Searsport was in school — but where to hide?

Several of the houses on this street had garages, and one or two had a shed.
Just pick one,
he told himself,
before an old lady looks out her window and calls the police.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Maybe it was because he’d been trapped in a vault for the past three hours, but hiding out in another confining space was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

The road he was on quickly led to a park —
MOSMAN PARK
, the sign read — and, although the park was pretty deserted at this hour except for a dog walker in the distance, it was wide open, with no apparent places to hide. Jack continued down to the shore and followed a rock beach, similar to the one he’d seen in Bar Harbor, along the coastline.

He could see sailboats in the distance, and lobster boats.
Maybe,
he thought,
I could hide away on one of those. Travel by boat to York instead of walking.
But so far, his one attempt at stowing away had not exactly been successful. With his luck, he’d end up docking in Canada, and, although he might avoid being arrested, the likelihood of seeing his mother again, he figured, would be much slimmer.

There was a seawall that lined the beach, and lobster traps were piled along it. Jack crawled behind the bank of lobster traps and plunked down. It was the perfect hiding spot — cozy and well concealed — and yet he could still look out at the sea.
I’ll wait here until dark,
he decided,
then I’ll start walking to York.
He’d have to be careful and duck whenever a car came into view, but if no one spotted him walking, he could make it pretty far overnight.

He dug around in the sand a bit, looking for shell fragments, and figured it was getting close to noon. Noon would mean midday hunger pangs. But he was learning that if he just ignored them, they would lessen in an hour or so. It was strange; hunger was like an alarm clock. It sounded for a while, but if you ignored it, it would eventually give up. The alarm would go off again around dinnertime, he knew, but he’d deal with that when the time came.

Sudden noises startled Jack: women’s voices and the easily recognizable sound of dog tags.
Please let the dog be on a leash,
thought Jack. If not, the dog would surely sniff him out, and there was no way he could convince the women that he was a homeschooled kid just hiding behind some lobster traps.

“Waldo!” shouted a woman. “Stop it!”

The dog drew nearer. He was big and black and, luckily, leashed. But he was barking and lunging at the lobster traps, and, although Jack could see the owner only from the waist down, he could tell that the dog was succeeding in pulling her closer.