Free Free Verse by Sarah Dooley Page B

face, leavingstreaks of filth from work. Ben was more affectionate than a lot of dads in Caboose, and even more so after Judy left. He made it a habit to squeeze and hug and pat and lift and spin. Since his death, nobody has ever hugged me so tight. Michael mostly kept his arms at his sides, or loosely draped across the back of the sofa, or fixed to the ladder of the fire truck.
    I’m not done missing Ben, and now I’ve started up with missing Michael, too. I’m missing him elbowing me and calling me “Beanpole” and “Lightbulb.” I’m missing him pressing and pressing for me to go off to college, to go someplace else. I’m missing those few hugs I did get from him, how carefully he held me and how safe he made me feel. I squeeze Stella tighter, breathe against her warm fur. I wish Phyllis would pat my knee again. I think about Hubert, the closest relative I’ve got anymore. I wonder if he’s the hugging type and maybe he just doesn’t know me well enough yet to hug. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m not the kind of person who looks like you can hug her.
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    Hubert comes in late to retrieve Mikey. The two of them, one sad and one sleepy, make their way out of Phyllis’s house. I stretch and head up to my room. Now that I’ve napped, I feel wide awake, not ready to climb into bed yet. I look around.
    It surprises me to realize that the room doesn’t looklike I live here. Most of my treasures still live in the suitcase under the bed, ready to run if I get half a chance.
    Today, I learned how to cook something. And today, I fell asleep safe, knowing Phyllis was there to watch out for me.
    I pull out the suitcase and undo the clasps. The GUI-tar money is stashed away on one side, along with my small wad of escape money. I know it isn’t near enough for college, but I’ve only been saving for a couple of years. It would have been enough to help me with a train ticket or a plane ride. Now it’s going to help me replace Phyllis’s GUI-tar.
    I take the old picture of me and Michael out of the suitcase and hold it close for a minute. It’s ruined from the day I tried to run away in the rain. You can’t even tell who’s in it, but I know. I place it on the top of the dresser, which has stayed empty the whole time I’ve been here. Beside it, I place a handful of rocks—one glittery rock Judy gave me that she called fool’s gold, one piece of hard black coal from Ben’s mine, and one smooth river rock that Michael called a worry stone. Beside the rocks, I place a small stack of photos, facedown. I like having them close, but I’m not ready to look at them yet.
    Now the only thing left in the suitcase is my notebook. In its pages, I’ve kept track of ideas for how to escape Caboose. They all involve Michael. I’ve written down firefighter jobs in other cities that I found online. I’ve writtendown a list of colleges with family housing, so he can take me with him. I’ve researched scholarships and grants and student loans for him.
    I was going to tell him all about it. Soon. As soon as I had it all figured out.
    Now that Michael is gone, I don’t know what to do with the notebook. I’m too young to get any of the jobs that he could have gotten. I’m too young for college. I can’t take out any loans. It’s going to be a while now before I manage to find a way to escape Caboose.
    But I have to do it. Even more so now that Michael’s gone, I can feel how this town might drain me away. I’m tired and sad like all the grown-ups here. I don’t want to get stuck like Michael did, like he always feared I would.
    I hold the notebook for a long time. It’s one thing to decide to stay with Phyllis for a while. It’s another to trust her with my notebook. It goes back in the suitcase, and I clasp the lid closed.

10
    Nine and nineteen, we