Someone Else's Shoes

  Ellis sighed. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. I was thinking about it while you were in the shower. The car isn’t fixed yet. I got another hour or so to go on it, and it’s getting dark already. Besides which, you shouldn’t be driving anywhere tonight. Sometimes you get a reaction even a few hours later from that many bites. You need to stay quiet and see how you feel tomorrow.”

  Ben jumped up. “Tomorrow? We can’t stay here all night!”

  “Well, you don’t really have a choice, do ya?” Ellis said kindly. “Here’s what I’m thinking. My brother Andy’s got a motel about five miles from here. He’ll let you stay there, no charge, when I tell him what happened. He’s never full-up anyway. And if there’s a problem later on tonight, he’ll know who to call. I feel kinda responsible, kid, and I’d be a lot happier knowing you were staying the night there. You can call your parents and tell ’em Ellis is taking good care of ya. Or, if you want, I’ll call ’em.”

  “That’s okay, Ellis,” Izzy said. “We’ll call.”

  Ben seemed to have shrunk inside the enormous pants. He looked at Oliver. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I know I promised you we’d get there today.”

  Oliver wouldn’t look at him, which Izzy thought wasn’t fair. After all, Ben had only been trying to help. It wasn’t his fault there were hornets in the ground. And now he was stung all to pieces, which must hurt like the dickens. Just imagining it made Izzy squirm.

  “Come on, Oliver, it’s not that big of a deal,” she said. “If it’s today or tomorrow, we’ll get there and we’ll find him and he’ll just be sitting around writing songs. You know how he gets when he’s writing. He won’t even know what day it is!”

  Oliver wouldn’t look at either of them.

  They all got back into Ellis’s truck, Oliver on Izzy’s lap so he wouldn’t bump into Ben’s stung shoulder. The sun was barely visible above the line of trees along the highway.

  “Tell you what,” Ellis said. “Let’s stop on the way, and I’ll get you a pizza to take to the motel. You guys must be starving.”

  Ben and Oliver were silent as gravestones, so Izzy rose to the occasion. “That would be great, Ellis. Thanks a lot.”

  “Hey,” Oliver said, trying to look over his shoulder. “We’re going back the way we came!”

  “That’s where the motel is,” Ellis said. “It’s not too far.”

  “But it’s backward!” Oliver yelled.

  “Oliver!” Izzy shook him, just a little bit, or maybe more than a little bit. “It’s okay. We’re going to get there. Ben promised you and…and I promise you too. We’ll find him tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” Oliver wailed. And Izzy knew he was afraid tomorrow would never come.

  “Turn it off! It’s all stupid!” Oliver said.

  He wasn’t wrong. All they could find on the motel TV were local news channels and reruns of sitcoms that hadn’t been very good the first time around. Izzy hit the power button and the picture disappeared. Lying on one of the two double beds, Oliver turned his back to her.

  “I get this bed to myself,” he muttered.

  “No, you don’t,” she said. “I’m sleeping there too. Ben needs his own bed.”

  “You can sleep on the floor, then.”

  “Oliver, I know you’re upset, but stop being so bratty.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” He pulled the covers up over his head.

  Things could be worse, Izzy told herself. At least they had a free place to stay for the night, and Ellis had gotten them an enormous pepperoni pizza for dinner (which Oliver had barely touched). And Ellis had promised to have the car done first thing in the morning and to come back and pick them up. They’d be able to get an early start and finish the drive across New York by mid-afternoon. If Ben was feeling okay. If the car didn’t break down again. If their parents hadn’t called the police by then. If they could actually find Uncle Henderson at Lake Chautauqua. She didn’t want to imagine what Oliver would do if they didn’t find him. And, of course, the longer this took, the more worried her mother would be, which meant by the time Izzy finally called her, she’d be just that much more furious.

  Ben had gone outside to take a walk, and when he came back into the room he was accompanied by a gust of chilly wind. He’d had a discouraged look on his face ever since the hornets stung him, and Izzy was sorry to see that the walk hadn’t erased it.

  “Is Oliver asleep?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Izzy said.

  Oliver’s muffled voice emerged from beneath the blanket. “Yes, I am.”

  Ben sighed. “I called Uncle Steve.”

  “You did?” Izzy steeled herself to hear the story.

  “I felt bad about tricking him and taking the car and the money.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was okay about it. He’s a good guy. Of course, my dad called him right away this morning and blamed him for everything. I guess my dad and your mom are completely freaking out.”

  “What did he tell them?”

  Ben sat carefully on the other bed. “He admitted we’d come to see him, but he told them he didn’t know we planned to take his car. Dad didn’t believe him, of course.”

  “Did your uncle say anything about my mom?”

  “Apparently your mom decided we were going to Wilton, which is where she thinks Henderson is—so chances are she’s driving there as we speak. Uncle Steve said she wanted to call the police, but my dad talked her out of it—for now, at least.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so dead.” Izzy closed her eyes.

  “You? I was already on house arrest before this even started. Now my dad is flying back from St. Louis, leaving my sick grandmother behind, and probably trying to come up with a punishment that’s bad enough for an underage kidnapper.” Ben made slow circles with his stung arm, testing for pain.

  “Kidnapper? You’re not a kidnapper.”

  “Apparently your mother has used that word.”

  Oh my God, her mother must be furious if she said something like that about Ben. When Ben was staying with them, she acted like he was some kind of gift from heaven—and now she was calling him a criminal? “You’re not that much older than we are, and anyway, we wanted to come,” Izzy said. “You didn’t make us. It was Oliver’s idea to find his father!”

  “Oliver is ten. I’m sixteen. I’m supposed to be the smart one.” He sighed and pushed up off the bed. “I really thought we could do this. Oliver depended on me, and I’m letting him down.”

  “No, you aren’t. It’s not your fault you got stung—”

  “That’s not how Oliver sees it. I screwed things up, like I always do. And when we get back, my dad’s gonna kill me. And if he doesn’t, your mom will.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Izzy said. “You certainly didn’t kidnap me. I can make my own decisions!”

  Ben glanced at her hair and allowed himself a tiny grin. “I think you proved that.” He looked so defeated that Izzy didn’t even get mad. In fact, she was glad if her stupid hair made him feel a little better.

  When Ellis had gotten the frozen peas from his house, he’d also picked up a box of baking soda. He’d told Ben to mix it with water until it made a paste and then paint it onto his stings to help with the pain and itching. Ben got a glass from the bathroom and watered down the baking soda. He pulled off his T-shirt and stuck his finger in the glass, then dabbed the paste onto the raised lumps that he could reach on his arms and ankles. Izzy saw that both the scorpion and the wolf had been stung, which was pretty weird, but she was glad to see that the phoenix had escaped the attack.

  Every time Ben touched one of the stings, he clenched his jaw, and Izzy couldn’t stop herself from watching the undisguised pain. The fact that he was enduring all this for Oliver had washed away what was left of her resentment of him.

  “Do you want me…Should I do the ones on your back?” Izzy asked.

  Ben seemed startled by the idea. “Um, you don’t have to.”

  “I k
now I don’t have to, but Ellis said the baking soda makes them feel better. You have to sleep tonight so you can drive tomorrow.”

  He seemed to think it over, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s true. Okay.” He handed Izzy the glass and sat on the bed with his back to her.

  Izzy got a big glob of paste on her finger, then hesitated. She could see Ben’s whole body tense up, waiting for her finger to land on him. He expected her to hurt him, she realized. Not on purpose, not out of meanness, but still, he expected her touch to be painful. It seemed to her that a completely different Ben sat there in front of her, not the tattooed tough guy he wanted everybody to see, but a boy who expected people to hurt him. Izzy was determined her touch would be gentle.

  “I’m going to do the one on your neck first,” she said, so he’d know what to expect. He nodded. As lightly as she could, she spread the white goo on his swollen red skin. He twitched, but only a little.

  “Is that okay? Did it hurt?” she asked.

  “No. Not much.” His voice was quiet.

  “I’m glad you didn’t get stung on the phoenix tattoo,” Izzy said. “I like that one.”

  “You do? I thought you hated them all.”

  “I guess I’m getting used to them,” Izzy admitted. “One that bites, and one that howls, and one that…one that starts over.”

  Ben nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Okay. There are three bites right in the middle of your back,” she said before slathering more paste over those. A shiver ran across Ben’s shoulders, but this time he didn’t twitch. By the time Izzy finished with the nine bites that decorated his back, Ben had relaxed.

  “Thanks,” he said as he took the glass back from her.

  Then, before she thought about it too much, Izzy said, “You are the smart one, Ben.”

  He looked at her, puzzled. “What?”

  “You said our parents would be mad at you because you’re supposed to be the smart one. You are the smart one. I couldn’t have figured this all out. I mean, what stuff to bring along, and how to get to this lake we’re going to, and what to do when we had car trouble. All of it. You’re the smart one.”

  Ben shook his head and smiled wide. Izzy was pretty sure it was the first time she’d seen him smile a real smile and not a mean one or a sarcastic one. At least when he was looking at her.

  “Hey, you’re not so dumb yourself, Izzy,” he said.

  She was positive it was the first time he’d called her Izzy.

  “You know what? I’m gonna do you a favor too,” Ben said. He went to his backpack and searched through one of the side pockets. “I happen to have just what you need.”

  “I don’t need anything.”

  Ben held up a pair of scissors. “Yes, you do.”

  “So you’re going to stab me with your big scissors?” But she smiled as she said it.

  “I’m going to make you look slightly less demented.” He pointed to her head.

  Izzy’s hands flew to her hair. “What? No! You can’t!”

  “Yeah, actually, I can. It’s the one useful thing my mom taught me. I know how to cut hair. She even let me cut hers sometimes.”

  “But you’re a boy!” She knew that was a stupid thing to say, but she was so shocked by Ben’s suggestion.

  “A lot of men cut hair. A couple of guys worked in the salon with my mom.”

  Izzy stood up and backed across the room. “I don’t need a haircut!”

  “You do, Izzy. I’ll make it look better—I promise.” Quietly he said, “It really couldn’t look any worse.”

  Izzy let her hands drop to her sides. She’d trusted Ben enough to get into a car with him and drive across a whole state. Besides, he was right about her hair—it looked horrible. She flopped into the desk chair and sighed. “Go ahead. Carve Big Bird.”

  “Hey, I’m gonna give the Bird some style, kid. Just wait.” Ben got a towel from the bathroom and draped it around her shoulders. When he made the first cut, Izzy flinched, just as he had when she’d smeared the baking soda on the first of his wounds. Of course, a haircut didn’t hurt like hornet stings did, but Izzy was nervous anyway. Still, she willed herself to calm down. She hardly recognized the forlorn, hornet-stung hairdresser who stood behind her. And she didn’t want to scare this new Ben away.

  Ben didn’t talk while he worked. He seemed to be concentrating on the job. At one point he gave a little grunt, and Izzy got worried. “What’s wrong? Did you make a mistake?”

  “No. You made the mistake when you chopped up your hair like this. I can’t fix everything. Why did you do this, anyway?”

  “Lots of girls dye their hair!” Which she knew was not really an answer to the question.

  “Maybe so, but they don’t do it by themselves so the color’s all blotchy. And they don’t attack themselves with the scissors so it looks like they’ve been electrocuted.”

  He was still insulting her—she should have known he hadn’t really changed. But just as she was about to pull away and tell him to stop, Ben said, “I guess I know why you did it. Same reason I got the tattoos.”

  Huh. He was right. “So I wouldn’t be invisible,” she said.

  “Yeah. How’d that work out for you?”

  “Well, everybody noticed me—”

  “I’m sure they did,” Ben said with a laugh.

  “But not in a good way. In fact, my best friends, Pauline and Cookie, don’t even want to hang out with me anymore.”

  “That’s pretty rotten of them.”

  “Yeah. And they told me some bad stuff about you too.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, once you hit a guy with a baseball bat and gave him a concussion.”

  Ben stopped cutting. “What? You didn’t believe that, did you?”

  Izzy hung her head. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “Izzy, I never did anything like that! People start these dumb rumors—”

  “I know. I believe you.” She should have said it before, and she had to say it now: “I’m…sorry.”

  He pulled her head back up. “For what?”

  “For believing them. And for treating you…kind of lousy.”

  “Yeah, well, I acted kind of lousy,” Ben admitted, “so I guess we’re even.”

  “I’m really mad at Cookie and Pauline for saying that stuff. They don’t even know you!”

  “Sometimes people talk without thinking first,” Ben said as he worked to even up the back of her hair. “My old friends were so annoying after my mom left—they said all kinds of dumb stuff, like “Who needs her?” and “You’re better off without her.” They acted like it was no big deal to have your mother run away from you. They didn’t understand why I was in a bad mood all the time. They thought I should still be the same person I was before, but I wasn’t. So I found other people to hang with.”

  “The ones your dad doesn’t like?” She said it quietly, hoping he wouldn’t get mad.

  For a minute Ben was silent, but then he said, “We took my dad’s car one night. Just to ride around for a while.”

  “Did you drive it?”

  He nodded. “Some of the guys were drinking, but I wasn’t. Believe me, Uncle Steve has drilled that into me so hard—no drinking and driving. But the cops pulled us over because one of the tail-lights was out, of all the dumb things. Of course, I didn’t have a license…and you can imagine the rest.”

  “That’s why you’re grounded?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I figured my dad wouldn’t want to get the police involved this time. Twice in a month wouldn’t be good. I’ll probably never get a real driver’s license now.”

  “Wow.” Izzy had a lump in her throat from listening to Ben’s story. What was wrong with her lately? Everything made her feel sad.

  “Okay. That’s the best I can do. What do you think?” Ben whipped the towel off her shoulders, and Izzy turned to look at herself in the mirror.

  The chicken feathers were gone. Izzy had layers now and punky little bangs, with a few holes that Ben
couldn’t quite disguise. Her hair was still bright yellow, of course, but she no longer looked silly. In fact, she looked kind of amazing.

  “See, I told you I know what I’m doing. My mom was a good hairdresser. She used to—” He stopped short when he saw the tears running down Izzy’s cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

  “Thank you,” Izzy said. Then she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Izzy tramped through the forest, snow up to her knees. Her job, she knew, was to knock the heavy snow off the branches of the smaller trees before the weight of it could break them. And she did that as quickly as she could, but there were so many trees, and so much snow, and it kept on falling.

  It was the bed shaking that woke Izzy up. At first she thought it must be an earthquake, but once her eyes were open and she remembered where she was, she could tell that the only thing moving was Oliver. He was groaning as he thrashed in the bed, throwing himself from side to side, his head crashing around on the pillow.

  Izzy put her hands on his shoulders. “Oliver, you’re having a nightmare,” she whispered, hoping Ben wouldn’t wake up too.

  Oliver’s eyes flew open, but he still didn’t seem to be awake. He stared at Izzy as if he’d never seen her before.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered again. “You were dreaming. I was too.”

  Oliver sat up and looked around the dark room. He made a strangled noise deep in his throat. Izzy watched his face fold in on itself as the sound grew bigger and louder until it became a scream that seemed to have been dragged up from a hole deep inside him. The whole room echoed with the mournful explosion.

  The shriek cut right through Izzy and left her breathless. She sat up and scooted across the bed until she was on her knees next to her cousin. She put her arms around his back and tried to pull him toward her, but he resisted. “Oliver, it’s okay!” she said again, even though she knew it wasn’t and might never be.

  And then Ben was beside the bed, though Izzy hadn’t heard him get up. He sat on Oliver’s other side and took the younger boy’s hand in both of his own. “Oliver, don’t,” he whispered. “Please don’t.”