The Girl Who Owned a City Page 3

  “Keep your foot on the brake . . . put the shift lever in Drive . . . let up on the brake . . .” The car crept forward.

  “Here I go.” The words stuck in her throat. Slowly, she reminded herself.

  It seemed that she was flying to the end of the driveway. She turned the wheel a little too sharply and began driving across the Coles’ lawn. There was a crunching sound, and then Lisa saw a clump of broken plastic where Mr. Cole’s Rollerblades had been lying in the grass. If he were still alive, he would have been angry.

  “Not too much gas . . . slowly . . . .” Her foot hadn’t touched the gas pedal, yet she was still moving. Why am I moving? Is something wrong? In a panic, she stepped down hard on the brake. The car screeched to a stop as her head banged against the steering wheel. It was too late to recall her father’s words: “Easy on the brakes!” Lisa was stunned.

  In a few moments her head cleared, but it still ached above her right eye. Dummy, she thought. Easy on the brakes! She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  The nervousness began to leave her. She eased up on the brake and set off very slowly, aware of the many astonished eyes that were following her.

  Her whole body was working to control the car. She felt as though she had become a part of the machine. “Don’t you worry, Toddy-boy,” she muttered. “I’ll be back soon.”

  For weeks, Lisa had longed for the sight and sound of a moving automobile. A passing car would have meant that not all the adults were gone, and that the nightmare wasn’t true. Now she was thankful that there was no traffic. It made her task much easier.

  Slowly she guided the car toward the farm. Down Riford, to St. Charles, to Swift Road, across North Avenue. On the straight stretches of road, she practiced moving the brake and gas pedals. Her top speed of 10 miles per hour seemed like 100.

  At the farm, she loaded the car all the way to the ceiling and then cautiously inched her way back toward home. As she pulled into the driveway, Lisa was deep in thought. It would have taken at least six full days with the wagon to get this much stuff. If she didn’t waste gas, this car could save their lives. She had never thought about a car that way before.

  Proudly, she honked the horn. Todd ran out to meet her, and together they unloaded the supplies. When the car was empty, she said, “Todd, it’s only three and I have time for another trip. Carry all this stuff in-to the house. Put all the canned things in the hiding place under the stairs. If you run out of room, use the freezer. It will be a good storage space that we can lock. If there still isn’t enough room in the freezer, use the washer and dryer.”

  “Why the washer and dryer?” Todd asked.

  “The gangs probably won’t look there if they break in. You can put all the tools and other stuff that isn’t food in the furnace. Just slide up the furnace door.”

  He stared at the huge pile of food. “Okay, Lisa, but hurry back. I’m hungry.”

  She pulled some cookies from her pocket, then said, “I’ve got a surprise treat for you tonight. You’ll like it.” By the time she had the car started again, the cookies were gone.

  As she drove away, some new, hidden eyes followed her. Their expression was not astonishment. It was something quite different.

  I should have been more careful, thought Lisa. Maybe a gang saw the load I brought home. It was dumb to honk the horn and then leave Todd unprotected with all that stuff in the driveway. But she couldn’t turn back—she still had time for one more load.

  After reaching the farm and loading the car once again, Lisa hurried back. Already the driveway was empty. The little rascal must have run up the stairs with every load. She happily promised herself to tell him two stories that night.

  Realizing all that she had to get done before dark, Lisa rushed to unload the supplies into the garage. They could hide them later if necessary. Tired, she rested a moment against the car before making an-other trip to the garage. “What a magnificent thing, that car—”

  Suddenly a rock smashed into the rear windshield. Then Lisa heard a laugh from the Triangle woods. In an instant, it all became clear. “Todd!” she cried, as she ran into the house. Where was he? She searched the rooms. He was gone. “Todd! Todd!” No answer.

  He was nowhere to be seen. The upstairs was silent, empty. As she walked past the hiding place she heard a muffled, frightened sob. She knew where he was. The light from the open doorway fell upon his face. He was bleeding.

  “Oh, Todd . . . oh, Todd.” He looked at her and clung to her. For a long time, she couldn’t speak.

  Finally she asked, “What happened?”

  “I . . . I . . . was bringing things into the house when they came. They took our food. They were mean to me, Lisa.”

  “Don’t worry, Todd. I won’t let it happen again. Who were they?”

  “I don’t know. They pushed me and hit me and said we couldn’t have that stuff.” He stopped crying.

  She studied his injuries—a bloody lip and some minor bruises. She dried his tears and blotted the blood from his lip with a towel. “Rest here on the couch, and I’ll make a supper.”

  He was pleased when she served the Spam and noodles, and his fright disappeared altogether when she offered him a candy bar for dessert.

  The gang had only taken what was in the driveway. So the chicken was gone. But they hadn’t bothered to look in the house. Perhaps she had interrupted them, though she couldn’t imagine why they would be afraid of her.

  Before securing the house that evening, Lisa locked the car and hid the key. Later, in their small room, she stared into the candle flame. She was too tired to blow it out and too excited for sleep, so she thought about the day that had just passed. It seemed that things were beginning to take shape, but she wasn’t happy about what had happened to Todd.

  First thing tomorrow, she had to find new hiding places for the supplies. The house also needed some defenses. Her thoughts drifted back to their bed, and she became aware, without looking, that Todd was wide awake and thinking, too.

  “Hey, Todd.” Her voice was loud in the silence of the study. “What are you thinking about?”

  He avoided her question with one of his own. “Will you tell me a story?”

  “Sure.” Lisa thought for a long time and then began.

  There was a boy about your age, Todd, who lived many years ago. He and his older sister were living in a poor old house, alone, because their parents were gone, just like ours. The other people of the town were very poor, and they didn’t have much time to help the two orphans out, so the boy and girl had to take care of themselves.

  The town hadn’t always been poor. There used to be a big factory where the men and women worked. But the owner of the factory died, and no one wanted to keep it going anymore. Many people moved away, but a few families stayed. They got poorer and poorer, but they stayed.

  The father of the boy and girl had held a good job in the factory. It was his work to design the candles. For many years, candles that he designed were sold all over the world. Some were plain, and others came in beautiful shapes and colors. Christmas was the best time of year for the town because the factory sold thousands of Christmas candles.

  After the father died suddenly, their mother kept the children alive by raising chickens and vegetables. But one day, she became sick. Her illness lasted a long time, and she had to stay in bed. So she taught the boy and girl how to care for the chickens and how to tend the garden. Each morning they would take eggs and vegetables to the highway and sell them to the passersby. Their store was a large table with a sign that the girl had made.

  Even after their mother died, the children kept selling chickens and vegetables on the highway. They earned very little, but it was enough to buy more food. There was no school, but they kept busy. In fact, their life was sort of like ours is now.

  One day, while the girl was at the stand, some boys came to steal their chickens. They were mean to the little boy and hit him. He was afraid, and sad too, because he couldn’t stop them. He knew t
hat the chickens were very important.

  When the girl came home and found what had happened, she cried a lot. Then the little boy started crying, because if his sister cried, it must be very bad. She hardly ever cried.

  The little boy went to bed and thought about what would become of them. He thought he was no good to anyone, and he said to himself over and over again, “You couldn’t fight those boys or even save the chickens.” He thought, sadly, that there wasn’t time for him to grow up to be helpful, because they would starve first. He felt like a coward.

  But he knew that feeling sorry for himself was a waste of time. Suddenly, he had an idea that stopped all of his sad thoughts. He knew what had to be done and that he could help.

  He woke his sister and proudly told her his plan. “When the candle factory was still working, everything was okay. But after the factory stopped, everyone became poor like us. So let’s open the candle factory!”

  His sister didn’t say a word. He thought that she didn’t like his idea, but he continued, “We can make candles just like father used to for Christmas presents. It’s easy, and people like candles!” He was excited.

  Still his sister said nothing. He was sure his idea would work, and all his cowardly thoughts seemed gone forever. “It will work! Don’t you think it will work?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said his sister, “I think you’re right. Christmas is coming and people will buy candles. The factory is still sitting here. Maybe we can talk to some of the townspeople to see if they want to open the factory again.”

  The little boy went to sleep, feeling very happy and proud.

  The next day, the two children went to see every family in the town. But nobody wanted to help. Many said, “We don’t know how to run a candle factory.” Some said they were too busy. Others laughed at the boy, making jokes about the “little businessman.”

  He didn’t care. He was sure his idea would work, so he went with his sister to the candle factory to look around. They found that all the candle-making machines had been taken away. The only thing remaining was a supply of wax. But it would be enough to start with.

  They used what was left of their money to buy more wax and coloring and made their candles by hand. They heated the wax over the stove and mixed in the color. Before the wax cooled, they poured it into different sizes of cans that held string down the middle for the wicks. As the days went by, their candles got better and better. They were too busy to wonder if they would succeed.

  The girl made a huge sign that said “Christmas Candles—Two Dollars.” On Saturday, they both went to the highway. It was one week before Christmas.

  Many people stopped to admire their handiwork. By noon, they had sold all their candles and had earned $200. They were so happy and excited that they ran all the way back to the factory to make more. By Christmas Eve, they had made over $500. They were the happiest children in the world.

  At home that night, the girl said, “I have a surprise. Wait in the other room till I call for you.”

  It seemed like forever, but the boy waited patiently. Finally she called him into the room.

  There on the table were three packages, wrapped in Christmas paper. “Merry Christmas!” she said.

  Excited, he opened them and found a book, a shiny toy car, and a box of his favorite candy. They were his first presents in three years. He kissed his sister, saying, “But I don’t have a present for you. I’m sorry.”

  “You gave me a wonderful present,” she replied. “Your idea saved us.” They made plans to really start up the factory again and go to school and many other things.

  They talked a long time before the girl blew out their candle. It was the first one they had made.

  “Did you like that story, Todd?”

  He said that he wanted another. Lisa told him another—this time a short one. When that story was finished, his mood began to change. He lost his self-doubt—he was no longer a cowardly little kid.

  He soon fell asleep. Everything was quiet, except for the sound of soft breathing. In the darkness, their problems seemed easier.

  She could see now what they had to do. They must hide their supplies—in the walls, in the furniture, under the floor, in the furnace, and in places that would protect them from any invader.

  Next, she had to figure out a means of defense, and she knew it wouldn’t be easy. Perhaps booby traps in the yard would work. Even better, they could string a fine thread around the house that would trigger an alarm and start an avalanche of rocks falling from the roof. That’s it! she thought. Above the front and rear doors . . . and then some new weapons . . . the gun wouldn’t be enough.

  Once their defenses were in place, she could make more trips to the farm. But she had a feeling that the farm’s supply wouldn’t be nearly enough. Soon the other children would think of the farm, and then what would she do? Where would she go for food?

  She thought and thought, and her thoughts turned to dreams about a fantastic place with rows and rows of her favorite foods, stacked against the walls and as high as the ceiling.

  Sometime in the night, she awoke. She was thinking of the words warehouse . . . warehouse . . . a place where things are stored. How had that come to her? She lit the candle, climbed out of bed, and began thumbing through the telephone book. Finally she found what she wanted: Groceries—Wholesale.

  Here it is, a Jewel Grocery Warehouse on North Avenue. Close enough, she thought. And I’ll bet no one else has even thought of it! Her mind wandered through the fabulous place for a long time, conjuring scenes of the endless supply of food she might find. She had to go there soon.

  But she couldn’t leave Todd alone again, at least not until a better defense plan had been arranged. She would call a meeting of the kids on Grand Avenue to form some kind of militia. By cooperating, they could protect one another from the gangs. If they planned together, they could even figure out a way to survive after the new supplies were gone.

  Her thoughts went on and on until they became dreams again. Her parents wouldn’t have believed it. They had known that Lisa was smart, but would they have believed that she could survive so cleverly? That she could drive a car or provide for a family?

  Everything had changed, and Lisa wasn’t really 10 years old anymore. She may have earned good marks in math and English, but now she was struggling to pass a frightening course in survival. The old life had disappeared, and had left many clues. Somehow, she would survive, and succeed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  T

  odd awoke, crying, just before dawn. Probably a bad dream, Lisa thought. And no wonder, considering all that’s happened.

  By the time he was asleep again, Lisa was wide awake. She felt that it must be light outside, and her clock confirmed it. It was seven. Quietly, she dressed and slipped upstairs from the basement.

  Outside, the morning sun warmed her as she studied their house on the hill. It would be easy, she decided, to defend it from the hungry and frightened children in the neighborhood. But she just couldn’t believe that it was necessary. Couldn’t they find a better way?

  Lisa’s attention turned to the car. Teaching herself to drive had been a brilliant idea, and she didn’t mind giving herself a compliment. Yes, brilliant—almost like inventing something. The car had been useless before, and now it was a treasure.

  But . . . the tires! Terror swept through her when she saw that the tires were flat. Why? She fell to her knees and studied the rubber with her hands. Had they been cut? No, she could find no cuts or holes.

  A thing like this couldn’t just happen. Who would have done it? And why? What could they gain by it? Did they want to beat her to the supplies? Were they jealous? She had brought the car back to life and used it to find food. Now someone had simply and horribly destroyed it. There was no good explanation. It was evil.

  Her mind was filled with so many questions that she barely heard the voice that was calling out from the house. “Lisa, I’m hungry.”

  “Oh, Todd!” s
he cried. “They’ve ruined our car. Look at the tires!”

  He walked to the car and, with a calmness and confidence that she hadn’t seen in him before, examined the tires. Without speaking, he walked into the garage and returned with the tire pump. “Here,” was all he said.

  They fumbled for a time before they were able to attach the hose to the tire. They began pumping the air. It was very hard work, but before long, the car stood as high as it had before.

  “Todd, you’re a genius!” Her words brought a wide grin to his face that stayed all through breakfast.

  “I’ll do the dishes this morning,” she said, wanting to reward him, “if you’ll start collecting some things for me. Today we’re going to fix this house up so that all the gangs in Glen Ellyn together won’t be able to get in.”

  In response to Lisa’s commands from the kitchen, Todd worked quickly to gather their supplies—hammer, saw, thread, rope, tin cans, cardboard, razor blades, and crayons.

  The first project of the day would be the alarm system. Lisa explained that it was logical to start that way, because the alarm could warn them of trouble even as they worked. “Get the thread, Todd. I’ll get some coat hangers.”

  He was puzzled and asked, “What is ‘logical?’” The new word interested him. After all, as “captain of defense” he should know such grown-up words.

  “I’m not sure how to explain it,” she answered. “Lots of times, when you read a word in a book, or hear it said together with other words, it makes sense, even though you don’t know what it means, exactly. It seems to fit, but you can’t explain it. I think that logical means . . . .” She paused to ask him for the hammer, which she used to pound a nail into their fence.

  “I think that logical means that things fit together right. Like in a puzzle, when a piece fits in only one way, or like . . . .” She searched for a better example while tying the end of a thread around the nail.

  “Things work in a certain way. If you do things right, it’s logical. When the tires were flat, I just stared at them and, of course, that didn’t help. Doing that wasn’t any more logical than crying or kicking the car. But you got the tire pump because you knew they needed air. That was logical!”