He’s scarier than the hanging clowns. And my parents tell me never to talk to strangers. I feel around for my glasses, but I can’t find them.
He reaches out, and I scramble back, but there’s a garbage can behind me, and I hit my head so hard, it makes stars explode behind my eyes. I want to yell for my mommy, but my throat is all locked up.
“Are you alone? Where’s your family?” He crowds me. “You look just like her. You could be her.” His breath makes my eyes water. “I can take you home.”
My tummy feels upset.
“Come on now, you’re safe with me.” His smile is missing teeth, like mine.
I don’t want to go with him, but I’m scared out here in the dark.
He slides his hands under my arms and lifts me. My knees are shaky, and I don’t like how dry my mouth is.
“Don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He takes my hand. “You’re exactly like my Cali.” He pulls me along, and I stumble, looking back over my shoulder. I think I hear my name, but I don’t know if it’s real or not. Instead of moving toward the shouts and the rides, we’re moving away from them. I slip my hand in the pocket of Kodiak’s hoodie and pull a candy out, dropping it on the ground. Like Hansel and Gretel with the bread crumbs.
I try to dig my heels in, but he yanks my arm and moves faster. I trip over something and lose my footing. He drags me back to my feet. He’s not smiling anymore, and his empty-well eyes remind me of Kodiak’s dog, Brutus, when he finds a squirrel in the backyard he wants to chase.
“Don’t make a sound. Not one,” he says as he opens a door.
I drop another candy on the ground, and he pushes me into the darkness. I stumble and fall forward, landing on my hands and knees. The floor is hard and cold.
“You stay here and stay quiet, Cali, or you’re never gonna see your momma again,” he growls.
The door closes and clicks.
I want to tell the man my name isn’t Cali, but I’m afraid if I say anything, I really won’t see my mommy again. It’s dark like a cloudy, starless night at the cottage and smells like the stuff my daddy puts in the boat to make it run. I slip my hand in the pocket again and feel for the candies there. There are only two left.
I wish I hadn’t tried to be brave.
I wish I were anywhere but here.
I start to cry, and it’s hard to keep the noises from coming out. I clamp my mouth shut and dig my nails into my palms. They bite into the skin, little silent screams.
I tuck my face inside Kodiak’s hoodie and try to breathe in the scent of detergent and his watermelon candies.
I’m afraid to move, because if I make noise, the man is going to come back.
I feel around on the floor. It’s hard and cold, and my teeth are starting to chatter. My bottom is wet from falling down, and the smells in here make my tummy feel bad.
I reach out, brushing my fingers over the things close to me. I don’t know what any of the stuff in here is.
I find something soft beside me. It feels like a stuffed animal. I hug it to my chest and stand. My legs are wobbly, like they’re made of Jell-O. I shuffle forward and hold a hand out in front of me until my fingers touch something cold. I can hear the sounds of the carnival, but just barely. There’s a loud fan in here that makes everything outside seem far away.
I feel along the cold surface until I find a bump. I think it’s the door. I don’t understand why that man left me in here. I turn the knob and try to push, but it doesn’t budge.
I want to be home.
I want my mommy and daddy.
I want River to know I’m okay.
I want to be able to give Kodiak his hoodie back.
I hope he isn’t cold like me.
I try the door again, but it’s still stuck, and I’m still here, all alone.
I don’t know how long I’m in the dark, but after a while, I think I hear someone calling my name. I hear it again, more than once this time, and it sounds closer. I press my ear to the cool metal.
I think I hear Kodiak and my daddy.
Someone bangs on the door, and I stumble back, falling to the floor.
“Lavender?” There’s banging and banging, and then suddenly the door folds in and Daddy and Kodiak are right there.
I don’t know where Mommy is, and all my words are trapped in my throat because the fear is holding on to them.