William S. and the Great Escape by Zilpha Keatley Snyder Page B

skinny middle, said. Not a familiar face. Whew! Big relief.
    Taking a deep breath, William started to talk in the relaxed, self-confident way that a person would expect from a kid whose cap matched his jacket. “Hello there, sir. My name is Wilbur—er, Jones, yeah, Jones—and my parents sent me down to inquire about your schedule for Saturday morning. Like, when the first bus for Gold Beach leaves. And oh yes”—his slight shrug was supposed to indicate that whatever the answer might be, it wasn’t likely to cause any big problem—“they would like to know the price of a ticket to Gold Beach.”
    â€œWould they now?” The man lifted one eyebrow. A look that might mean he was suspicious—or maybe just amused. “Well, I’m afraid I’ve a bit of bad news for your parents.”
    William stiffened with apprehension.
    â€œI’m afraid our northern route doesn’t actually go through Gold Beach,” the clerk went on. “But the bus that leaves here at seven fifteen does make a stop in Reedly. Do you suppose that would do? Gold Beach and Reedly are only three or four miles apart.”
    William gulped and managed to say, “Three or four miles …” Getting a grip on himself and concentrating on his rich city kid role, he said, “Oh, sure. Close enough, I guess. We can always catch a cab from there, I suppose. Thanks a lot.” He turned to go and then, remembering the other important question that really needed an answer, turned back. “And the price?” he asked. “How much is a ticket to Reedly?”
    â€œWell now, let’s just look that up. Just to be sure.” The clerk was obviously talking down to him as if he were some little kid. But William was in no mood to try to set him straight. After the guy ran his finger down a couple of lists he said, “Two dollars and fifty cents.” His grin widened. “That’s for adults, however. Only two dollars for anyone in the family who just might not be twelve years old.”
    Great. He had plenty of money. William was so relieved he wasn’t even tempted to inform the smart-aleck clerk that the person he was talking to would, in fact, be turning thirteen in only a month.
    Outside the Greyhound station he pulled his cap down over his eyes and walked fast until he was pastWally’s Gas and the candy store. Cars went by. Mostly nice, clean, newish vehicles that weren’t likely to be carrying Baggetts. But then a beat-up pickup that looked suspiciously … But no, the white-haired driver wasn’t anyone that William knew. Another big
whew!
    There were pedestrians, too, and two or three of them looked vaguely familiar, like people he might have seen before, and who might recognize him as one of the missing Baggetts. But each time, the dangerous not-complete-stranger went right on by. It was the cap that saved him, he was sure of that, along with his ability to play a role. In this case, the role of a rich-kid relative of the Ogden family.
    Two or three more pedestrians went by without gasping or staring, before William reached the comparative safety of Gardenia Street. Once there, walking faster and faster, he quickly arrived at the driveway that led down to the large, brown-shingled home of the well-known Ogden family. A home whose solid, respectable appearance certainly wouldn’t cause anyone to suspect that a bunch of Baggetts were holed up in the basement.
    But not any longer,
William told himself as he started down the steps that led to the basement.
Tomorrow we’re out of here.
    When he reached out for the latch, the basement door flew open and there was Jancy, looking as wild-eyed as if she’d just seen an ogre, or perhaps her fairy godmother.“Oh, William,” she kind of gasped. “You’re all right. You are all right, aren’t you? Did you see anyone who knew who you were?”
    â€œNot a soul,” William said.