Lost in the River of Grass by Ginny Rorby Read Free Book Online Page B

hours.
    Andy gives a short, bitter laugh. “Not on a city sidewalk, it ain’t.”
    â€œHow long will it take?”
    â€œTwo days, maybe.”
    â€œTwo days!” My throat closes.
    â€œMaybe three. The water’s still pretty high.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, no?”
    â€œYou can’t.”
    â€œI’ll be fine. It’s not as bad as it looks.” He dips his hand in the water and lets it pour through his fingers.
    â€œAndy, I can’t stay here by myself. What happens when it gets dark?”
    â€œYou can sleep in the cabin.”
    A shudder runs through me. “There are rats and
roaches
in there.”
    â€œThere’s nothing out here to hurt you if you stay in the cabin after dark. You may see or hear raccoons, a skunk, or a possum, but nothing dangerous. Plus, you got your buddy there.” He nods toward the duckling, which is snuggled against my foot, its head tucked between its shoulder blades. Every few seconds it makes a little peeping sound, as evenly spaced as hiccups.
    â€œWhy can’t we wait for them to find us?”
    â€œWho’s them?”
    â€œYour parents.”
    â€œThis is Saturday. Dad won’t be back until Monday afternoon. Mom left early this morning to help with a baby that’s due this weekend. Who knows when she’ll be back? There’s no one to miss me.”
    â€œWell, I’ll be missed. They’ll be getting back pretty soon, and Mr. Vickers will come to check on me. He’ll call my parents as soon as he finds me missing.”
    â€œEven so, Sarah, how long will it take anyone to guess where you went? Did you tell any of the other girls you were going out on the airboat with me?”
    Tell the AABCs? After they make sure I didn’t steal any of their junk, they’ll be happy I’m gone.
I bite my lip, then shake my head. “Didn’t you tell someone?”
    â€œNo. Remember? It was our little secret. And what makes you think it will occur to anyone that you might be in the missing airboat, if they even notice it’s gone?” Andy hitches himself up on the dock and sits with his legs dangling in the water. He seems unconcerned that the gator has resurfaced and is watching us—just his eyes and two nose-holes above the surface.
    â€œThe way I figure it,” he says finally, “they may miss you pretty soon, unless they think you’ve gone for a walk. When they do realize you’re gone, they won’t know where to start looking. They might think you’ve been kidnapped or something. It won’t occur to anyone that we might be together until one of my parents gets home. In all likelihood, that will be my father late Monday. Best guess is they’ll find the boat trailer Monday evening, but too late to start searching. And even then, they won’t have a clue which direction I went, or that you’re with me. Once they start searching, it could take a week to finally locate us if we stay here. You saw how overgrown this place is. You can’t even see it from the air. There’s a north-south levee. If I start walking now, I can be on it by Monday, and out by Tuesday morning.”
    I begin to tremble. Everything he says makes perfect sense. “Maybe the owners will come out to hunt.”
    â€œIt ain’t hunting season, and they haven’t been here in months, maybe even years.”
    â€œThat swing looks pretty new.”
    â€œSo you think they’ll come out to visit it?”
    â€œDon’t be mean. I can’t stay here alone for a minute, much less for a couple of nights. No way.”
    He sighs and shrugs. “There’s only one other choice then. You have to come with me.”
    â€œAre you crazy? I can’t swim through that.” I point to the pond scum that has drifted in to encircle his legs. “And there are alligators everywhere.”
    â€œThe gators ain’t gonna bother us, and