Chapter 6 - Lucy’s Brave GameLucy knew not to scream.
Her mother had taught her that sometimes fear needed to be quiet so your brain could stay loud.
The woman who took her from the hospital wore purple scrubs and smelled like peppermint gum. She said Mommy needed a test and Lucy could come pick a sticker from the nurses’ station.
Lucy knew something was wrong because real nurses called her sweetheart.
This woman called her Lucille.
Only people with papers called her Lucille.
But Lucy went because the woman’s hand was tight on her shoulder, and because two men stood near the elevator watching.
Now she sat in the back of a black SUV with child locks on the doors and snow racing past the windows.
She held her backpack on her lap.
The worn one with the unicorn patch.
Inside were crayons, a library book, crackers, one mitten, and the tiny phone Mommy said was only for emergencies. The screen was cracked. It had three numbers saved.
Mommy.
Mrs. Alvarez.
And Uncle.
Lucy had added that one in the hospital when Nathan went into the hallway. She had asked Marcus how to spell it. He had smiled in a sad way and helped her type Nathan’s number.
The peppermint woman sat beside her.
“Don’t be scared,” the woman said.
Lucy looked at her. “That’s a silly thing to say.”
The woman blinked.
“If you don’t want a kid scared, you don’t take them from their mom.”
The driver laughed.
The woman did not.
Lucy looked out the window and tried to count turns.
Right.
Left.
Straight for a long time.
Bridge.
Tunnel.
No, not tunnel. Underpass.
Mommy said details mattered.
Daddy used to say that too, though Lucy knew him mostly from stories and one old video where he made funny faces at her as a baby.
The SUV stopped in front of a brown house with black shutters. Not a city building. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere with trees heavy with snow.
The men took her inside.
There was a fireplace, but the house felt cold anyway.
Victor Sloane stood in the living room.
Lucy knew him from the hospital.
Bad smile.
Nice shoes.
Mean eyes.
“Hello, Lucy,” he said.
She hugged her backpack tighter.
“My mom says I don’t have to talk to strangers.”
“I’m not a stranger. I knew your grandfather.”
“My mommy says family doesn’t scare kids.”
Victor’s face flickered.
“Your mother has filled your head with sentimental nonsense.”
Lucy did not know sentimental, but she knew nonsense.
“You talk like cartoons of bad guys.”
One of the men coughed to hide a laugh.
Victor turned, and the man stopped.
Then Victor crouched in front of her.
Lucy leaned back.
“You have something important,” he said.
“My backpack?”
“In a way.”
He reached toward it.
Lucy screamed then.
Not because she thought screaming would save her.
Because screaming made grown-ups rush.
And when the peppermint woman grabbed for the backpack, Lucy bit her hand as hard as she could.
The woman yelped.
Lucy dropped to the floor, kicked the coffee table, and spilled a glass of water onto Victor’s shoes.
Then she ran.
Not to the front door.
Too obvious.
She ran toward the hallway, ducked into a bathroom, locked the door, and pulled the emergency phone from her backpack with shaking hands.
No signal.
Her throat closed.
Outside, fists hit the door.
“Open it,” Victor snapped.
Lucy climbed onto the toilet and pushed at the tiny window above it.
It opened two inches.
Cold air slapped her face.
Too small to fit through.
But big enough for the phone.
She pressed Nathan’s number.
One bar appeared.
The call connected.
“Nathan?” she whispered.
His voice came through broken and frantic. “Lucy? Lucy, where are you?”
“I counted turns,” she said, crying now because his voice made her feel found. “There was a bridge or underpass and trees and a brown house. Bad Smile is here.”
“Lucy, listen to me. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Hide the phone.”
The bathroom door cracked.
Lucy shoved the phone into the tissue box on the back of the toilet.
The door burst open.
Victor stood there, breathing hard.
Lucy lifted her chin even though her legs shook.
“My uncle is coming,” she said.
Victor’s eyes went flat.
“Then we better be ready for him.”
Inside the tissue box, the call stayed connected.
Nathan heard everything.
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And for the first time since the snow, he was not wondering if he was a good grown-up.
He was becoming one.
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