“Long enough. I went outside early—I saw a moose. Did you catch that bull moose, Ashley? It was standing over there by the back fence, where the rail is split.”
“Yes.” Ashley nodded. “Yes, I did. But I thought it was a girl.”
“Nope. It had that bell thingy hanging down from its neck, which makes it a guy. I read it in a book.”
Jack felt his impatience rising as Nicky smiled a little, his lips visible through the lower hole of the ski mask. Was he just playing games, Jack wondered?
You’d think you’d be able to read a person’s expression as long as the eyes and mouth showed, but it didn’t work that way, Jack realized. All parts of a face had to come together to project gloom or joy, fear or scorn, interest or mockery.
“Then I saw you two, and I said to myself, ‘Nicky, something’s going on. Someone is talking.’” Before Jack had a chance to answer, Nicky waved his hand and said, “Your parents should be more careful.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean they should be more careful?” Jack demanded. “We still didn’t learn anything about this ‘danger’ we might be in. I want to know who you are and why exactly you’re here with us.”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Ashley caught her breath, but Nicky just laughed. “Come on guys, that was a joke. I’m trying to lighten the mood here.”
“I don’t think you’re funny,” Jack told him.
Nicky’s voice turned suddenly grave. “Yeah. Nothing much about my life has been funny. It actually sucks. But it’s going to get better. My dad—he promised me that.” He looked out into the trees, his dark eyes staring at something Jack couldn’t see.
It was Ashley who finally broke the silence. “Can you tell us?” she asked softly. When she spoke, her breath made a tiny cloud.
Nicky shifted on the bench. “I’m not supposed to. But then again, you went and heard, so maybe I can tell you some. I’m from Philadelphia—maybe you already know that. It was just me and my dad and then about a week ago…about a week ago he had to leave, and I had to find a place to land and that’s how I ended up with you. But don’t feel sorry for me or nothin’,” he rushed on. “We’re going to get back together soon, me and my dad, and then I’ll be outta here. It’s all good.”
Jack scowled. Hadn’t his parents said there was danger? Hadn’t they talked about hiding from who-knew-what up in the frozen north? He wanted to reach out and shake Nicky, but Ashley kept talking in her calm voice, as if they were having a conversation about oatmeal. What was it like living in a big city? Crowded, Nicky answered, but with really good restaurants that served dishes with names he couldn’t pronounce and spices that made his tongue burn and streets that were lit up like noon all night long and stayed bustling until the crack of dawn. What was his favorite class? Science, because you got to dissect real frogs. After that maybe math. For ten long minutes the conversation droned on, Nicky’s dark eyes locked on Ashley’s, his mouth seeming disconnected because of the ski mask, as if it belonged to a ventriloquist’s dummy.
“…so I’m a city kid who ended up in the frozen north. Man, who’d a thought?” Nicky shook his head. “I can’t believe they would send me all the way here. But that Ms. Lopez lady was right; I do feel OK about it. Except for maybe the wolves and bears.” The whole time he’d been talking Nicky had been working on a tiny eight-inch snowman, and now he stuck two spruce needle arms on it as well as a spruce needle nose. “You like this thing?” he asked Ashley.
Jack’s annoyance deepened. If his sister wanted to chatter like nothing was wrong, that was fine, but he was sick of pretending the three of them were rambling through a regular conversation. Whatever Nicky’s secret was, Jack wanted to know and he wanted to know now. “What are you running away from?” he demanded.
The smile faded from Nicky’s face.
“You heard what my parents said—that no one would think to look at a wildlife veterinarian and all of that. So who’s looking?”
No answer.
“If you’re not going to tell us, then why’d you bring us over to this table?”
No answer.
“I mean, why all the secrets? Why don’t you just tell us and then we can go into the house and have some hot chocolate and forget about it. This is just dumb.”
Nicky held up his right hand. “No, it’s all right,” he said to Ashley when she began to argue that Nicky should be able to tell things the way he wanted to. “Jack’s right. See, that’s the part I need you guys to understand.” His voice became suddenly slow, deliberate, and in an odd way everything around them seemed to hush. Even a black-billed magpie that had been fluttering at the top of a spruce stopped its strident cawing. “There are…things…about me…you need to leave alone. Not that I don’t want to tell you, but it’s not safe for you to know.”
Snorting, Jack said, “Oh, come on, get real. You’re in Alaska. Nobody’s going to find you up here. Mom and Dad said so.”
“I’m not talking about me.” He cocked his fingers as if he were holding a gun, and pointed at the snowman. He pretended to shoot, then blew at the tip of his finger as if clearing smoke from a gun barrel. “I’m talking about you two.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jack scoffed. “Somebody’s gonna come all the way up here to shoot us. Who? A terrorist?”
Nicky’s eyes narrowed, and he breathed quickly once or twice, sending vapor into the cold air. Jack could almost see the wheels turning inside his head as he thought things over. Suddenly he said, “I can’t really break my oath of secrecy, but we’ll play a guessing game. About my dad, right? I’ll give you a clue, and you have to figure it out.” His eyes were still narrowed, but now they had a glint in them.
“A game,” Jack said. “OK. Go.”
“Here’s the clue,” Nicky announced. “Charlie is alive.”
“Who’s Charlie?” Ashley asked.
“That’s the clue. You have to guess.” Nicky set the little snowman in the center of the table and pretended to shoot it, using his finger as a gun.
“Is the snowman Charlie?” Jack wanted to know.
“No. The snowman is dead. Charlie is the clue. Charlie. Is. Alive.” As Nicky bit off each word, Ashley looked toward Jack and shrugged.
Jack swept his gaze around the snowy landscape. “I got it,” he said. “Charlie is the magpie up there in the tree. It’s still alive.”
Nicky shook his head. “You guys are so dense. Charlie’s no one. Charlie is just a word. OK, I’ll give you another clue. Can icicles attack?”
“Huh?” What kind of clue was that? Jack strained his imagination to come up with some solution to the puzzle, because he couldn’t let Nicky beat him in this little brain game. He no longer cared whether it would reveal anything about Nicky’s father; it was just that he needed to win, to silence that superior tone in Nicky’s voice. Two clues, he told himself. Charlie is alive. Can icicles attack? “Well,” he muttered, “each sentence has three words.”
Ashley grew excited and added, “And the three words start with the same letters.”
“C-I-A!” Jack yelled. “Your dad’s with the CIA.”
Nicky leaped forward, slamming his hand over Jack’s mouth. “Keep it quiet,” he hissed. “Keep it quiet.”
CHAPTER THREE
Jack looked out the window of the