the two light switches. The overhead light came on in the shed, and the floodlight outside filled the sty with brightness. I looked out the door and saw a girl standing there, still cornered by Cassie. She was holding Cassie’s brush in one hand and looked terrified. I recognized her. It was the runaway girl.
I couldn’t remember her last name, but I knew her first name: Amanda.
“Finally,” she said. “Someone’s here.” Her voice was frayed, and she sounded close to tears. Her hair was standing up all over, and she looked rumpled and scared.
Cassie came over and bumped her head against my leg, nearly knocking me flat. “It’s okay,” I told her, reaching down to scratch her ears. She calmed down.
“What’s going on?” I asked Amanda. My tired brain couldn’t come up with any explanation for a runaway from Mom’s school winding up in Cassie’s sty. I’d have been less surprised to see my football coach in one of Brian’s video games.
“One of the neighbors left a pumpkin on the porch, with a note saying it was one more than they needed for jack-o’-lanterns, and that Cassie might like it. I guessed that Cassie was the pig, so I—”
“You gave her an entire pumpkin?”
“Yeah.”
“She can’t eat that much at once.”
“I figured that out when it all came out the other end half an hour later.”
“Michelle calls that the squash squirts.”
“Ugh. I tried to clean her, and she went crazy. I’ve heard that pigs can really hurt people, so I froze and waited for her to calm down, but she didn’t, and …” She stopped, caught her breath. “I think it was because she had an upset tummy.”
“Did you pick up her bucket?”
“Yeah, I filled it with hot soapy water to scrub her down. I must have dropped it.” She looked around and found Babe behind her. She tossed it over to me. I shook it out, spattering my jeans. Cassie nudged me in the leg with her head, grunting impatiently.
“I need to rinse this off,” I told her. Cassie gave me a particularly determined butt, nearly knocking me over. I got the hose and washed Babe, and soon Cassie was in her hay, cooing at Babe. She needed a bath, too, but it would have to wait. She’d had a long night.
After I retrieved my stuff from behind the fence, we sat in Michelle’s living room, which Mandy—that was what most people called her, she said—was actually living in. There was a wad of blankets on the couch, a pile of clothes on a chair, and a plate with a crust of sandwich and an apple core on the coffee table.
“Broke in and made yourself at home, huh?”
“Yeah,” she admitted, picking up the blanket so I could sit at the opposite end of the couch. “Except I didn’t break anything. I found a key.”
“The one in the shed?” Michelle keeps one on a nail, high above the door in the shed. You would never see it unless you knew it was there.
“Yeah. I read this book about a master thief once. He almost never had to pick locks or shatter windows. He was always finding keys buried in the garden under a gnome or tied to a string in a mailbox. It only ever took him a couple of minutes, but it took me two hours. Not that I’m a master thief or even aspire to be one, but I needed a place to stay and something to eat, and neither a hotel nor a restaurant was going to work.”
“How did you know Michelle was gone?”
“Um … there was mail in the mailbox and no car in the driveway?”
She’d made herself small on the couch, her feet tucked under her sideways, the blanket pulled up over her. She didn’t look like a master thief. She looked like a kid up past her bedtime.
“Your parents are probably freaking out,” I said.
“I called them and told them I was okay.”
“Really?” My mom hadn’t mentioned that, but it wasn’t like she was giving me daily updates. Mandy might be telling the truth. She was still causing
my
mom to freak out, of course.
“Really,” she said. “I even let my father yell at me for,
I couldn’t remember her last name, but I knew her first name: Amanda.
“Finally,” she said. “Someone’s here.” Her voice was frayed, and she sounded close to tears. Her hair was standing up all over, and she looked rumpled and scared.
Cassie came over and bumped her head against my leg, nearly knocking me flat. “It’s okay,” I told her, reaching down to scratch her ears. She calmed down.
“What’s going on?” I asked Amanda. My tired brain couldn’t come up with any explanation for a runaway from Mom’s school winding up in Cassie’s sty. I’d have been less surprised to see my football coach in one of Brian’s video games.
“One of the neighbors left a pumpkin on the porch, with a note saying it was one more than they needed for jack-o’-lanterns, and that Cassie might like it. I guessed that Cassie was the pig, so I—”
“You gave her an entire pumpkin?”
“Yeah.”
“She can’t eat that much at once.”
“I figured that out when it all came out the other end half an hour later.”
“Michelle calls that the squash squirts.”
“Ugh. I tried to clean her, and she went crazy. I’ve heard that pigs can really hurt people, so I froze and waited for her to calm down, but she didn’t, and …” She stopped, caught her breath. “I think it was because she had an upset tummy.”
“Did you pick up her bucket?”
“Yeah, I filled it with hot soapy water to scrub her down. I must have dropped it.” She looked around and found Babe behind her. She tossed it over to me. I shook it out, spattering my jeans. Cassie nudged me in the leg with her head, grunting impatiently.
“I need to rinse this off,” I told her. Cassie gave me a particularly determined butt, nearly knocking me over. I got the hose and washed Babe, and soon Cassie was in her hay, cooing at Babe. She needed a bath, too, but it would have to wait. She’d had a long night.
After I retrieved my stuff from behind the fence, we sat in Michelle’s living room, which Mandy—that was what most people called her, she said—was actually living in. There was a wad of blankets on the couch, a pile of clothes on a chair, and a plate with a crust of sandwich and an apple core on the coffee table.
“Broke in and made yourself at home, huh?”
“Yeah,” she admitted, picking up the blanket so I could sit at the opposite end of the couch. “Except I didn’t break anything. I found a key.”
“The one in the shed?” Michelle keeps one on a nail, high above the door in the shed. You would never see it unless you knew it was there.
“Yeah. I read this book about a master thief once. He almost never had to pick locks or shatter windows. He was always finding keys buried in the garden under a gnome or tied to a string in a mailbox. It only ever took him a couple of minutes, but it took me two hours. Not that I’m a master thief or even aspire to be one, but I needed a place to stay and something to eat, and neither a hotel nor a restaurant was going to work.”
“How did you know Michelle was gone?”
“Um … there was mail in the mailbox and no car in the driveway?”
She’d made herself small on the couch, her feet tucked under her sideways, the blanket pulled up over her. She didn’t look like a master thief. She looked like a kid up past her bedtime.
“Your parents are probably freaking out,” I said.
“I called them and told them I was okay.”
“Really?” My mom hadn’t mentioned that, but it wasn’t like she was giving me daily updates. Mandy might be telling the truth. She was still causing
my
mom to freak out, of course.
“Really,” she said. “I even let my father yell at me for,
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