William S. and the Great Escape (10 page)

At first Jancy looked surprised and shocked. “Why do you suppose she'd do that?” she asked. “Why would she lie to you about there being police cars and Baggetts in Crownfield?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Unless it's just that she doesn't want us to leave, at least not right away. I think that might be it. Yesterday she told me some stuff that made me think she's sort of lonely. So maybe she likes having some extra people around.” He grinned. “Even if they're just a bunch of Baggetts.”

Jancy didn't smile. She seemed to be thinking for quite a while before she nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “Maybe,” she said. “But I don't think that's the reason. Not exactly, at least.”

“Oh yeah? What is it then?”

“I think it's mostly
you
she doesn't want to go away. That's what I think.”

William was puzzled. “Why do you think that?”

Jancy ducked her head and looked at William out of the tops of her eyes. She was smiling, but there was something about her tone of voice that made it sound like an accusation. “You're the one she's crazy about,” she said.

William was shocked and indignant. “What? What are you talking about?”

Jancy shrugged. “Well, that's just what I think.” Her eyes suddenly opened wider. “Either that, or else it's Ariel. Yeah. Maybe it's Ariel she's in love with.”

William might have argued some more, but just then Trixie woke up and kicked Buddy, and Buddy woke up enough to kick her back and start mumbling. Which meant he'd better be taken to the bathroom right away.

So William got Buddy up and walked him to the bathroom, and by the time they were both back in bed, Jancy was either asleep, or pretending to be.

W
illiam didn't sleep very well that night. All night long he kept waking up to lie there wide-eyed, going over his plans. Plans that now seemed to include not only how to escape the Baggetts, but also … He couldn't help grinning a little. How to escape Clarice?

It was an interesting, if sort of embarrassing, complication. Not that he thought for a moment that Jancy knew what she was talking about when she said that Clarice was in love with him. That, of course, was a joke. Enough to make any halfway sensible person laugh. He chuckled to himself.

But then there was that other idea that Jancy had come up with. The one about it being Ariel that Clarice was in love with. Now that, he decided, might be a little more likely. After all, wasn't it true that lots of people were sort of in love with actors or actresses whom they'd seen only as characters in the movies, or on the stage? And hadn't Clarice first seen him, really noticed him at least,
when he was being Ariel on the high school auditorium's stage? It was something to think about.

But that meant—he sighed deeply—he not only had to somehow get himself and Jancy and the little kids away from the house and down to the bus stop without being seen by the police or the Baggetts, but also without having their getaway sabotaged by Clarice. And what's more, it was going to have to happen very soon, since tomorrow would be Friday. Clarice hadn't mentioned it, but her parents were probably home all day on weekends—which would make hiding a bunch of Baggetts in the basement a lot trickier. If not impossible.

There was, it seemed, only one thing to do. One dangerous but maybe not impossible thing. Before he went back to sleep, he had it all planned. What he was going to have to do was go, all by himself, on a scouting trip to find out not only what time a Greyhound bus would be heading toward Gold Beach on Saturday morning, and how much the tickets cost, but also whether or not Clarice had been lying about the town being full of posters and police cars. He lay there for a long time planning his trip. Having lived in at least a half dozen places all over Crownfield before the Baggetts got kicked out of town, he knew the whole downtown area pretty well, so it shouldn't be too hard to decide which route would be safest, and where he might find some hiding places if he needed them. When he finally did go to sleep,
he had this awful dream about being chased all over town by a whole lot of angry Baggetts who kept jumping out at him from behind corners, and even crawling out from under parked cars, looking like alligators wearing boots and black leather jackets.

But morning finally came, and he and Jancy got up and kept the little kids quiet until they heard the car leaving. Then Clarice came down to get them and breakfast was pancakes again, and everything was pretty much the same as before. Except that William couldn't help being on the lookout for any signs that Jancy was right about Clarice.

He couldn't really believe it. Especially after he sized himself up in the mirror over the sideboard. Carefully checked out his bony face and scrawny body, and then did the same with Clarice. She really wasn't all that bad looking, he decided, particularly now and then when she happened to be smiling.

Not a chance,
he told himself.
Jancy has a big imagination.
But then there
was
the Ariel possibility. That was, perhaps, something else again. Testing it out, he tried to get into an Ariel frame of mind. Not that he started leaping and twirling, but he did try to bring to mind the wild, free, unlimited feeling he'd always gotten when he was onstage. And it sort of worked. Right about then, when he caught Clarice looking at him, he thought he saw a hint of what Jancy had been talking about, in the way her eyelids were kind of fluttering.

But so what? All that meant was he was going to have to be particularly careful today not to let Clarice know what he was planning. Not to say a thing about what he would be doing the minute she left to go shopping and make her midday visit to her aunt's.

And he didn't. Not a word while the kitchen was cleaned up, the kids were escorted up to get a new batch of toys, and a bunch of leftovers from last night's feast were packed up to be carried down to the basement for lunch. But then Clarice got on her bicycle and rode off, and it was time to start.

Actually it wasn't until then, when Clarice was gone and the little kids were busy playing, that he told Jancy what he was getting ready to do, and at first she hated the idea a whole lot.

“But I have to,” William kept telling her. “We can't drag the little kids through town and down to the bus station without knowing whether or not Clarice was telling the truth about the police and everything. And without even knowing for sure what time the bus leaves for Gold Beach.”

When he got that far, Jancy was still shaking her head, but then he went on, “Or even if I really have enough money for four tickets.”

That did it. Jancy's big eyes got even bigger, and she bit her lower lip for a while before she said, “Okay. Okay. I guess you have to. But just be awful careful, William.”
Grabbing him by both arms, she shook him and repeated, “Please, please, be awful careful.”

“Don't worry,” he told her. “I sure will.” And he couldn't have meant it more. He certainly wasn't looking forward to going as far as the Greyhound bus station through a town where anyone might know about the mysterious disappearance of the four youngest Baggetts and be all prepared to throw him in jail and call Big Ed. The very thought was enough to give him that heart-racing, throat-shrinking feeling.

“I wish there was some way we could sort of disguise you,” Jancy was saying.

“Like what?” he asked.

She thought for a moment, then said, “Hey. Wait a minute.” She took off, running up out of the basement and then, as William lagged behind, on up to disappear into the kitchen. It wasn't long before she returned, carrying a bunch of clothing over her arm.

“What's that?” William wanted to know. “What's that stuff?”

“Come up here,” Jancy said, so he did, and when he got into the kitchen she went on, “It's some real nice boys' clothing I saw in that hall coat closet yesterday. You know, when Buddy ran off and I was looking all over for him. I asked Clarice whose they were, and she said they belonged to her cousin who came to visit last Easter, and when he went off he left this suit, because he'd pretty
much outgrown it. It looks like it might fit you.”

William checked the things out. There were some pants made of a smooth gray material with built-in pleats down the front, a dressy grayish brown checked jacket, and a floppy cap made of the same material as the jacket.

“I can't wear that,” William said. But of course he did. The pants were a little too big around his waist and the jacket sleeves were just a bit long. But it was the matching cap that was the most important. Pulling the silk-lined cap down hard over his shaggy hair made him look a whole lot different. And feel different too. Almost as if he were wearing a stage costume. A kind of rich-kid costume that you'd certainly never see on anybody in a play about runaway Baggetts, that was for sure. But an excellent costume for someone who was playing the role of a self-confident guy who knew what he wanted, and how to go about getting it.

It was in that frame of mind that he waved good-bye to a stunned-looking Jancy and started down Gardenia, even managing to stay in character when he met up with a Gardenia Street resident. An oldish guy with a cane and a lot of white hair, who smiled and nodded in such an enthusiastic way that it was obvious that he had no idea he'd just met up with a Baggett.

That meeting put William into a confident mood that he managed to hang on to all the way down Gardenia
Street, and almost to Main. But on Main Street, in a part of the city that he'd known very well when the Baggetts were living in town, he found it harder to keep on feeling and acting like a visiting tourist who actually lived in some famous place like London or Paris.

Out on Main Street the first thing he did was stop long enough to check up and down the street for police cars. Not even one. And no posters, either, at least not on any of the lampposts he'd passed so far. So much for Clarice's horror stories.

But now, right there in front of him was Carson's Candy Store, where, when he was four or five years old, Al and Andy used to twist his arm until he agreed to go in and look pitiful until the kind lady behind the counter gave him a handful of jelly beans. Which he, of course, had to turn over to the twins the minute he got outside—or get slapped around. And get slapped around even harder if he'd dared to eat even one of them.

And down there on the corner was Wally's Cheap Gas, where the older Baggett brothers always used to go to buy gasoline for their hot rods and motorcycles. William was still staring at the familiar shapes of the gas tanks when an even more familiar screeching roar made him head for cover. A motorcycle was thundering into Wally's driveway. A motorcycle with two big shaggy windblown guys on the seat. Without waiting to be sure, Baggetts or not, William jumped around the corner into
the alley and stayed there, completely out of sight for several minutes, until the motor roared again—roared and then died away.

Close call. Way too close. Ducking his camouflaged head in its floppy cap, William walked hard and fast in the direction of the Greyhound bus station. The next scary question was, would the clerk on duty today be someone he'd met before? Someone who'd known him well enough to see through his rich kid costume and immediately call the police? As he pushed open the door to the ticket office, William held his breath.

W
ell, hello there, young man,” the man under the picture of a huge dog with a skinny middle, said. Not a familiar face. Whew! Big relief.

Taking a deep breath, William started to talk in the relaxed, self-confident way that a person would expect from a kid whose cap matched his jacket. “Hello there, sir. My name is Wilbur—er, Jones, yeah, Jones—and my parents sent me down to inquire about your schedule for Saturday morning. Like, when the first bus for Gold Beach leaves. And oh yes”—his slight shrug was supposed to indicate that whatever the answer might be, it wasn't likely to cause any big problem—“they would like to know the price of a ticket to Gold Beach.”

“Would they now?” The man lifted one eyebrow. A look that might mean he was suspicious—or maybe just amused. “Well, I'm afraid I've a bit of bad news for your parents.”

William stiffened with apprehension.

“I'm afraid our northern route doesn't actually go through Gold Beach,” the clerk went on. “But the bus that leaves here at seven fifteen does make a stop in Reedly. Do you suppose that would do? Gold Beach and Reedly are only three or four miles apart.”

William gulped and managed to say, “Three or four miles …” Getting a grip on himself and concentrating on his rich city kid role, he said, “Oh, sure. Close enough, I guess. We can always catch a cab from there, I suppose. Thanks a lot.” He turned to go and then, remembering the other important question that really needed an answer, turned back. “And the price?” he asked. “How much is a ticket to Reedly?”

“Well now, let's just look that up. Just to be sure.” The clerk was obviously talking down to him as if he were some little kid. But William was in no mood to try to set him straight. After the guy ran his finger down a couple of lists he said, “Two dollars and fifty cents.” His grin widened. “That's for adults, however. Only two dollars for anyone in the family who just might not be twelve years old.”

Great. He had plenty of money. William was so relieved he wasn't even tempted to inform the smart-aleck clerk that the person he was talking to would, in fact, be turning thirteen in only a month.

Outside the Greyhound station he pulled his cap down over his eyes and walked fast until he was past
Wally's Gas and the candy store. Cars went by. Mostly nice, clean, newish vehicles that weren't likely to be carrying Baggetts. But then a beat-up pickup that looked suspiciously … But no, the white-haired driver wasn't anyone that William knew. Another big
whew!