Follow the Elephant by Beryl Young Page A

money, you’ll be wearing my fanny pack.”
    Ben shook his head. “I can’t do it. I’d feel too lame.”
    Gran’s jaw was set. “Then give the money back to me.” She opened the zipper. “It will be safe in my pack, even though you think it’s funny.”
    For a millisecond, Ben thought maybe he
could
wear the fanny pack. After all, nobody knew him in India. Then he realized there was no way; he’d rather be seen wearing his grandmother’s skirt than the belly pouch. He took out the bills and handed them to his grandmother. Not looking at her, he stomped on ahead.
    “Sorry, but that’s the way it has to be, Ben.” Gran said, rushing along behind him. “We should hurry. The train leaves at ten, and we’ve got to collect our backpacks at the hotel.”
    Ben sat on the rickshaw as far apart from his grandmother as he could. It had been such a scare losing the wallet. His legs were still shaky. He felt stupid and embarrassed, but Gran should understand that anyone could lose a wallet once in their life. Now she’d taken away his chance to show it would never happen again.
    Ben crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head away from his grandmother. He was first up the steps of the Hotel Rama. It was almost eight.
    The clerk at the reception desk was a man they’d never seen before.
    “Our backpacks are locked in that room behind the desk,” Ben said.
    The clerk disappeared and returned with a small black overnight bag. “This is the only thing in our storeroom,” he said, shaking his head.
    “I know our two backpacks are there. We saw the clerk put them in the room,” Ben said. “Where is the afternoon clerk?”
    “He went home early with a bad ache,” said the new clerk.
    “We need our packs. We have to get to the train station tonight,” Gran almost shouted. “Please get the manager.”
    “No manager on night duty, madam,” the clerk said firmly.
    Ben began to search the lobby. He opened one door to a bathroom and another that led to a set of stairs. This was crazy. How could two backpacks disappear?
    Gran paced back and forth in front of the desk. “Every single thing we own is in those bags. Our passports. Our visas. Our airline tickets.”
    “I wonder if they could be in our room?” Ben said.
    “Most certainly I do not think so,” said the clerk, defiantly. “You are being checked out of the hotel and your room will have been cleaned.”
    “Why not let me look in the room?” Ben asked.
    “No, sir, we cannot do that. You see, you are being checked out. But I will call our porter. He will look for us.”
    He ran the bell on his desk twice. They waited. Gran perched on a dirty chair in the lobby. She was taking deep breaths. Ben stalked back and forth in a steady path in the lobby. It was now twenty minutes past eight.
    “Do not worry,” said the desk clerk. “The train station is a short walk from here.”
    After ten minutes, their old friend, Mr. Fix-it, shuffled into the lobby.
    “Oh, no,” Gran said. “I can’t believe it.” Her face was scarlet. Ben wondered if that’s how a person looked when they were about to have a heart attack.
    “Let him try to find it, Gran,” Ben said.
    It was another long wait before Mr. Fix-it came down the stairs, making a big show of carrying the two backpacks. “This afternoon I am seeing the bags, and I am having them returned to your room.”
    Gran glared at the man. Mr. Fix-it dropped the two packs and stretched out his hand for a tip. “You are being most welcome.”
    “The man is beyond belief,” Gran muttered, picking up her backpack and heading for the door. Ben followed and when they were outside, burst out laughing. “That guy actually expected us to give him a fat tip!”
    Gran trotted along, muttering about the “stupid old fool in the stupid Hotel Rama.”
    “Chill, Gran. It wasn’t a hotel, remember? It was an experience.”
    “Never to be repeated, I hope,” she said.
    “We got our bags. Lighten up.”
    Inside the