Eleven and Holding (6 page)

Dear Mr. Jimenez,

The Third Thing About Me: I'm a very curious kid, so I just went by Kit Carson Middle School and looked in the window where I will have my homeroom with you. Your name was on the door. Someone forgot to lock your room, which I accidentally discovered when I turned the knob. I went and sat in the second row, fourth seat, which is where I sat in sixth grade at my old school. There is nothing but buildings outside your window. You should ask for a classroom with a better view. A kid could go crazy in there without any trees to look at.

I will let you know when my dad finally comes home, because you should invite him to come to our class as a guest speaker. Like I said before, he is an Airborne combat hero, which is about the bravest thing you can be. He is very inspiring, and funny, too. He can do push-ups with me standing on his back. Maybe you and he could have a push-up contest! If you're not already in shape, you better get to work on it.

Yours very sincerely,

Macy L. Hollinquest

O
fficer Marley had legs as long as a giraffe, and he kept trying to fold them under the table, but knees kept popping out everywhere. He took a giant bite into what looked like a small meat loaf but was actually a low-fat, no sugar, whole-wheat, apple-and-oat-bran muffin. What Nana called a “Why Bother? Muffin.” Might as well just eat a bale of hay, she'd say.

He rolled his eyes upward, thinking, as he gnashed through his breakfast with large white teeth. I scooted my chair closer, trying to avoid the tangle of his legs.

“Maybe they weren't lima beans,” I said. “Could be some other kind of beans.” He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. I stared at his hands. They were immense. His fingers had to be seven inches long. My longest was about four and a half. I
brought them out from their usual hiding place under my legs and laid them casually on the table. Next to his, mine looked downright dainty. I could marry a man with big, giant hands like Officer Marley.

“But then, I can't say I remember seeing any vans around here with any kind of beans detailed on them. And you don't remember anything else about the vehicle?” He took a long swig of coffee, never taking his eyes off me.

“No, that's all I remember, Officer. It was really stupid of me to leave my good bracelet on the van like that, but I didn't want to lose it.” I leaned in confidentially. “I'm only supposed to wear it for dress up, but I guess I wanted to show it off.” I lifted, and then dropped, my shoulders, faking embarrassment.

“Well, we all do things we shouldn't now and then. Just part of growing up.” He grinned with a big piece of raisin blacking out his front tooth. Twee stepped hard on my foot under the table, alerting me to the presence of something gross. Yeah, like I could have missed it. I quickly revised my marriage plans to Officer Marley.

He pulled out a shiny pen from his front pocket and clicked its end with great ceremony. He sucked at the raisin on his tooth, making a vacuum with his upper lip and tongue.

Twee stepped on my shoe again. Gross plus.

“You say you looped the bracelet over the vehicle's antenna, miss?” he asked, his pen poised over his official pocket notebook.

“Right.” I shuddered, as if the loss of this nonexistent bracelet was painful to consider. “We were playing, uh, well, a bunch of us were out playing—” My mind went blank, and I shot Twee a desperate look.

She bugged her eyes at me. She'd only agreed to sitting in on this conversation if she didn't have to tell any lies. She thought lying to cops was probably just one notch down from lying to priests or nuns.

“Football,” I blurted. “Touch football.”

“Right!” she said. “With this kid, Buster.”

“And you know how that can go,” I said. “With all that grabbing and shoving, I thought I'd better put my bracelet somewhere safe. This van was just sitting parked in the street, so I hung it over the antenna.”

He stretched his legs out into the aisle, looked over at Twee. “Then next thing you know, you look up and the vehicle is splitsville, right?”

Twee gulped, looked over at me, back to him, and then nodded. I could see the sweat on her forehead. Mostly, it was supergreat having such an honest best
friend, but now and then it would be helpful to have one willing to drop a whopper, even to a cop.

I steered us back to the beans. “So, we figure the bracelet probably is still hanging on the antenna. All we gotta do is find the van and get it back. That's where we hoped you might be able to help. It's a pretty small town, and you spend a lot of time in traffic, don't you?”

“I sure do, miss, and there's not much that gets by me. But I don't recall a van with custom mags, and lima beans drawn on the side panel.” He held up one amazingly long finger, cocked his head to one side, and appeared to be listening to the hum of his radio, which was stuck under a strap on his shoulder. He adjusted the volume. “Wanda, I'm ten-seven at Divine Doughnuts, over.”

The radio blasted with static. Followed by a garbled message from Wanda, who sounded like she was broadcasting from the bottom of the ocean.

“Roger that. I'm ten-forty-nine toward home base. ETA sixteen hundred hours, over and out.” Officer Marley slid out from under the table and stood up, adjusting his scary-looking cop equipment. He had all but a portable guillotine hanging off his belt.

“Gotta go. Big meeting back at the station. We're picking the design for our new league bowling shirt.”
He held an imaginary ball up to his eyes, with his fingers splayed in position, drew his arm back in slow-mo, and then rolled a strike right through the front door. “Check back with me in a couple days, girls. I'll keep my eyes open and ask some of the guys. Bet we'll crack the bean-and-bracelet caper.” He gave us a wink, hitched his pants, and was out the door.

“Think he bought your story?” Twee asked, picking up his leftover muffin and biting off the end.

“Twee!”

She opened her jaw for another bite. “What? I eat when I'm nervous. You know that!”

I swiped the muffin from her, horrified. “You can't eat the leftovers from someone you don't know!”

“I bit the part that he hadn't touched. Besides, he's a cop—not really a stranger or anything. In Vietnam, people aren't as wasteful with food.”

“This is Constant, Colorado. Nice children don't eat off other people's plates.”

“Excuse
me
, Miss Vanderbilt.” She got up and swiped crumbs off her pants. “In Vietnam, nice children don't
lie
to cops.”

As far as I was concerned, there was no better smell in the whole world than a library. Even better than
a German chocolate cake right out of the oven, and that was saying something. I ran my hands over the polished wood of the old table in my favorite corner. Libraries were like churches for books. When Jack gets older, I was going to bring him here and show him all my favorites. I tried to bring him a few months back, but he had just learned how to make kitty noises, and wouldn't stop mewing. The librarian kept shushing him with a stern look, and I didn't want him to grow up hating librarians or anything. They were really cool. Once you got to know them.

Twee was buried somewhere on the second floor in the travel section, planning her trip to Vietnam. I wanted to use the computer here to check car detailers that paint business signs. But I also wanted to check out if there were any local bean companies. My mom was too nosy for me to risk doing any of this at home. Not that she would care if I was researching a potential dognapper. But I didn't need her in any of my business right now.

I needed some quiet time to think, too. I felt like I was at the carnival riding the Scrambler without any safety bar. It was already Tuesday, and I was just hours away from my trip to Los Robles. It wasn't as if I would be able to find my dad the minute I got there.
And I still had to come up with a convincing cover for Twee about what I was doing tomorrow. I also needed a good story to tell my mom about what I was doing. And then I had to make sure Twee knew what that story was, so she could back me up with Mom.

I wrote Switch's name out on a small piece of recycled scratch paper that the library put by the computers. I drew a tiny skateboard under his name, spending more time on it than I had to waste. He was on my mind, though. I wanted to leave him a note in the jet to lead him off track. I didn't want him solving this before we did. Now that Twee had talked me into doing this with her, I was determined to find this dog and earn the reward money. It was the least I could do for Twee. Not every girl was as lucky as I was to have a world-class best friend.

But first things first. I had a family who was circling the drain. I needed to find Dad. I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the letter he sent me. I studied the return address. It read:

Montgomery Hollinquest

c/o DVA

1716 Sixth Avenue

Los Robles, Colorado 80904

After I had first gotten the letter, I'd asked Mom casual-like what “DVA” stood for, and she said she thought it was one of the scary ingredients in hot dogs. That couldn't be right. I doubted that the Department of Defense had hired my dad to work on hot dogs.

I had waited a couple of days and asked her what “c/o” meant, and Mom said it means that the address is not someone's personal address, but where they get their mail. Which meant he may or may not be there if I went. But if I went in person, at least there was a chance that he'd be there. But if he wasn't, I could at least nose around, and maybe I'd find out where he was.

In my life as a kid, I have discovered that grown-ups will never tell you anything over the phone. Once they hear your kid voice, forget it. But I've also discovered that in person, grown-ups will do just about anything for a kid. It's funny how that works. So, I had to go in person. There was no other way to get the job done. But I had a feeling this was going to kinda be like trying to find a needle in the world's most humongous haystack.

I googled “DVA” and ran my eyes down and up the long list that popped into view, my lower lip pinned by my teeth—Delaware Volleyball Academy, DaVita Healthcare, Department of Veterans Affairs. . . .

Veterans
— Bingo! That had to be it! It made perfect sense that he would work for the Department of Veterans Affairs on a special project. Next, I did a search on “Veterans Affairs in Los Robles.”

“1716 Sixth Avenue”—perfect match! I had just mowed down my haystack big-time. If I hadn't been in the library, I might have done a few backflips.

I leaned back in my chair and drew a big breath. I checked my watch. I didn't have much time left. I had to get my alibis worked out. Twee hadn't asked me yet what I was doing tomorrow, but I knew she was just biding her time. It was her way. Since I hadn't immediately volunteered why I couldn't babysit Jack tomorrow, she was circling around it to figure out how she would get it out of me.

I had way too many meatballs on my plate, as Nana would say. I was already starting to sweat tomorrow's bus ride. My stomach would be in shreds before daylight. I blew the air out of my lungs. I needed to do a mental dress rehearsal, like Dad talked about.

I scooted down in my chair a bit and shut my eyes. I tried to let my neck and shoulders go soft. I set the scene.

I watch myself getting off the bus in Los Robles after a smooth ride. I wave good-bye to the cute high school
boy I'd been talking to during the trip. I march down Sixth Avenue, my backpack heavy with the box of homemade macaroons I'm bringing Dad—his favorite.

After two blocks an enormous sign welcomes me to the Department of Veterans Affairs. I pull open the heavy glass doors and then head for the information desk. A friendly security guard listens to my story, picks up the phone, and smiles at me. He explains that while it's highly irregular, he's been authorized to take me up to the eighth floor. He clears his throat and leans close to me. Whispers that whatever I see up there, I mustn't tell anyone. Ever.

The elevator trip lasts a long time, and I wonder if we're not going much higher than the eighth floor. Probably a secret headquarters! The doors finally open, and we step out. It's dim and quiet. The only light comes from a large sign overhead that reads “DVA, Special Projects.”

I spy a water fountain down the hallway, and a soldier in combat fatigues is bent over it. I look up at the guard, my throat parched all of a sudden. He nods, understanding, and I hurry down the hall. The soldier straightens up, wiping his mouth with his hand, takes a look a me—

“Macy?”

My heart leaps. “Dad?”

The soldier hurries toward me and then wraps me in his big arms.

“Dad!” I hug him back hard, shaking. “I'm so glad I found you—”

He holds me away from him a second and smiles. But now, it's not Dad—

“CHUCK!” I shout, horrified, breaking away. “What are
you
doing here?”

I back away and spin toward the elevator, but now it's gone. Instead, Nana's coffee shop is there—but the front window is all boarded up and across it someone has painted “Caffeine Canine Heaven.”

“What have you done?” I yell at Chuck, whipping back toward him. But he's not there anymore. Ginger is there instead. She looks at me with sad eyes, shaking her head.

“He's gone, Macy,” she says.

“Who's gone?” I shout at her, because I don't know if she means Chuck or Dad or maybe Mr.—

“Macy! What'ya doing? Sleeping?” Twee gives me a soft karate chop between the shoulder blades.

I sit up abruptly and blink. I can taste the early stages of sleep mouth. “Wasn't sleeping, just thinking.” I reach over and click out of the DVA page.

“Did you find anything?” she asks.

“Uh, no not yet.”

“Hey, guess what? I forgot to tell you. I called Ginger and asked her when I could come over and see her slides. She invited me for Saturday night and said to come to dinner, too. She's going to cook Vietnamese, and she said she'd teach me a couple of her best dishes. We're going to have nuoc mam with rice and vegetables.”

“What is it?” I said, almost afraid to ask.

“I just looked it up,” Twee said, who seemed quite pleased with herself. “It's fermented fish sauce. Want to come? She invited you, too.”

“Thanks, but I had fermented fish once in the school cafeteria, and it was enough to last me a lifetime.” I checked my watch. “Whoops, we gotta go, Twee. I'm supposed to be at Aunt Liv's in an hour.”

Twee smiled. “How is Cat Woman?”

I gave Twee a look. “Don't call her that. Besides, what about your cousin Ainsley with the green-and-purple dreads? Your family beats mine hands down in weirdness.”