All That's Missing by Sarah Sullivan Page A

hungry again,” Mr. Fanucci would say. And Arlo would know what that meant. He’d take money out of the underwear drawer and hustle down to the market.
    With a wave of his arm, Arlo swept the socks and underwear off his bed. He flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling.
Now what?
The minutes were ticking past. No time to waste. Arlo climbed off the bed, then went downstairs and pulled the photo album out of the cabinet. He opened it to the page with the picture of his mother and father standing in front of the apple tree.
    Arlo stared at his dad’s face, at that slight irregularity in his left eyebrow. Maybe Ida Jones had a spot like that, too. He would find out as soon as he made it to Edgewater. When he saw his grandmother in the flesh for the first time in nine years, he would check to see if they shared that connection.
    He looked at the small wood carving that dangled from the binding of the album. Funny how he’d never paid much attention to it before. It was a bird of some kind. An eagle? Hard to tell. Obviously handmade. Maybe his father had carved it. Arlo unhooked the silver chain that connected it to the album. He wrapped his hand around the wood, feeling how it had turned smooth and furry with age. He rubbed his finger across the grain. Maybe it would bring him luck. If he were living in a fairy tale, a genie would appear and offer to grant his wish. And what would that be?
Easy.
A bus ticket to Edgewater. Yeah. That would work. Arlo would close his eyes and tell the genie his wish, and when he opened them again, he would have a ticket in his hand.
    Arlo put the album back in the cabinet. He slipped the wood carving into his pocket and climbed the stairs to his room. He packed two shirts, two pairs of underwear, a couple of pairs of socks, and a pair of shorts in his backpack. Then he headed down to Poppo’s room.
    Everything looked the same. Poppo’s blanket was still bunched on the floor. A pair of dirty khakis, a belt, and two shirts lay in a heap under the window. Dust was heavy on the chest of drawers. There was the brass box where Poppo used to keep emergency cash. It had been empty since a few months after Poppo sold the doughnut shop, but it couldn’t hurt to check. Who knows? Arlo might get lucky.
    He lifted the lid and pushed the yellowed newspaper clippings aside. There was no money. But there was a piece of jewelry. Arlo held up the gold wedding band with the inscription that read,
To Amy, love forever, W.
His mother’s wedding ring. Arlo hated the idea that sprang into his head, but he couldn’t help it. He was desperate. And gold was worth money. Enough to buy a bus ticket, probably. And if his mother were around to ask, Arlo figured she would want him to do whatever it took to survive. Besides, a gold ring wasn’t doing anybody any good sitting in a box.
    All he needed to do was figure out where to sell it. You heard about people selling jewelry all the time. Hadn’t Poppo sold his watch when he needed money to fix the roof? He’d taken it to Casey Rader’s grandmother. The Raders ran a shop beside the dry cleaner. RADER & SON — WE BUY ESTATE JEWELRY
    Mrs. Rader was a nice lady. She and the lady from the dry cleaners had coffee every morning before the store opened. Arlo could see them through the window on his way to school. Mrs. Rader liked Poppo a lot. And she seemed to understand that Poppo wasn’t doing so well these days.
    â€œAfternoon, Albert,” she would say in an extra-loud voice when they saw her at the post office. “You doing all right today?”
    Mrs. Rader was the type of person who liked helping others. She would buy that ring in a minute. She’d know Arlo wouldn’t sell it unless he had to. All he needed to do was tell her how sick Poppo was and that they needed money for medicine. And that wasn’t a
complete
lie, because Poppo
was
sick at the moment. And they
definitely
needed money.
    Arlo