The Girl Who Owned a City (11 page)

Her thoughts were all jumbled. I'm such a fool, she said to herself. I talked about changing things, and now things have changed me. I thought I could do anything, and I made such a big deal out of what I
would
do. Just look at me now. I'm just another orphan.

Jill had to take care of her. She was patient, and that's what Lisa needed most of all.

But the other children couldn't understand Lisa's reaction to the fire. She had faced much bigger problems and hadn't been discouraged. Why now?

Lisa thought about it too, and began to form an answer for herself. She still wanted to believe in the things she used to talk about. Before the fire, everything had seemed very simple to her. “Why not?” used to be her confident answer to anyone who questioned a wild plan of hers. When the old problems had come up, she knew what had to be done. But now she doubted her ability to think clearly. She doubted herself. So she waited and thought.

Lisa became more and more interested in Jill's children. They liked Jill for her kindness. And she really was kind to them.

Still, there was something wrong, something that was troubling them. They didn't play as they had in the old days. Instead they wandered about and whined for attention or treats. They wanted to feel useful. Lisa could sense it by the way they smiled whenever they had a new idea. “Jill, let's make a garden,” one of them had said. “The flowers will make everybody happy.”

Jill would say, “Yes, we'll do that in the spring when it's warm.”

One boy invented a weapon out of woodscraps he'd nailed together. Jill told him, “You have a good idea there. Show me how it works.” And she patiently watched him demonstrate it.

But it seemed to Lisa that the children quarreled too much. They fought constantly over their toys. There were enough toys so that each child could have at least two or three, but they all clamored for the same, beat-up, popular ones. The more Jill told them to share, the more they all seemed to need one particular toy for themselves. Even Jill lost her temper now and then when her words about sharing were ignored.

Sharing? Maybe that's part of the problem, Lisa thought one morning. An idea roused her into action.

Maybe what these kids needed was to have at least one toy they could call their very own. Lisa gathered the children together and tried assigning toys. But it didn't work; they still demanded the same old favorites.

Jill came in from the yard. “What's going on in here?” she asked. She didn't like Lisa changing her rules around. Jill thought sharing was an important thing. She
knew
it was!

Lisa sensed Jill's annoyance. She wanted to make peace but wasn't sure how to do it.

Lisa turned to the children. “Well, assigning toys isn't going to work, but I think I have a better idea. Listen carefully.”

They listened, glad to see Lisa put aside her grief. “I think you should each have a new toy, one that is yours for keeps.” They agreed, of course. “But since there are no more toys here, you'll each have to work to earn one.” They were all willing to work.

Jill started to interrupt but stopped. She too was happy to see something other than sadness in Lisa's eyes.

Lisa continued. “You know how important it is for us to have cars to drive. They help us get food and many other things from the Secret Place. But soon the cars will be out of gas. We need more, and you can help us.” The children looked puzzled.

“Do you remember how your moms or dads used to mow the lawn? Didn't they start by pouring gas from a can into the lawn mower? And wasn't that can a red-colored one? And don't you think it's probably still sitting in your garage?

“Okay, here's the deal.” Lisa's old enthusiasm was back. “I'll have a nice new toy for you if you can find a can of gasoline and bring it here.”

Some of them were already running for their coats. “Wait a minute, there's one more thing.” They stopped to listen. “We will also be needing more cars soon. If you can bring me your parents' car keys, you'll get a very special extra reward. A whole box of candy for you alone, just you. Do you remember what their keys looked like? You might find them in your mother's purse or on your dad's dresser.

“Now, divide up into teams of two and be careful. If you can't find a gas can in your garage, then try a neighbor's. Jan, you take Beth . . . Bill and Larry, go together . . . Nancy, help Eileen . . .”

The children had a real project now. They hurried to get out and get started. “Where are my boots, Jill?” . . . “Who took my purple scarf?” . . . “I can only find one mitten.”

Jill reminded them to be careful and hurry back.

After they had gone, Jill turned to Lisa. “They like your idea, but I'm not so sure that we should stop teaching them to share their things with each other. Sharing is very important, you know.”

“I've been watching your kids for days, Jill. Just watching and thinking about them. They do
too much
sharing and it isn't working at all. They have nothing of their own—no real duties, no real way of helping. It's nice to share things if you want to. But it's stupid to
force
people to share or to be nice. Those are things people have to do on their own. Otherwise it's no good. See what I mean?”

Jill didn't agree, but she didn't want to argue.

“You do all the work, Jill, and they hardly help at all. They wander about, whining for something to do and fighting over toys. You're really patient and good to them, but I think they need to have jobs and things of their own.”

Now Jill was ready to argue. “But Lisa, they're afraid, really scared. You should hear them at night, the bad dreams and all.”

“Yes, I've heard them,” Lisa said. “I told you I've been watching your kids. All night long you seem to run from one child to another, trying to soothe them back to sleep. But when do
you
sleep? You look awfully tired, Jill.”

“What can I do?” Jill really did want to know.

“I've told you what I think already. The children are afraid because they have nothing, nothing at all. It was bad enough for them to be orphaned, but it's even worse for them to be without their own . . . uh . . . personalities.” Lisa couldn't think of the right word, and Jill misunderstood.

“Lisa, they have nice personalities and each one is different. What do you mean?”

“Well, I can't remember the word, exactly, but what I mean is that . . . ah . . . well, I don't think they'll ever be happy if you do everything
for
them. They need to work and to be proud of themselves. They need to be able to say to themselves, ‘I worked hard and did a good job and I
earned
my toy.'

“Don't you see?” she asked. “And it would make your job so much easier.”

“Maybe you're right, Lisa, but I still think they're too young and too scared.”

Lisa wanted to say something about how she had lost her own fear by solving problems and staying busy. It seemed to her that fear was how you felt when you waited for something bad to happen, and fun was what you had when you figured out a way to make something good happen.

She wanted to say these things, but how could she? She had been a victim of her own fear since the fire. She had turned into just another one of the scared children that Jill took care of.

“By the way,” Jill said, “where are you going to get those toys you promised them?”

“That's simple,” Lisa answered. “Tonight when Craig makes his supply trip, he can get some. They aren't really fancy toys, but they'll do. The Secret Place has hundreds of them. I guess we just forgot all about play. Doesn't it sound strange, Jill, to think of playing with toys?”

Instead of answering, Jill asked, “What is the Secret Place anyway, Lisa? It sounds so mysterious. Where is it?”

Lisa wanted to tell her, but she said, “You know I can't tell you, Jill, or anyone else. I can't risk having it discovered. If I told everybody, and the Chidester Gang really wanted to find out about it, all they'd have to do is torture someone into telling. The fewer people who know, the safer it is.”

“Would you tell if they tortured you, Lisa?” Jill hoped she would say no.

“I don't know, Jill. I hope not.”

Lisa was feeling much better now that some activity had brought her back to life. The children would be gone for another half hour or so. She asked Jill to call a quick meeting of the militia leaders. “Ask them to get over here right away.”

Charlie, Steve, Craig, Todd, and Jill faced Lisa in the living room of Jill's house. She's back to her old self, they thought, as she rattled off a long list of new militia plans.

“Our defense plan is a joke,” she said. “We've got to train those dogs to do more than just slobber on the enemy. And we've got to make our kids tougher. They're afraid to shoot or hurt anyone.

“Where was our brave militia when my house was being burned? Watching the flames from behind the trees? What if Todd had been inside? Let's make more Molotov cocktails and use them next time.”

Was her audience deaf? They sat quietly listening to her angry words. Don't sound too violent, she cautioned herself.

And for no other reason than to change the subject, she started talking about her old ideas—the rebuilding plans, the first-aid stations, and other more fantastic dreams. But she realized that she didn't believe in them anymore. As if in a trance, she repeated the old plans mechanically, without enthusiasm.

Charlie stopped her. “Lisa, you're crazy! Forget all that junk, and let's talk about the militia.”

His words stung her. Even though she too was giving up on all those plans, the way he talked to her made her angry. “Crazy, Charlie? Who's crazy? Shut up, Charlie!”

She stood up. “Go ahead, big militia captains. Make your plans!” She stopped herself. In a soft voice, she added, “You can do it. I know you can.

“I'm going for a walk,” she said at the door, and left.

She walked to the shores of Lake Ellyn and sat on a bench. Crazy? she wondered. Maybe I am crazy . . . or am I just sick? I feel so tired, it's as if I had a sleeping sickness of some kind. But I've got to get control of myself. I've got to face the problems. Charlie was right about that. Forget the big dreams for now and solve today's problems.

Her mind began to clear. She listed the real dangers, but she could finally see that what they had to fear was much bigger than the Chidester Gang. What good would it do to build an army and add more weapons? How would that help when Tom Logan decided to join forces with other gangs? It was sure to happen sooner or later.

She imagined the other Grand Avenue houses burning to the ground one by one. She could see the “Grandville” citizens tortured and forced to give up their treasures in exchange for their lives. Finally, with no choice left, they too would have to join that army.

It was clear that Grand Avenue would be impossible to defend. What they needed was a castle with high walls and a moat, like in the days of King Arthur.

Her fear was dissolving away. She could see clearly now and her confidence was coming back. She would figure something out.

She walked to the lake past the boathouse. At the end of the dock, she sat down. I'll figure something out, she repeated over and over again, as if the words themselves would trigger an idea.

A castle with high walls, she thought, and then Lisa looked up. There it was,
right before her eyes.
A hundred times she'd looked up there and not seen it!

Glenbard, the old fortress of a high school, stood proudly, high on a hill. Its walls were tall and made of brick! The field and the lake were below it. A steep hill descended to Crescent Boulevard on the far side.

It was their castle, all right! Twenty children could defend it against 100, maybe 200 soldiers. There were big rooms for the families, classrooms, and the nurse's office for a first-aid center. There were kitchens, meeting rooms, sports equipment, art supplies, woodworking tools, indoor garages—and who could tell what else? Best of all, there'd be a library filled with books.

“Everything except a moat,” she said out loud. “I've got it! I've got it!” Laughing and shouting, Lisa ran all the way around the castle and then home to tell the others.

The Jansen house was noisy with activity. As she approached it, she saw little workers bringing gasoline cans into the garage. “Here, Lisa, I found two cans. Can I have my toy?” “Here's some gas, Lisa, and I found these keys. My dad had two cars.”

“Nice work. Put the cans in the garage. Any more car keys? Bring them to me.”

Eileen was crying. “Lisa, I couldn't find any gas, but here are the keys. My daddy never brought the car home since he was sick. Are trucks okay? I think trucks are neat, and they can carry lots of things. But I couldn't find any gas.” She started to cry again.

At that moment, Lisa didn't really care. “Trucks, Eileen? Where?”

“Oh, my dad's garage is on Geneva Road. It's really big. He made roads. There are dump trucks, too, and bulldozers, and stuff like that. Don't you like bulldozers, Lisa?”

The little girl couldn't understand Lisa's serious look, and she started to cry again. “I still get the candy, don't I?”

“Sure you will, Eileen. But trucks, wow! Can we ever use a truck! Thank you, Eileen. Thanks a lot. Will you show me how to get there sometime?”

“Uh-huh.”

Missy had been watching them intently. She hadn't seen Eileen cry much before this. Missy came toward her and said, “I already have my can, but I think I know where another one is. Come on, I'll show you.”

They ran off happily. Now, that's sharing, Lisa thought.

As she entered the house, she could hear loud arguing in the living room. Obviously, the militia meeting was still under way.

“It will never work,” Craig was saying to Charlie.