Lost & Found Read Online Free PDF Page A

head.
For hygiene
, she explains, a bit muffled now, thinking of the hospital shows her mum watches.
He went in there
, she says, pointing to anoffice toward the back of the store. She puts Scrabble letters into the Operation man.
He got a pack of peas for his head.
She delicately removes the letter
M
from the Operation man’s stomach.
And he fell asleep. He left the key in the door.
She holds up the key and grins.
I locked it.
Pats the mannequin on the head.
I owe you
, she whispers into his ear.
    For dinner, Millie invites the Guess Who? people, the mannequin, a hobby horse—the Guess Who? people might be less self-conscious if there is someone else there with just a face—and a toy dog who looks exactly like Rambo. She seats them at the biggest dining table in the furniture section. It is at least double the size of their dining table at home and doesn’t have any coffee-mug rings or candle wax or Millie’s name written on one of the legs. The napkins and place mats and plates and bowls are all white and the same as each other.
    She hoists the mannequin onto the chair at the head of the table and sits Rambo on a placemat. The Guess Who? people and the hobby horse stare at her from across the table. She likes how they look at her as if they expect her to do something.
Okay
, she says, and skates away, returning with an armful of streamers. She throws them across the table and wraps them around the chairs and ties bows around the forks.
    She sets a place for her mum next to the mannequin.
    Just.
    In.
    Case.
    She pulls up a chair for herself between the mannequin andRambo, pats down her dress, and adjusts her hat. She feels the mannequin’s eyes on her.
What?
she says.
She’s just caught up.
She clears her throat.
Dear God
, she says, her hands in prayer, squinting at the mannequin through half-closed eyes.
Tonight we will be serving Fanta soup for entrée, snakes and dinosaurs for main, a side salad of mint leaves, and banana sundae for dessert. I hope this is okay with you.
She fills her glass with grape juice.
But first, some toast.
She stands and clinks glasses with all her guests. She does it again, because there’s music to it, she does it faster and faster, and skates around the table,
clink-clink-clink-clink-clink
, and then skates around the other way,
clink-clink-clink-clink-clink
.
    She sits on top of the table instead of in her chair, because she’s The Boss, and they all eat, and talk about how the dog from next door keeps making big poops on their lawn and how Mrs. Pucker always gets fancy makeup in the mail but it doesn’t help her and how Ablett must be very sorry that he switched clubs because his new team plays like a bunch of girls. And the whole time, the mannequin watches her, without blinking, without saying a thing.
another fact about the world millie knows for sure
    S he doesn’t know where her dad’s body is.
    When they visited her dad in the cemetery he was in a tiny box in the wall.
Dad’s too big for that
, she said.
    It’s a magic box
, Millie’s mum replied.
    What kind of magic?
    Just magic. Okay?
    Can I see inside it?
    The magic won’t work if you do that.
    Like Santa?
    Yes. Exactly like Santa.
    She gave a box of raisins to Perry Lake, one of the big kids at school who knew everything about everything.
What happens to dead bodies after they die?
    He shoved a fistful of raisins into his mouth and chewed.
    Depends
, he said.
    On what?
    On how many boxes of these you got.
    The next day, Millie upended her schoolbag at his feet. A pile of raisin boxes poured out. He opened one and emptied the contents into his mouth.
They go hard.
    Hard?
    Yeah. And cold.
    Cold?
    Yeah.
    Like plastic?
    He shrugged.
Maybe.
    Do they shrink?
    Shrink?
    Yeah.
    He threw a raisin up in the air and caught it in his mouth.
    Dead bodies do not shrink.

    Millie’s smothering a heaped bowl of banana lollies with chocolate topping when the thought occurs to her. She puts a hand on the mannequin’s.
Don’t take