The Girl Who Owned a City Read online

  That satisfied him. He nodded to show he understood and then turned to their work.

  Without much more conversation, they proceeded with the alarm system. From the nail on the fence, Lisa strung a black thread around the house on short stakes made from coat hangers. Anyone approaching their house would catch the thread just below the knees.

  Next, on each side of the house, they ran threads through small holes in the window glass. Inside, they hung a rock over a carefully arranged stack of cans on each window sill. If an intruder broke through the thread, the rock would fall and topple the cans. The sound of clattering aluminum cans would be their alarm.

  They were both clumsy with the tools, and it took several hours to complete the job. Lisa spent most of the time just thinking about what to do next.

  When the alarm was finished, they stood on the sidewalk to make an inspection. “Good work, Toddy-boy,” she said. “You can’t see a thing—the thread is almost invisible. Now let’s see if it works. Go inside and stand by the living room window and listen. But don’t touch anything. And Todd,” she called after him, “watch out for—” It was too late.

  Running toward the house, eager to watch his creation work, Todd caught his legs on the thread. It broke and set off a loud clatter in the living room. Sheepishly, he turned to Lisa and surprised her by shouting, “That was not logical!”

  Lisa laughed. Either I’m a good teacher, or he’s a smart student, she thought. “But our alarm is logical,” she called back. “It works! I could even hear it from the sidewalk!”

  They reset the front alarm and repeated the test on the other three sides of the house. After some minor adjustments in the back, the alarm system was finished.

  During lunch, Lisa briefed him on the afternoon’s work. First, they would make warning signs reading: PRIVATE PROPERTY, DO NOT GO BEYOND THE SIDEWALK. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. Next, they would make secret storage places inside the house. Todd listened carefully as she described a series of booby traps that they would make.

  “The alarm system and the other things will be your responsibility, Toddy-boy. You’ll have to check them every day to make sure they’re working.” Her words made him feel important.

  They set to work and, by four, most of the plan had been accomplished. On the roof in front and back they had rigged large boards that held back rocks and glass bottles. If an enemy approached, Todd would pull a wire to release the boards, causing an avalanche of stone and glass to roll down on the invaders.

  For good measure, Lisa added a small note to the bottom of each warning sign:

  P.S. If you are not friends with our German shepherd, Hans, please wait here so we can put him inside.

  She thought it was a good finishing touch. They put away the tools and went into the house to write the invitations for the meeting.

  Her message was simple. She wanted to create a neighborhood militia for protection against the gangs. She hoped that the neighborhood children would attend the meeting and bring their ideas. The meeting would be held in the street in front of their house at two in the afternoon on Friday. In the invitation, Lisa also promised special refreshments.

  As Lisa approached Julie’s house to deliver the first invitation, she felt a new sense of excitement, almost as if she were going to meet a new friend. Since the day that Lisa had moved to Grand Avenue, six years before, they hadn’t spoken or played together much. True, they had argued about a few things. But now they were both just trying to survive.

  It was Charlie, not Julie, who answered the door. “What do you want, Lisa?” His tone was rude.

  “I want to talk to Julie,” she said, wondering what his problem was. Maybe being the new man of the house had gone to his 10-year-old head. Or, she thought, maybe life with Julie and his other sister was getting to be too much for him. That possibility made her smile.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

  Forcing the smile away, she replied, “Nothing, Charlie. Will you call Julie? Please.”

  “She’s sick. You can go up to her room.” He let her in.

  The house smelled awful and looked even worse. Danny, their English setter, had been living inside with them, and no one was bothering to clean up his messes. In fact, no one had cleaned up anything. The kitchen was full of dirty dishes and creepy little black bugs.

  Lisa picked her way through the clutter and entered Julie’s room. Julie was lying in her bed, eyes open, doing nothing. Several books were by her side and scattered across the floor.

  “Hi, Julie. What’s the matter?”

  “Oh—hi, Lisa, I just feel kinda crummy. When I stand up sometimes I get dizzy. I don’t know what it is.” Her voice was very soft.

  Trying to be helpful, Lisa said, “Scott Kopel used to get dizzy like that. He took vitamins because his doctor said his diet wasn’t right. You should take vitamins.”

  Julie glared. It was the same old silly argument they used to have. “Lisa, your family is goofy about pills. Vitamins are a waste of time.”

  “I know, Julie, that’s what your mother used to tell you. But that was when she was here to feed you decent meals. What do you eat now? I think you should—”

  The sight of Julie’s tears stopped the argument. Lisa recalled her own words and guessed that the word “mother” had started the crying.

  “I’m sorry, Julie. I was just trying to help.”

  But Lisa had guessed wrong. It was the talk about food that had made her cry. Julie explained in rapid, nervous words that they were actually starving. Lisa guessed that this also explained Charlie’s bad mood.

  “Charlie has been out every day, but he can’t seem to find any food. We’ve been eating Halloween candy and crackers for five days.” With a tiny bit of a smile, she added, “I never thought I’d say it, but I hate candy.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me for help, Julie? I would have helped you. I will help you. I’ll be right back. Want some soup? I don’t have your favorite chicken noodle, but—” Lisa started toward the door.

  “Wait a minute, Lisa. There’s something I have to tell you first.” Julie seemed nervous. She paused a while before continuing.

  “The reason we didn’t come to you was, well, ah, you see . . .” She stopped again.

  “What is it, Julie? What’s wrong?”

  “Well,” Julie went on, forcing out the words, “we couldn’t ask you for help. How could we? After stealing from you? Lisa, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop them.”

  Lisa was stunned. She felt like slapping her sick friend. In disbelief she asked, “Do you mean that you were there yesterday with the gang that stole our supplies and beat up Todd?” It couldn’t be true.

  “Not exactly. I was here in bed, but I knew about it and I suppose I could have stopped them, but I didn’t. So I’m guilty, and I’m truly sorry, Lisa. Will you forgive me?”

  Lisa couldn’t answer. Instead she asked, “How did you know about it?”

  “The Chidester Gang was in the Triangle yesterday watching you make your trips for food. Tom Logan came to the door to ask Charlie to help steal the things in your driveway. Charlie wanted to join the gang because he didn’t think there was anything else he could do. He didn’t want to steal from you, Lisa. But Tom told him he had no choice. Either he helped them, or he would never get into the gang. So he helped, and I knew about it. I’m sorry.”

  Lisa knew that Julie meant it. “Julie,” she said, “whatever you do, don’t let Charlie stay with that gang. Nothing gets so bad that you have to start doing wrong things. There are better ways—ways that won’t hurt anyone.

  “Now, I’ll get the soup while you talk to Charlie,” Lisa added. “By the way, why don’t you have food if Charlie helped them steal all of my stuff yesterday?”

  “It’s a rule of the gang,” Julie answered. “New members don’t share until they’ve been on three raids. Charlie is supposed to meet them tonight at eight for his second raid.”

  Lisa left the room and passed Charlie on her way out. �
�Your sister wants to talk to you . . . now!” she told him angrily.

  Julie and Charlie were still shouting in the upstairs room when Lisa returned with a bag of food. They must have had a real argument, thought Lisa. But the shouting stopped as soon as she slammed the front door.

  The moment Lisa entered Julie’s room, Charlie began to argue in his own defense. “We need food, and I can’t find any by myself. I’ve looked for days. There just isn’t any. The gang promised me that we would have food if I joined in. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “No choice, Charlie?” Lisa challenged him. “No choice but to steal from Todd and me so you can eat? Do you think I believe that?” She began walking toward him.

  “Maybe if you spent less time feeling sorry for yourself, you could figure out something better. Right this minute I can give you a dozen ideas about how you can eat till you get old and fat, and none of them include stealing. But I’m not helping anyone who wants to live by stealing from me.”

  “But, Lisa,” he pleaded, “we were scared. We thought we would die. Julie was sick, and there was no food and no one to take care of us. We’re still scared. We’re starving! It’s my job to keep us alive and I’ll do anything I—”

  “Anything?” Lisa stopped him. “Even if it means hurting others? Listen, Charlie, nothing makes that okay. I don’t care how scared you are.”

  Lisa’s angry words surprised even her. It wasn’t that these ideas were new to her. She had heard them from her parents in many ways before. But now she could really understand why the ideas were so important. She and Todd were working hard and felt proud to live by their own efforts. When someone thought that hunger gave them the right to steal—now that made her mad.

  “I’m not going to join the gang, Lisa,” Charlie promised.

  “Sorry, but I don’t trust you. And I won’t give you much help. Not yet, at least. If you want some advice, here it is. There are places where you can find supplies. Take my word for it. Spend some time tonight thinking, instead of feeling sorry for yourself, and see if you can figure out where those supplies are. And if you don’t want to be afraid anymore, then come to the meeting Friday and we’ll make plans that will help us all.” Lisa handed him the notice.

  “In other words, Charlie, use your head. Just think, and you can take good care of your family.” She was finished.

  Julie had not spoken. She had been listening in amazement to Lisa talk like some grown-up. How could Lisa have changed so fast?

  “Charlie, there’s a bag of food downstairs by the door,” Lisa said, not looking at him. “I brought it because Julie is my friend.” Then she left.

  At the Coles’ house, on the other side of her own, Lisa found a similar situation. Cheryl was 11; her brother Steve was 12. The rest of the family was dead. Now Cheryl and Steve were running out of food and, in desperation, Steve was also planning to join the Chidester Gang. Lisa urged him to wait until after the meeting but spared him the lecture she had given Charlie.

  Craig Bergman was the oldest kid on the block. At 12, he was just young enough to miss the sickness. He and his six-year-old sister, Erika, lived in the corner house, at Chidester and Grand. They had a good supply of food and were doing a little better than the other children. Craig knew a lot about gardening, and he told Lisa of his plans for the spring. Until then, he admitted, they would have a hard time.

  Jill Jansen’s house had at least eight orphaned children in addition to her younger sisters, Katy and Missy. Most of the children were under five. Jill was 11.

  Before leaving the Jansens’ house, Lisa made the same request she had made of the others. “Please think about some kind of neighborhood defense. We have to find a way to protect ourselves from the gangs. Bring some ideas, and be sure to have everyone in your house come along.”

  That night the candle was out, but the wax was still warm, when Todd asked for his story. It was too late—the storyteller had fallen asleep.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  T

  he days before Friday were filled with hurried activity. From daylight to dusk, Lisa and Todd struggled to get more food and to keep it safe. There was never enough time.

  The short winter days were cloudy, gray, and depressing. Lisa was sure that everything would get easier as the days got longer. The thought of spring warmed her inside.

  Despite her problems, Lisa never got tired of “figuring things out.” With each new crisis, a solution seemed easier than before. She liked the new feeling of confidence, even though it surprised her.

  Lisa’s thoughts were focused on the meeting. What could they accomplish? Would the kids on the block agree to a militia? She had visions of earlier days, when she had formed clubs with her friends. They were really a joke compared to this. She had to plan for this meeting and make it worthwhile.

  Lisa decided to cancel her supply trips for that day and study for the meeting. She pulled out a notebook from her social studies class. There were doodles all over the cover and a lot of drawings on the inside. But there were notes inside the book, too. Perhaps there was an idea in there.

  After putting the notebook away, she began planning a kind of “government” for Grand Avenue. She would make it independent, like those presidents had done for the United States centuries ago.

  She thought about the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock, who had faced the same problems she was facing. They had worked long days hunting and building their farms so they would have food. They had no interactive TV, no racks of compact discs and CD-ROMs, no video games, electricity, microwaves, or grocery stores. They had to fight Indians and somehow survive months of winter with little food. It all seemed a lot worse than dealing with the childish threats of Tom Logan and his gang.

  Comparing her life to that of the Pilgrims made Lisa feel better. “What am I complaining about?” she thought. “At least I have a house, and canned food, and all of the things that the adults left us.”

  But she was getting ahead of herself. First, she and the other children had to solve the problem of survival. They needed to plan for food and for their own defense. They needed a militia, as the colonists had called it. A militia would be the first order of business.

  She also had to get everybody planning for spring gardening. She would share her ideas about the farms and the warehouses. But they must promise her a militia first. If they could join together for defense, they would be able to plan beyond food for the next day.

  But what if they wouldn’t agree to a militia? What if they couldn’t see how important it was? What if they were so worried about food that they promised to start a militia and then didn’t go through with it? Well, she had to take that chance.

  Then she had an idea—a strategy for the meeting. She would bargain, make an offer. In the end there would be a neighborhood militia to protect “individual rights” on Grand Avenue—though she didn’t fully understand, yet, why individual rights were so important.

  She pondered it and rehearsed it as the kernels hissed and popped in the fire. When the last batch of popcorn was made, Lisa was ready for the meeting.

  Todd was carrying a giant bowl of popcorn and a pitcher of juice. Lisa brought the paper cups and a large canvas bag tied at the top. They saw children leaving their houses and gathering in the street.

  From the beginning, Lisa knew that this would be different from the old club meetings. There would be no laughing or giggling. They were just as serious as the Pilgrims must have been. These children seemed to know already that their lives were at stake.

  A restless, eager line formed for a share of popcorn. Julie and Charlie were there. The Coles had shown up, and so had Craig Bergman. When the food and juice were gone, Lisa sensed that her audience was ready.She began.

  “Yesterday Todd was beaten up, and we were robbed by the Chidester Gang. Tonight you too may be beaten up and robbed.

  “I called this meeting because I think we need to figure out a plan to protect ourselves.” She paused to let the message sink in, and then she co
ntinued. “I think we need to have a volunteer army to protect our freedom. The Pilgrims called it a militia. If we each have a signal, like a dinner bell, to warn us that someone is being attacked, then we can all join together and scare off the gang. One person could stay in each house to guard it, but all the others would come to help the family being attacked. Every house would have a different alarm so we would know where to go.

  “For our house, Todd can blow a blast on his trumpet. You could each figure out a loud signal of your own. One person could volunteer to be in charge of organizing the weapons and making defense plans. Probably an older boy, like Steve Cole, could work out the details and be our general.

  “That’s my suggestion. Do you have any comments?”

  The children could hardly recognize the new Lisa. She still looked the same, with her straight blond hair and deep-set eyes. But there was something different in her voice, something strong and confident. They wondered about it. For a while, everyone was silent.

  Then Craig said, “I think you’re excited over nothing, Lisa. Has anyone else been bothered by the gangs?”

  No answer.

  Lisa wanted to reply, but she thought, No, let them argue it out a while. Then it will be my turn again.

  Charlie said, “I think we should form a gang of our own. None of us has food, and there won’t be any unless we steal it. We’re dumb not to make a strong gang ourselves. If we wait, the other gangs will have control and we’ll have nothing. Then they’ll have us in their power. We’ll starve if we just wait around. I say we start attacking on our own.”

  Lisa wanted to say something about that, but she forced herself to keep quiet.

  “I think Lisa’s right,” said Julie.

  Ah, Julie, thought Lisa. Now I forgive you.

  Steve Cole had been nodding his agreement with Charlie, and now he spoke. “The fact is, we don’t have any food. As Charlie says, there isn’t any except the food that belongs to the rich kids. Their parents had pantries filled with canned things that they’d never eat. Yesterday I saw Janet Lester swimming in her pool. I’ll bet she’s got all kinds of extra food. Why not get it before the Chidester Gang does? It’s not fair. Why should they have all that food, while we have none?”