“When do we leave?” he asked.
Their father looked at them with such love and such intensity that even Gus was silenced.
“Now,” he said. “We leave now.”
Things happened very quickly after that.
“Run upstairs and pack one bag each,” their father said. “Just one each—that includes books, Leo. Bring a couple of warm sweaters.”
Their father sounded so strange, so frighteningly unfamiliar, that they did not ask any questions. They just went upstairs and packed. Gus went into Leo’s room to get her favorite sweatshirt—well, Leo’s sweatshirt, really, but after stealing it for more than a year, she considered it hers. Leo was putting his book about wolves into his backpack. Then he pulled another book off his shelf and put it in as well. Gus was able to read the words
Mythical Beasts of the
before he yanked the flap closed, glaring at her.
“Whatever,” she said quickly, pretending not to care. “Don’t forget to feed Bilbo and Gimli,” she added, knowing that would distract Leo.
“The turtles!” Leo said in dismay. Grabbing a notebook, he crouched on the floor to write a lengthy note on turtle feeding and training for their father. While he was writing, Gus was able to grab the sweatshirt from his closet and get it back to her room, where she stuffed it into her pack.
She added an extra sweater to her bag, and a flashlight.
Ila packed her bag full of bears.
“Sorry, Ila,” Gus said grimly. “And no time to fight about it either,” she added.
Ila sat glumly on the bed while Gus unpacked her backpack and refilled it with clothes. At the top of the bag, she jammed in Ila’s favorite bear, the soft brown one with floppy ears. Ila took the backpack huffily and rearranged the bear so that its snout was poking out of the top of the pack, and then followed Gus downstairs, where they found their father waiting in the hallway, holding their water bottles. They each took their own bottle and then stood for a moment, waiting for Leo. He came down the stairs clutching his turtle care instructions, but when he saw the look on their father’s face, he simply put the sheet of paper on the hall table and took his water bottle from their father’s outstretched hand.
“OK, then, fish, let’s swim,” their father said, trying to sound jolly and failing miserably. “OK,” he said again, more quietly. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Their grandfather lived inland, in a little town by the border with Canada. They drove north on the coastal highway rather than cutting over, which made Gus glad—this way she could keep the ocean in sight as long as there was light.
The car was quiet. Leo and Ila slept in the backseat, Ila in her booster and Leo with his head mashed into the space between the window and the seat back. Gus didn’t sleep. She had so many questions that she had given up even trying to ask them. She felt that she was in some sort of strange dream, where the only option was to follow along. She pressed her forehead against the cool of the window and watched the colors leave the landscape, leaching out as they drove until all she could see was dark shapes that were trees and sleeping houses.
After a while, she turned to watch her father drive. He was wearing a baseball cap with
Eppies
written in curlicue script across the front. He drove intently, with both hands on the steering wheel. They looked strong, the knuckles square and battered from his years of hauling in lobster pots as a young man. She suddenly had a feeling that she was not going to see him for a long time.
“I love you, Dad,” she said into the quiet of the car.
“I love you too, Gussy,” he said without taking his eyes away from the road.
“What’s going on?” she asked him. “I mean, really.”
“Not now, OK, honey? I need to focus on getting us there.”
“Fine,” Gus said shortly. She turned her face back to the window, determined not to speak to him again until he was ready to explain some of this … this
Their father looked at them with such love and such intensity that even Gus was silenced.
“Now,” he said. “We leave now.”
Things happened very quickly after that.
“Run upstairs and pack one bag each,” their father said. “Just one each—that includes books, Leo. Bring a couple of warm sweaters.”
Their father sounded so strange, so frighteningly unfamiliar, that they did not ask any questions. They just went upstairs and packed. Gus went into Leo’s room to get her favorite sweatshirt—well, Leo’s sweatshirt, really, but after stealing it for more than a year, she considered it hers. Leo was putting his book about wolves into his backpack. Then he pulled another book off his shelf and put it in as well. Gus was able to read the words
Mythical Beasts of the
before he yanked the flap closed, glaring at her.
“Whatever,” she said quickly, pretending not to care. “Don’t forget to feed Bilbo and Gimli,” she added, knowing that would distract Leo.
“The turtles!” Leo said in dismay. Grabbing a notebook, he crouched on the floor to write a lengthy note on turtle feeding and training for their father. While he was writing, Gus was able to grab the sweatshirt from his closet and get it back to her room, where she stuffed it into her pack.
She added an extra sweater to her bag, and a flashlight.
Ila packed her bag full of bears.
“Sorry, Ila,” Gus said grimly. “And no time to fight about it either,” she added.
Ila sat glumly on the bed while Gus unpacked her backpack and refilled it with clothes. At the top of the bag, she jammed in Ila’s favorite bear, the soft brown one with floppy ears. Ila took the backpack huffily and rearranged the bear so that its snout was poking out of the top of the pack, and then followed Gus downstairs, where they found their father waiting in the hallway, holding their water bottles. They each took their own bottle and then stood for a moment, waiting for Leo. He came down the stairs clutching his turtle care instructions, but when he saw the look on their father’s face, he simply put the sheet of paper on the hall table and took his water bottle from their father’s outstretched hand.
“OK, then, fish, let’s swim,” their father said, trying to sound jolly and failing miserably. “OK,” he said again, more quietly. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Their grandfather lived inland, in a little town by the border with Canada. They drove north on the coastal highway rather than cutting over, which made Gus glad—this way she could keep the ocean in sight as long as there was light.
The car was quiet. Leo and Ila slept in the backseat, Ila in her booster and Leo with his head mashed into the space between the window and the seat back. Gus didn’t sleep. She had so many questions that she had given up even trying to ask them. She felt that she was in some sort of strange dream, where the only option was to follow along. She pressed her forehead against the cool of the window and watched the colors leave the landscape, leaching out as they drove until all she could see was dark shapes that were trees and sleeping houses.
After a while, she turned to watch her father drive. He was wearing a baseball cap with
Eppies
written in curlicue script across the front. He drove intently, with both hands on the steering wheel. They looked strong, the knuckles square and battered from his years of hauling in lobster pots as a young man. She suddenly had a feeling that she was not going to see him for a long time.
“I love you, Dad,” she said into the quiet of the car.
“I love you too, Gussy,” he said without taking his eyes away from the road.
“What’s going on?” she asked him. “I mean, really.”
“Not now, OK, honey? I need to focus on getting us there.”
“Fine,” Gus said shortly. She turned her face back to the window, determined not to speak to him again until he was ready to explain some of this … this
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