Not-Just-Anybody Family

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Authors: Betsy Byars
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with hope and dread and pounding blood, he couldn’t even remember what baseball was. “Yes. No.”
    “Which is it?” The policeman smiled.
    “Yes.”
    “Well, the Cards won. Braves won. Phillies lost.”
    “Oh.”
    Pap pulled back his lips in a smile. He swallowed so hard, his Adam’s apple bobbed up to his chin.
    Now at last, the policeman was moving back down the cells and into the office. The door closed.
    With a sigh of relief Pap started to get to his feet. He was at the first, bent-knee stage, when he heard the noises outside.
    There were three of them: a muffled scream, a soft thud against the side of the building, and then a long, loud clanging noise as something hit the sidewalk. It clattered, and then there was silence.
    Pap scrambled onto his bunk.
    “What’s happened?” he called to the vent, “What’s happened?”
    He waited with his mouth open, like a thirsty man waiting for raindrops.
    “What’s happened? Please, somebody tell me what’s happened!”
    His feet were digging into his thin mattress, his hands gripping the concrete wall. It looked exactly like he was climbing up the wall, except that he wasn’t getting any higher.
    “What’s happened?”
    There was a long pause. Minutes went by. Pap was so still, he could hear the ticking of his pocket watch. Then Pap saw the most beautiful sight of his life. A hand came through the vent and clutched the sill.
    “Vern,” he asked, still not daring to hope, “is that you?”
    “It’s me,” Vern answered.

CHAPTER 20
Maggie Alone
    Maggie was still waiting on the sidewalk, looking up at the lighted vent with her mouth open.
    If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget Vern’s desperate leap for the building. He had flung himself through the air, his arms and legs churning like an Olympic jumper’s. Then he slammed into the wall, and his thin hands gripped the ledge. He had hung there for what seemed to Vern and Maggie to be the longest minute and a half in the history of recorded time.
    Maggie kept waiting for him to fall to the ground. Vern kept hanging there.
    Maggie glanced around. She wished she had something to put under him to break his fall.
    When Maggie saw the board, she got a brainstorm, the first of her life. “Hold on,” she yelled.
    She took the fallen board, upended it, shoved it up against the wall, and gave Vern’s dangling feet a boost. It was all Vern needed.
    One foot found a toehold. His other knee pushed his body out from the wall. He worked the toe of his shoe between the bricks, and he pulled himself up six inches. His toe moved up a brick.
    Vern inched his way up the rest of the wall, moving as carefully as a mountain climber, his tennis shoes digging into the wall, his hands reaching into the vent. It was a slow, superhuman, agonizing effort that Maggie watched from directly below.
    She watched Vern wiggle eel-like through the vent. He had to turn his head sideways, the vent was so small, and she turned her head sideways too. She had sucked in her breath as he, too, had done to get his chest through the vent. She pulled in her stomach as he went over the sill.
    For a few seconds there had been just his thin legs sticking out of the vent. Then they disappeared in a scissors kick, and Vern was in the city jail.
    The leap had been so exciting, and her part in it so spectacular, that Maggie had wanted to jump up and down and cheer. It had been like something out of the circus, the most exciting, successful moment of her entire life.
    Now, however, with the realization that Vern was inside with Pap and that she was outside with nobody, all she felt was lonely.
    “Vern!” she called softly.
    It had been ten minutes since Vern’s legs had disappeared.
    “Vern?”
    Tears came to her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. Usually when Maggie cried, she wiped her tears away with the ends of her braids. It was the best part of having braids. That and crossing them under her nose and making a mustache. Those were the

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