Empty Smiles, page 2
The man next to her had dark, sad eyes. He took her hand but didn’t say anything. He’d had a daughter named Olivia, but she was dead. She’d died in a boating accident on Lake Champlain. Just that May. A few months ago. Sometimes he dreamed that she wasn’t dead. Sometimes he dreamed that she was looking for him. But he knew those were just dreams. She was dead.
He loved Coco, though. Loved her almost as much as the daughter he’d lost.
“Brian won’t talk to us either,” Brian’s mom said. Her swimsuit was orange, her expression serious.
“It’s just—darn it—” another dad said. He had glasses and threw his head back when he drank his ginger ale. His son’s name was Philip Greenblatt. “Something’s wrong, but they won’t trust us with it! They just say, ‘No, everything’s fine, Dad, I’m going to Brian’s for a sleepover.’ Or wherever. But they’re all jumping at shadows. I know Phil isn’t sleeping.”
Coco’s mom said, “Coco cries in her sleep sometimes. She’s been having nightmares. I—she used to talk to me all the time, but now it really is like she doesn’t trust me anymore.” She rolled her drink between her hands without drinking it. The sun beat down on all of them.
“I’m worried,” Brian’s mom said.
“We’re all worried,” put in her husband.
“Especially since those two kids disappeared,” Brian’s mom went on. She lifted her hair off her neck. “Parents have a right to be worried, don’t they? What were their names? Ruth and Tim? Just snatched right out of the Rutland fairgrounds. Awful.”
They all exchanged dark looks. Behind them, most of the kids of Evansburg were splashing and yelling in the water.
Phil’s mother said, “I have half a mind to keep Phil and Mikey home. When the fair comes here this year.”
“Or at least keep a close eye,” Coco’s mom said.
Brian’s mom said impatiently, “But whatever’s bothering the kids—it started before this summer. It started with that field trip last October. Doctor says Brian’s fine, but . . .”
“Maybe we should keep the kids apart?” Coco’s mom said.
The rest of the parents turned to look at her.
She went on, haltingly. “If— Do you think they—that they—I mean, they’re all good kids, don’t get me wrong. And I know they’re best friends. I was so glad to see Coco making friends when we first moved. But maybe they—I mean—sometimes it seems like they’ve built up this imaginary world together. No grown-ups allowed. And it—scares them, somehow? Coco was never a very imaginative kid—she liked books about flowers and insects, for God’s sake—and now she wakes up in the night screaming.”
Hesitant nods all around the circle. Brian’s mom said, “I hate to say it, Zelda, but you might be right. I can’t think what else to do, not unless they tell us—something. We don’t have to be obvious about it, you know? Just keep the kids close to home until school starts. And maybe if anyone does pry it out of their kid, for God’s sake, text everyone else. I hate, I hate not knowing what to do.”
“We all do,” Zelda said.
* * *
—
“What do we even do now?” Brian Battersby demanded of his two friends. He wanted to pace in frustration, but the three of them were clustered above the swimming hole, on a small rock ledge right under the trestles of the East Evansburg Bridge. There wasn’t room to pace. His friends, Coco and Phil, were sitting with their backs against the struts of the bridge, their feet dangling. Above them was the shadowy span of the old covered bridge. The water below threw up white glimmers of light that speckled their hands and faces.
Instead of pacing, Brian stood restlessly, shifting from foot to foot. He was wearing green swimming trunks, his nose and shoulders striped pale with sunscreen. His expression, usually easygoing, was one of built-up frustration, his dark eyes narrowed. If it were a different summer, he’d be in the water, laughing, dunking, joking with a crowd of friends. But not this summer.
The bridge vibrated now and again when a truck or car passed overhead. The shrieks of six kids on a dragon floatie soared up from the creek under the bridge.
It was a beautiful spot. Cool. Quiet. The water was icy and clear, and the struts of the bridge half hid the three of them from the crowd at the swimming hole. This ledge had been the favorite sitting spot of a girl named Olivia Adler.
But Ollie wasn’t there. Ollie was gone.
Brian glared down at the water. His friend Coco Zintner said, “For Ollie? We can’t do anything but wait. You know that, Brian.” Coco wore a purple swimsuit. Pinkish blond hair straggled damp over her neck, and her eyes were the same light blue as the August sky. The remains of sparkly polish spotted her bitten fingernails.
Brian said, “I know. I hate it, though.”
“We all do,” Phil Greenblatt said. He had a freckled snub nose and boy-band brown hair that fell into his eyes.
Brian sank back down on the ledge beside his friends. “Why’d Ollie do it?” he whispered. “She didn’t ask us—she didn’t ask us to help her or to try another way. She just—did it. Left us. Chose to leave us.”
Coco said, “Don’t be mad at her. She did it to save her dad. Just like I would have done for my mom, or you for your parents. Maybe she should have talked to us, but Mr. Adler was dying, right there. She didn’t have time.”
“She should have trusted us,” Brian said. He was mad at Ollie. He missed her and he was mad at her. Was that strange?
“She didn’t want us to stop her,” Phil said.
“We’d have found another way,” Brian insisted.
Neither of his friends said anything. None of them knew if that was true.
“We’ll get her back,” Coco said instead, encouragingly. Coco was an optimist. “Remember what the letter said? You have one chance to win her back. Well, we’re going to win, that’s all. We’ll get her back.”
Brian said, “But how? She’s been gone for months. Yeah, maybe the smiling man offered us a chance, but he’s tricky. We don’t know what that chance looks like. Maybe we missed our chance. Ollie’s dad doesn’t even remember what happened. No one remembers but us! Sometimes I think—that she really is gone.”
His friends didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. It was a conversation they’d had at least a hundred times. Brian leaned back against the cool stone of the rock face above the ledge and shut his eyes.
Abruptly, Coco said, “I dreamed about her last night.” Both boys looked at her. Coco went on hesitantly, “She was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. And then someone—someone I couldn’t see—dragged her away. I woke up—I think I was screaming. Mom was there. She looked worried.”
All three of them turned to look at their parents, sitting in chairs in the creek. The grown-ups seemed to be staring back at them: Brian’s parents and Phil’s, and Coco’s mom, and Mr. Adler, Ollie’s dad. Mr. Adler wore the expression of puzzled sorrow that never left his face in those days. It made Brian hurt inside.
All the kids glanced hurriedly away again. “Our parents look like they’re plotting,” Phil said.
Brian shook his head. “Can you blame them? We’re acting certifiably weird. Have been for months. We need to chill them out somehow. Or my mom’s going to keep me at home doing chores until school starts just so she can keep an eye on me.”
The other two nodded, and they lapsed into silence. When Ollie first disappeared, they’d made all sorts of plans. Met up every day. Schemed, collected food, made emergency adventure packs.
But nothing had happened. Now they were just waiting.
Coco stiffened. “What’s that noise?”
Both boys went still, turning their heads to listen. It was difficult to hear any stealthy sound at Lethe Creek on a summer day. There was the roar of the water to contend with, and the rumble of traffic going over the bridge, and the squeals and the laughter as half of Evansburg played in the stream. But Coco, Brian, and Phil sat still and listened hard, and after a few moments, they all heard it.
Furtive footsteps.
Coming nearer.
A rustling in the bushes.
Without a word, they got to their feet. The water rippled past, fifteen feet below. Phil looked ready to jump down and escape. His face had gone so white that his freckles and his sunburn stood out like brown and red ink. Brian didn’t blame Phil for being nervous. They’d been hunted that May, after all. Hunted, and almost eaten. They’d run, they’d hid. They’d survived. But they’d lost Ollie.
Brian and Coco stayed put. Brian bit his lip. He was done hiding.
The footsteps got closer.
Closer.
And then, with a roar, something sprang out of the bushes.
Phil shrieked and fell into the water. Coco lurched backward too, although she didn’t fall. Brian grabbed at whatever it was, only to feel bony limbs and hear a familiar, annoying voice yelling, “Gerroff, Brian, stop it, was just a joke!”
Brian let go and scowled down at Phil’s little brother. Mikey Greenblatt shook himself and started laughing. Mikey was seven, and had a lot more freckles than Phil, but the same brown hair. “Hahaha, you should see yourself! I scared you, didn’t I? Scared your face off!”
Brian was still breathing fast. Coco was still leaning on a strut of the bridge, panting. Neither of them liked being startled.
Phil was below them now, treading water in the creek. “Mikey, what was that?” he bellowed. “When I get back up there, I swear I—”
“Phil, don’t yell at your brother!” his mother shouted from her place in the ring of chairs.
Coco snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you got us, Mikey. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
Mikey said, “Um, no. Not when you guys scare so good. I mean, really, you should have seen your—” He broke off. His face changed. He was looking downstream. “What’s that?”
Brian crossed his arms. “Oh no. Nope, absolutely not, you don’t get us again. Come on, Mikey, jump back in the water and leave us—”
But now Coco was looking in the same direction. She held up one hand to shade her eyes. “Wait. Brian, what is that?”
Mikey said, “Is that a kid?”
“It’s a kid.” Coco’s voice had gone strange. “Do you see, Brian? There, just between those rocks.”
Brian followed her pointing finger.
Someone was running up the rocky creek bed. Sometimes on the bank, between the trees. Sometimes wading in the water. Brian saw a torn T-shirt. Bare feet. An open mouth. Wide, panicked eyes. And then he realized that the person was screaming. Screaming for all they were worth, but they couldn’t be heard over the happy squeals of kids in the water of Lethe Creek.
2
“MIKEY, GO GET your mom and dad,” Brian said.
“But I—”
“Do it,” Coco snapped. Mikey shut up. Coco had that effect sometimes. Probably because she yelled so rarely. Brian was already jumping. The quickest way off their ledge was to cannonball straight down into the water. Brian had a mean cannonball. He dropped like a rock. Heard twin splashes as Coco and Mikey hit the water behind him. And then Brian was swimming, ducking around the kids on their dragon floatie.
“Hi, Brian!” one of the girls called. He waved back without really stopping.
A few more strokes and his feet touched the rocky creek bed. Coco came splashing up behind him. He could hear Mikey’s high, excited voice as he veered off to the right and hollered at the parents in the ring of chairs.
Phil popped out of the water beside Brian. “What’s up, guys?”
Coco had gotten her feet under her; she pushed her hair out of her face and pointed.
Phil frowned. “Who is that?”
The kid was still running, slipping and sliding on rocks. Now that they were closer, they could hear his sobbing breaths. They hurried to meet him. “Help me. Help me, please,” the kid gasped.
Coco said, “Oh my God. Isn’t that—”
Brian had recognized the kid too. They’d seen his picture in the paper. His and a girl’s. Brother and sister. Tim and Ruth. They’d vanished during the carnival at the Rutland county fair.
Phil said what they were all thinking. “Whoa. It’s Tim Jenkins.”
Tim hurtled the last few steps toward them and tripped. Brian caught him just in time. Tim smelled like he needed a shower. Tears cut the grime on his face. He clutched at Brian. “Don’t let them find me. Please. Don’t let them find me.”
Phil said, “Hey, it’s okay. No one’s going to find you.”
“Who is looking for you, Tim?” Coco scanned the river warily.
Tim whispered, “They’ll eat you if they catch you. Or they’ll hang you up. I didn’t want to get hung up. But they did . . .”
“Who are they?” Brian asked.
Tim shook his head. “That wasn’t what I was supposed to say. The man—he told me—told me to run. To run upstream. And I promised I’d say—what? Say something? I forget now. I forgot! He said he’d take me back if I forgot! Let them hang me up again!” Tim’s voice got shriller and shriller.
“Who said? What man?” Coco whispered.
Tim’s wild eyes darted from the hot rocks, to the rippling creek, up to the bleached-blue sky. “He was nice. But he scared me. I asked for Ruthie and he said no. I wanted to stay for Ruthie, but he pushed me in the water. Maybe I should try to get him to take me back. But I’m scared.”
“What did you promise to say?” Coco asked. Her voice, if strained, was still calm. “What did he—the nice man—what did he want you to say? You need to try to remember, Tim. It’s really important, okay?”
“It didn’t make any sense.”
“That’s all right,” Coco said.
Tim frowned. “ ‘Need light.’ ” He scrubbed at his nose with a dirty hand. “And something ’bout keys. Three keys. Three. I remember three. Three words, for three keys. ‘Ghost. Mirror. Gate.’ That’s what he said. And—” Tim gulped. “ ‘Play if you dare.’ He said that too.”
Play if you dare.
“Tim,” Brian said intently. “Where—”
But it was too late. There were shouts from behind him, crashing footsteps in the creek. Then they were surrounded by a wave of people. Mr. Adler was there first. “My God. That’s Tim. That’s Tim Jenkins. No—call the police, give him some air—”
But Brian hardly heard. He and Coco and Phil were staring at one another.
Brian whispered, “Ollie’s close. Has to be. The nice man? That was the smiling man! Play if you dare? Who else could it be? This is it. Our chance!”
Coco nodded.
Phil asked, “But what does it mean? Need light? Three keys? Ghost, mirror, gate? I mean, what?”
Brian didn’t know. Coco didn’t look like she knew either. Tim had already been whisked off. “We need to ask Tim more questions,” Brian said.
The other two nodded. They started wading toward the crowd by the creek. Tim was on the bank; Mr. Adler had put a big, dry towel around him.
“You don’t have to say anything, son,” Mr. Adler said. Then he turned and called to the curious crowd: “Not right now. Back off, you guys!”
“Police are on their way. They’re calling Tim’s parents,” Coco’s mom said to Mr. Adler. There were tears in her eyes. “Thank God,” she said to Tim.
Tim shook his head violently. “No. No—they’re coming. They’re coming! Please, you don’t understand . . . They’re coming for all of you. They’ve got room for all of you!”
Now Brian’s mom was talking gently to Tim. “Hush. It’s okay, son. Don’t try and talk. Brian—give him some room, please.”
Brian said, “Mom, we really need to talk to him. He knows something important.”
“And he’ll tell it to the police. Brian, he’s terrified. Don’t bother him now.”
“But he—”
It was no use. Tim was surrounded by a solid wall of careful, caring adults, and none of the kids could get near him. Phil’s parents were already packing up their stuff. They looked frightened. Maybe everyone was frightened. Tim had showed up out of nowhere. It was uncanny. His expression was uncanny. His eyes looked like holes burned in printer paper. No one knew where he’d been. Who’d kidnapped him. If they were nearby.
“We’re getting you and Mikey home,” Mrs. Greenblatt said to Phil. “Now, Philip, there are enough people keeping an eye on that boy, and the rest will just have their cars blocking the police when they get here. You too, Mikey, stop rubbernecking. Come on, both of you. We’re leaving.” She was shooting wary looks at the creek, the trees, the bushes, the road.
There was no room to argue. Phil’s parents nearly hauled him and his brother bodily up from the creek to the road. Phil only had time for a quick “Talk ASAP?” to Brian and Coco.
They nodded, and Phil was gone.
Then Brian’s dad said, “We’ll head out ourselves. Tell Coco goodbye, Brian.”
Brian felt frantic. “What if Tim says something important?”
“Hopefully he does. To the police, and to his parents, and to a therapist. He’s been traumatized, and pestering him with questions now is not going to help. It’s the last thing he needs.”
Brian tried again. “But—remember what he said? They’re coming for all of you? They’ve got room for all of you? I mean—doesn’t that sound like a warning?”
“Sure. He’s had a terrible time. But it’s okay. You’re okay.” And, misinterpreting the look on Brian’s face, Brian’s dad added, “You’re safe, Brian. Don’t worry. Your mother and I will keep you safe.”
“Are you kidding me?” The question came out before he could stop it. Brian hated the way his voice cracked. “Keep me safe? You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not safe, we aren’t safe. We haven’t been for a while. I have to talk to Tim!”
