Free Looking for X by Deborah Ellis Page B

didn’t feel like looking at my atlases.
    After supper, Juba came over. She and Mom talked in the kitchen while I got the twins ready for bed. Their stuff was off the shelves and out of their drawers again, but the boxes weren’t around. Tammy must have stashed them in her room. I did not go in there to check.
    I couldn’t think of anything to say to Mom that would make things better.
    When my brothers were in their pajamas, I went to bed. I hurt in a lot of places, and I had big, purple bruises all over my body.
    I felt lost and alone, and I cried until I fell asleep.
    Tammy didn’t come to my alcove to kiss me goodnight.
    I woke up a few hours later.
    The apartment was quiet. I looked out the window at the life on the street, and wondered what was going to happen the next day.
    Tammy would probably make me stick with her all the time, in case I got a sudden urge to rush off and break some more windows. She’d still be mad at me, of course. She’d still think I broke the school windows. She’d still think she couldn’t trust me.
    She might not talk to me all day. She might be so angry and disappointed, she wouldn’t have anything to say to me.
    I felt completely and utterly alone.
    I could go into her room, wake her up, and confess that I had been fighting. She’d punish me for fighting, but I could handle punishment.
    I was halfway down my ladder when I remembered that Mom didn’t believe that X was a real person. If she didn’t believe that, she wouldn’t believe that I was fighting skinheads to defend her.
    If only I could provide her with proof, but what proof did I have? I couldn’t very well go up to the skinheads and say, “Excuse me, you ugly creatures, would you mind very much telling my mother that you were beating me up last night when I was supposed to be breaking windows?”
    Sure.
    I crawled back into bed.
    X was my only hope. If I could tell X what had happened, she might agree to speak to my mom. At least then I could prove to Mom that X wasn’t some “imaginary friend.”
    But X might not be back in the neighborhood for days — longer, maybe, since she was probably afraid she’d get beaten up again.
    I sat up on my elbows. There was only one way out of this. I’d have to go out and find X, and bring her back here. She’d be nervous, at first, at meeting Mom, but I thought she’d trust me enough to believe me when I told her that Mom was not a member of the secret police.
    Tammy would never let me go off on my own, and once I started another school, I’d be trapped. My only choice was to go tonight. With a bit of luck, I’d bring X home in time for breakfast.
    I waited awhile longer, to make sure Tammy was sound asleep so she wouldn’t hear me. I planned everything out in my head, so that I’d know just what to do when I got down from my bunk.
    When I had it all planned out, I crept down, got dressed and went into the kitchen. I made a couple of peanut butter and corn syrup sandwiches, cringing with every sound. Food might help persuade X to come back with me.
    I left Mom a note on the kitchen table. It read, “Gone to find X.” I signed it, “Love, Khyber.”
    I put my key around my neck, tucked it under my sweater and grabbed my jacket.
    Out on the street, I took a last look at our building. David was standing at his bedroom window, looking out. He was flapping his arms. It looked like he was waving goodbye.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TIRED FEET
    It was a pretty dumb idea.
    If all the secret police couldn’t find X, with all of their spy tools like telephones in their shoes and jet-propulsioned umbrellas, how was I going to find her? All I had were two peanut butter and corn syrup sandwiches, and neither of them contained a secret camera or even a scrap of microfilm.
    It was a dumb idea to continue.
    It would have been even dumber to go home without at least trying to find her.
    I started