Free Just Plain Al: The Al Series, Book Five by Constance C. Greene Page A

Rudy?”
    â€œWhere?” I squinted and couldn’t see anyone who looked like Rudy.
    â€œThere. Sure that’s him. Hey, Rudy!” Al hollered.
    A young couple in front of us, each walking hand in hand with a small child, jumped and looked back at us apprehensively. They must’ve thought we were New York weirdos.
    â€œCome on, let’s cross. I’m sure it’s him.”
    When we got to where Rudy should’ve been, he wasn’t there. “I told you it wasn’t him,” I said crossly. “It’s too hot to run. Let’s sit down, if we can find a place.” But the benches lining the walkway to the skating rink were filled with people eating Italian ices or sandwiches from home.
    We never got a seat, and we never found Rudy. After a long while we headed east to find the woman. Al wouldn’t let me off the hook.
    â€œYou’re an escapist,” she told me sternly. “You don’t want to face reality.”
    â€œLook who’s talking,” I snapped.
    There was no one standing under the clock at the bank. The temperature was 81°, the time 11:32.
    â€œLet’s go home,” I started to say.
    â€œThere she is,” Al told me. “Coming toward us.”
    â€œThat’s not her.”
    â€œSure it is.” Al fumbled in her pocket.
    The woman approached, head down, shuffling, looking at the sidewalk. A kid about Teddy’s age was with her. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl. It didn’t matter. The kid’s hair and clothes were matted with filth. They both wore pieces of shoes tied with string. The kid stopped, picked something out of a trash basket, looked at it, tossed it aside.
    Her skin was the same ruddy color. I couldn’t see the eyes. The hand came out, as if by accident, as we came abreast; the fingernails curved, the fingers bloated and swollen, as the other’s had been. I put a quarter timidly in the hand. And swiftly moved on.
    â€œHssst!” The sound commanded me to stop, to turn, to look at her. It wasn’t the same person. I had known all along. These eyes were dark and full of hate. I had never seen so much hate. She spit at me, mumbled something terrible. I made myself forget what she said. I began to walk fast. Then I was running.
    I ran until my beating heart forced me to stop. I leaned against a building, waiting for Al. If she didn’t show, I’d go home alone. If she didn’t show, maybe something bad had happened.
    With a huge surge of relief, I saw her coming at last. I took long, deep breaths to calm myself until she caught up. As we headed up Lexington, we were both shaking. I made myself look straight ahead, neither to the left nor the right. For fear of what I might see.
    â€œListen,” Al said, “it could happen to anyone.”
    â€œIt wasn’t the same woman,” I said flatly. “And you know it.”
    We cut across Seventy-second Street. The digital clock on the corner said it was 12:06.
    Almost time for lunch.

chapter 15
    â€œSo you were right. Big deal.” Al stomped her way around the rug. “So we’ll try again.” She meant try to find the woman, give her the money.
    â€œCount me out,” I said. “Last night I had a horrible dream. It was night and I was walking down a scrungy little side street, with garbage cans lining either side. It smelled. There was no moon, no stars, nothing. Only me. I thought I heard someone following me, so I walked faster. Just as I got to the end of the street, I was surrounded. They were all women and they all looked alike, just like the woman we saw yesterday. They were making dog noises low in their throats, mumbling terrible things. Then they closed in on me. I hollered and screamed, and nobody came.” As I told Al my dream, my heart started to pound, it was so real.
    â€œSo then they caught me and tied me to a post. And boy, did they smell!” I grabbed my nose and