by Donna Hruska

Karen turned herself upside down for the fifth time that day to look under the sofa in the living room. She couldn’t remember any time in her eleven years when she’d felt worse. George, her pet boa constrictor, was missing. He had disappeared from his box under the record player after he had eaten more than a week ago.

“He’s never been gone this long before,” Karen moaned as she sat down on the floor. She beat her forehead with the palms of her hands. “Where could he be? Where?”

Karen had gotten George a few months ago when her mother had started to work in an office. George was a perfect pet—clean, easy to care for and, most of all, fun, not sissy and sweet like that kitten her older sister Margie used to have. And he didn’t talk about boys all the time like most of her girlfriends did. When Karen felt lonely, George curled his gray-green and brown body around Karen’s arm and stuck out his tongue. That always made Karen laugh and forget her troubles.

It wasn’t unusual for George to crawl out of his box, and he often slept for a week after eating, but he’d always been easy to find before.

“He couldn’t get out of the house,” Karen told herself. “The doors are closed. No one let him out.” She got to her feet. “I’m going to check the closets again.”

The front door slammed as sixteen-year-old Margie came in.

“Haven’t you found that dumb snake yet, Karen?” she asked as she dropped into a chair. Margie claimed that she hated George, but Karen knew she didn’t really. She was just mad because Karen had named George after one of her boyfriends.

“No, and don’t call him dumb. He’s smart….Come on Margie. Why don’t you help me look?”

“I guess I’ll have to if I’m ever going to hear another record. Can’t I play just one album?”

“Not until we find George,” Karen answered. “You know he hates rock music. He’ll never come out with the record player going.”

“That’s silly,” Margie sighed, getting up and peering behind the radiator. “Snakes don’t even have ears.”

“He feels the vibrations,” Karen answered, checking between the coats in the front closet. Once she’d found George hanging from the closet rod, probably pretending he was hunting from a tree in the jungle, but not this time.

An hour later they had finished their fifteenth search of the house and still no George. Karen was beginning to fear the worst. What if George had slipped out somehow when no one was looking? She swallowed and looked at the snow drifting past the windows. George was just a baby even if he was five feet long. He’d never survive the cold and ice outside.

Karen and Margie sat down glumly in the middle of the floor.

“Did you look behind the furnace?” Margie asked.

“Yes.”

They sat with their chins on their knees, trying to think of some new hiding place.

“We’ve got to do something,” Karen said.

“We certainly do,” Margie answered. “I’ve got a brand new record I’ve never even heard, and Mom said if we didn’t find that snake by the time she got home from work, we’d both have to stay home until he is found. I’m invited to a party tomorrow night!”

Karen sat up suddenly. “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “A party! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

“A party?” Margie said. “You’re out of your head.”

“No, a search party!” Karen yelled, jumping up. “We could invite all our friends to help us look.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea, Karen,” Margie answered. “I’ll get on the phone right now.”

By four o’clock twenty-five searchers, including all the kids in the neighborhood plus some of Margie’s friends from across town, had arrived.

“Where do we start?” asked Margie’s boyfriend George, the one Karen had named her pet after.

“Let’s begin in the attic and work down,” Karen suggested. “Look everywhere. He can curl up into smaller places than you’d expect.”

“What do we do if we find him?” asked one of Margie’s girlfriends cautiously.

“Just yell. I’ll get him.”

The crew swarmed through the house. They peeked behind the furniture and under the rugs, went through all the coat pockets and drawers. They poked into the corners of the basement and through every pot and pan in the kitchen. After more than an hour of hard work all they’d found was one of Margie’s lost gym shoes. They all collapsed into a disappointed heap in the living room. Karen looked so sad that no one felt like saying anything.

“It’s no use,” said Karen, at last. She tried to imagine what it would be like to come home to the empty house in the afternoon without George to keep her company.

The front door opened. Their mother’s eyes widened when she saw the crowd.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“We thought we’d find George if we had a lot of people looking,” Karen explained. “But it looks as if he’s just gone.”

Their mother gave Karen a quick hug. “Look, I’ll fix some food. Why don’t you go ahead and play some records. It can’t make George any harder to find than he is already. When everyone feels better we’ll decide what to do.

Karen felt sick. It would take more than some dumb rock group to make her feel good again, but Margie and her friends were on their feet in an instant, going through the records.

“Whoop!” Margie let out a shriek, then collapsed into a heap of giggles. “Karen! Look in here.”

Karen ran to the open record player. George waved a sleepy green head at her from where his body was curled around the turntable.

“George! It’s really you!” Karen shouted, picking up her pet. George curled lovingly around Karen’s arm and stuck out his tongue as everybody hooted and laughed.

“I told Margie you were smart,” Karen chuckled. “That’s one way to stop that loud music.” She rubbed her hand over George’s smooth dry back and looked around. Margie’s friends were dancing, and the younger kids were digging into popcorn and lemonade. She almost felt like dancing herself. This search party was turning into a real party.

“Cool!” she said to George.

George looked as though he agreed.

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