chapter10

Actually she didn’t think about much during that next week. Sometimes she would wander by the lake, and other times she’d talk to Todd, usually at night, in their bed. But most of the time, Lisa did nothing.

Her thoughts were all jumbled. I’m such a fool, she said to herself. I talked about changing things, and now things have changed me. I thought I could do anything, and I made such a big deal out of what I would do. Just look at me now. I’m just another orphan.

Jill had to take care of her. She was patient, and that’s what Lisa needed most of all.

But the other children couldn’t understand Lisa’s reaction to the fire. She had faced much bigger problems and hadn’t been discouraged. Why now?

Lisa thought about it too, and began to form an answer for herself. She still wanted to believe in the things she used to talk about. Before the fire, everything had seemed very simple to her. “Why not?” used to be her confident answer to anyone who questioned a wild plan of hers. When the old problems had come up, she knew what had to be done. But now she doubted her ability to think clearly. She doubted herself. So she waited and thought.

Lisa became more and more interested in Jill’s children. They liked Jill for her kindness. And she really was kind to them.

Still, there was something wrong, something that was troubling them. They didn’t play as they had in the old days. Instead they wandered about and whined for attention or treats. They wanted to feel useful. Lisa could sense it by the way they smiled whenever they had a new idea. “Jill, let’s make a garden,” one of them had said. “The flowers will make everybody happy.”

One boy invented a weapon out of woodscraps he’d nailed together. Jill told him, “You have a good idea there. Show me how it works.” And she patiently watched him demonstrate it.

But it seemed to Lisa that the children quarreled too much. They fought constantly over their toys. There were enough toys so that each child could have at least two or three, but they all clamored for the same, beat-up, popular ones. The more Jill told them to share, the more they all seemed to need one particular toy for themselves. Even Jill lost her temper now and then when her words about sharing were ignored.

Sharing? Maybe that’s part of the problem, Lisa thought one morning. An idea roused her into action.

Maybe what these kids needed was to have at least one toy they could call their very own. Lisa gathered the children together and tried assigning toys. But it didn’t work; they still demanded the same old favorites.

Jill came in from the yard. “What’s going on in here?” she asked. She didn’t like Lisa changing her rules around. Jill thought sharing was an important thing. She knew it was!

Lisa sensed Jill’s annoyance. She wanted to make peace but wasn’t sure how to do it.

Lisa turned to the children. “Well, assigning toys isn’t going to work, but I think I have a better idea. Listen carefully.”

They listened, glad to see Lisa put aside her grief. “I think you should each have a new toy, one that is yours for keeps.” They agreed, of course. “But since there are no more toys here, you’ll each have to work to earn one.” They were all willing to work.

Jill started to interrupt but stopped. She too was happy to see something other than sadness in Lisa’s eyes.

Lisa continued. “You know how important it is for us to have cars to drive. They help us get food and many other things from the Secret Place. But soon the cars will be out of gas. We need more, and you can help us.” The children looked puzzled.

“Do you remember how your moms or dads used to mow the lawn? Didn’t they start by pouring gas from a can into the lawn mower? And wasn’t that can a red-colored one? And don’t you think it’s probably still sitting in your garage?

“Okay, here’s the deal.” Lisa’s old enthusiasm was back. “I’ll have a nice new toy for you if you can find a can of gasoline and bring it here.”

Some of them were already running for their coats. “Wait a minute, there’s one more thing.” They stopped to listen. “We will also be needing more cars soon. If you can bring me your parents’ car keys, you’ll get a very special extra reward. A whole box of candy for you alone, just you. Do you remember what their keys looked like? You might find them in your mother’s purse or on your dad’s dresser.

“Now, divide up into teams of two and be careful. If you can’t find a gas can in your garage, then try a neighbor’s. Jan, you take Beth . . . Bill and Larry, go together . . . Nancy, help Eileen . . .”

The children had a real project now. They hurried to get out and get started. “Where are my boots, Jill?” . . . “Who took my purple scarf?” . . . “I can only find one mitten.”

After they had gone, Jill turned to Lisa. “They like your idea, but I’m not so sure that we should stop teaching them to share their things with each other. Sharing is very important, you know.”

“I’ve been watching your kids for days, Jill. Just watching and thinking about them. They do too much sharing and it isn’t working at all. They have nothing of their own—no real duties, no real way of helping. It’s nice to share things if you want to. But it’s stupid to force people to share or to be nice. Those are things people have to do on their own. Otherwise it’s no good. See what I mean?”

“You do all the work, Jill, and they hardly help at all. They wander about, whining for something to do and fighting over toys. You’re really patient and good to them, but I think they need to have jobs and things of their own.”

Now Jill was ready to argue. “But Lisa, they’re afraid, really scared. You should hear them at night, the bad dreams and all.”

“Yes, I’ve heard them,” Lisa said. “I told you I’ve been watching your kids. All night long you seem to run from one child to another, trying to soothe them back to sleep. But when do you sleep? You look awfully tired, Jill.”

“I’ve told you what I think already. The children are afraid because they have nothing, nothing at all. It was bad enough for them to be orphaned, but it’s even worse for them to be without their own . . . uh . . . personalities.” Lisa couldn’t think of the right word, and Jill misunderstood.

“Lisa, they have nice personalities and each one is different. What do you mean?”

“Well, I can’t remember the word, exactly, but what I mean is that . . . ah . . . well, I don’t think they’ll ever be happy if you do everything for them. They need to work and to be proud of themselves. They need to be able to say to themselves, ‘I worked hard and did a good job and I earned my toy.’

“Don’t you see?” she asked. “And it would make your job so much easier.”

“Maybe you’re right, Lisa, but I still think they’re too young and too scared.”

Lisa wanted to say something about how she had lost her own fear by solving problems and staying busy. It seemed to her that fear was how you felt when you waited for something bad to happen, and fun was what you had when you figured out a way to make something good happen.

She wanted to say these things, but how could she? She had been a victim of her own fear since the fire. She had turned into just another one of the scared children that Jill took care of.

“By the way,” Jill said, “where are you going to get those toys you promised them?”

“That’s simple,” Lisa answered. “Tonight when Craig makes his supply trip, he can get some. They aren’t really fancy toys, but they’ll do. The Secret Place has hundreds of them. I guess we just forgot all about play. Doesn’t it sound strange, Jill, to think of playing with toys?”

Instead of answering, Jill asked, “What is the Secret Place anyway, Lisa? It sounds so mysterious. Where is it?”

Lisa wanted to tell her, but she said, “You know I can’t tell you, Jill, or anyone else. I can’t risk having it discovered. If I told everybody, and the Chidester Gang really wanted to find out about it, all they’d have to do is torture someone into telling. The fewer people who know, the safer it is.”

Lisa was feeling much better now that some activity had brought her back to life. The children would be gone for another half hour or so. She asked Jill to call a quick meeting of the militia leaders. “Ask them to get over here right away.”

Charlie, Steve, Craig, Todd, and Jill faced Lisa in the living room of Jill’s house. She’s back to her old self, they thought, as she rattled off a long list of new militia plans.

“Our defense plan is a joke,” she said. “We’ve got to train those dogs to do more than just slobber on the enemy. And we’ve got to make our kids tougher. They’re afraid to shoot or hurt anyone.

“Where was our brave militia when my house was being burned? Watching the flames from behind the trees? What if Todd had been inside? Let’s make more Molotov cocktails and use them next time.”

Was her audience deaf? They sat quietly listening to her angry words. Don’t sound too violent, she cautioned herself.

And for no other reason than to change the subject, she started talking about her old ideas—the rebuilding plans, the first-aid stations, and other more fantastic dreams. But she realized that she didn’t believe in them anymore. As if in a trance, she repeated the old plans mechanically, without enthusiasm.

Charlie stopped her. “Lisa, you’re crazy! Forget all that junk, and let’s talk about the militia.”

His words stung her. Even though she too was giving up on all those plans, the way he talked to her made her angry. “Crazy, Charlie? Who’s crazy? Shut up, Charlie!”

She stood up. “Go ahead, big militia captains. Make your plans!” She stopped herself. In a soft voice, she added, “You can do it. I know you can.

She walked to the shores of Lake Ellyn and sat on a bench. Crazy? she wondered. Maybe I am crazy . . . or am I just sick? I feel so tired, it’s as if I had a sleeping sickness of some kind. But I’ve got to get control of myself. I’ve got to face the problems. Charlie was right about that. Forget the big dreams for now and solve today’s problems.

Her mind began to clear. She listed the real dangers, but she could finally see that what they had to fear was much bigger than the Chidester Gang. What good would it do to build an army and add more weapons? How would that help when Tom Logan decided to join forces with other gangs? It was sure to happen sooner or later.

She imagined the other Grand Avenue houses burning to the ground one by one. She could see the “Grandville” citizens tortured and forced to give up their treasures in exchange for their lives. Finally, with no choice left, they too would have to join that army.

It was clear that Grand Avenue would be impossible to defend. What they needed was a castle with high walls and a moat, like in the days of King Arthur.

Her fear was dissolving away. She could see clearly now and her confidence was coming back. She would figure something out.

She walked to the lake past the boathouse. At the end of the dock, she sat down. I’ll figure something out, she repeated over and over again, as if the words themselves would trigger an idea.

A castle with high walls, she thought, and then Lisa looked up. There it was, right before her eyes. A hundred times she’d looked up there and not seen it!

Glenbard, the old fortress of a high school, stood proudly, high on a hill. Its walls were tall and made of brick! The field and the lake were below it. A steep hill descended to Crescent Boulevard on the far side.

It was their castle, all right! Twenty children could defend it against 100, maybe 200 soldiers. There were big rooms for the families, classrooms, and the nurse’s office for a first-aid center. There were kitchens, meeting rooms, sports equipment, art supplies, woodworking tools, indoor garages—and who could tell what else? Best of all, there’d be a library filled with books.

“Everything except a moat,” she said out loud. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” Laughing and shouting, Lisa ran all the way around the castle and then home to tell the others.

The Jansen house was noisy with activity. As she approached it, she saw little workers bringing gasoline cans into the garage. “Here, Lisa, I found two cans. Can I have my toy?” “Here’s some gas, Lisa, and I found these keys. My dad had two cars.”

“Nice work. Put the cans in the garage. Any more car keys? Bring them to me.”

Eileen was crying. “Lisa, I couldn’t find any gas, but here are the keys. My daddy never brought the car home since he was sick. Are trucks okay? I think trucks are neat, and they can carry lots of things. But I couldn’t find any gas.” She started to cry again.

“Oh, my dad’s garage is on Geneva Road. It’s really big. He made roads. There are dump trucks, too, and bulldozers, and stuff like that. Don’t you like bulldozers, Lisa?”

The little girl couldn’t understand Lisa’s serious look, and she started to cry again. “I still get the candy, don’t I?”

“Sure you will, Eileen. But trucks, wow! Can we ever use a truck! Thank you, Eileen. Thanks a lot. Will you show me how to get there sometime?”

Missy had been watching them intently. She hadn’t seen Eileen cry much before this. Missy came toward her and said, “I already have my can, but I think I know where another one is. Come on, I’ll show you.”

As she entered the house, she could hear loud arguing in the living room. Obviously, the militia meeting was still under way.

“Hey, Lisa,” Steve said. “Guess who’s got the wild ideas now? You ought to hear Charlie’s plan. Tell her, Charlie.”

Lisa flopped down on the big couch. “I told you he was the crazy one,” she said.

But Charlie wasn’t a quitter. He described how they could train dogs to fight and kill if necessary. His dad had a book on training police dogs, and he’d read a mystery story about a man who trained killer dogs. Lisa was thinking about their castle surrounded by angry dogs. It would be even better than a moat, she thought.

Charlie noticed her smile and thought she was mocking his plan. “I’m not finished yet, Lisa,” he said coolly. He went on to tell them that German shepherds were the best breed for the purpose. Since there were so many stray dogs everywhere, he was sure he could find dozens to train. “Besides, I know a lot about dogs. My dad taught me.” Charlie had been secretly training Danny, his English setter. He offered to give Lisa a demonstration.

“That’s not necessary, Charlie,” she said. “I think it’s a great idea. It’s better to use dogs for fighting than children.”

“You thought my other ideas were wild, did you? Wait till you hear this one!”

They listened carefully as she presented the details of the plan. There were no smiles and no jokes, just nodding. They could see her point that the houses on Grand Avenue were spread too far apart and were too hard to defend. The fire had taught them a lesson. Their own houses might be next.

She had expected them to argue and say that they wouldn’t leave their homes. But they were excited.

“Tonight, of course!” Lisa answered. “There’s no time to waste. We’ll have to spend some nights under cover getting the place ready. Then, in about five or six days, we can move in. Eileen’s dad had some big trucks. We’ll figure out how to drive one and then, one night, we’ll load all our stuff into the truck and slip it into Glenbard.”

They worked over the details of the plan until dark. No one but the six plotters would be told a thing about it until everything was ready. In the meantime, Steve could learn to drive a truck, Lisa and Jill could plan the indoor city, and Craig and Todd could hide supplies. They would work at night, and Charlie would be the temporary defense captain. Somehow, in the meantime, they would keep the enemy away.

There was no crying in the Jansens’ house that night. Could it be, wondered Jill, that earning their own toys is the reason for it? For once, Jill rested well.

But Todd and Lisa had far too many exciting thoughts for sleep. Lisa wanted her brother to understand why she was so happy. But how could she say it so he would understand?

Once there was a tiny kingdom across the sea with knights in shining armor who had lots of adventures. Everybody was truly happy. They were busy doing things they liked.

In a huge castle overlooking the sea lived the king and his young son, the prince. Their kingdom was very rich, because the king was the wisest man in the world—well, at least in their world. He knew how to be happy and he knew how to make his subjects happy. He was fair and generous, and most of all, he let his people be free.

Now you know from other fairy tales that kings usually made their money by taxing the people in their kingdom. Well, not this king—and maybe that was part of his wisdom. Other kings demanded cattle and gifts and jewels just because they wanted them. But they gave nothing in return. They didn’t really think that peasants were as good as royal people.

But this king was really a lot like a smart businessowner. He thought of his subjects more as customers than as slaves. And since he was wiser than anyone—since he knew more than any ten of them put together—well, what I’m getting at is that he sold them his wisdom. When they were unhappy or when they had a problem, they came to him for advice. If he could solve their problem, which he almost always did, then they would have to pay him. He would charge according to the size of the problem.

Advice about farming, for example, would only cost a goat or a pig. But advice about how to be happy was his specialty, and because happiness is the most important thing in the whole world, he charged a lot more for that kind of advice. Usually the people paid with their best jewels or with a year of service as a soldier to defend the country against the other kings—the ones who thought it was easy to get rich by fighting and looting.

The other kings couldn’t figure it out. Why was this king so rich? It seemed crazy to let his subjects be free and to organize an army that they didn’t have to join.

But those kings never saw the stream of people in line to buy the king’s advice. He got smarter and richer all the time. And the happier and freer his people became, the harder they worked. The harder they worked, the wealthier they became. The wealthier they became, the more time they had to face and solve their problems. And here was the king’s secret: while he got smarter, they got richer, so he could keep raising his prices.

Everybody got happier and happier, and the king couldn’t complain because he was getting richer.

But there was a big mystery about the king’s happiness advice. The people swore on their very happiness, never ever to reveal what the king told them—ever!

Such happiness was everywhere. Maybe that’s why they called it the kingdom of Real Fun. All the people of the land had real fun doing whatever they liked to do.

Does this sound a little too happy? Well, even the king had problems. Wisdom can’t stop them altogether, you know.

Everybody was getting happier each day, except for one very sad person who became sadder every day. And it troubled the king greatly, because that sad person was the prince, his son!

Now the king’s wisdom just wasn’t great enough to deal with this problem. He tried everything to make the boy happy. He gave him horses and friends to play with and toys and servants. The boy didn’t have a stitch of work to do. He had every reason to be happy, but he wasn’t.

The king was smart enough to know that the sad prince could never rule the land, because he was learning neither wisdom nor happiness.

The more the king gave to the prince, the sadder the prince became. Before long, even the king himself started to become sad. I must not be so smart, he said to himself, if I can’t even make my son happy.

When he was nearly at his wits’ end, the king decided to get help. He offered a big reward and had a notice posted all over the kingdom.

“Whoever can tell me how to make my son happy,” said the notice, “shall inherit this kingdom upon my death.”

And it was signed: “The King of Real Fun.”

As you might imagine, no one could advise the king as he wished, though hundreds of people tried.

And then tragedy came to the king. In the middle of a night that was sadder than most, the little prince disappeared. He was gone, without a trace.

Things got much worse, in fact, before they got better. The king began to lose confidence in his own wisdom and, of course, the advice business began to slack off.

Finally, one day in the spring of the second year after the prince had disappeared, business was so slow that only one person came to the king for advice. The king could see it clearly now. He was going broke! Pretty soon he would have to start taxing his people. He shuddered at the thought.

I can hold out for another month or so, he thought. Especially if I move into a smaller place. This castle costs a lot to keep up. Maybe my next customer will have a high-priced problem.

Then a visitor was announced.

“Your Highness, this young man seeks to hear any advice you may have about happiness.”

Good, the king thought. Another customer for happiness advice.

“Step up here, lad,” said the king, almost greedily. “What is your problem?”

The young man seemed terribly sad. From his expensive clothes, the king predicted a very high price for his advice. But what if I can’t help him? he thought. Even the king had lost faith in himself by this time.

“Have you guessed the ending already, Todd? These fairy tales are all very much alike, aren’t they? You haven’t? Okay then, I’ll finish the story.”

The young man said, “Great King, your wisdom has let my father prosper. He has earned riches not possible in other kingdoms. But can your wisdom help me? Though I have everything and though I try to be happy, I am still unhappy. I laugh out loud to myself, smile in the mirror, buy new clothes and horses and jewels every day. But still I am not happy.” And he cried right in front of the Great King.

The king smiled to himself. “This will be easy money,” he thought. “I’ll just give him my usual happiness advice.”

“I will help you,” the king said. “But first, do you swear by the happiness I will show you how to find that you’ll never repeat the words I shall now tell you?”

“Yes, Great King. I do so swear.”

The king went on. “And are you prepared to pay the high price for such advice?”

“Yes, Great King, I have a golden ring worth hundreds of goats.”

So the king drew a small card from his royal robe with the happiness advice neatly written on it. (You see, the king never said the words aloud for fear that some spy would overhear. After all, his advice was a trade secret.)

The words on the card made the young man smile a real smile for the first time in his long, sad life. The words were:

Having things is something but not everything.

Earning the values for your life is more than just something, it’s everything!

“Remember those words, lad. Get to know and understand their meaning. Happiness is quite simple, you know. There’s nothing in the world that you cannot face. Do not fear! Fear is the ugliest thing because it alone equals unhappiness.”

The king’s speech was finished, so he asked the young man for the golden ring.

“May I ask you a question first, Great King?”

“Yes, ask it!” said the king, a little impatiently.

“Why, Great King, should I have to pay for your advice if your own son couldn’t be made happy by it? And what good is your advice? Why should I give you my most precious treasure—my golden ring?”

The Great King was silent for the first time. He had always had a wise answer, but now he said nothing.

“Let me tell you something, Great King. Let me give you some advice for a change. I think you need it. Why, you yourself are not happy. I can see it in your face.”

The young man reached into his robe, pulled out a card of his own and gave it to the king. The king turned pale when he saw it. It said:

Let your son practice what you preach!

Let your son discover the truth that I already know: “Having things is something but not everything.

Earning the values for your life is more than just something, it is everything!”

Let your prince earn the values for his own life!

The king said, “Maybe you’re right, lad. I gave him too much. Just as your father has done to you. And if only I could find my son, I would try your advice. My wisdom tells me that you are right—that giving him too much was a great error.

“Find my son and bring him to me! If your advice helps him to find happiness, then you shall inherit the kingdom and all that I own.”

“Your Highness, I have already found him. He knows my advice and now he is truly happy,” said the young man.

The king was astounded at these words. And he knew their truth when he saw the golden ring—the one he’d given to his son, the prince.

The young man removed his disguise and said, “Yes, Father, I am he—your son and the rightful prince of this kingdom. I have earned happiness and the right to inherit all that is ours.”

Needless to say, they lived happily ever after.

Lisa ended the story. Todd was trying to think it through. He didn’t understand it completely yet.

The day had been a bright new beginning for Lisa. She forgot her sadness. She had made a real plan for the children of Grand Avenue. And she had, during the course of her fairy tale, found a grain of precious truth.

The Glenbard plan worked perfectly. On the night of January first, Grandville became a ghost town. Its citizens and their secret treasures disappeared from the face of the earth. Or so, at least, it seemed to the fearsome and cruel army of Chidester—and Elm.