Chapter 5

All around us are streets lined with neatly trimmed trees and bushes. A few skyscrapers rise high above our heads in the midst of smaller stores and restaurants, which all have flowerbeds overflowing with colorful petunias, impatients, and carnations. We stroll down the sidewalks, occasionally glancing in store windows. I notice that a few restaurants and discount stores have police vehicles and caution tape outside of them, and through the windows, the store's contents are scattered throughout the building. More poltergeists.

haven't really thought about being hungry since lunch, and I certainly am now. Pippi had asked about dinner upon entering town, and I know that she probably has to be starving. After all, she had been trapped in a grave all night and over half the day without anything to eat. I buy her a water bottle and a bag of potato chips from a vending machine; I want to save my money and use it wisely-not when I am a mere hour's walk from home. Pippi devours the bag within two minutes, and chugs half the water bottle. However, she wears a look of dissatisfaction as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

As we continue walking down the street, she begins to groan and complain; hanging back behind me and dragging her feet in exaggerated weariness.

"Uugh, I'm so hungry, and I have to go to the bathroom," she moans. "Can't you slow down? My legs hurt, and I don't wanna-"

"Please, would you stop being so melodramatic?" I say in annoyance, without slowing my pace.

She huffs loudly. "I don't even know what that means. . ."

I turn around to face her. "Please, will you just be quiet?! Whatever happened to tough ol' miss adventurous? From the way you were acting before, I would never have suspected you could be this whiny. It's almost as bad as my sister!" I pause, and try to soften my tone. "Look, I'm hungry and tired too, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices. Especially on adventures."

Pippi looks down at the sidewalk, ashamed. ". . . I'm sorry. It's just that I really am hungry, and tired, and. . ." She stops, realizing that she had begun to complain again. I raise my eyebrows at her.

". . . Never mind." She digs the toe of one scuffed and faded Converse shoe into a crack in the pavement, keeping her eyes focused downward.

"All right, well, come on. Let's go." I pivot on my heel and start walking again, but Pippi stays where she is.

"Uh, Ninten?" she asks.

I pause. "Yeah?"

"Can we just stop in this store for a second? Because I really do have to go to the bathroom."

"Sure. I'll wait outside." I turn back around and lean up against the brick wall of the building.

"Thank you!" she yells in relief, and rushes inside the store.

I busy myself with observing my surroundings, and wondering what I'm going to do when Mom finds out that I've left. I should at least call and tell her that I'm okay, and that she doesn't need to worry, but I know she will anyway.

Suddenly, something in the window of a pet shop across the street catches my eye. I wait for the road to clear, and then stride over to the store, gazing through the glass. Perched inside a dull metal bird cage is a baby canary. It looks fairly young, with streaked brown feathers. I stand there, gaping in astonishment, as Pippi pulls up next to me. She looks at me irritatedly.

"What are you doing? For a second I thought you abandoned me!" Her expression becomes puzzled as she glances from me to the bird. "What's wrong?"

"That bird. . . It's a canary." I look over at Pippi, her expression unshifting. "I had to do a report on them last year for school. A long time ago, people brought these birds here all the way from the Canary Islands, and they managed to thrive in the wild. They used to live everywhere around here, but now they can only be seen in the Canary Forest Wildlife Refuge."

"Then why's that one in there?"

I turn my attention back to the bird. "I really don't know, but it's way too young to have flown and escaped the reserve. I almost think that some idiot took it from the forest, hoping to get money or something."

"What?! But that's not fair! Poor little thing." Pippi stares at it sympathetically, then turns and looks up at me. "We have to help it. We can buy it and take it back to the forest."

I give an incredulous snort, and gesture to the price tag. "It's eighty-five bucks! I can't buy that!"

"Well, you have to do something. We can't just leave it."

I huff loudly, and there comes a moment of silence between us. I truly do feel sorry for the small creature, but there is no way that I am willing to spend eighty-five bucks on a bird. However, a small part of me feels like I need to buy it and take it back to the reserve. I probably have a little over a hundred dollars in my allowance jar, so technically I can afford it, but it would mean losing over half of my money all at once.

I glance down at Pippi, who sighs and continues staring at the baby bird. The small part of me soon prevails.

"Okay, fine. I'll buy the bird."
Pippi's face lights up, and she throws her arms around me. "Really? Thank you Ninten!"

I'm taken aback by the sudden embrace, giving her an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. But this isn't for your sake, it's for the bird's."

She steps away, still grinning widely. "Yeah, I know."

Together, we enter the store, which is stocked with all kinds of pet food, toys, and care items. Rows of fish tanks are lined up against one wall, and cages of chirping and squawking birds are set on tables, as well as hung from the ceiling. I stride over to a man at the check-out counter, with Pippi following close behind.

"Hey, I'd like to buy that bird you've got over there." I gesture to the cage next to the window. "But you do know that it's a canary, right? They're protected in this area. Did someone bring it from the reserve?"

"It was somebody else's shift when the bird was brought in. It was there when I got here. But why would you want to buy it if you're so concerned about it being a protected species?" he replies.

"We aren't going to own it as a pet," Pippi remarks. "We're gonna take it back to the forest where it belongs."

"Oh." He furrows his eyebrows, glancing from Pippi to me. "Well, it's eighty-five dollars."

"But we're not even going to keep it! Don't you agree that it should be put back?" I ask.

He raises his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Hey, I don't set the prices. I'm just doing my job. I can't let you walk out of the store without paying for it, because for all I know, you could be some punk kid trying to rip me off. Besides, how do you even know for sure that the bird came from the reserve anyway? It could have rightly been someone's pet that they had to get rid of."

"Uh. . . well. . ." I stammer, and glance quickly to Pippi, then back at the cashier. "It's really young, and. . . I guess I just had a feeling that it did."

He smiles in a mocking way. "A feeling, huh? That's real clever." He places both hands on the counter and looks me in the eye. "Look, kid. The bird's eighty-five bucks. Take it or leave it."

I glower back at him for a few seconds, slipping the backpack off my shoulders and bringing out the allowance jar, which receives an odd look from the cashier. I can't say I really blame him, though. I mean, who carries around a mason jar filled with cash?

I turn it upside-down and the contents come crashing down onto the counter, forming a broad heap of coins and bills. This undoubtedly startles the birds, for they all become quiet and alert. The cashier stares down at the pile with a blank expression as a few paper dollars float down onto the countertop. After a few seconds, he looks up at me.

"Sorry, but I can't accept eighty-five dollars that's almost all in coins."

I place both my hands on the counter and look him in the eye. "Look, man. There's 85 bucks. Take it or leave it."

Chapter 6

"Really? A feeling? That was the best you could come up with?" Pippi strides along beside me as we exit the pet shop with the canary chick.

"Hey, at least I got the bird." I say, holding up the cage. "Now, all we have to do is take it back to the forest, and that'll be that. It's just northwest of here."

"Yeah. Well, what are we gonna do after that?" Pippi asks, looking up at me.

I shrug."I dunno. Call our moms maybe?"

"Are you kidding? There's no way I'm calling my mom!"

"But don't you at least think she should know you're all right? She thinks you've been kidnapped. . . or worse." I pause, looking up into the sky at the setting sun. "I mean, my mom thinks I'm at the baseball park right now, and she told me to be back in time for dinner. Believe me, I want nothing more right now than to be at home." I look solemnly down at the sidewalk passing beneath our feet.

"Then why don't you just go home?"

"Because I can't. I told you, there's something I have to do. . . or something I have to find before I can go back." I sigh heavily. "You wouldn't understand. I don't even understand."

A long silence passes between us, accompanied only by the sounds of cars passing and our feet shuffling against the pavement. Soon Pippi speaks again, this time on a different topic.

"So, earlier, you sorta' mentioned that you had a sister? What's her name?" she asks.

"I actually have two. Minnie and Mimmie. They're twins."

"Wow. . . You're so lucky. I don't have any brothers or sisters, and it's really boring." She frowns at the ground.

"Well, sometimes they can be really annoying, and I'll wish that I was an only child. But other times, I guess they're not so bad to have around." I turn and smile towards Pippi. "But don't worry. You've still got your friends."

We continue on away from the city until we reach a great expanse of greenery. A chain-link fence is wrapped all the way around it, with the gate slightly ajar. Hooked onto the fence is a large wooden sign covered in dull, peeling paint that reads "Canary Forest Wildlife Refuge - No Hunting Permitted."

"Well, whoever stole this little guy obviously couldn't read," Pippi remarks.

"Either that, or they just didn't care," I reply. "Come on, let's go in. The gate's already open."

We enter the reserve, and are soon enveloped by the lush green foliage. The sounds of singing birds emanate throughout the forest, and we spot several canaries perched in the branches above our heads. Suddenly, Pippi halts and tugs on my shirt sleeve, pointing through the trees on our left at a man clad in army-green pants and a jacket.

"Look! It's a poacher!" she hisses, reaching into her dress pocket and bringing out the slingshot.

"Wait, stop!" I whisper back, holding my hand out in front of her. "It's not a poacher. It's just a park ranger. Look at the uniform he's wearing."

"How do you know? He could be in disguise. . ." Pippi narrows her eyes suspiciously at the man.

"Oh, please." I roll my eyes, and begin walking towards the ranger. "Hey, uh, excuse me! Do you know if this bird belongs here?" I shout, and hold up the cage for him to see.

He looks in my direction and strides over to where I'm standing, then raises his eyebrows in surprise and recognition as he stares into the bird cage.

"Well, yes! Wherever did you find it?" He glances up at me.

"We saw it in the pet store back in town. I knew that canaries aren't supposed to be kept as pets around here, so I bought it, hoping I could bring it back," I reply.

"Oh, certainly! We've been wondering what happened to that little one for quite some time now." He smiles and glances from me to Pippi, then back to me. "It's so nice to know that there are young people in this town who know and care about the wildlife and natural environment. Come along this way." He turns and leads us further into the forest, until we come upon a tree supporting several bird nests. The nests are built between forked branches, and appear to be made of twigs, grasses, and moss. Some of the birds flit to and fro through the branches, while others can be seen poking their bright yellow heads out over the brims of their nests.

"Now that one there is Laura." The park ranger points up at the nest closest to us, which is about eight feet or so above our heads. A small bird is perched on the nest, inspecting us down below. "And this little chick here is hers."

I watch as he pulls out a small handful of seeds from a pocket on his uniform jacket. He sprinkles the seeds on the ground and whistles, backing away from the food. Laura and a few other canaries dive down from the leafy canopy to feast on the grains, twittering and hopping about.

The park ranger gestures for me to set the cage down, and I do, stepping back from it. One of the canaries, which I assume is Laura, loses interest in the food and inspects the cage with her beady eyes. She flies over and perches on one of the thin metal bars, examining the chick resting within them.

"Aww . . . look how happy she is to have her baby back!" Pippi says quietly, clasping her hands together.

Laura raises her head and sings a few soft, sweet-sounding notes. I can almost swear that I hear a voice too. A soft, melodic one. Almost a whisper.

"Simple as can be. . ."

I look up, surprised, and glance over at Pippi. "Did you hear that?"

"Oh, yes! She sings so beautifully!" Pippi keeps her hands clasped together, smiling at the reunited mother and chick.

"But did you hear a. . . a voice? Like a woman singing?"

An odd look crosses Pippi's face as she shakes her head. "Nuh-uh. Did you?"

I look down at the ground, puzzled. "Never mind. It must have just been my imagination." What the heck? Why am I hearing these voices. . . and these melodies? And how come I'm the only one that ever hears them?

"Wow, thanks so much you two. This really means a lot to us and to Laura. I'll make sure that she and her chick are once again settled in their nest." The park ranger tugs the sleeve of his jacket back, revealing a shiny silver watch. "Now, unfortunately, I'm going to have to kick you kids out of here, since the reserve closes to the public in ten minutes. Sorry about that."

"S'okay. We should probably get going anyway. Right, Ninten? . . . Right, Ninten?" Pippi pokes me sharply in the arm.

"Huh?" I jerk back to reality. "Oh, right. Sorry."

We turn and follow the park ranger back through the forest until we reach the gate. As Pippi and I step out, he shuts and locks it behind us.

"Thanks again, and come back soon!" he calls after us.

Pippi and I turn and wave. "We will!" we yell simultaneously.

The last few rays of sun vanish beneath the horizon as we head back into town, and Pippi breaks the growing silence. "You know, I've been thinkin.' Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to call Mom." She gazes down at her feet. "Seeing the baby bird and it's mama kinda made me feel homesick. . . a little."

I stop and look down at her. "You know, you don't have to come with me if you don't want to. You can go home if you want."

"No! It's not that I don't want to come. It's just. . . I. . ." she stumbles over her words.

"You won't hurt my feelings if that's what you're worried about," I reassure. "I know exactly how you feel."

"Okay." She glances back down at the ground, then looks up again. "I don't know, maybe it'll pass. Everything always feels worse at night." She pauses. "I still want to call though. Let's use that phone over there." She points to a pay phone on the side of the road, illuminated by the streetlights above. We walk towards it.

"You got a quarter?" Pippi asks as we approach.

I dig out the mason jar, and withdraw a silver coin, handing it to her. She inserts it into the slot, and holds the receiver to her ear. The call is answered on the first ring, and although the voice on the other end is muffled, the words can still be distinguished.

"Hello? Mom?" Pippi speaks into the phone.

"Oh my Lord, Pippi! Sweetie, are you alright? Where are you? What hap-"

"Mommy-I mean Mom! I'm fine. I was trapped in the graveyard, and a boy named Ninten came and found me. I-"

"Were you kidnapped? What happened?"

"No, I wasn't kidnapped, Mom. Something really weird happened at home. Stuff started flying around, and I was pulled out the window-"

"What? Honey, you aren't making any sense. Stuff thrown around how?"

". . . I don't know. By themselves, I guess. I crashed through the window the same way. . . by an unseen force, or something."

There's silence on the other end. "Pippi, there's no reason to make excuses for a few accidents. Please tell me the truth. Did you break the window? And run away from home?"

"No! I am telling the truth! Honestly I-"

"Piper Anne Lindgren, you will stop this nonsense, or I will ground you from that NIS-or whatever it is you kids play with these days. I'm coming to get you right now. Are you downtown?"

"But, Mom, I. . . ."

"No 'buts,' young lady."

Pippi huffs. "It's N-E-S, not N-I-S," she corrects, putting emphasis on the middle letters. "And yes, we're downtown. Outside the department store."

"We?"

"Ninten's here too. He's the one who rescued me from the cemetery."

"Oh? And what's he doing out this late?"

"He's ru-"

I cut her off, gesticulating frantically, and mouthing the word 'no.'

"-He's, uh. . . on his way to visit his cousin in one of the apartments. He was on his way there when he found me, and decided to stay with me until you came."

"Oh, well that is very kind of him. Now, I expect the full truth about what happened when we get home, okay? It will make things much easier for both of us."

Pippi does not respond.

"Sweetie, I just want you home safe. I've been so worried about you. Just wait right where you are, and I'll come and get you. I love you."

". . . Okay, Mom. I love you too." She hangs up and sighs, turning around to face me. "Why is it that grown-ups always think we make stuff up even when we're telling the truth? What's the point of even telling the truth if they won't believe it?"

"I don't know," I reply. "I guess they still have to learn that we have brains too, and more often than not, the truth is crazier than any lie."

Lies can be altered; made to make sense. It's the insane truth that can never be changed, no matter how many lies are told to cover it up. I had to lie to my mom about why I was leaving and where I was going, because if I told her the truth, what would she think? And maybe with Grandpa's obsession about aliens taking over the world, he wasn't crazy at all. He was simply insisting on a truth that no one believed.

"Well, I guess I'm going home, then," Pippi mutters solemnly at the ground.

"Yeah, but maybe it's for the best. I mean, I have no idea how long I'm going to be gone, and. . . well, I wouldn't want you to get seriously hurt or anything." I stare down at the sidewalk.

Pippi jerks her head up and opens her mouth, as if to protest, but closes it and turns back to the ground. Apparently, she doesn't feel like arguing right now. That's okay, because I don't either.

Neither of us are very talkative as we stand under the harsh yellow light of the buzzing streetlamp, watching the windows of apartments and shops go dark as store-owners close up and residents retire to bed. The resonating hum of cicadas reaches our ears from the surrounding forest, cutting through the warm, still air.

Pippi yawns, and leans against the pay phone box, flicking one of her red braids behind her shoulder. "Aren't you gonna call your mom?" she asks.

"Yeah, but I'm going to wait. I don't want to be on the phone when your mom shows up."

"Oh. True."

At that moment, a white car turns the corner and pulls up in front of us. Pippi's mother, dressed in lounge clothing with her hair falling out of a messy bun, hops out of the drivers side, rushing over and nearly smothering her daughter in a bone-crushing embrace. Then she pulls away, bending down to Pippi's eye level.

"Oh, Pipsqueak, I was so worried about you. . ."

"Mom, don't call me that!" Pippi whispers, then glances over at me to see if I heard. Her mom's eyes follow.

"Oh, so you must be Ninten." She stands up. "Thank you for finding my daughter, and going out of your way for her sake. I hope she didn't cause you too much trouble."

Nope. She merely talked nonstop about absolutely nothing, almost got me killed by a crazy farmer with a pitchfork, and made me spend over half of my allowance money on a canary chick that we took back to the forest. Nope, no trouble at all. I didn't say any of this aloud though.

"No way, Mom! Me and Ninten are best buddies now. Right?" Pippi looks over at me, smiling broadly.

"Yep. Sure are." I smile back and nod.

"Oh, okay, good," Ms. Lindgren replies. "Do you need a ride to your cousin's or anything?" she asks me.

I had almost forgot about my little fib that Pippi repeated to her mom over the phone. "Oh, no! He only lives a few blocks away. Thanks anyway though."

"No problem. Well, come on Pippi, let's get you home." She pats Pippi on the back and walks back over to the driver's side of the vehicle. Pippi starts for the front passenger door.

"No, no, no, young lady. You aren't big enough to sit up front just yet." Ms. Lindgren wags a finger at her from the opposite side of the car. Pippi huffs, and reaches for the back door.

"Later, Pipsqueak," I say teasingly, waving goodbye.

She whips her head around, narrowing her eyes at me. However, a smile soon creeps across her face, and she laughs, waving back. Pippi steps inside the car, but pauses before shutting the door. She taps the left side of her chest, mouthing the words "good luck."

I look down at my shirt, where I had pinned the Franklin Badge. I tap it, looking back to her. She does a single, quick nod while smiling, and I reciprocate. Then, she shuts the door and I watch as the car drives off down the road and turns a corner.

I linger under the streetlamp for a few moments, realizing how alone I truly am now that Pippi is gone. I stand there, pondering what to do next, then remember the call that I still have to make. I bring out the mason jar, fishing for a quarter, then push one through the slot. I dial the number and take a deep breath as the phone begins to ring. One of my sisters answers. I can't tell which one, since they sound exactly the same over the phone.

"Hi, uh, Minnie?" I speak into the receiver.

"Oh, hey bro!" She replies. "Where in the heck are you? Mom's starting to worry-" her voice is cut off.

"Hello?" Mom's voice breaks through the other end, sounding slightly angry.

". . . Hey, Mom. It's me." I answer, hesitant at her tone.

"Ninten, where are you? Are you staying over at Matt's? Or Jeremy's?"

Matt and Jeremy are two of my closest friends on the baseball team.

"You need to tell me before you-"

"No, mom. I'm not at either of their houses."

"Then where are you? . . . Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. But. . . I can't tell you where I am." I didn't want to risk her driving down to get me, like Pippi's mom had.

"Why not? What's going on?" Her voice becomes confused, with a hint of annoyance.

"You wouldn't understand. I just called to assure you that I'm okay. You really don't have to worry about me."

"Well, I am past worried, young man. I told you to be back in time for dinner! Are you still at the baseball park?"

"I never went to the baseball park, Mom." I hesitate. "Look, It wasn't anything you, Minnie, or Mimmie did that made me leave, but. . . I'm not coming home." My voice quivers as I begin to break down.

"Ninten, what are you talking about?. . . Oh no. Please don't tell me this has anything to do with what you and your father discussed over the phone." Her tone suddenly becomes stern.

"Well. . ." I begin.

"You get your butt back home right this instant, young man. I will not have this."

"Please. I'm really sorry, but there is something that I know I have to do-"

"There is nothing you have to do except get back to this house, mister."

"Mom, please just listen to me." I struggle to keep my voice stable. "What if Grandpa was right? What if I am supposed to be a part of what he was doing?"

There is a short span of silence.

"Ninten. . . You're right. I don't understand. I don't understand how you can be pursuing something that is so perfectly insane! You are twelve years old!" Her voice becomes softer and slightly desperate. "I know for a fact that the only thing you need to be a part of right now is this family. And the only place you need to be is home. Please just tell me where you are, and I will come and get you. Then we can talk, and sort this whole thing out. All right?"

My voice shakes. "Mom, you can't help me with this. I can't tell you where I am, or how long I'm going to be gone, but it won't be forever. I just have to figure out what it is that I'm supposed to do. I promise that I'll call you as often as I can."

"Honey, please. . . Don't do this. Just tell me where you are." Mom's voice trembles.

"Everything's going to be all right, Mom. Trust me." I pause, and a tear trickles down my cheek. "I love you." I hang up, cutting off her pleading protests.

I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning forward to rest my head against the top of the pay phone box. The pressure causes the cut across my forehead to throb with pain, but I ignore it. I deserve every bit of it.

After a few more seconds, I lift my head, wiping tears from my cheeks, and begin walking down the sidewalk in the direction Ms. Lindgren's car had disappeared. All of the buildings are dark and silent as I pass with my head down. Upon reaching a small grove of trees at the end of the street, I throw my backpack on the ground in front of one, then lie down and rest my head on it.

I stare up at the bright white moon; the same one that I had viewed from my bedroom window at home just the night before. What was I thinking, leaving like I did? Mick was right. I don't know where to go, or what to do. And now Mom probably thinks I hate her.

Sighing, I begin thinking about the last melody I'd heard, and the one before that. Why am I hearing them? And more so, why do I keep hearing a voice that nobody else can hear? Even though I don't quite understand it, I have a feeling that these melodies are important somehow. At the moment, they are the only things keeping me from believing that I'm crazy for doing this. And maybe I'd made a mistake, leaving home the way I had. But it would be an even bigger mistake to go back and possibly lose my chance of ever finding any answers. Grandpa wouldn't have wanted me to give up. If everything that he knew was true, and me and my psychic abilities are significant in some unknown way, I can't give up.

Grandpa. . . help me to understand. I close my eyes and think to myself.

Now, how did those melodies go again? Oh yeah.

Take a melody. . . Simple as can be. . .