Abduction!

  “I am? Why?”

  “Because Thomas and Tim have dark hair, and they wear glasses. This is a family reunion and everybody’s supposed to look alike for the pictures.”

  “Oh.”

  Denny opened a drawer and removed a small pair of eyeglasses with wire rims. “Here. Try them on.”

  Matt put the glasses on and looked through the lenses. “Everything looks the same,” he said.

  “It’s clear glass. It won’t change the way you see.”

  “How’s my hair going to get black?”

  Denny grinned. “Shoe polish. We’ll do it in the morning.”

  The next morning Matt watched in the mirror as Denny applied black shoe polish to Matt’s blond hair. Denny stroked it on slowly, careful not to get any color on Matt’s ears or neck.

  “This is how the movie stars get ready,” Denny said.

  Matt giggled. He looked so different, even Stanley wouldn’t know him. When all his hair was black, Matt put on the glasses. “I don’t look like me,” he said. The red-and-gold Hawaiian-print shirt Denny had bought him was unlike anything in Matt’s closet at home. Matt never chose shirts with buttons. He liked the new pants, though, with their deep pockets on both legs.

  “Now all you need is a new name,” Denny said.

  “What’s wrong with Matt?”

  “Not a thing. But all the other kids have names that start with T—Thomas and Tim. You need a T name, too.”

  “For always?”

  “You’re going to be Travis.”

  Matt thought about that. “I’ll be Travis for the weekend,” he said. “Then I want to be Matt again.”

  He didn’t understand why Denny wanted him to be exactly like his cousins. Mom had always said every person is unique and we should celebrate our differences, but Matt didn’t say so. He didn’t want to take any chance on making Denny angry today. Matt would have dyed his hair pink and called himself DOOFUS if that’s what it took to go to a Mariners game, a ferry ride, and a sleepover with two other boys.

  Pookie slept with Bonnie Friday night. Even though he hogged the bed and snored, Bonnie wanted him where she could touch his fur anytime she felt like it.

  Getting Pookie back had renewed her hope that Matt would come home, too. Of course she had never totally given up, but as the days went by, her optimism had faded.

  The worst moment had come when she read on a Web site that seventy percent of abducted children who are murdered get killed within three hours of when they were taken. Three hours! Bonnie had cried, and that night she’d had the prairie dream again.

  Now Pookie’s familiar doggie smell comforted her as she lay in bed. For the first time since Matt’s disappearance, she fell asleep quickly. She awoke once in the night because Pookie had a dream and his paws kept twitching against her side. Bonnie smiled as she talked to Pookie and petted him.

  When Pookie went out his doggie door the next morning, Bonnie stood in the yard, too, even though it was raining. She knew the danger to Pookie was over, but she wasn’t quite ready to let him be outside by himself.

  She took the frayed brown “dog towel” from its hook and wiped Pookie’s paws. Before she could rub down his back he shook vigorously, spraying droplets across the laundry-room floor.

  As she came through the kitchen, she heard Mom on the telephone. “To be honest,” Mom said, “we forgot all about it, but I agree it would be good for Bonnie to see her friends and do something fun. Hold on; let me ask her.”

  She held the phone away from her mouth. “It’s Nancy’s mom,” she said. “She wants to know if she can pick you up for the baseball game.”

  “The Mariners game is today?”

  “It starts at one o’clock. Mrs. Tagg is driving Shelly and Kristi—and Nancy, of course. She can pick you up at eleven.”

  “It doesn’t seem right for me to go off to a Mariners game when Matt is still missing.”

  “I know, honey,” her mother said, “but there’s nothing more you can do to help Matt today, and we already bought your ticket. I think you should go.”

  “All right. I’ll go.” How odd, Bonnie thought, that I forgot about the Mariners game. When her track coach had arranged to get tickets at the group price, Bonnie had been thrilled. She had never seen a game at Safeco Field, and it would be great to go with her teammates—thirty-four girls plus the coach and two parents.

  “How could I have forgotten about something that seemed like such a big deal?” Bonnie asked her grandma.

  “Because losing your brother is a bigger deal,” Grandma said. “But I’m glad you’re going, honey. You’ve done everything you can to help Matt. It’s time you let your life start again.”

  “Catch a fly ball for me,” Grandpa said. Then he gave Bonnie twenty dollars for a hot dog or cotton candy or whatever she wanted to buy at the game.

  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  “I wish I could go with you,” he said. “I’ll watch the game on television and think about you. Wave if you see a TV camera.”

  Mom insisted Bonnie take their bird-watching binoculars. “It’s fun to see the players up close,” she said.

  When Bonnie first got in the van with her friends, she felt awkward, as if she’d been away far longer than a week. But when she told them about getting Pookie back, everyone cheered and asked lots of questions. Bonnie relaxed. The other girls told her what had happened at school that week and then they all sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” at the top of their lungs.

  By the time Mrs. Tagg parked, the morning’s drizzle had stopped. They strolled past outdoor stands selling peanuts, T-shirts, Cracker Jacks, hot dogs, and various souvenirs. The smell of grilled sausages tempted Bonnie, but she decided to wait and spend her money inside.

  They walked alongside Safeco Field, admiring the huge pictures of the players on the outer walls of the stadium. Crowds lined up at the gates. Two people held up hand-lettered signs: NEED TICKETS.

  “Programs!” called out a man on the corner. “Get your official souvenir programs!”

  The girls posed in front of a sculpture of a huge baseball glove while Nancy’s mom took their picture.

  Mrs. Tagg cautioned them to keep their ticket stubs so they could easily find their seats again if they needed to leave during the game. As soon as she went through the turnstile, Bonnie tucked her stub in her jeans pocket. She didn’t plan to miss any of the game, though. She intended to watch every second of her first major-league baseball game.

  They rode the escalator to the three-hundred level. Most of the girls bought something to eat before they found their seats, but Bonnie was too excited to feel hungry.

  Her first glimpse of the field took her breath away. Green grass, mowed so it created a pattern; crisp white lines around the batter’s box and along the baselines; a huge lighted scoreboard. It looked even better than it did on TV.

  Vendors moved up and down the aisles hawking cotton candy, soft drinks, beer, and frozen malts. The peanut man used gestures to communicate with fans several rows away, then expertly flipped the bags of peanuts over his shoulder to the waiting customers. Money passed from person to person until it reached the vendors.

  From their seats on the first-base side, the girls had a view of the Mariners’ dugout. Bonnie aimed her binoculars at the players.

  The retractable roof was closed because of the rain earlier in the day, but after the girls settled in their seats, the clouds blew away and the roof began to open.

  Bonnie laughed as she recognized the music being broadcast: “Let the Sun Shine In.” She watched the huge roof slide into itself on its track until blue sky covered the playing field. She would have to tell Grandpa how it worked. He liked mechanical things, and that roof was amazing.

  It felt good to be with her friends and to think about something besides her brother. Then she felt guilty for having fun at Safeco Field when Matt, who loved baseball more than anything, was still missing.

  What if he’s never found? Bonnie thought. For
the rest of my life, will I feel ashamed every time I start to enjoy myself?

  She pushed the gloomy thought away, turned to Nancy, and said, “I hope the Mariners hit a home run today.”

  Matt sat on the kitchen floor, watching the digital clock on the oven. Denny had promised they would leave for the ballpark at eleven, and as eleven o’clock passed and then eleven-thirty, Matt’s disappointment grew. He wanted to see batting practice. He wanted to walk around Safeco Field and look at all the souvenir stands before the game began.

  Denny kept making phone calls and checking things on the computer as the clock numbers flashed toward noon. Matt grew more and more nervous that they wouldn’t get to the game at all.

  When Denny finally said, “Let’s go,” Matt rushed to the car, forgetting to put on the glasses. Denny made him go back to get them.

  By the time they got to Safeco Field, all the parking places on the street were already taken. Denny got angry at the fees charged by the parking lots.

  “That’s highway robbery,” he said. “Fifteen bucks to let my car sit for a couple of hours. I have half a mind to go back home. You can watch the game on television.”

  “We already have the tickets,” Matt said.

  Denny drove farther and farther away from the stadium, looking for a free parking spot. He didn’t find one, so he parked in front of a business with NO STADIUM PARKING signs posted on the building. A few other cars had parked there, too. “I’ll take my chances,” Denny said. “They can’t tow everybody.”

  As they approached Safeco Field, Matt heard “The Star-Spangled Banner” being sung. He walked faster. “We’re going to miss the first pitch.”

  “There’ll be plenty of other pitches.”

  Inside the stadium, Denny led the way through crowds of people buying refreshments. Although Matt wished he could have popcorn or an ice cream, he didn’t ask for any because he didn’t want to wait. Overhead television monitors showed the game had already begun.

  Their seats were on the second level, past third base toward the outfield. By the time Denny found the correct aisle and then their row, the Mariners were up to bat in the bottom of the first.

  In the second inning, Denny’s phone rang. When he began talking loudly, people nearby gave him annoyed looks until he walked up the aisle to have his conversation on the concourse.

  He didn’t return until the third inning. Matt hoped he would stay this time. It was more fun to watch a ball game WITH someone, even his dad, who didn’t care about baseball.

  The girls sitting on the other side of Matt giggled and acted rowdy; they paid no attention to Matt or the Mariners.

  The cotton-candy vendor walked past. Matt wished Denny would offer to buy some, but he didn’t.

  Denny left for another phone call in the fifth inning and stayed away so long, Matt grew nervous. One part of him cheered for the Mariners while another part worried about Denny.

  What if Denny came back in one of his angry moods? He might want to leave before the seventh-inning stretch when the Mariner Moose drove his quad around the field. Stanley had told Matt about that, and Matt really wanted to see the Moose do it.

  Matt had figured out that Denny’s phone calls always involved winning or losing money. When Denny won, he was happy. He ordered pizza and bought Matt new toys. When Denny lost, he got angry and nothing Matt did pleased him. The last two days, Denny must have lost a lot. Matt remembered the empty ice-cream carton.

  He looked anxiously down the aisle. What if Denny didn’t come back? He didn’t like living with Denny, but at least Denny gave him a place to sleep and food to eat. Without Denny, Matt might end up like the homeless man he’d once seen standing beside the freeway exit, holding a sign—HUNGRY. NEED MONEY FOR FOOD.

  Mom had told him if he was ever in trouble to tell his phone number to a police officer or other adult, but she had also said, “Don’t talk to strangers.” The only police Matt saw were down on the field, where fans weren’t allowed, and Matt didn’t see any adults he knew. Besides, his phone number wasn’t any good now that nobody lived in his house.

  Matt nervously fingered one ear, pulling on the earlobe.

  Bonnie stood at the entrance to her section, waiting for Nancy. Between innings, they had gone to the restroom together and then to a souvenir stand, where Bonnie bought a Mariners baseball. Now Nancy wanted to buy some nachos.

  “I’ll wait for you where I can see the game,” Bonnie had said when she saw the long line at the food stand. “I want to watch the Mariners bat.”

  She pointed her binoculars at the Mariners on-deck circle. Mom was right; it was fun to see the players up close. She watched the first baseman walk to the plate, then smack the ball on the first pitch and send it sailing high into the second-deck stands beyond third base.

  Bonnie followed the foul ball with her binoculars. Half a dozen fans scrambled to catch it. One of them spilled his drink all over the woman in front of him as he lunged for the ball.

  Bonnie chuckled as she watched the successful fan hold the ball in the air while his friends cheered.

  She scanned the crowd around the man with the ball. As she moved the binoculars from left to right, she suddenly stopped and reversed direction.

  She stared at a boy who was pulling on his earlobe, exactly the way Matt always did when he was nervous. Bonnie’s scalp prickled as she blinked and adjusted the focus. The boy was Matt’s size, but he had black hair and he wore glasses. He had on a gaudy shirt with buttons up the front; Matt disliked buttons and wore only pullover shirts.

  She didn’t think the boy was Matt, but there WAS a resemblance, especially around the eyes. Detective Morrison had said whoever took Matt might change his appearance.

  Bonnie looked to see who sat next to the boy. There was an empty seat on one side of him. On the other side, a pair of teenage girls jumped and danced as they held up a sign, clearly hoping the fan camera would put their picture on the big screen. Behind the boy, a young couple with a sleeping baby ate hot dogs.

  It can’t be Matt, Bonnie thought. Nobody was making that boy sit there by himself. If Matt had been left alone at Safeco Field, he wouldn’t sit calmly and watch the baseball game. He would tell an usher or the parents of those girls sitting beside him who he was. He’d say he had been abducted and needed help. He would give an adult his phone number and have them call Mom or ask someone to call the police.

  Bonnie let the binoculars dangle from the strap. A train whistle filled the air as a train passed Safeco Field. Bonnie tried to concentrate on the batter.

  The boy only looks like Matt because I’m thinking so much about him, Bonnie told herself. She remembered riding in the country last summer. Each time she saw a DEER CROSSING sign, she looked so hard for deer that she imagined every large rock or tree stump was a buck or doe.

  Was it going to be like that with Matt? Every time she saw a boy Matt’s size, would she imagine it was him whether it made sense or not?

  Still . . .

  She peered through the binoculars once more. The boy kept pulling on his ear. Bonnie decided to go closer and then look again. She moved the binoculars until she saw which section the boy sat in. She turned and walked down to the concourse.

  She didn’t want to tell Nancy or the rest of her group where she was going; no point getting everyone all excited when she was sure it couldn’t really be Matt.

  She found Nancy still waiting in line for her nachos, and said, “I saw a friend of my mom’s, and I’m going to go talk to him for a few minutes. I’ll see you back at our seats.”

  Then she went down to the second level and walked as fast as she could around the concourse until she reached the third-base side of Safeco Field.

  Denny pressed the phone to one ear and covered his other ear with his hand, straining to hear through the crowd noise.

  “Bronco tells me you paid him.”

  Denny recognized Hank’s voice; his stomach did somersaults.

  “Right,” Denny said. “Right!
And I’ll pay you, too.”

  “Today.” Even with the noise around him, Denny caught the threat in that one word.

  “I can’t get the money out of the bank until Monday,” Denny said. “I’ll pay you then.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “I’m not stringing you along, Hank, I swear. I’ll bring your money first thing Monday morning.”

  “I’ll probably regret this,” Hank said, “but you have until Monday noon. After that, no excuses.”

  “I’ll be there,” Denny promised. He put the phone in his pocket and paced nervously. Winston and Celia were his only hope, but the last time Denny had tried to borrow from them, Winston had said, “Get yourself some help for your problems first. Stop gambling, and learn how to get along with people so you can hold a job.”

  Denny had sworn he would do so even though he knew he didn’t have any problem. He could quit gambling anytime he wanted to; he’d had a string of bad luck, that’s all, and the only people he didn’t get along with were the jerks of the world, who seemed to be everywhere. They had the problem, not him.

  Celia and Winston often urged Denny to “get some professional help.” Once, after Denny threatened to shoot a driver who cut him off in traffic, Celia had given him a phone number to call. “You need help to control your temper,” Celia said, “before you hurt someone.”

  Denny’s blood boiled as he remembered how Celia and Winston had jumped all over him when the other driver was at fault. Denny had thrown the number away.

  It would be different today. Celia and Winston would be sympathetic when they found out Denny needed the money for Matt. They knew how much it costs to raise kids.

  He’d say he needed it to buy clothes and a bed for Matt. He’d say he had custody of the boy and needed cash to take Matt to the doctor and to buy allergy medicine. He’d say he had an interview next week for a real job with a steady paycheck because more than anything he wanted to take good care of his boy.

  They’d agree to help this time instead of lecturing Denny to change his ways.