We walked out to recess together. I saw my group of friends that I always played with. I said, “Come on,” to her, and she followed me to where the kids were jumping rope. We got in line.
“I like ice cream, I like tea, I want Petra to jump with me!” Bree called. And I stood just outside the middle of the turning jump rope. I had to plan my jump in just right. Then I jumped and Bree and I were hopping, hopping, hopping, until she jumped out and it was just me jumping.
“I like popcorn, I like the sea, I want Calli to jump with me!” And Calli hopped right in with me. Around and around and around the rope went, swishing against the cement. And we were smiling at each other; we both had the same two front teeth missing. Then I jumped out because that’s how the game goes. Calli just kept jumping and jumping, not calling out that she liked coffee or that she liked bees.
Everyone started getting all mad, and yelling at her, “Come on, Calli, call someone!” and “Stop hogging the jump rope!” Then the rope turners just stopped and the rope fell in a heap on the ground. The recess bell rang and then everyone ran to line up.
In line, Nathan stood behind me and started saying, “I don’t want to stand next to bushy hair! Someone trade places with me. Someone trade me places!”
And no one would. Even Lena and Kelli, who are my friends, wouldn’t stand next to me. My heart felt all pinched right then. And then out of the blue, Calli came up and budged right in front of Nathan and next to me. Best of all, she stared him down. She looked him right in the eyes until he said, “Good, you two weirdos can stand next to each other.”
The next day, I sat next to Calli at lunch again; she had bologna and peanut butter that day.
“I’ll have to pass, thank you,” I said when she held out half to me. When we went out to recess I grabbed her hand and pulled her into line for jumping rope again. She didn’t look too happy about it and the other kids didn’t, either.
When it was my turn I called out, “I like watermelon, I like to climb a tree, I like Calli to jump with me!” And we jumped and jumped until I hopped out. Then it was just Calli again and before anyone could get all nervous and mad at her, I yelled, “Calli likes bologna, Calli likes me! Calli wants to jump with Lena!” I know it didn’t exactly rhyme but it worked. Lena jumped in with Calli, they jumped awhile, and then Calli jumped out.
I wish Calli were here. She’d help me find the way, or at least we could be lost together.
I’m so thirsty.
DEPUTY SHERIFF LOUIS
Ben comes slowly down the steps. I’m struck at how much he looks like his father, and I am jealous. My boy, Tanner, looks just like his mother’s side of the family, dark and small with gray-blue eyes. Ben looks nervous, but then he always seems jittery to me, quick to startle, but nice, polite.
“Ben,” I say, “this is Agent Fitzgerald. He’s here to help find Calli and Petra.” Fitzgerald holds out his hand for Ben to shake. We all settle at the kitchen table, Toni right next to Ben. Fitzgerald and I sit across from them. Fitzgerald looks to Toni.
“Mrs. Clark, we like to interview family members separately. It sometimes allows them to speak more freely.”
“Oh, well, I think I’d rather stay here with Ben,” Toni says firmly.
“Toni, I’ll be right here. Don’t worry,” I reassure her and she reluctantly rises from her chair and leaves the room.
“Ben,” begins Fitzgerald, “how old are you?”
“Twelve,” he answers softly. Fitzgerald continues to ask Ben easy questions, keeping everything light, I know, to make Ben feel more at ease.
“Tell me about your sister, Ben,” Fitzgerald instructs.
“She’s good,” Ben says. “She never gets into my stuff, she does what I tell her to—”
“What do you tell her to do?” Fitzgerald interrupts.
“Things. Help take out the garbage, help put away the dishes, stuff like that,” Ben answers, shrugging his shoulders.
“Did you two ever argue?”
“No, it’s hard to argue with someone who doesn’t talk back.”
Fitzgerald chuckles at this. “She ever say no to you, Ben?”
“Not really. She likes to help out.”
“You two pretty close?”
“I guess. We hang out a lot together.”
“You’re what, twelve? Isn’t it unusual for boys your age to hang out with their seven-year-old little sisters?”
Ben lifts his shoulders and then drops them. “Calli doesn’t have a lot of friends so I play with her.”
“What about Petra Martin? She’s Calli’s friend, right?”
“Yeah, but she isn’t around all the time,” Ben explains.
Fitzgerald seems satisfied with his answers.
Quickly though, Fitzgerald changes his approach with Ben.
“Ben, I’ve heard some very nice things about you,” Fitzgerald says smoothly. “Your teachers, neighbors all think you are a nice boy.”
I think I know where this is going. Fitzgerald had asked me about it earlier, when looking through files. I told him it had nothing to do with this and to leave it alone.
“But,” Fitzgerald continues, “the parents of Jason Meechum have had some concerns about you, Ben, and their son. Can you tell me about that?”
“Jason Meechum is a jerk. And a liar,” Ben says stiffly.
“Tell me about it, Ben?”
“I don’t hafta tell you anything,” Ben says petulantly.
“No, you don’t,” Fitzgerald says mildly, “but you should. You want to help Calli, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but sitting around here answering these stupid questions isn’t gonna help her.” Ben is standing now, shouting. “The only way we’re going to find her is if we go looking for her. She’s somewhere in the woods!”
“How do you know that, Ben?” Fitzgerald questions softly.
“Because, that’s where she goes. When she wants to get away or be alone, that’s where she chooses to go!” Ben shouts.
Fitzgerald says, his voice just a low whisper, “What if she didn’t have a choice?”
And Ben runs.
ANTONIA
I hear the loud voices in the kitchen and hear the name Jason Meechum spoken. “What in God’s name was that all about?” I ask angrily as I come into the room. “What did you say to him? Do you actually believe that Ben has something to do with any of this? He’s trying to help, for God’s sake!”
I am furious. This stranger ran my son out of his own home and Louis just sat by and watched. He is looking down at his fingers now, something he has done since he was seven and knew he was in trouble. Agent Fitzgerald doesn’t look upset in the least. But of course, he wouldn’t. He just swoops into a place, creates havoc, and then picks up and leaves. I tell him so.
“I’ll go after him,” Louis offers, but I shake my head.
“He’ll be fine. I know exactly where he is going. I’ll go after him, and I’ll go look for Calli while I’m at it. Nobody else appears to be doing anything but insulting the family who is missing somebody,” I mutter.
