The boy and his ribbon

I kept going, heading deeper into family territory and totally unfamiliar concepts of slides and swings and paddling pools left unguarded on front lawns.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t dally.

I was hunting for a supermarket. Something I could smash my way into, stuff my backpack full of things, then vanish back into the forest unseen.

But the deeper I travelled through manicured verges and swept streets, the more my hope deflated. I wasn’t in the heart of the town where such things as stores and restaurants existed.

I was in sleepyville where children from the TV show slept soundly in safe beds with kind-hearted parents to watch over them.

I continued down the road, no longer finding the houses pretty but mocking. Mocking me with everything I’d been denied and everything I ever wanted.

One particular house hurt my stupid ten-year-old heart as I stopped on its pavement and stared. Its blue and white paint, warm wood veranda, and large bay windows whispered of peace and somewhere to rest.

The large doorknob begged me to turn it and stroll right in, to claim a bed as my own, and forget all my worries forever.

Della’s knee dug into my spine as she wriggled.

“Quit it.” I growled over my shoulder.

A tabby cat shot from a pruned rose bush, darting past my feet and sending my pulse jumping. With the adrenaline shot came hunger so vicious and slicing, I stumbled and clutched my empty middle.

A small cry came from within the backpack. A cry that mimicked my craving. A cry she knew she shouldn’t utter but couldn’t help escaping.

I didn’t even have the energy to elbow her into quietness again.

Who was I kidding?

There wasn’t a supermarket or dumpster or any hope of a large area of food ready to be stolen. The only choice I had before I buckled on the sidewalk was to pick one of the dozing households surrounding me, and I’d already made my selection.

The house in front of me.

The one that welcomed me to take what was inside as if it’d been waiting for this very moment.

Once the idea popped into my head, I didn’t think twice.

“Be quiet.” I jiggled the straps on my shoulders. “You hear me?”

Silence was my answer.

“Good.”

Looking left and right, I bypassed the blue fence and pebble pathway guiding to the entrance and slithered through the shadows toward the back door. Even the service side of the house was well tended with clean rubbish bins.

Slipping into the backyard, I saw a basket of toys neatly placed, and a large umbrella wrapped tight, guarding its family, the table and chairs.

Della hung heavily on my back as I stooped as low as I could to avoid the sensor light and made my way as carefully as I could to the back door.

I had my knife.

I could smash a window or jimmy a lock.

But as I climbed the deck to investigate, my eyes fell on an oversize cat flap. Ducking, I tested it with my hand, punching it quickly.

The plastic flopped open, letting me stick my head into the warm scents of cooking, clean linen, and happiness.

I practically drooled on their welcome mat.

For once, I was thankful for my small size and ski

Shrugging the backpack off my shoulders, I shoved it against the side of the house out of the way. Unzipping it a little, I placed my hand on Della’s dirty blonde curls as she popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “No. You’re staying here.”

Her blue eyes searched mine, achingly hungry and begging for any scrap of attention, food, or whatever else kids like her were used to getting.

Her helplessness did not work on me, and my heart grew ever harder. “I’m going inside to fetch supplies. Do. Not. Move.” Her head ducked beneath my hand as she slouched sadly back into the bag.

I didn’t know if she understood what I was saying, but I didn’t take my hand away. I squeezed her tiny skull with my fingers. “I’m warning you. If you run off, I won’t search for you. You’ll die and get eaten by a dog. Do you want to be eaten by a dog, Della Mclary?”

Her nose wrinkled and tears welled, making her eyes glow blue.

“No crying. I don’t like cry-babies.” Grabbing the zippers, I pushed my face almost to hers. “If you’re good and sit here quietly, I’ll bring you fruit and chocolate and even new clothes, okay?”

The tears teetered on her bottom lashes but didn’t fall. Twirling that confounded ribbon around her tiny fist, she plonked down and ducked her head.

I took that as a yes.

“Remember, be quiet as a mouse, and no one will hurt you.”

I zipped up the bag and crawled through the cat flap before I could change my mind.