You'll Like It Here (Everybody Does) (21 page)

“The people there speak English,” Meggie says.

“And they have a constitution like the one in the United States,” I say.

“I'll bet they have no unnecessary wars,” Colin says, “and they have animals.”

“With Chief Seattle as one of the three in charge, they probably have strong environmental standards,” Mom adds.

“Fill us in on Chief Seattle,” says Gil.

“In our world he was a famous chief of one of the native tribes,” Mom explains. “He's best known for a letter he wrote to the U.S. president regarding the relationship between the land and the people. It was quite moving. I understand there's some controversy about whether or not he actually wrote that letter, but you know what? We just might get a chance to ask him.”

We all look at Mom's glowing face in the candlelight. A streak of blue is beginning to radiate at the crown of her head.

“So can we go there,” Meggie whispers excitedly, “instead of going to Tranquility?”

“Yes, let's go there.” Mom is also excited. “I have a
strong suspicion the Western Province is like early America. What do you think, Gil?”

Gil looks at Jennifer and Colin, then turns back to Mom. “I think we're going to trust you to make that decision. You have studied these things, and you seem to know what you're talking about.”

“Look!” Meggie cries suddenly. “Down here is Farlands on this long peninsula. It's colored purple. Farlands is Florida!”

“Florida!” Mom exclaims. “So that's where he is! But in what part of Florida, I wonder?”

We find close-up maps of the tip end of Farlands. There are also photographs of buildings grouped into a large complex located near the beach. Here the official business of the Fathers is conducted. One building is marked Vacation 65, and it's the grand hotel we saw on
The Family Hour
. In spite of its fancy exterior, this building, we read, is used for all executions. The climate and the nearness of the ocean have a calming effect on the condemned, so they're less inclined to fight back.

“If we knew what room he's in,” Mom says, “we could aim the Carriage for it, land beside his bed, pick him up, and take off again in a few minutes.”

“Getting his room number will definitely be difficult,” Gil says.

“But not impossible!” Mom declares with determination. “Nothing is impossible, if we set our minds and hearts to the task.”

At the end of Mrs. Gilmore's book we find added
information written in her small, neat handwriting. It's a list of people who might help us. By each name she has added notes detailing how that person might contribute.

Lewis Jones
, she has written,
is my cousin, and he works in the execution building in Farlands. Sometimes he's sympathetic to our cause. I think he can be trusted, but I'm not sure
.

“I knew Lewis when we were younger,” Gil says. “I've often wondered what happened to him. So here he is with Vacation 65.”

“Do you know how to contact him?” Mom says. “Perhaps he could tell you which room Gramps is in.”

“I could phone him there,” Gil says. “I'm allowed work-related long-distance calls from the TV station. I'll pretend to ask him something to do with work.”

“Oh, could you, Gil? Would you?”

“Of course,” Gil says. “But what excuse can I use for wanting to know the room number?”

“We'll think of something,” Mom says in a weary voice.

It's three o'clock in the morning as we wrap up our clandestine meeting in the bathroom.

“You kids go straight to bed,” Mom says.

Although exhausted, I can't sleep, and for a long time I lie awake listening. I can hear Meggie in her room, tossing and mumbling in her sleep, and Mom and Gil are whispering together in the hallway, working out details. For the first time I sense that Jennifer's dad is something more than a programmed robot. Away from Fashion City he might even turn out to be a real human being.

T
he next morning when David and I wake up late, we find that Mom has gone to work as usual. I hurry upstairs to see Jennifer and find that Gil is gone also. Colin is nowhere to be seen.

“Did he run away,” I whisper to Jennifer, “or did he go to the military?”

“Dad hid him somewhere,” Jennifer also whispers. “But I don't know where.”

I'm alarmed. “Suppose the police search your apartment! You know Tom would tell them we're friends, so they'll search our place too, and find the Carriage!”

“Don't worry. We've worked out a plan to prevent them from coming here. I have to call the military police at ten o'clock and put on a big act,” Jennifer says. “Dad's orders.”

“What kind of act?”

“I'm going to pretend to know where he's hiding and turn him in. People here rat on each other all the time, even their own family members. They're rewarded for it.”

“Rewarded how?”

“In different ways. If I really turned Colin in, I could maybe get one of the jobs with the factory day care and be exempt from the military. Or I could get a bicycle, or money. Adults get things like days off from work, even automobiles if the information is considered really important.”

So that would explain why Kitty's grandfather turned her in for black-market dealing. He was somehow rewarded for it.

“Bummer,” I say. “But you're only pretending?”

“Of course! I truly don't know where he is, and if I did, I wouldn't tell for anything in the world.”

I help Jennifer go over what she'll say to the military police, and at ten o'clock she makes the call. First she gives her name and address.

“I'm calling about my brother, Colin Gilmore,” she tells them. “He was supposed to report for military duty this morning, but instead he ran off to hide, and I just happen to know where he's hiding. Can I get a bicycle for telling?” She sounds exactly like the rotten kid sister who squeals on her brother all the time.

She listens.

“Oh, you have to find him before I get my reward? Okay. Well, I know he's either on a train or on a bus. Just before he left, he told me he's been saving tokens for over a year, and I found out later he also stole
my
tokens and
Dad's. He plans to keep switching trains and buses all day long until they stop running. Then he's going to hide in whatever station he finds himself in at dark, and do the same thing tomorrow.”

Jennifer pauses for her listener to speak.

“What's he going to do when he runs out of tokens? I don't know. He's not very bright. Maybe he didn't think of that.”

Jennifer gives me a nervous smile; then her voice becomes whiny. “You know what that creep did to me? He took all the groceries we had in the house. Can you imagine? I don't even have anything to eat. So I hope you find him.”

She pauses again.

“You betcha! Now go get him! And praise the Fathers!” She hangs up the phone and says to me, “Hopefully they'll be searching the transportation system all day.” She twists her hands together nervously. “A Lotus sure would make me feel better.”

“Oh, Jennifer, you don't need those things!”

“Well, it doesn't matter anyway,” she says, “because Dad flushed all we had down the john, and nearly stopped it up.”

“If it's yellow, let it mellow,” I squeal happily, “but if it's brown, flush it down, and if it's blue, plunge it through!”

Now we are giddy with excitement. We eat breakfast together and chat about our possible future.

At one o'clock I go to my room as usual and turn on the TV to watch my class. The Carriage stands in the
middle of the room, more than halfway restored. It'll be ready for flight tonight at ten o'clock. Then it occurs to me that tomorrow we'll be gone, so why bother doing my lessons? Why indeed, as David would say. I step inside the Carriage, turn on the computer, and pull up the tutorial, which I study for the next hour.

When Mom and Gil come home from work, we all meet in our apartment.

“Did you do it?” Gil says to Jennifer.

“Yes, at ten, as promised.”

“And the police haven't been around?”

“No.”

“She's totally good at lying,” I tease. “She nearly had
me
convinced.”

“Where's Colin?” Jennifer whispers.

“He's safe” is all Gil will say.

“So did you find out what room Gramps is in?” David asks.

Gil's face falls. “Wouldn't you know, this is the one day of the season when Lewis is on holiday. So I couldn't get in touch with him.”

Mom collapses onto the couch. “Oh, no.”

“I'm sorry,” Gil says. “I did my best. I even tried to talk to somebody else there. I told him I was helping with a TV special about Vacation 65. Of course, that's not part of my job, but I was hoping that whoever was listening in didn't know any better. Anyway, the guy I talked to couldn't care less. He was grumpy and hung up on me. I was afraid to be a nuisance and draw too much attention to myself.”

“But will Lewis be back to work tomorrow?” Mom asks.

“Yes, and I left a message that I would call him again in the morning.”

“Well, I guess that's the best we can do,” Mom says.

“I'll call early,” Gil says, “and one way or another, I'll get that room number. I promise.”

He sits down beside Mom and she pats his hand. “You're doing fine.” Then she turns to me, David, and Jennifer. “So, kids, I'm afraid this means we can't leave tonight.”

“But tonight is Gramps's second night,” David says with a worried look on his face.

“I know, I know,” Mom says. “And that gives us only one more night, but I don't know what else to do. Gil will get the room number tomorrow, and we can leave as soon as we get home from work. We don't have to wait until night.”

“And Colin will have to stay hidden another day,” Gil says.

Which will increase the danger of his being caught, we are thinking, but nobody says it. Mom will have to do that stupid job another day. But none of it can be helped.

We each pack up the few things we'll be taking with us. Timidly Gil asks Mom if he can possibly, maybe, you know, take his guitar?

And Mom replies, “Of course! How can we sing without a guitar?”

The next day Jennifer, David, and I are on pins and needles about a possible visit from the military police in
search of Colin, but at five minutes before one o'clock they haven't come or called. We can only hope they're still focusing on the trains and buses.

The three of us are standing in the bedroom, admiring the Carriage, now fully restored, when David says, “Why bother with lessons today? Let's play hooky.”

That's when I recall that I didn't do my schoolwork yesterday. What if …?

At that moment the doorbell rings, and my heart skips a beat. Jennifer and David go out to answer the ring. I close the bedroom door and lean against it, breathlessly waiting for what I hope will not come. But it does.

David pounds on my door. “Meggie, your tutor is here!”

Oh, no, no, no. The dreaded tutor.

“Come on out here where you normally do your lessons!” David calls in a very loud voice. “You know you always do your schoolwork in the living room.”

I grab school supplies, and as I slip out my bedroom door, David slips in. He rolls his eyes toward the living room, then locks himself in with the Carriage.

As I enter the room, I find a man perched on one of the couches, and Jennifer has disappeared. My tutor is middle-aged, has sandy-colored hair, and is not particularly large or scary, as Tom said he would be. Still, I'll be the best girl in the world for him.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I say as politely as I can.

“Call me Mr. Baum,” he says grumpily. “Now, Meggie, what's the problem?”

“Problem? There's no problem, Mr. Baum. I was a bit
bored, that's all, so I didn't do my lesson yesterday. But I'm very sorry, and I'll work twice as hard today, and I promise you won't ever have to come here again.”

He looks at me funny but says nothing. I sit down on the couch and turn on the TV. My class is already under way. We're doing fractions today.

“So you're bored with fractions?” Mr. Baum asks.

“Yes, sir, but I totally know my fractions. I'll show you.”

“Totally?”

“Uh … just an expression. But I do know them.”

I spend the next few minutes following my television teacher, doing everything she tells me to do, and at the same time, I illustrate fractions with a pie chart on another sheet of paper.

“No wonder you're bored,” Mr. Baum says at last. “You do know this stuff.”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“I understand you're new in our city, so you must have taken a placement test.”

“Yes, sir, I did, but maybe I didn't feel good that day, and my mind wandered. I guess I was daydreaming.”

Uh-oh. That was the wrong thing to say, because “The daydreamer is discontented,” according to the Fathers.

I try to explain. “I mean, sometimes I start to think of other things. I have this whole other world in my head, you know?”

Wrong thing to say again. Mr. Baum is frowning at me.

“What I mean is my mind goes somewhere over the
rainbow, to another land.” Yeah, I've got this pretty well bungled, but I manage to smile.

“I know what you mean,” Mr. Baum says, and I'm so surprised I drop my pencil. “My wife, Maud, said to me the other day, ‘Frank,' she said, ‘are you unconscious or what?'

“And I say back to her, ‘Whatever do you mean, my dear?' And she tells me that sometimes she has to speak to me three or four times to jog me out of my fantasies.”

Frank? Frank Baum? No, this couldn't be
the
L. Frank Baum, the author of
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
, could it?