Cave Under the City by Harry; Mazer Page B

“What are you doing?”
    â€œSucking a lollipop.” He licked his lips.
    â€œWhat flavor?”
    â€œWhat flavor is yours, Tolley?”
    â€œLemon.”
    â€œMine is lemon, too.”
    I yawned. He yawned. I crossed my legs, he crossed his. Why was he copying me? I didn’t want him doing everything I did. My mother was always telling me I had to be a good example to Bubber. I wasn’t that good. I didn’t want to be that good.
    â€œIf you could wish anything you wanted, Tolley, what would you wish first?”
    â€œMomma to be out of the hospital.”
    â€œWhat would be your next wish, Tolley?”
    â€œWhat’s yours?”
    â€œBacon and eggs. I’m hungry.”
    â€œYou think you’re the only one?” I looked up the dumbwaiter shaft. “Come on, let’s go.”
    I sent Bubber up first and then he helped me come up. It was just as hard as it had been the first day. “We need a ladder.”
    â€œPoppa’s got lots of ladders.”
    My father kept his ladders chained in the carriage room. He wouldn’t like it if I carried one of his ladders all the way over here.
    From the outside, I looked for our window in the cellar room. It was just a small square hole in the wall. You couldn’t even see the chimney hole. We explored through the weeds and the high grass. There were trails crisscrossing through the empty lots. I found a chair with three legs and carried it back. Behind a store by the restaurant we found an open faucet. Bubber put his mouth to it and drank. Then I drank. We played around with the water for a while, piled some rocks near it and made a little pool.
    Bubber found wild grapes. The vines were crawling all over. Sour grapes and full of tiny seeds. I put a bunch of grapes in my mouth, ate them, seeds and all.
    Bubber stuck out his tongue. “What color is my tongue, Tolley?”
    â€œGreen, with white polka dots.”
    â€œStop it. Your mouth is purple.”
    â€œLet me see your tongue again.”
    He stuck it out.
    â€œYou need a doctor.”
    He spit a seed at me. I spit ten at him. Every time he spit one at me, I spit ten at him. I hate to admit it, but I was enjoying myself.
    â€œStop it,” he said finally.
    â€œYou started it.”
    â€œWho’s the baby now, Tolley?”
    All day I thought about going back to our apartment. What if my father was there already? But what if McKenzie’s man was waiting for us? It was safer in the lots, where we could disappear into the high grass or duck back into the cave.
    An old Christmas tree with all the branches lopped off was leaning against an apple tree. I climbed it and shook down a bunch of yellow apples. Bubber watched me bite into one. “You just ate a worm, ugh.”
    â€œYou want the other half?”
    â€œUgh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.” Bubber filled his pockets.
    Coming down the tree, I got my brilliant idea.
    We carried the Christmas tree back and dropped it down the shaft. Then we climbed down. It made a perfect ladder.
    Later it started to rain again, so we stayed inside the cave and ate the rest of the apples.

18
    I woke up and lay there, looking up at the window square. Black square. Blackness all around me. How late was it? I listened and didn’t hear anything. Was my father home? Was he looking for us? Was he sleeping in the house? It was too quiet. No traffic, no trolley cars, no trains. The newspapers we were sleeping on had slid off. I picked them up and covered Bubber. Then I went out.
    There was nobody on the street. The air smelled wet like the ocean. Fog stuck to everything, the lights and the light poles and buildings. Far away I heard engines and foghorns.
    A car passed, its lights poking at the fog. I stayed close to buildings. The only sound was the slap of my shoes. I saw the lights of an approaching car and hid till it passed. Then a cat scared me. I kicked at it. I thought it was going to jump on my back.
    In