“Bad news,” he said. “We have to move.”
“Move? You mean permanently?”
“No, maybe not permanently. But as long as you have that kid. You know those three guys who call themselves the Three Musketeers?”
I knew them all right—well enough that my blood got a little bit colder thinking about them—and he knew I knew them. It was just the way you start a sentence, not a serious question. They were on the street like us, but also not like us because they were meaner. They lived in the basement of an abandoned building three or four blocks over, and everybody avoided that block because they were bad news.
“What about them?”
“They were in the store trying to steal some candy, but the lady wouldn’t take her eyes off them. She was following them around with I think a gun in the pocket of her apron. And when I asked her to call the cops and told her why, they heard me. I didn’t think they would hear me. But then I was outside a minute later and I heard them say they want the kid.”
My blood went from cool to frozen, just really fast like that. I could see the sky past Bodhi’s head, and I actually could see a couple of the brightest stars.
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would they want her?”
My voice was real quiet, like a scratchy whisper, like they were right outside the crate listening and maybe hearing everything I said.
“They figure she’s worth a lot of money because her parents’ll want her back. They want to try to ransom her back to her parents. And I’m pretty sure they know where we hide. So we need to move. Like, now.”
“Wait. No. That’s stupid. They don’t even know who her parents are.”
“Well, they’re going to try to find out. Watch for an Amber Alert or find something in the paper about it or something like that. Anyway, they’re going to take her now and figure that out later, so we need to move.”
But after he said that I was so scared I almost couldn’t move. But I did move, anyway, because anything else, anything that wasn’t getting out in time, would’ve been just too awful to think about.
“Get the car seat,” I said as we rushed out of our crate.
But I didn’t say it because it was worth money. That didn’t matter anymore. I said it because I didn’t want to leave anything behind that they could use to see where we’d been. I figured it was better if they felt like we could be just about anywhere. I figured it would only get their mouths watering too much to see a sign that they’d just missed us.
We hurried down the street together, but I had no idea where we were going, and he couldn’t have either, and it was a really lost feeling.
I would’ve told you, just before that happened, that I couldn’t possibly have felt more lost in this big, crazy world but I would’ve been wrong.
Bodhi found us a place to hide under a freeway overpass. There was this really steep hill going up under it, and then the hill kind of flattened out at the top. And it was sort of cave-like under the iron structure of the bridge, getting smaller and smaller at the back.
In a way it scared me because if they found us here we’d be pretty cornered, but it was a good hiding place, too.
There were all these sheets of flattened cardboard, like big cartons flattened out, and a hollow space under them that could make it look like they were lying flat with nobody underneath them. I wondered if somebody had hidden there before. You know, like dug it out as a place to hide. In this city it was a pretty good bet.
I hoped nobody was about to come back and claim the spot.
“Here,” Bodhi said, and handed me a bottle of apple juice. A round, squatty glass bottle. “I forgot. I stole this for her. And this. I thought maybe she was hungry. I don’t know how much she’s on solid food, but . . .”
He held up a box of goldfish crackers and I saw the baby reach out for the box. I don’t know if she knew what they were by the picture, or if she was just hungry and figured it was a box of food.
“Thanks,” I said. And I took the crackers, even though I never, ever took anything he stole, because it was stolen. But it was different this time because it was for the baby and not for me. “How are you going to find a phone where nobody can overhear you?”
“Not sure,” he said. “Maybe my best bet is to flag down a car and get somebody to call on their cell. Anyway, you stay right here.” He covered us up with a sheet of cardboard and the whole world got very dark. “I’ll be right back.”
But he wasn’t right back. In fact, he never came back at all.
That was the last time I saw my friend Bodhi for a really, really long time.
Chapter Three
Brooke: Chop Shops
The door of the police station opened. In came . . . my mother.
I think I said, “No, not that. Don’t do that to me.”
I think I said it out loud.
I did not say those words to my mother, and they were not said loudly enough for her to hear. I think I was talking to some entity or power larger than myself. But that was odd, too, because I’ve never managed to define such a thing in my life. Then again, we all know the old saying about atheists in foxholes.
She moved across the room in a sort of . . . I’m tempted to say waddle, but I’m resisting the word because it seems derogatory. I swear I don’t mean it that way. Just
