Full Speed Ahead: My Journey with Kit

Without thinking, I jump off the trolley after Buddy, forgetting Kit isn’t with me. I yell for her, but the trolley’s too fast for her to jump, and her shout gets lost in the clang of the bell and screech of the wheels. Then the trolley disappears, with Kit still on it.

I’m left alone on a street corner, lost in a place and time I don’t know, pretending to be someone else entirely, with no idea how to get back to Kit’s house.

My heart pounding, I run after Buddy. If anything happens to him, I won’t forgive myself. This must be what Mom meant about a pet being a big responsibility. I dash across the street and nearly collide with a horse-drawn wagon rounding the corner.

Beyond it, Buddy is nuzzling a large gray horse while a raggedy-looking man squats beside him, petting him with a smile. I scoop Buddy up; he licks my face, squirming with puppyish joy.

The man tips his straw hat and says my dog is mighty glad to see me. I admit I thought he was lost, and now we’re both lost, too. He says being lost just means not being where you want to be. Where’s that? I tell him I’m staying with the Kittredges. Does he know where they live?

The man shakes his head. He says Cincinnati is a big city, with thousands of people. Do I have an address?

I don’t, but then I remember Uncle Hendrick’s letter in my pocket, with his address on it. I show it to the man and ask for a ride to Chestnut Court. He agrees, and Buddy and I climb onto the wagon.

The horse clip-clops along under leafy trees and patches of sunshine. I ask what the man collects, and he says rags, sold to factories that make paper from them.

I grin: we call that recycling where I come from. Soon we turn onto a street of stately homes, and the ragman stops at number 201 Chestnut Court. Fancy place, he says. Am I sure this is where I want to go?

Not really. I’m afraid to meet Uncle Hendrick, but Kit might be here, so I have to face it.

I thank the ragman and hop down with Buddy. Just then someone calls out the name Lulu. Kit runs up and hugs us both. She thought I was lost, she says. I would have, too, if not for the ragman. He waves as his horse trots off.

Kit pats Buddy and says I won’t be any happier to see Uncle Hendrick than she is, but we might as well get it over with. The steps to his house look as dark and unfriendly as a door from a Frankenstein movie, the knocker shaped like a fire-breathing dragon. Kit grabs its snout and knocks.

The heavy door opens onto cold, murky darkness. A tall, gray-haired man looms from the shadows, looking at Kit like he just bit into a sour pickle. What do we want? Then he turns to me and asks who I am.

Kit says I’m Cousin Lucille. Uncle Hendrick looks at me and says one word: no. I am not Cousin Lucille.