The Tracks by Sally Royer-Derr (little readers TXT) 📕

watch. There were no clues on it. Just his name, Joe Tucker, which I already knew. I didn’t know where to start.

Tommy’s mother. That’s where I should start. But how would I even find her? I considered making another trip to the library. But a better idea came to me. Mrs. Gilbert.

Mrs. Gilbert was our ancient next-door neighbor. I didn’t know how old she was. She seemed like a hundred years old to me. Her hair was gray, but her eyes and ears were sharp. She knew just about everything that went on in this little town.

I jumped from bed and walked out to the kitchen. Sam sat at the table, studying the Cheerios box.

“Hey.” He glanced up from the cereal and frowned. “You look like shit. Why do you have grass all over you?”

I brushed it out of my hair. “I don’t know.” I grabbed a banana out of the white ceramic bowl sitting in the center of the table. I quickly pulled it and took a bite. “I’m going over to Mrs. Gilbert’s.”

“What for?” Sam asked suspiciously. “What are you up to now?”

I slowly chewed the banana. “She’s a nice woman. And our neighbor.” I popped the rest of the fruit in my mouth.

“She is our neighbor, but she’s not nice. She’s a gossipy old hag.” Sam grunted. “But at least she’s a real person. That’s an improvement for you.”

I glared at him and slammed the front door on my way out.

Mrs. Gilbert lived in a trailer, too. I thought it was a newer one. Not quite as run-down as ours. But if one was judging on the tackiness quality, she won hands down. Pink flamingos stood proud in her well-clipped front yard. Wooden tulips in yellow, blue, and red lined the walkway to her front door. I’d never understand why someone would put wooden flowers in their yard. Why not just plant real ones? A fairy wind chime hung under her short porch roof, tinkling softly as a slight breeze rippled through the air. I knocked on the green door with a grapevine wreath, decked out in American flag ribbons.

Movement inside. Then the door opened.

“Oh my, the girl from next door!” Mrs. Gilbert exclaimed. “What a nice surprise! Come in. Come in.”

She was a small lady with gray hair and a large, round face. Reading glasses hung from a chain around her neck, and she always smelled like sauerkraut.

“Hi,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Her round face broke into a smile. “Let’s sit down and chat. Would you like some donuts? I just picked them up at the bakery this morning.”

“Sure.” I picked a glazed twist from the pink bakery box she shoved at me.

We sat at her white kitchen table. I imagined she’d gone to Hawaii at some point in her life. A set of hula girl and boy salt and pepper shakers, a palm tree sugar bowl, and a big coffee mug that read Hawaii all sat on the table.

“So, what can I do for you?” Her bright pumpkin-colored running suit almost blinded me.

“Did you know the people who used to live in our trailer?” I took a bite of my donut.

“Oh, a tragedy when the boy died.” She shook her head. “That mother was a mess. But she was devastated when he died. So sad.”

“Where did the mother go after her son died?”

“Just the next town over. Somerset.” Mrs. Gilbert lowered her voice.

I didn’t know why since we were the only ones there.

“Moved in with a new man,” she went on. “That one always had a new man in her life. I don’t think Maureen Grumbine could live without a man.”

“Somerset.” I nodded.

“Just a twenty-minute bus ride from here. I don’t drive no more, so I take the bus over there sometimes. Their mall is a lot bigger than ours. Has one of those Auntie Anne’s pretzel stands. I do love those cinnamon sugar pretzels. You like those, sweetie?”

“Sure,” I agreed. I stood, in a hurry to leave now. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Gilbert. I really must get going. Thanks so much for the donut.”

“Anytime, sweetie. You stop by whenever you like,” she called as I sailed out her front door.

I walked back home, feeling a pressure on my shoulder. I touched it and felt something familiar. Tommy’s hand. He was with me. I imagined he was always with me. But I couldn’t see him.

“Where are you?” I whispered.

“Right beside you.” His voice in my ear.

Chapter Nineteen

I got my bike and pedaled toward town. I secured some birthday money I had stashed in my room in my pocket. Plenty for a bus ride to Somerset. The air was cool this morning, which was a nice change. And it hummed in my ears as I gained speed.

What was I going to say to Tommy’s mother? Hello, I’ve been talking to your dead son, and he wanted me to visit you. Maybe you can help me find his father who abandoned you fifteen years ago? Yeah, right. She’d probably call the cops. If someone told me that, I’d think they were nuts for sure. But I wasn’t crazy. I didn’t think so. I was as sane as anybody else. I had to do this because nobody else was able to help Tommy. I couldn’t let him be stranded at the tracks for all eternity.

Didn’t take me long to reach the bus station, an old-fashioned one, probably built fifty years ago with its inflated columns and bright-red metal benches. Soon I sat in a cracked green vinyl seat, heading for Somerset. The bus was empty, except for a pretty blonde woman and a cute little girl with long pigtails.

I clutched the watch in my pocket like it was going to give me some answers.