Ferocious

10. Straw People

Escaping the house was easier than I thought it would be. Mrs. Walters – Jane – was oddly deflated after our girl time together upstairs and Mr. Walters was too busy chewing some crackers to say anything. He watched, perched uncomfortably on his rose patterned arm chair, photo album forgotten in his lap as I hurried to the door.

"Thank you for the visit, sorry I have to go. Goodbye," I yelled from the porch. Not waiting to hear a reply, I dashed across the drive to the street. I would go faster if I could steal a bike from their garage, but I didn't want to have to return it later.

I hit the street taking long strides and great gulps of air to clear my head of everything that was wrong with their house. Mrs. Walters could sense Levi in his room, but she refused to think he was dead. What did that mean?

That she had one more screw loose than me, apparently.

The note in Levi's diary could have been written five years ago. It didn't prove anything. What if he's not dead? What if he's alive and he needs help? I had to stop walking so fast, my breath couldn't keep up.

Slowing, I wrapped my arms around my middle in an effort to get my thoughts and emotions under control. I couldn't allow myself to hope for the impossible. I couldn't lose myself and my mind in make-believe movie scenarios.

Sean and Levi had been kidnapped and they had either been killed at some point during the last five years or they were prisoners somewhere, and in the real world they couldn't communicate with me in either case. The note had been written five years ago and it was not a message from Levi promising to meet me at Cuppa Joe's today.

I stumbled forward, pushing my legs to move faster. I caught my second wind and fell into a steady gait. I would be there in less than ten minutes, which put me at about 6:30.

There was no meeting time on the note, I fretted. Then I told myself I was being stupid. There was no time on it because when he wrote it five years ago he didn't know what time he wanted to meet me, and then he forgot to give it to me. End of story.

End of story.

My heart rebelled at that thought. This can't be the end of his story. He would come home one day, and I would know who had done this to him and Sean. They would come back. Not ever talking to them again or seeing them, not ever knowing what had happened was unbearable.

No wonder Mr. and Mrs. Walters were crazy. They sat together every evening in that quiet house asking themselves what kind of evil person would take their children from them and probably do unspeakable horrors to the people they loved most in the world. They lied to themselves that one day everything would be fine and dandy. They told themselves that they were still parents and they told me I was part of their family.

I felt nausea clutch my stomach at the thought of something happening to my mom. If I lost my mom, I would lose all the family I knew. My dad had skipped town and hadn't paid child support for years and my mom's parents were in Ecuador. I could barely speak any Spanish and they were too poor to help me.

Could Mrs. Walters do something to my mom? Would she? People who had lost their grip on reality were capable of anything and everything. There were no barriers, no stops and certainly no regrets.

I broke into a half jog as adrenaline flooded my muscles. No, she wouldn't. She wanted to take care of me since she had no one else. It was in her nature to take more care of people than they needed.

An old conversation I had had with Levi came to mind. I had invited him once to spend the night so we could marathon watch the original Star Wars movies. His parents had agreed right up to the last minute when they changed their minds and decided he was too young to sleep over at a friend's house. We had met instead at Cuppa Joe's for root beer floats. Sitting on the curb at the back of the parking lot, he had announced he would run away soon.