Rachel had been sent to live with them when she was 6 and
through the hushed mutterings between their mother and grandmother, they
figured out Rachel had been living with bad people and had somehow been
rescued. She was a quiet, odd girl with permanently stringy hair and a dirty
face. She sat at the back of class at school, looking out the window and
pinching herself when she started to hum. But because her two cousins who were
rough enough to be considered bullies took her on, the other kids ignored her.
She had two qualities that for her cousins, bordered on the
supernatural and made her even more valuable to protect. Though she was often
oblivious to what was going on around her, she had an uncanny ability to know
when something was in distress. Countless times, she had led them blocks away
to a small kitten stuck in a fence or sewer grate and she could always spot a
tiny chic that had fallen from its nest. Many a robin she nursed back to health
but more than a few were laid to rest in a tiny patch of dirt in the backyard,
their short lives marked by a single plastic pinwheel.
Her other talent, of slightly more interest to the two young
boys, was her ability to steal from the corner shop and never get caught. She
would shyly go the counter and buy a pack of grape gum or a pencil or a bag of
chips, slowly and carefully counting out the exact change in pennies and
nickels and the occasional quarter, meanwhile chocolate bars and magazines were
securely tucked in various places under her clothes. It didn’t occur to them
until years later that the rather gruff Mr. Schmidt may have known she was
stealing and just let it go.
So it was on this hot, steamy day that after going to the
shop that Rachel knew they had to go to Herman Park a few blocks away. The boys
didn’t mind as the park was small but had a few old and therefore more
dangerous slides and even boasted a barrel that you stood inside of and made
spin like a hamster wheel.
When they arrived they saw a youngish man sitting on one of
the benches, wearing all camouflage, two giant army green bags next to him. He
had a huge reddish beard and long, wavy hair. When the boys raced to go into
the barrel, Rachel sat down next to the man and offered him candy. He smiled
and introduced himself as Ben. He asked her if they were in Albion and she said
they were. He then explained that the town was completely different, that they’d
moved all the buildings to confuse him.
If he went to the places he knew like the newspaper where his uncle
worked, the school where his mom was a teacher, or even the factory where his
Dad worked and told everyone what he knew, what was really happening in the
war, he’d start a revolution. What he knew would change the world.
“Maybe the buildings are different now but we got a school
and a factory. You could still go there.”
“No, they don’t know me so they won’t believe me. And they
probably hired actors to pretend they don’t know me or believe me. Like on the
Truman Show.”
What Rachel didn’t realize was that Ben and she were in
Albion, but Ben was in the wrong Albion. His was miles and miles away in a
different state.
When her cousins saw that she was talking to a strange man,
they came and told her more sternly than necessary that it was time to go home.
They didn’t even look at Ben but looked at one another, slightly scrunching up
their noses and trying not to laugh.
That night Rachel begged her aunt to let Ben come and live
with them. Her aunt, accustomed to her niece bringing home strays they had no
place for in a two-bedroom house, told her he was homeless and homeless people
were sometimes dangerous and crazy.
“But I was homeless and you kept me.”
“You’re family, honey. A little crazy, but that’s ok.” And
she gave her a big hug and gently wiped her tears away.
Rachel hatched a plan that involved taking a bus to a town
an hour away and stealing a minivan for Ben to live in somewhere out in the
country. The cousins were immediately on board and the three discussed the
details well past the time the lightning bugs came out and the air cooled.
The next day, Rachel brought Ben a sandwich and chips but
wasn’t allowed to stay and chat. On the third day he was gone. Rachel went to
the police station, sandwich in hand, and said, "Have you seen the homeless
guy named Ben. I need to give him this” They told her not to talk to strangers and to go home. They then proceeded to do their own search of the
town.
The boys never stole a van or any other vehicle and the police
never found a man wandering their tiny, safe town. And Rachel, instead of
twirling in a state of oblivion, never stopped searching the faces of strangers
looking for a man name Ben.
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