34

THE APPLE TREE

Clare glanced nervously behind her. Although off the street and out of sight of Mr. GRIM, they were completely inside someone’s front yard. How soon would the occupants awaken and notice two children on their lawn? Still, there wasn’t a lot they could do. They definitely couldn’t return to the street while the GRIM man was parked ahead.

“Clare, what are we gonna do?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“This hedge goes all the way around,” Dante said. “I’m gonna explore.”

“Wait,” she said. “What?”

“I’m gonna creep around the hedge. See if there’s a place to hide or get away.”

Clare thought about this a moment. “Okay,” she said. “Be careful. I’ll be here.”

Dante left his bike on the grass and scurried away.

Clare peeked carefully through the bushes. She knew the GRIM agent would be there all day. Seeing him here like this was so different from the days when she, Lily, and Dante enjoyed taunting him. She wondered how they had ever been so naïve. She wondered what had become of Ana and Lily and her mother. The despair turned to anger and the anger to resolve. We are so close, now, she thought. We must succeed.

“Hey,” Dante said, startling her. “Good luck.” He was smiling. “The back yard is terrific. Totally unseen from the street. The hedge is awesomely tall and thick.”

“And . . . ?”

“Well, you can still squeeze through it to a neighbor’s yard, and I think from there we could reach another street and get away from GRIM. But . . . maybe it’s better if we hide out here until dark. You know, in case he’s got the police looking for us, too. Or other guys from GRIM.” His big eyes pleaded his case.

“What about the owners of the house?”

“Maybe they’re not home.”

“Well that’s a big maybe,” Clare snorted.

“There’s an old kids’ tree house. I sneaked up the stairs. I don’t think anyone uses it. There’s enough room for us and our bikes. If people are home, they won’t notice us up there.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “Go ahead,” she said, “show me.”

They walked their bikes along the inside of the hedge and around the house to the back yard. There, a small garden grew, and a clothesline stood empty. The place had a vacant look, as if the owners were on vacation; on the other hand, it was still early in the morning. A sleepy gray and white cat sitting on the roof blinked down at them.

“There it is,” Dante said, nodding toward the elevated playhouse. Red potted geraniums, desperate for water, hung from the edge. Clare looked at it skeptically. She turned to scan the home. From where she stood, she could see into the living room.

“What makes you think the tree house isn’t being used?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s full of spider webs. And there’s not a bunch of toys in the yard,” he added.

Clare considered his plan. Obviously, the best scenario would be if there were lupines, or other purple flowers around—but there weren’t. Second best would be if no one were home. But might Dante be right? If the owners no longer had children at home, would they notice her and Dante if they kept out of sight, passing the day in the playhouse?

What were the other choices—to cross to another street and try to get out of town as fast as they could? In the end, it was their bodies that made the decision.

“Please, Clare?” Dante begged. “I’m tired. And hungry. Let’s rest here through the day. We can’t take any chances. This is a teensy town. If the GRIM guy is here, he’s probably watching all of the border streets. We’re gonna hafta find another place to cross.”

She knew he was right. Up the steps they trudged, carefully pushing and pulling their bikes one at a time. They cleaned the spiders out, and fell asleep with little effort.

The children awoke with the hot sun full upon them. Studying the house and yard for signs of life, they saw nothing. The ground in the garden looked wet, but they supposed an automated system had done the work.

“Look,” Dante whispered excitedly. For the first time, they noticed a tree bending low with fruit.

“I think those are apples.” Clare said.

“I thought apples were red.”

“They can be different colors, I think. And besides, they have some red on them.”

Dante’s stomach growled. “I’m getting one,” he declared.

Clare gripped his arm.

“It’s okay. Have you seen anyone except the cat?”

“But it’s their back yard, Dant.”

“They’re not home,” he argued. He broke loose and scrambled down the steps. Most of the apples were out of reach, but a few lay on the ground. Dante picked one up and dusted it off. His experience with real food had been so minimal, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Would it need sliced, like a melon? His knife was in his pack. It did seem rather hard. Dante recalled Ana’s story about the peach and biting into it. He decided to give it a try. After all, hadn’t he heard stories involving apples? Weren’t the people in the old fairy tales always getting into trouble biting into apples? He lifted the apple up to his mouth, a hint of fruity fragrance teasing his nostrils. He bit.

Crunch. It was crispy and loud. Juice sprayed at all angles. Sweet, tart, and flavors he couldn’t describe, hit him all at once. He chewed the bite and swallowed.

“Wow!” he called out. He voraciously bit again and again. He picked up two more from the ground and jumped to pick another from the tree. Clare watched nervously, urging him back to their hiding spot. At last, loaded with apples, Dante returned.

“What’s the matter with you? What if someone saw you?”

He ignored her, instead pushing the reddest apple into her hand. “Eat this. It’s like nothing you’ve ever tasted.”

Her bite sent the sticky spray flying at Dante. He laughed.

“Great, huh? It’s worth it, Clare.”

Clare knew he meant more than the juicy sweetness of the apple. She knew he meant their association with Ana, their loss of home, the hardship they had endured. She knew as she tasted the forbidden fruit, that he meant it would all be worth it if they could bring back real food to the people.