Long bead necklaces, bracelets that she remembered her mom dubbing ‘jelly bracelets’…and shoes like a hybrid of sandals and ballet shoes, but made of some type of transparent netted plastic.
with push-pins, the posters sporting bright logos in the corners. Some of the guys had hair that practically stuck straight up in places and seemed to defy the rules of gravity. In one corner was a huge bean bag—not unlike the one she had at home, only this one had some type of audio equipment in a cabinet by it. One of the items at the top had its lid open; she recognized it as a record player.
Lisa glanced at the record player, too, and smiled. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go check on Casey. He might be awake now.”
They went down the hall to Casey’s room, which looked a lot like a typical little boy’s room, except for a few additions. Matchbox cars were set up on a table—not a surprise. On a chair nearby was a bright turquoise outfit that also seemed to have some pattern on it; Jennifer cringed that the boys had patterns on their clothes as well as probably the girls, judging by the bed where she had just woken up. Black Converse shoes sat at the bottom of the chair.
“Oh, my God!” Jennifer suddenly gasped at the thought of what might be in her closet. Casey still slept soundly in a relatively normal-looking bed, while Jennifer rushed off back to her room to check out the closet. Shooting past her doorway, she caught sight of some items on her desk: long bead necklaces, bracelets that she remembered her mom dubbing “jelly bracelets” that looked like cheap rubber—and shoes like a hybrid of sandals and ballet shoes, but made of some type of transparent netted plastic. On the corner of the desk sat an old phone with push buttons.
“Oh…my…God,” she repeated, lowly. But then she looked aside as if remembering something, putting her hand in her back jeans pocket. “Oh, my God,” she said a third time—but this time, in relief.
“Okay, we can do this,” said Lisa the next day, driving down the street and trying to recall the map that the agents had left on their dining table. She was always good with maps and welcomed the opportunity to use one again, finding it came back to her like riding a bike. ©Brenna Pierson