Free Helping Hands by Laurie Halse Anderson Page A

that, tracking a man who could be drunk, who could be dangerous. Son, that’s plain foolish. Compassion without intelligence won’t get you very far.”
    The words sting, even though I know he’s right.
    â€œBut Dad, we have to do something.”
    He moves on to the next planter, pulls a root ball out of the dirt, and tosses it into a cardboard box. “Dr. Gabe said he’ll stop by to look over the ponies, right? And Brenna, the one with the crow, she’s trying to get the Animal Control fellow involved.”
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œBut nothing. Josh, you’ve done everything you can. This is in the hands of adults now, professionals, whose job it is to handle these things.”
    â€œAnd they’re not taking it seriously. You saw Gus. He doesn’t care about Babe and Buster. They make money for him, that’s all.”
    Dad carefully lowers a zinnia plant into the dirt. “You know the worst part of being a parent?”
    The question puzzles me. “Paying for sneakers every time we outgrow them?”
    â€œNo, it’s having to watch your children learn that the world is not a fair place. I hate to admit it, son, but there’s a good chance that you can’t win this battle, no matter how stubborn you are, no matter that your heart is in the right place.”
    I sniff and try to swallow the lump that’s stuck in my throat.
    â€œI stubbornly disagree, Dad.”

Chapter Thirteen
    I wake up confused. More confused than usual. It was after two in the morning before I finally fell asleep, because—
    All of the memories of yesterday crash down on me.
Buster. Babe. Gus. Dr. Gabe. Ranger.
    The clock shows nine thirty in the morning. Nine thirty!
    I jump out of the bed and run downstairs, hollering, “Why didn’t anybody wake me up?”
    Jules and Sophie look up from the cartoons they’re watching in the living room.
    â€œWhy aren’t you dressed?” I ask. “We have so much to do!”
    â€œJosh,” Jules says.
    I grab my head in my hands. “I can’t believe Mom didn’t wake me up.”
    â€œJosh!” Jules shouts. “Calm down! It’s Sunday, you goof. The store doesn’t open until noon, remember? We sleep in on Sunday.”
    â€œSunday,” I repeat. “Are Mom and Dad downstairs?”
    â€œThey went to Lou’s for bagels. I hope they get back soon, I’m starving.”
    â€œSo, I’m not late,” I say.
    â€œNo, but you really stink. Take a shower, will you? Hey, where are you going?” she calls after me. “You’re not supposed to wear your pajamas downstairs!”
    I hurry all the way down to the basement and boot up the computer. Jules walks in as I am impatiently tapping the top of the monitor, even though I know that won’t speed things up.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Jules asks.
    â€œI couldn’t sleep last night,” I confess. “I came down here and did some research.”
    â€œYou did homework on a Saturday night?” She pretends to faint onto the couch. “What’s next? A zombie invasion?”
    â€œIt wasn’t homework, it was real research. It started with this.” I hold up the grubby business card that I found next to the register. “His full name is Gus Blusterfeld. But it wasn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be. Turns out there are a lot of Gus Blusterfelds in the world.”
    â€œI hope they’re not all like the one we know.”
    â€œMe, too. It took a couple hours and a lot of mistakes, but I finally found a couple of sites that Gus was listed on—party-planning sites mostly. Get this: the listings were under two names, Gustav and Gloria Blusterfeld.”
    â€œHow do you know it’s the right Gus?”
    â€œBecause they all had photos of Buster and Babe.”
    â€œIs Gloria his wife?”
    â€œI don’t know. I sent e-mails to every site I