Searching for Candlestick Park (14 page)

“Thanks,” I said. I liked this man. I was glad Hank had chosen Mr. Mills to handle his affairs. And mine, I realized.

“Do you have any questions?”

“What happened to Hank?” I asked. “I mean, is he buried somewhere, or what?”

“His will requested immediate cremation, with the ashes to be scattered in the Cedar River. Those wishes were followed.”

The tears filled my eyes again. I didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

“Do you have any money?” Mr. Mills asked.

“Two dollars and sixty-five cents.”

He took out his wallet and handed me a twenty-dollar bill. “Let me know if you need more,” he said. “I put my home phone number on the card I gave you.”

We drove back to Hank’s house, and I sat in the car until four o’clock. I watched Mr. Mills’s helpers carry the leftover sale items inside, and fold up the tables.

When they were ready to leave, Mr. Mills gave me a key to Hank’s house. “I’m trusting you to stay here tonight, Spencer,” he said, “because I trust Hank Woodworth’s judgment. Let me know if you need anything, and call me in the morning.”

“I will.”

“I hope you find your cat.”

I walked slowly into Hank’s house. Much of the furniture was gone. The closet by the front door stood open; the closet was empty.

“Here, Foxey.” I didn’t think he was in the house, but I called anyway.

I went into Hank’s bedroom; it contained only a stack of old
National Geographic
magazines. I went in the other bedroom, my bedroom. The dresser and chair were gone, but the bed was still there. I looked under the bed. No cat.

In the kitchen I found a half-full bowl of cat crunchies
on the floor. A small saucer of water rested beside it.

I circled through the house twice, calling. When he didn’t come, I went around the outside of the house.

Just because he didn’t come didn’t mean he wasn’t there. Foxey has never come when I called him, unless he felt like coming. More than once, back in the old house, I walked through the yard calling and calling, only to discover him under a bush, watching me. It always made me laugh when Foxey did that because I knew he was behaving like a cat. But I never laughed until I found him, and I sure didn’t feel like laughing now.

I looked in Hank’s maple tree. I searched the old storage shed at the back of Hank’s yard. I walked around the block, calling and looking.

When I didn’t find him, I went downtown and bought two pieces of poster board, a wide black marker, and a roll of package tape.

As soon as I got back to Hank’s house, I made
LOST CAT
signs. Hank’s telephone had already been disconnected so I put his address on the signs. I also put “
REWARD
!!” I taped the signs to telephone poles, two blocks apart.

By then I was hungry. It was a shock to realize I could buy food without worrying about what it cost. Thank you, Hank, I thought, as I sat in the Corner Cafe, eating a big baked potato with cheese sauce.

It seemed odd, when I went back to the house, to
slip the key in the lock and let myself in. I wandered through the rooms for awhile. The TV was gone, and the bookshelves were empty.

I wondered where the bicycle was. I looked in the shed and around the yard, but it wasn’t there. Probably it had already been sold. That gave me an idea.

I had been wondering how to make up for stealing the bike, since I didn’t know who it belonged to or how to contact him. I decided the next time I saw a good bike at a yard sale, I would buy it with my lawn-mowing money and donate it to the Toys For Tots drive. That wouldn’t help the boy whose bike I took, but it would get a bike to some kid who couldn’t afford one. It was the best way I could think of to cancel my debt.

I unloaded the boxes of items that hadn’t sold yet. At the bottom of the first box, I found a leash. I wondered if it had been Butter’s, or if Hank had bought it for Foxey. I removed the price tag, and put the leash in my backpack.

After I went through all the boxes, I walked around the block again, looking for Foxey. Then I sat on the front porch steps. Every few minutes I called, “Here, Foxey!” just in case he was within earshot.

The sun set, the stars came out, and twice my chin dipped to my chest before I jerked awake again.

I did not want to go to bed. What if Foxey came back in the night and I didn’t hear him? If I wasn’t
awake to let him in, he might run off again, and never return.

But the day’s events had exhausted me. I dragged the mattress off the bed and pulled it into the living room, right beside the front door.

There was a chain lock on the inside of the door. With the chain fastened, I could open the door about four inches. That was plenty of room for Foxey to get inside. I put one of my shoes in the opening, to be sure the door didn’t close. If Foxey came back and looked in the door, he would see me.

I lay on the mattress and thought about Hank, and about what Mr. Mills had said, that I could use Hank’s money for college if I wanted to. I get good grades (except for the rat business in science) but I had never considered going to college, since I knew Mama could not afford to pay tuition.

Now it was different. Follow your dreams, Hank had written, and I planned to do what Hank suggested.

I vowed not to waste a penny of his money. I would make it last as long as possible and only pay for important things like rent. As soon as I was old enough, I would still get a part-time job, and maybe I really would go to college. Wouldn’t that be something? No one in my family had ever done that before.

I began imagining signs:

Spencer’s Pet Store

Spencer Atwood, Veterinarian

Spencer’s Vegetarian Restaurant

No, I thought. If I ever own a restaurant, I’ll call it Foxey’s Place. Or Hank’s Place. Or simply Hank’s.

Still planning possible signs, I fell asleep.

I dreamed that I was trying to walk to Candlestick Park but I couldn’t move my legs. I struggled and struggled, and finally woke up. I really couldn’t move my legs—because Foxey was on top of me, stretched from my knees to my ankles.

I picked him up and hugged him. Foxey purred and rubbed his head against my shoulder. I put my face next to his, and he licked my cheek. I held him for a long time, and then I shut the door. I was determined never to lose Foxey again.

The next morning I went out for breakfast, and took down the
LOST CAT
signs.

At the pay phone by the drug store, I dialed the home number on Mr. Mills’s card. Much as I wished Foxey and I could live alone in Hank’s house, I knew it wasn’t possible.

“I found my cat,” I told Mr. Mills.

“I’m glad. Are you ready to go home?”

“Yes.” What else could I do?

Home would not be near Candlestick Park, after all. It would probably be years before I saw another Giants game in person. Home wasn’t going to be with Hank, either, who understood how I feel about animals because he loved them himself. Home was going to be
with Mama, just like it’s always been, and I wasn’t at all sure she would let me keep Foxey, even if we moved out of Aunt May’s house and into a place of our own.

“I’ll come and get you,” Mr. Mills said. “We can make travel plans from my office and then call your mother to let her know when to expect you. I’ll take you and Foxey to the plane.”

He said it casually, as if Foxey and I got on an airplane every day of our lives.

He arrived at Hank’s house half an hour later and gave me a box containing all of Hank’s wood carvings. I locked Hank’s door, and handed the key to Mr. Mills.

We stopped downtown and bought a sturdy cat carrier that was small enough to fit under the seat of the plane. “That way Foxey can ride with you,” Mr. Mills explained, “instead of with the cargo.”

Foxey objected loudly to his new carrier, yowling all the way to Mr. Mills’s office. We had to let him out in order for Mr. Mills to hear on the phone while he got my plane ticket and called Mama.

This time Mama didn’t faint, even when he told her to pick me up at SeaTac Airport instead of the bus station. Maybe by now, nothing I do surprises Mama. All she said was, “I’ll be glad to see him.”

The flight was great, especially looking down at buildings that seemed like houses in a Monopoly game. Foxey’s carrier had to be under the seat for takeoff and landing, but the rest of the time the flight attendants said I could hold it in my lap. Once they
let me open it and they all took a turn to pet Foxey.

They gave me little packs of peanuts and a Coke, and when we approached Seattle, I could see Mt. Rainier from above.

Only one thing marred the trip. I kept wondering what Mama would do when she saw Foxey. What if she said he had to go straight to Animal Control? I couldn’t run away again; I had no place to go.

Maybe Mike’s mother would let him have Foxey, and I could go to Mike’s house to visit him. I blinked back tears at the idea of Foxey living with someone else, even Mike.

When I walked from the plane into the airport, Mama was waiting. I was glad she was alone. I didn’t want to face Aunt May just yet, even though I had fourteen dollars folded together in my shirt pocket, all ready to give her.

Mama hugged me for a long time and I hugged back, surprised by how glad I was to see her. She looked at the cat carrier, but she didn’t say anything about it and I didn’t, either.

We went into the parking garage. “You got our car back!” I said.

“Mr. Mills called me again yesterday afternoon,” Mama said. “He told me all about Hank Woodworth and explained how the trust fund will work. He also wired me money from the sale of Hank’s household goods.”

After we left the airport, we ordered milk shakes at
a Dairy Queen drive-through. Mama parked, and we sat in the car for almost an hour.

I expected Mama to yell for awhile, and tell me what my punishment was for running off and scaring her half to death. The worst punishment I could think of would be to give up Foxey.

Instead of yelling at me, Mama asked what had happened to me since I left Aunt May’s. I told her everything and for once Mama listened and did not interrupt me. She smiled a little when I showed her my debt journal, but most of the time she looked sad and worried, especially when I told how the boys robbed me and about hitching a ride with the tattooed man and how I ate leftover food at McDonald’s.

When I finished, she said, “You were wrong to leave, Spencer. A dozen disasters could have happened. What if Hank had lured you to his house by promising you cat food and then he turned out to be a maniac? That truck driver could have been an ax murderer. You are lucky to be alive instead of lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“I know,” I said. And I did know. Until Hank, no one I cared about had died. Mama’s parents were killed in a car wreck when I was three but they lived in Florida, and I had never met them. At the time, I had wondered why Mama cried so hard.

Hank’s death showed me how permanent death is. Hank is gone forever. Gone. I don’t want my life to end for a long, long time so I won’t hitchhike anymore,
or ride a bike without a helmet, or go home with strangers.

“I won’t run away again,” I said. “I promise.”

“I was wrong, too, Spencer,” Mama said. “I know how much that fool cat means to you.”

I clutched the cat carrier, daring to hope.

“After you left,” Mama said, “I applied for a waitress job at The Courtyard. I start there next Monday. I’ll get a dollar an hour more than at Little Joe’s and the tips will be better.”

“That’s great, Mama,” I said.

“I’m determined we won’t ever be so desperate again.”

“Do we still have to live with Aunt May?”

“Mr. Mills wired enough money to get the car back and to pay our back rent. Our old house was still vacant, so we’re going there.”

“Do I get to keep Foxey?”

“May says I’m out of my noggin to allow it, but yes, you can keep the cat.”

“Thanks, Mama,” I said.

Mama started the car.

I glanced over at her as she drove. She wasn’t half as angry at me as I had expected. I wondered if Mama had once counted on Dad to make her dreams come true, just as I had, and it didn’t happen for her, either. Maybe she knew how I felt. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t yelling at me.

“You look pretty today, Mama,” I said.

“Don’t try to butter me up, young man,” Mama replied. “Just because I’m glad to see you doesn’t mean you can weasel out of your chores.”

I smiled, opened the cat carrier, and stroked Foxey’s head. “We’re going home now, Foxey,” I told him. “We’re going home.”

Peg Kehret
is the author of many popular novels for young readers, including
Cages, Danger at the Fair, Earthquake Terror, Horror at the Haunted House, Nightmare Mountain, Sisters Long Ago, Night of Fear, The Richest Kids in Town
, and
Terror at the Zoo
. Peg Kehret lives in Washington State with her husband.