Runaway Twin (4 page)

I
t's a good thing I didn't really want to sleep, because someone started singing, “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall,” and each verse got louder. By the time they got down to one bottle of beer, the noise level was equal to that of a rock concert.

Next the girls began yelling school cheers. “We won! Sis boom bun! Sunrise School is number one!”

After much screaming, clapping, and whistling, they shouted, “No joke! No jest! Sunrise School is the best!”

I had never been on a team, had never even played a sport. As I listened to the girls cheering for themselves, I wondered what it would feel like to be a part of such a group. Clearly they had won some sort of tournament. Did they have medals, or a trophy? Would they be written up in the local newspaper tomorrow?

I wondered if Starr was an athlete. I had always thought if I could learn a sport, I'd like to do gymnastics or volleyball.

After another hour or so of raucous singing and cheering, the girls quieted down, and by the time the bus pulled into the parking lot of Sunrise School, at least half of them were asleep.

“Wake up, girls!” called the chaperone. “Time to get off the bus. Be sure you take all your personal items with you, and don't leave the parking lot until your parents have arrived to take you home. I'll be checking each of you off my list before you leave.”

Uh-oh. This could be trouble.

I sat up, watching as the chaperone exited the bus and stood at the bottom of the steps with a clipboard. The first girl to disembark was met by an adult woman. “Hi, Mom,” the girl said. “Good-bye, Miss Lilton.” The chaperone made a checkmark on the paper that was on her clipboard.

The next girl pointed to a car and said, “There's my dad.” Miss Lilton checked the name off her list.

One by one the girls got off and were greeted by adults. I noticed that one girl was still in her seat, sleeping soundly. When she and I were the only ones left, I hurried to the front of the bus, stepped off, and pointed across the parking lot. I said, “There's my mom, Miss Lilton.” Then, before she could ask my name and look at her list, I added, “You'd better check the seats in the rear of the bus. Somebody's still asleep back there.”

Looking flustered, Miss Lilton boarded the bus and headed toward the slumbering girl, while I walked as quickly as I could across the parking lot and around the side of the school. I ducked into a doorway to wait. When the bus pulled away, I peeked around the corner and saw Miss Lilton get in a car and drive off.

Nobody would be able to track me here. There was not one person in the whole world who knew where I was. That knowledge excited me and made me nervous at the same time. What if I got sick? What if I fell and broke my arm, as I had when I lived with Jerod?

Stop it,
I told myself.
You're where you want to be, doing what you want to do. Don't spoil it by worrying.
Besides, I knew Rita's phone numbers. If I ever broke a bone or got in other serious trouble, I knew I could call her and she'd come.

I walked away from the school and kept going until I came to a main street. Looking both ways, I saw a strip mall to my left. There were fast-food restaurants, a gas station, and, only half a block farther, the Dew Drop Inn.

I ate a chicken sandwich and drank a chocolate milk shake, then went into the lobby of the Dew Drop Inn. “Has Mrs. Webster checked in yet?” I asked. “I'm her daughter.”

The clerk said nobody named Webster had arrived.

“I'll go ahead and register then,” I said. “She should be here shortly.”

“Do you have a credit card?” the clerk asked. “A double room is sixty-nine dollars. Or you can get a single room with a cot for forty-nine.”

“The single's fine,” I said. “I don't mind the cot.” I gave him cash, which seemed to surprise him, and he handed me the key to room nine.

As soon as I got to my room I opened my backpack and checked the map, happy to see that the school bus I'd stowed away on had gone nearly two hundred miles in the direction I needed to go. I was a whole lot closer to Starr than I'd been a few hours earlier, and it hadn't cost me anything for a ticket.

I couldn't afford many nights at fifty bucks a pop, though. It wasn't even a good motel. Not that I was used to five-star accommodations, but the carpet was worn, the bathroom tile was chipped, and the ancient air conditioner protruding from the window sounded like a NASCAR race. Well, the room would be fine for my purposes. All I needed was a bathroom, a bed, and some privacy; it had all three of those.

Tomorrow night I'd try to find a YWCA where I could rent a less-expensive room.

The next morning I asked the motel clerk to direct me to the Greyhound bus terminal. He raised his eyebrows. “I thought your mom was meeting you here.”

“She called. She got hung up in a business meeting and said for me to catch the bus and she'll pick me up at the other end.”

I must have been convincing, because the clerk told me how to find the bus stop. On my way there, I passed a fast-food restaurant; I bought an order of french fries for my breakfast. I started to order a Pepsi, but then, hearing Rita's voice in my mind, I changed it to an orange juice.

I carried my meal to one of the outdoor tables. Movement in the bushes that lined the parking area caught my attention as I ate. Looking closer, I saw a dog lying with his head on his paws, watching me. As I ate a french fry, the dog's eyes followed the movement of my hand to my mouth. He licked his chops.

I tossed a fry toward him. It landed in the dirt about three feet in front of him. I expected him to lunge forward and grab it, but instead he rose slowly, and looked cautiously around before approaching the food. He sniffed the fry, then raised his head and looked at me, as if asking permission.

“Go ahead,” I said. “That one's for you.”

The dog ate the french fry. Then he sat down and stared at me. I knew he wanted more.

Something about the dog appealed to me. He wasn't a cute little puppy. In fact, his muzzle showed some gray and he moved as if his joints were stiff. He appeared to be an unlikely combination of basset hound and black Lab, with long drooping ears and big sad-looking brown eyes. The fur on his face was black, with a tan spot over each eye. His legs seemed too short for his body, but he had a certain presence, a dignity, that belied the fact he was hanging around a fast-food restaurant, hoping for a handout.

His ribs stuck out like the pickets in a fence and it had been a long time, if ever, since he'd had a bath.

“Good dog,” I said, and he wagged his tail.

I went inside and ordered a plain hamburger, just the meat and the bun. I carried it outside and broke it into pieces to cool. With the pieces piled on a napkin, I approached the dog. His eyes stayed on the hamburger as I came closer.

“Here you are,” I said, and I put the food on the ground in front of him. Again, he did not lunge and gobble it all down. He stood, looked at me, and wagged his tail.

“You're welcome,” I said.

He ate slowly, as if savoring the treat.

When he had finished, I extended my hand, fingers curled in a fist, so he could sniff me. His tongue came out and slurped my hand. I petted him then and he sat down beside me, leaning on me so hard that if I had moved suddenly, he would have fallen over.

Now what?
I thought. How could I walk away and board a bus and leave him here with no way to get his next meal? But I couldn't take him with me, either. I was pretty sure dogs would not be allowed on the bus.

Unless it was a service dog. I might be able to convince the ticket agent that this was a service dog, except that every service dog I'd ever seen wore a special coat with a service-dog logo. This dog didn't even have a collar.

I sat for a while, petting my new best friend. After a few minutes I went back inside.

“There's a dog in your parking lot,” I told the girl who had sold me the hamburger. I pointed through the window.

“He's there every day,” she said.

“Do you know who he belongs to?”

“I don't think he belongs to anyone. He hangs around and eats food that people leave behind.”

“Where does he sleep?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don't know. In the bushes, I guess.”

“He's a nice dog,” I said. “Friendly. Has anyone tried to find his owner?”

“You mean, like, put an ad in the paper or make flyers for a Found Dog?”

“Right.”

“Nah. He's been out there for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Well, I've worked here for, like, three months and he's been here that whole time.”

I stared at her. For three months she had watched that dog beg for food and she had never tried to help him!

“Could I have a cup of water for him?” I asked.

“We charge twenty-five cents for water.”

“That's okay.”

She filled the cup, and I gave her a quarter.

The dog slurped eagerly, sticking his tongue down inside the cup. I poured the last of the water into my hand, and he licked it.
He needs a bowl,
I thought.
He needs a collar and a leash.

I knew it would take me twice as long to find Starr if I had a goofy-looking old dog tagging along with me.

“I'm sorry, dog,” I said. “If I lived nearby, I'd take you home in a heartbeat. But I don't live near here. I don't live anywhere.”

The dog wagged his tail, acting as pleased as if I'd said, “Come on, pal. You're going with me.”

I don't live anywhere.
What an awful thought! It made me sound like one of those homeless people who shuffle along pushing a stolen shopping cart that contains everything they own.

I wasn't really homeless, not like those street people. I could always go back to Rita's and, even though she'd be mad at me for running away, I knew she'd take me back. Rita would probably take the dog, too.

I patted the dog, daydreaming about showing up at Rita's with this big old mutt.

“Who's your friend?” Rita would ask, and I would say he had followed me home, uninvited, and she'd know I was pretending and wouldn't care.

No! I pushed the image out of my mind. First I had to find Starr. Then the two of us would come back here and, if the dog was still hanging around, we'd adopt him and take him home—to my real home, with Starr.

I stood and walked away from the dog. I didn't look back until I reached the corner.

The dog was right behind me.

“You can't come,” I said. “Stay!”

He hung his head.

His tail drooped.

My heart broke.

I knew exactly how he felt. I remembered all the times I had felt unwanted, times when I desperately wished to be welcomed and cherished. How could I do to him the very thing that had hurt me the most?

I couldn't. He was a stray, like me. We strays need to stick together.

W
e were standing in front of a supermarket. “I'll be right back,” I said. “Sit.” To my surprise, the dog sat down. “Stay,” I said. The dog watched me go inside. I found the aisle that had pet supplies, and I bought a collar, a leash, a water bowl, and a box of dog biscuits. I also got a small box of plastic sandwich bags so that I could clean up after the dog. One of my pet peeves on the trail by Rita's house was people who left their dogs' poop behind for other people to step in.

I fastened the collar around his neck and snapped the leash on. I opened the box of biscuits and gave him one.

“You need a name,” I said.

The dog crunched his biscuit.

“Maybe it should have something to do with the sky,” I told him. “I'm Sunny and my sister is Starr and our last name is Skyland.”

I thought of sky words: moon, cloud, blue. The dog's tan and black color suggested Earth words, not sky words. I saw that he had been neutered.

“Somebody loved you once,” I said, “the same as me.”

The dog's tail thumped the ground, making me smile.

“Now someone loves you again.”

I crammed the box of biscuits into my backpack and put the pack on. I picked up the leash and walked down the sidewalk. The dog trotted at my side as if I had spent the last month teaching him to heel.

Maybe I could name him after one of the planets. Mars was the god of war; this dog seemed too peaceful to be called Mars. Venus was a goddess; I couldn't saddle a boy dog with a girl's name. Mercury didn't seem right, either. A dog named Mercury should be silver colored, and a fast runner. This dog plodded. Neptune? Uranus? Saturn? None seemed quite right.

Next I thought of Pluto. This old boy didn't look anything like the Disney cartoon dog Pluto, but I had always liked those old cartoons. What I didn't like was that Pluto is no longer considered a planet. Back in third grade when I had memorized the list of planets, Pluto was one of them. Pluto had been discovered in 1930 and had been a planet ever since until, all of a sudden, I heard that it wasn't a planet any longer.

How can the scientists arbitrarily get rid of a planet? How can an important part of the solar system be demoted? It seems to me that once a planet is called a planet there should be no mind-changing allowed. The same with dogs, and kids. Once you were part of somebody's family, you should get to stay forever.

I didn't want to name my dog after a planet that had lost its status. This dog was too good for that. Maybe I should name him after a constellation. Orion? Ursa?

The word
comet
popped into my head. I liked that because comets have tails. But comets orbit the sun, streaking across the heavens. This dog wasn't going to streak anywhere.