mean, how is it possible that you’ve never spoken to anyone but me outside of your own family?”
“Well, not only my family. There’s a whole… community I live with. The simple answer is—we don’t talk to outsiders.”
I narrowed my eyes, shaking my head in confusion. “But that can’t be true. You go into town sometimes—to the library.”
“Yes. Not a lot of chatter there. The librarian gave up trying to talk to me years ago. The fact I even go into town at all would cause more trouble than you can imagine if my father found out. Especially now. He’s even worse than usual about it.”
“So why do you risk going?”
“Well, I’ve got to have books.” His tone suggested the slowest of the slow should already understand that. “I told you—after I met you all those years ago, I went back and watched you in the yard of that house. I was working up the courage to approach you, trying to figure out how to somehow lure you back into the woods, so I could… I don’t know, get to know you, see you up close again. Then, I didn’t see you for a long time.”
I thought back to the weeks following my rescue from the woods. “I was always trying to find you again—every time we came over to Grandma Neena’s house, I tried to sneak away to the woods, but someone would stop me. They kept telling me you weren’t real. My dad put deadbolt locks near the top of Grandma’s doors. After I figured out to pull a chair over and stand on it to get them unlocked, we stopped visiting Grandma here. She came over to our house in town instead for… I don’t know… years, I guess.”
“Ah, I see. After a few weeks, I feared you weren’t coming back here. That’s when I went into town for the first time, but I had no real plan, no idea how to actually find you. And there were so many other people. I was amazed. I watched people. One day I spotted a mother and two children pulling books in a wagon on the sidewalk. I followed them into a building, and it was wonderful inside—so many books. I started going every few days to read. And to listen. I listened all the time. Listening to conversations there, together with what I’d read, I gradually learned to speak… the way you do.”
Lad glanced over at me and then away again with a shaky laugh, like he couldn’t quite believe he’d told me all that.
“You mean your family speaks a different language?”
He pressed his lips together, darting his eyes down and to the side, apparently thinking of how to explain. “We communicate… differently. I learned to speak the way you do for the same reason I learned to read the books and newspapers and magazines at the library. I wanted to understand your people… so I could someday talk to you .” He gave me a tentative smile.
A hot wave passed through me, a feeling of rightness, of something being completed. I was supposed to be here—to be with him. Our meeting again hadn’t been an accident. “If I’d known you were actually looking for me, waiting for me—wow—I probably would’ve ridden out here on my little bike, with or without the training wheels. So then… what happened? Where have you been the past few days?”
“I’ve told you. I couldn’t see you again. I’m not seven years old anymore, Ryann. I understand now it doesn’t work. You ask questions I can’t answer.”
“Why not? Why can’t you? Lad, try me. It’s okay—I won’t be mad or anything,” I said.
A bemused expression lifted his face. “Mad about what?”
“Whatever you tell me. I mean, I won’t be mad if you and your people are… you know…”
“What? If my people are what?” The amusement was gone. He was tense, his eyes widening. This wasn’t going well. He was supposed to be getting more comfortable about opening up to me, not feeling more threatened. Lad stared at me, waiting.
“If your people are… squatters.” I rushed through the last word, squinting, waiting for his reaction.
“Squatters?” He
“Well, not only my family. There’s a whole… community I live with. The simple answer is—we don’t talk to outsiders.”
I narrowed my eyes, shaking my head in confusion. “But that can’t be true. You go into town sometimes—to the library.”
“Yes. Not a lot of chatter there. The librarian gave up trying to talk to me years ago. The fact I even go into town at all would cause more trouble than you can imagine if my father found out. Especially now. He’s even worse than usual about it.”
“So why do you risk going?”
“Well, I’ve got to have books.” His tone suggested the slowest of the slow should already understand that. “I told you—after I met you all those years ago, I went back and watched you in the yard of that house. I was working up the courage to approach you, trying to figure out how to somehow lure you back into the woods, so I could… I don’t know, get to know you, see you up close again. Then, I didn’t see you for a long time.”
I thought back to the weeks following my rescue from the woods. “I was always trying to find you again—every time we came over to Grandma Neena’s house, I tried to sneak away to the woods, but someone would stop me. They kept telling me you weren’t real. My dad put deadbolt locks near the top of Grandma’s doors. After I figured out to pull a chair over and stand on it to get them unlocked, we stopped visiting Grandma here. She came over to our house in town instead for… I don’t know… years, I guess.”
“Ah, I see. After a few weeks, I feared you weren’t coming back here. That’s when I went into town for the first time, but I had no real plan, no idea how to actually find you. And there were so many other people. I was amazed. I watched people. One day I spotted a mother and two children pulling books in a wagon on the sidewalk. I followed them into a building, and it was wonderful inside—so many books. I started going every few days to read. And to listen. I listened all the time. Listening to conversations there, together with what I’d read, I gradually learned to speak… the way you do.”
Lad glanced over at me and then away again with a shaky laugh, like he couldn’t quite believe he’d told me all that.
“You mean your family speaks a different language?”
He pressed his lips together, darting his eyes down and to the side, apparently thinking of how to explain. “We communicate… differently. I learned to speak the way you do for the same reason I learned to read the books and newspapers and magazines at the library. I wanted to understand your people… so I could someday talk to you .” He gave me a tentative smile.
A hot wave passed through me, a feeling of rightness, of something being completed. I was supposed to be here—to be with him. Our meeting again hadn’t been an accident. “If I’d known you were actually looking for me, waiting for me—wow—I probably would’ve ridden out here on my little bike, with or without the training wheels. So then… what happened? Where have you been the past few days?”
“I’ve told you. I couldn’t see you again. I’m not seven years old anymore, Ryann. I understand now it doesn’t work. You ask questions I can’t answer.”
“Why not? Why can’t you? Lad, try me. It’s okay—I won’t be mad or anything,” I said.
A bemused expression lifted his face. “Mad about what?”
“Whatever you tell me. I mean, I won’t be mad if you and your people are… you know…”
“What? If my people are what?” The amusement was gone. He was tense, his eyes widening. This wasn’t going well. He was supposed to be getting more comfortable about opening up to me, not feeling more threatened. Lad stared at me, waiting.
“If your people are… squatters.” I rushed through the last word, squinting, waiting for his reaction.
“Squatters?” He
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