Wanted! by Caroline B. Cooney Page B

where Flemming was, she had to let Paul lead, but he was walking at her pace, so the let-Paul-lead theory was not working. They were coming to an intersection of paths and she would not know where to go. “I feel like sleeping on the grass,” she admitted.
    By day, “grass” sounded green and soft, a place where you might sit and picnic. But at night, “grass” sounded black and cold, creatures slithering over you and nothing to protect you.
    Paul took Alice seriously, as if he had slept on the grass once. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “The temperature’s really dropped. It’ll get even colder during the night. We might have a frost. Listen, you can spend the night with a friend of mine at Flemming. Her roomie always stays with her boyfriend, so Ginger’s got an extra bed. Ginger’s on the sixth floor. Where are you?”
    Alice felt ruined, hopeless, yet she was able to deduce that sixth might be the top floor, in which case if she said seventh, Paul would know he had a problem here. “Third,” she said easily.
    “You won’t run into your roommate then,” he said. He strode to the left and she turned with him, and around the next building was a many-arrowed sign. Flemming’s arrow pointed across a major street. Paul hit the Walk button, and they waited patiently for the lights to turn. People gathered around them and she felt strangely less safe in a group.
    Alice found herself gripping Paul’s arm above the elbow, where the muscle felt as solid as the smile had. She tried to let go, but letting go didn’t happen, and Paul did not seem to mind. He said, “What’s your name?”
    It was Dad who had Other Life fantasies. Dad who liked to talk about changing his name, going underground, becoming a spy. Had Alice, listening to Dad ramble, also planned to become another person with another life? Rehearsed what to say to a future Paul? She must have, because the lie came so easily. “Emily,” she told him.
    A wonderful fantasy grew in her mind. What if Dad had vanished? What a great explanation! That was the answer. Her father was not dead at all, but had run away to begin his Other, more exciting, more dangerous, Life.
    How comfortable this idea was. Like a teddy bear. She would cuddle it during the night.
    “Emily,” repeated Paul. “It’s a nice person name, too.” He shifted her with practiced ease, so that she was not gripping his arm, but holding his hand.
    Alice had a sudden memory of her first day in kindergarten, when her parents had parked on the far side of the street. To make the big and scary crossing to that vast and frightening school, they stood on each side of her, so she had two hands to hold. She remembered her mother’s skirt, her father’s khakis.
    What could have happened to that happy marriage?
    I have to read the printout, she thought. Because I have another mystery to solve. Where did the love go?
    She thought: Is Mom afraid for me? Or afraid of me? Oh, Mom! What can you be thinking about me? We have to talk. But I can’t talk to the police. I can’t have that horrible E-mail between us.
    Paul was telling her about his major. He was studying computer engineering, of course; people who did not understand computers were hopeless. Someday he would have his own company, writing the best software, and people would recognize him on television.
    Now that Alice thought about it, she realized that people asked very few questions. Without any hesitation, Paul had accepted her as another college student. What if Paul watched the news tonight and found out otherwise? What if Mom had supplied the police and the network with a photograph of Alice?
    It was suddenly gruesome. If Alice were to turn on the six o’clock news, she would see herself.
    But it was way past six. The news was over, unless you stayed up to eleven. Alice supposed everybody in college did stay up, but she doubted it was to catch the news.
    The Walk light flickered. Paul stepped into the street. Alice did not. She