Five Days in Summer

on the avenue, so he took a quieter road with a name he could say. Simons Narrow Road. That was easier and a sign shaped like a swan told him that if he kept on going he’d get to a restaurant with a three-dollar-ninety-fivecents buffet lunch. Buffet was good because you could eat and drink as much as you wanted. He’d be smart and take a big to-go cup of water with him when he left, or maybe even buy himself a bottle if he had enough money.
    David kept in the shade at the side of the road and walked and walked and walked. He passed houses andkept going, just a kid old enough to be walking somewhere on his own. Looking for his mother. Sensei had once told them they had an “inner compass” and if they paid attention to it they would follow the “true path.” He was either following his inner compass to his true path now or going nowhere. It didn’t matter. He was already on the road. He couldn’t sit at Grandma’s anymore like a dumb kid listening to the grown-ups lie. All that time at the dojo learning not to be afraid of other people, and he wasn’t, but he was starting to feel afraid of himself and that was a brand-new feeling. Walking down this loose end of a road he didn’t know anything anymore. He was looking for another swan sign. He was looking for his mother.
    He passed Yardarm Road and Spinnaker Drive and finally just past Bryants Cove he saw a kind of shack with the same swan-shaped sign hanging off a set of chains in front. It said MUTE SWAN, LUNCH NOW BEING SERVED. In Manhattan a place that looked like that would be condemned, but here it was the kind of place the grown-ups always wanted to go. It was unbelievable how they changed their minds about things.
    David realized if he walked into a restaurant alone it would look weird. Maybe if he pretended his parents were waiting for him in the car. He opened the wooden door and walked into a kind of lobby with a glass display case under a counter and a cash register on top. Blocks of fudge were stacked in the display and David felt a spasm of hunger. He didn’t want to look obvious but he couldn’t just stand there, so he rang the little bell next to the cash register. He would act normal. His parents were waiting for him in the car.
    A teenage boy came behind the counter. “You ring?”
    David nodded. “Can I get the buffet take-out?”
    The teenager shook his head. “We can wrap you up a sandwich or something though.”
    “Okay. Tuna fish?” He wanted a burger but it would take too long to cook it, he didn’t want to wait, someone might notice him.
    “White or whole wheat?”
    “Whole wheat, I guess. And some water, please.” David turned around and pretended to wave through the window at a red station wagon with a lady inside.
    “Be right back.” The teenager walked around the corner.
    The restaurant was filled with people eating lunch and David didn’t look at any of them. He stared into the display case crammed with the fudge and Beanie Babies and some local craft thing labeled scrimshaw, tiny drawings of boats and shells on something hard and creamy. It looked like bone. He was standing there waiting for his food and trying not to want the fudge when this girl came running over to look at the Beanie Babies. She was younger than Sam. She started to count all the Beanie Babies in the case.
    “Twenty-seven,” she said. “Not bad. Which one’s your favorite?”
    David ignored her.
    “I love that tie-dyed one right there.” She pressed her finger on the glass and David saw it: a silver charm bracelet just like his mother’s on this little girl’s wrist. She noticed him looking at the bracelet and twirled her wrist to show it off. “It’s mine,” she said.
    Then David saw it wasn’t just like his mother’s bracelet — it was his mother’s. It had to be. There were all the same charms. A heart, a swimmer, three babies, a coin, a cello, a sword.
    “That’s my mother’s bracelet,” David said.
    “Oh no, it’s mine .” She held it up between them, as if that would prove it.
    “Where did you find it?”
    She looked at the bracelet, then at David, then at the bracelet, then back at David. It seemed like she was trying to decide what story to make up next. Little kids. It wasn’t so long ago Sam was about her age and David hadn’t forgotten.
    “I’ll pay you for it.”
    “Oh? How much?”
    He dug into his pocket and counted out all his money. “Seven dollars and sixty-two cents.”
    “Deal!” She picked at