Small as an Elephant - Jennifer Richard Jacobson [7]
The early-morning air was cool. A mother in her pajamas, clutching a towel and a cosmetics kit, was leading two young girls to the bathroom.
“Do you want eggs?” he heard the man in the next site ask his family.
“Yes, please!” his mother would have called back, and before you knew it, she’d be over there helping with the cooking.
Jack noticed a ranger, a man this time, with a green jacket over his gray uniform, walking purposefully around the loop, and his breakfast caught in his throat. What should he do? Duck back into his tent? The bathroom?
Too late. The ranger skipped his neighbors and came directly into his site.
“Hey, there,” said the ranger. “Is your mom here?”
Jack shook his head. “She’s just gone to the store — to pick up stuff.” He hoped the ranger hadn’t noticed that the car (and his mother) had been gone since yesterday morning.
The ranger nodded. Jack couldn’t tell if he believed him or not.
“Well,” he said, “I just want to confirm that you’re here until tomorrow.”
“Yup,” said Jack. Wherever his mom had gone, she’d have to come back by tomorrow. Right?
“Can we stay longer if we want?” he blurted, hoping he sounded enthusiastic and not worried.
“Sure. The park really clears out after Labor Day. They’ll be no shortage of spaces then. Just remember, you need to prepay.”
“I’ll tell my mother,” he said, hoping it was the end of the conversation.
“OK, then,” said the ranger, in no hurry to go. “My name’s Stan, if you need anything.”
Jack wondered if Stan was thinking the obvious: Tuesday, the day after Labor Day, was the first day of school. At least it was for Jack. Why would they want to camp longer?
But the ranger glanced at his clipboard and went on. Jack ate the last bite of salami and then wished he hadn’t. This was the only food he had, and he’d spent all his money. He had to start being smarter. Start thinking about the possibility —
He stopped that thought in its tracks. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. Mom will be back today. I know she will. Just the same, he wrapped the remaining cheese.
A stick cracked behind him. Jack turned hopefully.
Not Mom. Aiden — and a cold splash of disappointment.
“Ready to go?”
Jack popped back into his tent, changed into his suit, and slipped his phone into his pocket. But as he and Aiden began to leave the site, Aiden seemed to hesitate.
Jack suddenly saw the site — one little tent, no car — from Aiden’s eyes. “My mom’s gone to get coffee,” Jack said. “Even when she’s sick, she needs coffee.”
Aiden laughed. “Sounds like my dad,” he said, and turned to lead Jack back to his site.
Jack had expected to ride in the family car to Echo Lake. Instead, they took the Island Explorer, a free bus that went all around Mount Desert Island.
“It’s better for the environment. Better for the island,” explained Aiden’s dad. “Cuts down on traffic and exhaust, uses less gas.”
It wasn’t the environment Jack was thinking about as he bounced a little in his seat, studying the map of the Island Explorer route. He realized that he now had a way — a free way — to search for his mom.
During a lull in the conversation, Jack took out his phone and tried again to reach his mom. This time, he got her voice mail immediately. That meant she had turned off her phone. Which meant that she probably hadn’t driven off the road and gotten stuck in a ditch somewhere.
Which meant that she could have called him. . . .
No, it didn’t mean just that one thing. Her battery could have died. If something had happened to her, if she was lying unconscious somewhere, her phone could very well be dead.
Jack gazed out the window and caught himself looking for tire marks or any other signs that a car had skidded off the road.
What if she was in trouble? What if she was like that woman who somehow drove into a ravine and