Free Survival Strategies of the Almost Brave by Jen White

corner and waited and eventually the elevator went back down.
    When the door slid open again, Billie said, “Bertie!” (which was the baby way she used to say my name).
    And Mom said, “Thank God, Liberty. That’s all I need right now—to lose one of you girls.” She had shifted Billie onto her other hip. “I knew you’d stay put. You always do the right thing.”
    She pulled the luggage cart inside and stroked my hair. “What would I ever do without you?”
    Little did she know I was the one who would have to do the living without. Even at seven I knew it was my job to be responsible. Always.
    Now I inched closer to the shelves stacked with things like tissue and aspirin and Doritos. There were no flip-flops, but there were a few other things to eat mixed in with souvenirs. I crept forward and stood purposely behind the postcard rack, hoping no one would come. The postcards said WELCOME TO WILLIAMS and HELLO FROM THE GRAND CANYON . We were near the Grand Canyon? That was on the way back to California. We had passed the Grand Canyon sign on the way to Four Corners. I had wanted to see it. But Dad said no.
    Suddenly, the postcard rack turned and its gears let out a horrible squeal. I jumped back, knocking over a bunch of packages of Nutter Butters that sat behind me. I scrambled to pick them up.
    A long dark face with furry caterpillar eyebrows stared down at me. “Can I help you?” he asked as he crouched down to pick up the rest of the cookies.
    I stood up. “No. I mean yes. I mean…” I tried to stack the Nutter Butter packages, but they kept sliding around like fish skin. I faced Caterpillar Eyebrows and took a deep breath, trying to quiet the spiders in my stomach. “My-mom-sent-me-down-for-some-aspirin-she’s-got-a-terrible-headache,” I said, and snatched the aspirin off the shelf.
    He paused. The caterpillar eyebrows stopped wiggling.
    Please believe me.
    He shuffled toward the cash register. “All righty then.” He punched a button on the machine and held out his hand. “Is that it?”
    We couldn’t eat aspirin for dinner. I needed food. I shook my head. Pull it together, Liberty. Fake it. It was just like before when we stayed at a hotel with Mom. I could make myself believe that she really was upstairs in bed with a headache. It was true. I willed myself to pretend it was true.
    â€œUhh. No.” I slid back to the shelves, pulling things off, making sure I stayed clear of the Nutter Butters. “I’ll take these, too.” I set an armful of junk food down on the counter.
    He eyed my pile suspiciously.
    Now I stared at it, too. Turkey jerky. Sunflower seeds. Potato chips. Mini doughnuts. Mentos. Peanut butter crackers (Billie loved peanut butter crackers). Not really the dinner I was hoping for, but … “I’ll take these, too.” I sat two bottles of water right next to everything else. “My mom hates to take medicine on an empty stomach.”
    Slowly, he started scanning my items. “Well, I don’t know if this is going to set too well with aspirin, but—”
    â€œDo you have anything healthier?”
    He shook his head. “Not unless she wants to wait until morning. That’s when we do the continental breakfast. But then it’s just bagels and oatmeal.”
    â€œOh, the breakfast?”
    â€œYep, comes free with every night booked. Didn’t Doreen tell you that when you checked in? How many nights are you staying?” He stopped midscan—frozen, eyeing me, with his caterpillar brows quivering like they were trying to sniff out the truth.
    I picked at a scab on my elbow. “Oh yeah, I think she told my mom. We’re leaving tomorrow anyway.”
    The caterpillars stopped wiggling and he went back to scanning. “You folks heading over to the Grand Canyon? Are you taking the train over?”
    â€œUh. Yeah. Isn’t that what you do around