The Summer Experiment Read online

  “The turnip is very historic,” said Henry, all important, like he was Gregor Mendel or something. Henry once wrote a book report on Mendel’s life, and his report was fifty pages longer than the actual book. “Early colonists brought it to the New World in 1609. It’s a member of the Brassica family.”

  “No kidding?” I said, my eyes all glassy with boredom. “Well, I’m a member of the McKinnon family and I better get home before my supper gets cold, or Mom will kill me.”

  As I hurried down the aisle, I imagined my reflection caught in the lenses of Henry’s large spectacles.

  ***

  Sunday afternoon and night dribbled by slowly and painfully like the drip-drop, drip-drop of a leaky faucet, taking forever and driving me insane. At least the rain finally stopped. But without Marilee, my plan was still on ice. Finally, around five o’clock in the afternoon, I sent Marilee an instant message. I figured she would have her laptop at the motel. As much as it killed me, I hadn’t contacted her since Friday night. I hoped she could concentrate on visiting her dad and possibly even liking his girlfriend.

  AllagashRobbie: How’s it going?

  I’d forgotten about the message and was playing Spider Solitaire when the rooster crowed and a reply zinged back to me.

  MeMarilee: I hate her!

  AllagashRobbie: Give it time. Hang in there. See you soon. Tomorrow night: Peterson’s mountain!

  When she didn’t reply, I figured they’d probably gone out for supper, or “dinner” as they would be calling it, confusing the local waitresses.

  I can’t tell you why, but I hate Sundays. Everyone just seems to wander around like chickens without heads, waiting for school or work on Monday morning. So I got into bed early, flicked on my TV, and found America’s Got Talent. I watched a really cool kid dance. He was cute too. He looked a lot like Billy Ferguson, dark-haired and dark-eyed. Since that fiasco on Frog Hill, I had tried not to think of Billy in the way I often did. Sometimes, I would imagine him roaring into my yard on his four-wheeler, and instead of asking for Johnny, he’d say, “Is Roberta busy? Can she come riding with me?” And I’d put on my Fly helmet, which is pink and gray and white and has the word “FLY” written on it. I’d jump on the machine behind Billy and wrap my arms around his waist. Then off we’d go across the meadow, making all the frogs jump into Frog Pond.

  As it stood now, the only thing I had my arms wrapped around was the extra pillow on my bed. When the show finished at ten o’clock, I saw that the rain had stopped. Through the curtains in my window I could see the planet Jupiter and almost make out a few of its moons. With binoculars, I can find three of the moons. It gave me goose bumps sometimes to think of how big and wide our own galaxy is. Mrs. Dionne, our science teacher, says that most astronomers don’t question if there is life elsewhere in the universe, only where it is. That’s pretty awesome.

  ***

  “Roberta Angela?”

  My mom was knocking on my bedroom door and sunshine was spilling in through the windows. I squinted at my watch. It was almost eleven o’clock. I’m usually up long before this, but with school out, I guess my body was catching up on sleep.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Can you come downstairs, please?”

  Mom doesn’t use my middle name very often. She usually does it when she’s sad or has something unpleasant to tell me. Maybe she’s just heard a song on the radio by some guy named Bruce Springsteen, and it reminds her that her youth is slipping away. Or maybe the person she is cheering for on some reality show just got kicked off the island. Or she’s just watched that same old, sad movie where Ingrid Bergman gets on the airplane and leaves Humphrey Bogart behind, wearing that dumb hat he wears. I can almost recite that stupid movie by heart.

  “Roberta Angela?”

  “I’ll be right down,” I said. I dressed in jeans and a yellow shirt. I knew what to do if it was Casablanca again. I’d sit next to her on the sofa and pat her on the back. “Listen, kid,” I’d say. “If that plane leaves the ground and you’re not on it, you’ll always regret it. Remember, we’ll always have Paris.” That makes her laugh out loud. But it also means she will then have to hug me and say how much she loves me and how happy she is to be a mother. Wow, Mom, write it down and e-mail it to Hallmark. Let them put it on a greeting card. I don’t say that to her, of course. I’m patient with my parents. They’re human too.

  But this time, Mom’s face didn’t look like any of those things I mentioned.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. She came and put her arms around me.

  “Honey,” she said, “Marilee is missing.”

  When the room quit spinning around, I asked Mom some questions. Marilee had disappeared, or so I learned, sometime before 8 a.m. that morning. I remembered her instant message of the night before. I hate her. When Mr. Evans knocked on her motel-room door to wake her, she wasn’t there. The bed had been slept in, however, so he assumed she stayed in the room last night.

  “His hope is that she went shopping and will turn up at any moment. He called to see if you had talked to her lately.”

  I shook my head and said nothing, not yet, about the message or her feelings about the wedding. I knew she hadn’t gone shopping. Marilee and I aren’t the kind of girls who can spend hours at the mall trying on clothes we won’t buy. And where would she shop at 8 a.m.?

  ***

  By noon, when there was still no sign of Marilee, her parents contacted the Fort Kent Police Department and began driving the streets, hoping to find her walking around town. Since it was also possible she had found a ride back to Allagash, it was decided that Mom, Johnny, and I would search here. Dad had already gone to work. So we spent the next few hours searching everyplace we hoped she might be. The library. The school gym. Our two favorite rocks by the river. Her mom’s toolshed, her mom’s cellar, her mom’s attic. I even rode the four-wheeler over to Mr. Finley’s barn and asked if I could climb up into the hayloft and search through the hay piled there. A couple times before, Marilee and I had gone up there just to lie on our backs and smell the sweet smell.

  Marilee Julia Evans was nowhere to be found.

  By the time Mom, Johnny, and I got back home, I was exhausted and heartbroken. Was my best friend okay? Sure, we have no serial killers this far north, but there’s a first time for everything. And then, what if she headed south? What had she told me that night on Peterson’s Mountain? Do you think if I ran away, maybe downstate somewhere, that they would get back together? I hated the thought of it. No one wants to tattle on their friend. But I knew that if Marilee didn’t turn up soon, I’d have to tell my mom what I suspected.

  Before we could go inside the house, Catherine’s car pulled into the drive, followed by a second car. I felt my heart rise up with hope. Marilee’s dad was driving the second car and a brunette was in the passenger seat. But I soon saw that Marilee was in neither car. Catherine got out first and there was panic on her face. My mom hurried over to give her a hug.

  “She’s still missing,” Catherine said. “I hoped she might have come back to Allagash. I thought if we drove back here, we might see her walking along the roadside. But there was no sign of her.”

  In the country, twenty miles of road is nothing when you’re driving. Folks in Allagash are in Fort Kent almost every day, shopping or working their jobs. But if you’re a kid who has run away, it’s a good stretch. It’s all two-lane road too, and easy to spot a pedestrian. So if Marilee was trying to walk back to Allagash—she wouldn’t dare hitch a ride—she was obviously good at sneaking around and hiding out. The Air Force uses the word “stealth” for this kind of action.

  “We’ll find her, Cath,” my mom said. “She’ll turn up any minute.”

  Catherine looked straight at me.

  “Roberta, do you have any idea where Marilee is?” she asked. Behind her shoulder, Mr. Evans appeared. With him was a very pretty
woman dressed in blue jeans and a denim jacket. She.

  “Or where we might still look?” asked Mr. Evans. He seemed on the verge of panic too. But you could tell he was holding it together for everyone’s sake.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I wish I did.” It was the truth, really. I had no idea where she was. Only why she might have run away. And everyone must have figured that out by now.

  That’s when Deputy Hopkins turned into our driveway, the tires screeching on his police car. It was a wonder he didn’t have the blue light swirling and the siren blaring. Everyone in town knows that our deputy gets all excited if a skunk so much as raises its tail as it crosses the road. The door opened fast and out lurched Deputy Hopkins. Harold. Except, I forgot. It was now Sheriff Harold Hopkins, given that Stanley Mallory had resigned. But thank God it was only temporary. If Mr. Mallory never came back, surely the town would vote in someone more qualified than Harold. Mr. Finley’s dog, Mutt, would be a better candidate.

  “I’ve had no luck, Mr. Evans,” Harold said. He must have gotten up before dawn and polished his new sheriff’s badge. With the sun hitting it, it shone like a silver beacon. “My men and I have scoured this town, every picnic area, every parking lot, every rental cabin, you name it. If she left Fort Kent, she didn’t come to Allagash.”

  Johnny caught my eye and shot me a “What an idiot” look. It almost made me smile. Even fearing for Marilee’s safety, it was hard not to have fun with Harold. And then he went and said something really stupid, something Sheriff Mallory never would have said.

  “I don’t want to alarm you city folks,” said Temporary Sheriff Harold Hopkins. “But there’ve been a lot of UFO sightings in this area. As a matter of fact, we’re famous for abductions. So we can’t rule that out where your daughter is concerned.”

  Even if Sheriff Mallory had seen a UFO, he’d never say that to worried parents! Wait until the mayor and the Chamber of Commerce heard about this.

  Catherine gasped, and her hand flew up to her mouth.

  “Well, of all the crazy notions,” my mother said, putting her arm around Catherine. “Harold, I’ve known you to make some foolish mistakes as a policeman, but this takes the cake.”

  “Officer,” said Mr. Evans. He was now very angry. “You had better concentrate on looking for my daughter in the logical places, unless you want to be hit with a lawsuit.”

  Harold turned a little pale. The only thing he’d ever been hit with was a baseball, when Lonnie Black struck a line drive to third base during the big Fourth of July game between the firemen and the police department. Instead of keeping his eye on the ball, Harold was looking at Myra Colburn, who was sitting in the bleachers and giving him the fake eyelashes. He was out cold for two hours.

  “Sorry, folks,” Harold said, putting his hat back on. “I was just trying to cover all the bases.” Bases. He must have been remembering the Fourth of July game too.

  “Idiot,” I muttered, but it was under my breath. Mom would be mad if I was rude to an adult, even Harold. I went over to sit on the swing and wait to see what the adults would do next. To my surprise, she followed me.

  “Hello, Robbie,” she said as if she even knew me. “I’m Sarah. May I talk to you a moment?” I nodded that it was okay, so she sat next to me on the swing.

  “We will find Marilee. I’m sure of it,” Sarah said. “Thank God this isn’t Boston but northern Maine. Or I’d be more worried than I already am.”

  “You’re worried about her?” I asked. Sarah’s eyes got all watery then. I assumed it was due to tears.

  “It’s not easy for any kid,” she said. “I know because my parents divorced too. Sometimes, it still hurts when I talk about it.”

  “Wow,” I said. I needed to be a better daughter to my parents.

  “But her father and mother were already separated when I came into the picture,” Sarah said. “And there’s nothing I’d like any more than to be a good stepmother to Marilee. Will you tell her I said that?”

  I nodded. Sarah patted me on the shoulder then and smiled.

  “Now, to find her,” she said.

  ***

  By midnight I was still awake, staring out my window and wishing on every star I could see in the sky. There was still no word of Marilee. The local news carried the story, and we all prayed that would help us find her. I decided to sleep with my clothes on that night, even though my jeans were kind of dirty, just in case something happened. I wanted to be ready to run and hug Marilee if she was found. For the first time in almost a year, I fell asleep not knowing where my best friend was.

  9

  The Search

  By the next morning, the whole town had turned out to look for Marilee. And then the state police were called in. They figured it was a runaway case upfront, but in small towns like this, people and police still take the time to look. It’s not every day someone goes missing. In fact, nobody ever goes missing.

  I finally told my parents everything Marilee said, that if she ran away, maybe her mom and dad would get back together. I knew she’d feel obligated to do the same thing if I were the one who was missing.

  “Could she have gone back to Boston?” my mom asked.

  “I don’t know why she would,” said Catherine. “Her father is here in town. And she lost touch with most of the friends she had down there once she and Robbie became so close.”

  And then Marilee’s mother got a phone call from a former neighbor from when she and Marilee first moved back to Maine. This was at an apartment building in Fort Kent where they stayed for a couple months until Catherine found a house for sale in Allagash. The neighbor had looked out her kitchen window and there was Marilee, swinging on the swings used by children who lived in the building.

  “I saw the missing person story on the news,” said the neighbor, a woman named Carla. “So I called out to her and asked her to come in, but she refused. I ran inside to get the phone and when I came back out, the swing was still swinging but she was gone. It’s only been five minutes since she was here.”

  We knew where she was and that she was okay! At least she was still in a safe part of the country. Our hearts almost burst with joy, as much as some of the adults wanted to throttle Marilee. Funny how you can do that. You can pray with all your soul that someone is unharmed, please, and still alive. And then when you find out they are, you want to kill them. But I think everyone was mostly just relieved and happy, even though it wasn’t over yet.

  “I’ll call the Fort Kent police,” my dad said. He had stayed home from work to join the search. “I know Doody Michaud personally.” So he called and explained to the chief of police what had just happened. He also told him what the women said Marilee was wearing—a green sweatshirt and blue jeans. “And she has her brown hair tucked up under a black bandana to hide it.”

  Now Fort Kent was buzzing like a saw. And, of course, everyone wanted to drive there as fast as they could to search for Marilee. So her parents and my parents and my baby sister and my big brother and a fiancé named Sarah all piled into my Dad’s two-seater pickup truck and headed to Fort Kent. I didn’t want to go with them. Something in my mind kept telling me to stay there at home, that I could do more good there, especially if she finally telephoned me. And then, if I had gone, I’d have had to sit on Johnny’s lap or Marilee’s dad’s. Stay here at home, my mind whispered to me. So I stayed.

  Fort Kent was beyond buzzing now. But by mid-afternoon, when my mom telephoned to update me, things hadn’t changed. I was now sorry that I hadn’t gone with them. By now, almost three hours had passed since Marilee was spotted on the swing. Yet, no one in that town of 4,000 people had seen a young girl wearing a green sweatshirt. You almost had to be proud of her.

  “Robbie, there’s nothing you can do but wait,” Mom said. “Take a shower and get something to eat from the fridge. I’ll call you if there’s any news.”

  I went ups
tairs to my room and slipped out of the jeans I’d had on since the day before. They were really dirty from the search. There was even some hay in my back pocket from climbing up into Mr. Finley’s loft. I threw the jeans into my wicker laundry hamper and pushed open my closet door. I pulled a T-shirt from the top shelf and grabbed a clean pair of jeans. When I reached down for my leather sandals, I saw two red sneakers with white laces staring up at me. I didn’t own red sneakers, period, let alone ones with white laces. Where the heck did they come from? I leaned in for a closer inspection. When I grabbed one of the sneakers I discovered, to my surprise, that it had a warm foot in it.

  That’s when I remembered where I’d seen the red sneakers before. I pushed through my clothes hanging on the closet rod. And there she was.

  “Marilee Evans,” I said. “You come out of my closet and you come out now!”

  Her face was pale and streaked, so I knew she’d been crying. Her bottom lip was trembling.

  “I’m sorry, Robbie,” she whispered.

  Mad as I was, I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight.

  “We’ve been so worried,” I said. “When I first heard you were missing, I thought you had gone south and maybe a killer had picked you up.”

  “I wish,” she said. “But you’re right. I’m a big chicken. The Gutless Girl, remember?” She sat on the end of my bed and I sat next to her.

  “You are none of those things,” I said. “What you did was very brave.” I waited for a drum roll that never came. “Brave and also very stupid.”

  “I know,” she admitted. Then she sat wringing her hands as I called my mom pronto. Thank heavens her cell phone worked in Fort Kent. I heard Mom gasp and then cries of relief in dad’s pickup as she told Marilee’s parents. I hung up, knowing they’d be home in half an hour. I wanted that time to talk to my best friend.

  “Where did you sleep last night?”

  “In the big laundry basket they have at the apartments for tenants to use,” said Marilee. “I covered myself with my jacket. No one ever goes into the laundry room before eight a.m. anyway. So I knew I could be gone by then.”