Searching for Candlestick Park Read Online Free PDF Page B

Bicycle
    I had not yet thought of any way to get the bike back to its owner. If I took it to the Seattle police, they’d want to know how I got it. Still, I knew I had to repay that debt somehow.
    When I had recorded my debts, I put Foxey under one arm, and walked the bike over to the rest room. Shrubs grew all around the building. I decided to sleep next to the shrubs, where I wasn’t likely to be noticed by anyone going down the street past the park at night. I found a secluded spot between two bushes on the back side of the building, and prepared to spend the night.
    I didn’t have a blanket, but I did have a sweatshirt and a stocking hat. I put both of them on, for September nights get chilly. I decided to let Foxey be out of the box overnight. With one end of the rope tied to Foxey’s harness and the other end tied securely around my wrist, I lay down on the ground.
    I was glad I had the notebook, to keep track of what I owed. Somehow writing it all down made it official that I was not a thief; I was a person who temporarily needed to borrow from someone else. If an ax murderer got me before I found Dad, the police would find my debt notebook on my body and give it to Mama, and she would know her son was honest to the end.
    Thinking about ax murderers did not help me fall asleep.

CHAPTER
FIVE

    D arkness settled around me. On the far side of the park, lights went on in windows, and I wondered about the people who lived in those houses. Were they eating dinner? Watching the news? Reading to their kids? I wondered what Mama was doing.
    When I was little, Mama used to make up stories for me, with heroes named Spencer. No, I told myself. Don’t think about the past. Think about the future instead. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and imagined I was sitting in Candlestick Park with Dad, watching the Giants play baseball.
    I fell asleep, jerked awake, and fell asleep again. Sometime in the night, Foxey growled. My eyes flewopen. Instantly, every nerve in my body was alert. What had he heard?
    Foxey was crouched beside my left shoulder, his tail swishing nervously back and forth, brushing against my cheek. I lay still, listening. I was afraid to sit up and look, for fear whoever or whatever was there would hear me move.
    I inched my right hand across my chest and stroked Foxey, hoping to soothe him. He growled again.
    Clink. Clink. Clink
. I recognized the sound of a dog’s tags jingling together. Foxey stood up and arched his back. Even in the dark, I could tell his fur was standing out, making him twice his regular size.
    Clink. Clink. Clink
. The sound came closer.
    I sat up. I couldn’t see the dog through the bushes.
    I reached for Foxey’s box, and opened it. If the dog spotted us, I thought it would be safer for Foxey to be in the box. A dog might not even come to investigate a boy with a box but it would go after a cat, for sure.
    I untied the rope from my wrist and then reached for Foxey. I planned to put him in the box and put the box behind me. If the dog approached, I would not let it see the box.
    Foxey struggled when I picked him up, and let out a loud, “Meow,” when I put him in the box. The dog immediately crashed through the bushes toward us, barking.
    Foxey panicked. Before I could clap the lid on the box, he leaped out of my grasp and streaked aroundthe end of the rest room. I still had the rope in my hand, with the other end attached to Foxey’s collar, but the dog saw Foxey go, and bolted after him.
    I jumped to my feet, which made my right leg throb.
    I had to make a fast choice. I could hold onto the rope and keep Foxey from running away, but if I did that I knew the dog would reach Foxey before I could pick him up. Or I could let go of the rope, and hope Foxey would be able to run fast enough to get away from the dog. If he did, where would he go? Would I be able to find him again?
    I let go.
    I had to. I was afraid if I held Foxey back, the dog would tear him to pieces before I could get