As Easy as Falling Off the Face of the Earth by Lynne Rae Perkins Read Free Book Online Page A

answering their phone and telling him what he should do.
    “I think they have reservations at some of the places they want to stay,” he said. “My grandpa has the list. But I think some of the time they’re just going to sail around wherever. I feel like I should just go home. But it’s kind of impossible. I only have, like, eighty-five dollars, and my return ticket is in my backpack, which is who knows where.”
    “Maybe he could work with us for a couple of days, Del,” said Beth, “and earn his train fare. He looks like a strapping lad. And in the meantime,” she said, turningback to Ry, “your grandpa will remember to check the answering machine, or he’ll be there when you call. I bet he’s next door, blabbing with Betty.”
    It was the sort of thing you say to make a person feel like he’s doing something when all there is to do is wait. No one, except maybe Ry, who didn’t know what would happen next, really expected him to work long enough to earn three hundred dollars, or whatever it would cost for a ticket. It was a distraction. But everyone went with it, waiting for the better idea to come along.
    “We need to find him some shoes then,” said Del. “He can’t work in flip-flops.”
    “What size are you?” asked Pete.
    “Ten,” said Ry.
    “Same as me,” said Arvin. “Almost. I’m ten and a half.”
    “Do you have any extra shoes?” asked Pete.
    “No,” said Arvin. “Not work shoes.”
    “He needs shoes he can keep,” said Beth, “to wear back on the train. We can make a quick trip to the Sally.”

(SHOES) (LOST AND FOUND) (CINDERELLA)
    “T he Sally” was the Salvation Army Thrift Shop. Once inside, Ry’s new companions strayed like cats, every one to his own way. He stood just inside the door, bereft. Without his team buoying him along, he was less certain that what he was doing made any sense. He moved toward a set of shelves that held plates, bowls, and glasses. Kitchen things. The shelf at eye level was filled with mugs imprinted with photographs of children, grandchildren, best friends, boyfriends, and girlfriends. There were inscriptions like “World’s Best (fill in the blank)”, “I ♥ (whoever)”, “BFF.”
    Abandoned now like puppies at the pound, they huddled together on the cold metal shelf. It was kind of depressing. Who was going to buy a mug with a picture of a total stranger? They were doomed. Their rankswould only grow. It would be kind of funny, though, if you had a restaurant, to use only this kind of cup. He was momentarily glad to be far from home; if he saw someone he knew on a cup, he would have to rescue it. Them.
    “Ohmigod,” said Beth, suddenly beside him. “Look what I found. Wait. We have to go to an outlet.” She took Ry by the elbow. As she led him along, he saw that in her other hand she carried a plastic cactus in a plastic pot, with a cord attached. When they reached the wall, she plugged it in. Many of the plastic cactus bristles were optic fibers, and pinpricks of light shone from their tips in an ever-changing array of color.
    “I can’t believe someone would get rid of this,” said Beth. “Can you?” When Ry didn’t immediately respond, she said, “Picture it in the dark.”
    “Cool,” said Ry. It would be better in the dark, he guessed, when you couldn’t see the cheesy plasticness of it, just the shimmering lights.
    “Okay,” said Beth. “Never mind. Let’s go find you some shoes.”
    On the way she grabbed a package of socks from a spinning rack.
    Del was already in the shoe area. He was methodically checking each pair in the unmethodical aroma-of-feetjumble for size. He glanced up as they approached.
    “It’s not the greatest selection,” he said. “But I found a few.” He nodded toward three pairs he had set aside.
    Ry had imagined something like the work boots Del and his crew all wore, maybe a more beat-up version of his own hiking boots. A pair of tennis shoes would have been okay. So far, his choice was