THEY CLIMBED DOWN, down, past flattened cans and rusty wire, a bicycle tire and a plastic cemetery wreath, down past the invisible line where the trash ended and the real kingdom began.
The sound of rushing water grew louder, as if a twin storm had blown up. The farther down they went, the louder it became, till at last they came to the spot where the hill gave out. Nearly erased a day ago, now the stream rushed and leaped, foaming over rocks, whipping fallen leaves and sticks along on a wild ride.
They both stood and stared.
Water overflowed the banks. There was nothing for it but to drop straight down into the stream. The moment Mo’s feet hit, she lost her balance and toppled forward, landing on her knees. The water rushed nearly as high as her shoulders. Mercedes gave her a hand, and holding on to each other, they battled across to the far side of the stream.
How would Dottie ever make it?
“You see any footprints?”
But the water was rising so rapidly, any traces would be wiped out within minutes. It sloshed in Mo’s sneakers, streamed into her eyes. Water had taken over the world, wiping out, washing away. The thicket where she’d found the fox fur was only a dozen feet away, yet she could hardly see it.
Dottie would plunge straight in. She’d never guess how deep it was. How strong the current. Though maybe, when she’d come down here, the stream hadn’t been this swollen. Mo tried to catch her breath.
“What’s that?”
From underneath a bush, Mercedes pulled out a sparkly purple sandal. Its stiff plastic strap jutted up, torn through at the buckle. A moment later, she came up with its mate.
Mo’s relief gave way to new worry as she imagined her sister soaked from head to foot. Barefoot.
“This is good,” Mercedes tried to convince her. “It’ll slow her down.”
But all Mo could see was her sister’s small pink feet, scraped and wounded. And now she found herself remembering Da’s feet. Mo’s courage began to fail.
“Mo,” Mercedes said, her voice firm and solemn. “We have to split up. She made it across the stream-there’s no stopping her. She could’ve gone anywhere, in any direction.”
Small as Dottie was, when she was determined there was no stopping her. Mo knew Mercedes was right. Yet the idea of searching all by herself made her go cold to the bone.
All alone! Sorrow and anger and fear crowded up inside her. Why wasn’t he here? He was supposed to be here! But he didn’t even know what was happening. He didn’t care about the things that really mattered. He made big mistakes, he chose the wrong things, he left them to fend for themselves.
Mo stared up into the dark, tree-choked sky. Someone had torn a jagged hole across it. I’ll never trust you again as long as I live! The words flared up inside her, like a match struck in an unlit room. Then poof! The match burned out, leaving her alone in the unknowable darkness. Mo put her arms around herself, a tent inside a tent. Wind rattled the trees.
Mercedes stood patiently, practically in her underwear, coated with mud, water dripping off her sensitive nose. Was she really here only because of Da? She hadn’t had to show Mo the photo. She’d trusted Mo. She’d wanted Mo to know.
“Ready?” Mercedes asked her. “Because I am.”
“We’re friends again, aren’t we.”
Mercedes wrinkled that persnickety nose. “Only if you swear never to wear that poncho again.”