THERE’S A STORY my brother had to read for one of his classes in high school called The Odyssey. Apparently it was this super long and boring book about this ancient Greek hero who couldn’t come home from war for twenty years, because along the way he kept running into inconvenient things like one-eyed giant monsters or wars or flesh-eating mermaids who sang songs to lure sailors to death.
There weren’t monsters or flesh-eating mermaids, but as we passed miles and miles of endless flat land, this trip was starting to feel more and more like a twenty-year voyage.
Everyone on this bus was either sleeping or looking out the window, except for the teenager sitting across from me on the aisle, who was reading a book. A tattoo peeked out of his jean jacket collar. I tried to look out the window, but there wasn’t much to see.
There were small towns with big gas stations and mountains in the distance.
There was an avocado stand.
There was a shiny red Corvette sitting by the side of the road that looked out of place.
We passed five Carl’s Jrs.
But mostly there were just fields and trees and hills, and I wondered how much more farmland there was between here and Los Angeles.
Destination coming up in two hundred and twenty-eight cow sightings.
Amir was right, after all. A sea of cows really did come between me and my dad.
I sketched the Corvette. I traced out the sharp lines of the front bumper and lightly shaded it in. I drew the jean jacket–wearing teen in the front seat, his arm draped over the side door. I tried to draw his tattoos. I paused. Somehow it didn’t seem finished.
I ate some chips and added rocket blasters to the back of the Corvette. The farmland outside the windows finally turned into mountains. We hurtled past highway signs and city names.
The outline of a city finally appeared on the horizon, with faint hills in the background. Hundreds of buildings rose up into jagged little peaks. The sky was beginning to turn pink, like cotton candy, almost. The pink was silhouetted against shades of blue. Man, if I could sketch the skyline with Mr. Keanan’s watercolors, I would. I looked up and saw Los Angeles on the highway signs, and a thrill of excitement picked up within me.
It was finally happening. I turned beside me to tell Ro, forgetting for a second that she wasn’t there.
For the first time I felt a twinge of guilt. What was I doing, going hundreds of miles to Los Angeles by myself? I hadn’t told Ro about this. Or Mom.
I couldn’t even imagine how worried Mom must be.
I closed my eyes and tried to stop worrying.
Just think of when you see him, Ro had said.
I tried to imagine that exact moment. It would be at one of those huge theaters with bright lights and velvet seats. There would be people dressed up in satin dresses and silk suits and a big marquee with Spacebound printed out in block letters. My dad would climb out of a limousine and onto a fancy red carpet. I would shout out his name and run toward him, and he’d turn to see me. I’d yell, It’s me, Benji, and his eyes would widen first in shock and then in delight when he recognized me. The cameras would flash and the people would shout out his name, but he wouldn’t care. He’d break into a goofy grin and I’d run down the red carpet and he’d crush me into a hug.
Really, it’d be like no time had passed between us at all.
The bus pulled up next to a big gray building and stopped. There was a big tssss as the doors opened. People stood up and yawned, stretching their arms over their heads. I stood up too fast and my head felt all dizzy.
Wait.
This wasn’t the theater. It was just the bus station.
I had to get to the theater somehow.
Everyone was getting off. The bus driver gave me a strange look, and so I grabbed my backpack and hurried off before he could say anything.
What was supposed to happen now?
I walked around the station. I started to feel hungry again and thought about buying another bag of chips, but I only had twenty dollars of birthday money left and needed fifteen for the bus ride back home.
Okay. Calm down, Benji. Think.
What would Ro do?
She’d get a map.
A lady in a bright vest was sitting at the empty counter, chewing gum and flipping through a magazine. I walked up to the counter and took a map. It was filled with all these colorful tangled lines, and I stared at it until the lady finally looked up.
“You looking for something, sweetheart?”
“How do you get to the El Capitan Theatre?”
She stared at me for a moment and then took the map from my hands and circled a couple of places. “You walk to this bus station here. And then”—she pointed—“you get off here.” She looked up. “Got it?”
I nodded.
Her eyes narrowed. “Where are your parents?”
I shrugged. “My dad’s waiting for me.”
Which was kinda sorta true.
I boarded a rickety bus. I hugged my backpack in my lap and held on to the map like it was a lifeline. I didn’t even think about what it would be like to get lost in the city. I couldn’t exactly walk back to Sacramento.
But I forgot about all that as the bus rounded the corner.
One by one, the buildings lit up with their bright neon red and blue and pink signs. Warm light spilled out of restaurants and shops. Music streamed out. Some car was playing Queen, the electric bass intro on full blast. There was a billboard for Taco Bell that was probably taller than a building. Another one for the new Indiana Jones movie with him leaping in midair, whip in hand. I imagined him racing through mazes and swinging from vines as he—
Tires screeched as a bright red convertible roared by, the people in the car laughing and whooping.
Cripes, this place was neat.
The bus stopped.
I got off and looked up.
And my heart practically dropped twenty feet.
I was facing the biggest marquee I’d ever seen. It was like some huge crown of lights or something, with a star on top and SPACEBOUND: MISSION LAUNCH across in huge letters.
This was the absolute stuff of dreams.
I checked the watch I’d borrowed from Danny. Six thirty.
Actresses wore big dresses and lots of flashy jewelry; the actors dressed up in suits and shoes shiny enough for me to see my wrinkled shirt in. Even in my Sunday best, I couldn’t help but feel out of place. The red carpet was roped off, the cameras flashing. I ducked under the ropes, hoping no one noticed.
Seven o’clock.
My heart was about to beat right out of my chest. I didn’t take my eyes off of the red carpet.
Seven fifteen. Where was he?
There was a swell of applause as the actress who played Gemma Harris stepped out. She grinned for the cameras.
Seven thirty.
People around me started whispering to each other as one last limo pulled up. A curly-haired man stepped out, and suddenly I just knew.
It was him.
David Allen Burns.
Cameras flashed. Photographers surged toward him, and I didn’t even think—I just acted. I pushed into the photographers. Clambered over the ropes and right onto the red carpet.
He turned and—
“DAD!”
People stopped talking.
Cameras paused.
Approximately half of Los Angeles turned to stare at me.
Including my father.
I was frozen. I had seen him. I had seen his face in the pictures Mom had kept stored away in cabinets. And yet—
It felt strange to be in front of him. For real. In person.
“Dad,” I repeated, suddenly very aware of all the stares. My mind scrambled. What was I supposed to do? Or say? “It’s me,” I finally said. My voice came out small. I walked toward him.
He backed away. “Excuse me?”
Out of the corner of my eye, two security guards started making their way through the crowd.
“I’m Benji.”
He stopped. His expression didn’t change.
It wasn’t supposed to be happening like this. He was supposed to recognize me. I stared at him fiercely, hoping to somehow make the wheels in his head turn. Come on, come on. I thought about saying something dramatic like I’ve finally made it, but the security guards were closing in, so I blurted out frantically, “It’s your kid! Benji! Remember me? Remember Mom and Danny?”
His face went white.
“Benji,” he said, like he was in a dream.
Finally.
“That’s me,” I said. I barreled on. I pulled my sketchbook out of my backpack and flipped through the pages. “I found you through your comics, Dad. I like drawing comics, too. You won’t believe it, but it’s the craziest story. I didn’t know where you were, but then my friend Ro found you through the newspaper—”
The security guard had reached me.
“—and I took a Greyhound bus from Sacramento—”
“Mr. Allen.” The security guard grabbed my arm. “We’ll get this fan out of your way.”
“I’m not a fan!” I shouted, and then security guard let go of me for a second.
A woman stepped up next to him. “Dave? Is everything all right?”
“Come on, Dad,” I pleaded, feeling smaller and smaller by the second. He didn’t move. “Don’t you recognize me?”
The security guard tugged on my wrist. “Come on. This prank is over, and you’re disrupting this event. Let me get you back to your parents.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment.
Prank?
“It’s not a prank,” I sputtered. Desperately, I reached into my backpack with my free hand and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Dad,” I said, as a last effort. “Remember this?”
His own colored-pencil Spacebound sketch, signed and dated.
Some kind of recognition came back into his expression. He unfroze from his trance and came right up to me. The security guard backed away. My father’s hair was slicked back with gel and was turning gray at the temples. He smelled like cologne.
But he was grinning at me.
He had hazel eyes, just like mine.
He squeezed my shoulder. “Benjamin,” he said. “Of course I remember you.”
Yes. Finally.
And then he would reach out and pull me into—
He backed away. “Listen,” he said. “You can’t be on this red carpet.”
What?
“Okay,” I said, because I didn’t really know what else to say. Wasn’t he going to invite me to watch the movie with him?
“Wait out here,” he said. “Promise? Just stay put. I have no idea how on earth you got here, but I’ll be out in a bit, and we can get this all sorted out. Okay?”
I nodded.
“I’ll be out soon,” he said. “Promise.” And then he briskly turned. The woman said something to him and then he wrapped his arm around her waist. He shook his head and said something back.
Most of the cameras turned to follow them but some stayed on me. A flash nearly blinded me. I stumbled off the red carpet, and then turned to look back at my dad.
He was standing beside the woman, posing for pictures. They flashed smiles. I saw my dad take her hand and something on her finger glittered.
She wasn’t just another actress.
I wanted to throw up. I felt dizzy and stumbled back. The crowd pressed against me and another camera flashed in my face. All at once, I realized three things:
I stared at bright red lights on the marquee in front of me. They’d seemed so welcoming before, but now they just made me feel sick. The air smelled like smoke and exhaust.
Back door. There had to be a back door to this thing. And then maybe I could sneak into the premiere—
I ran down the block, weaving through all the people. I circled around to what looked like the back of the building.
Doors. Lots of doors. I raced up the steps and yanked on the handles, hoping that the door would give.
They were all locked.
I slumped on the steps. The smell of the back alley almost made me want to puke.
And then it finally hit me.
I, Benjamin Burns, was a total and complete idiot.
I mean, what on earth was I doing here? I was half a state away from home and in the middle of a city that I knew nothing about. I stood up frantically and turned around. It all looked the same: the buildings and lit-up signs and billboards seemed to stretch on forever.
And how was there so much neon everywhere?
And Mom.
I crumpled back onto the bench, holding my head in my hands.
Oh no. How could I have done this to her? Mom would be worried sick right now. Sure, I’d left her a note, but who would ever expect their kid to run off like that?
But what if she didn’t find the note?
What if she called the police?
What if she reported me missing and my face went on one of those lunchroom milk cartons? I would practically die of embarrassment.
I stood up, panic rising in my chest. That was it. I was going to back to Sacramento. I would take the next Greyhound bus right back before Mom had a nervous breakdown.
I rooted around in my backpack for my map. I pulled out my sketchbook and my drawing, but there was nothing else.
No map.
I saw a flash of a paper slip at the bottom. I dug it up and my heart dropped into my stomach.
It was the note I’d been meaning to leave for Mom. And I’d forgotten to actually leave it for her.
If I were the Flash, I’d don my suit and sprint straight home. Faster than a hundred miles an hour. Faster than the speed of sound. I’d run from Los Angeles and never come back.
But here I was. With no superpowers. Not fighting villains or doing anything cool. In this bright and loud city, I faded right into the dusty exhaust smoke.
My mom didn’t know where I was. I didn’t even know where I was.
I was completely, totally lost.
I slung my backpack over my shoulder. I would figure something out. No matter what, I was going home.
I walked back in the direction of El Capitan. I saw its familiar marquee sign. A few photographers milled around the red carpet. I stopped for a moment, looking up at the letters.
Wait for me, he’d said.
When Gemma Harris had rescued her father, he’d pulled her into a hug and started weeping out of relief. But my own dad hadn’t hugged me or pulled me in like he’d missed me for the past ten years. His eyes hadn’t welled with tears. He hadn’t lit up with a smile. He’d barely even looked me in the eye.
How could I have been so stupid? He’d gone off and gotten a new life, with his shiny suit and his limos and his cologne. He’d remarried. He’d probably forgotten all about Danny and Mom and me.
My eyes began to smart. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore how tight my throat was feeling.
My dad didn’t want me here.
I’d come all the way here and my dad didn’t want me.
In first grade, my class was supposed to draw a family tree and write a sentence about each of our family members. I was so upset that I’d walked out of the class halfway through and hidden in the bathroom. Drew found me sitting on the steps at recess.
“He’s gone forever,” I said. “I’ll never know who my dad is.”
“He’s not gone forever,” Drew said. “Maybe he’ll come back someday. Maybe he’s just taking a long trip.”
That’s how I’d always been thinking of it since. Like it was just temporary. Or like it was a matter of time before I found him and he’d fit right back into my family again.
But maybe he had never been waiting for me to find him. Maybe when he walked out of our lives, he never wanted to come back.
He never wrote Spacebound for me. Gemma crossing the universe to find her father was never meant to be a sign. None of the comics were ever clues. They were just exciting stories that would keep readers up with a flashlight. Going on a quest to save your father from a booby-trapped cavern was just something exciting to watch in a movie.
I threw my sketchbook on the ground and stomped on it. My vision started to get blurry. My drawings of Gemma Harris got ruined, but I didn’t care, because I never wanted to look at them again.
Was I going crazy, or was someone saying my name?
Had my dad come back?
But when I looked up, I was alone.
“Benji!”
It was coming from the other side. Was it—
I whirled around—and then I saw her.
Ro.