Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Admittedly, my two siblings and I are odd. By that, I mean most kids nowadays would be content to stay at home tinkering with their latest Apple products while my siblings and I would gaze at maps, examine blind snakes, and discuss the manner in which light bends around a black hole. We're the rare species of Nerdius geekus who read the latest science articles and make our Asian mother tear up with joy.
         One summer day, we were craving some science-y knowledge - specifically, a visit to the science museum. Our mom was more than happy to take us there. We went to the kiosks to buy tickets and we were just about ready to go into the exhibition hall, when our mom decided to buy a membership card. Apparently, this process takes a long time, so she gave us our tickets and told us to run ahead without her. Since I was the eldest child - at the ripe, responsible age of fifteen - I had to carry the burden of watching over my siblings during her absence.
         We decided to start with the meteorology exhibit on the bottom floor. I could trust Brian, who was thirteen years old, to wander on his own and meet back at the staircase, but the little one, Ruby, was only nine years old, and may or may not have had ADD or ADHD, so I figured it was best to keep her with me. Hand in hand, we walked along the walls, soaking up information about clouds and hurricanes and tornadoes... for about five minutes.
         "Can we see the dinosaurs now? I want to see the dinosaurs. Are they in the paleontology exhibit? Am I saying that right? I am? Can we see them now? Where is the paleontology exhibit?" she asked, dragging me towards the staircase.
         "Just - hold on," I snapped. I brushed her off my arm. "We need to find Brian first so that we can go see the dinosaurs together." When I spotted the lanky kid, I walked up to him and tapped his shoulder. "Bro, we're going to go upstairs now." With a typical teenager sigh, he joined me as we walked back to the staircase, where Ruby was. Or rather, where she wasn't.
         "Oh, come on," he growled, a few degrees more fed-up than normal.
         "She probably wandered back into the exhibit," I suggested. "Let's split up and look for her. Meet me back here in a few minutes."
         I made a thorough sweep through the exhibit - twice - and passed my brother at least three times during my rounds. When we met at the staircase, he was as empty-handed as I was.
         "Okay, maybe she wandered upstairs..." I thought aloud, trying to quell my growing worry.
         We leapt up the stairs, split up again, and scanned the ground floor - then the floor above that. We each walked past lions, seahorses, silver artifacts, and rubies, but there was no sign of our Ruby wandering about. No messy brown hair. No unabashed singing.
         "Where is she, where is she?" I muttered when we came back together. I snapped my fingers. "Paleontology exhibit! We haven't checked that one!"
         "Great. Do you know where it is?" Brian asked.
         "No, not really. This museum's gone through some renovations since the last time we visited..."
         "Then how could Ruby know where it is?" He pointed out. "Anyway, we should go and find mom."
         "It's no use. We can't leave the exhibition hall and go to the kiosks. You'd have to pay to reenter."
         "Then why don't you call her? You're the one with a phone."
         I patted down my pockets. "I left my phone at home," I groaned, mentally kicking myself.
         Brian stared at me incredulously, probably wondering how he could possibly be related to someone who doesn't love her phone as much as a Millennial should. "So now what do we do?"
         "WE KEEP SEARCHING FOR HER!" I yelled as I yanked out my hair. I wanted to smack him over the head for being his usual, stoic self. By then, Ruby could've been anywhere! She could've been on the other side of the museum, goofing off. She could've been lost, panicked, looking for us. She could've been carried over the shoulder of some crazy pervert who had knocked her out with a chloroform rag. Really, the possibilities were endless.
         Just in the nick of time, our mother appeared in the doorway. Her fine-tuned instincts must have picked up on my wild, bulging eyes, crazed hair, and patches of bald scalp, because she rushed towards us. "What's wrong? Where's Ruby?"
         "I DON'T KNOW! SHE WAS WITH US BEFORE AND THEN SHE WANDERED OFF OR SOMETHING! WE'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR HER FOR THE PAST TWENTY MINUTES!" I bawled.
         Mom placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Calm down, calm down. We'll find Ruby." Then, with the grave determination of a lioness ready to fight the dangers of the jungle, she briskly turned around and walked towards a kind, little old lady who sat the reception desk near the hall entrance.
         She looked up as the three of us approached her. "Can I help you?" she asked as innocently as your sweet grandmother.
         "Hi, yes, I'm looking for my daughter," my mom began. "Her name is Ruby Vaden."
         The lady nodded and pulled the microphone that was sitting on her desk closer to her. As she spoke, we heard her voice echo overhead. "Ruby Vaden, please report to the reception desk at the entrance of the exhibition hall. Ruby Vaden, please report to the reception desk at the entrance of the exhibition hall." Then, to us, "We'll wait about five minutes. If she doesn't show up, we'll call you back to the desk."
         We thanked the lady and moved a few feet away and stood and waited. My worry began to subside. Surely, we could count on her to retrace her steps and find the entrance.
         Five minutes and no Ruby later, the lady called on us. "I'm going to need a description of your child."
         "She's nine years old, about four feet tall, with shoulder length brown hair, brown eyes, and tan skin," I blurted out.
         "She's wearing a pink shirt, a blue skirt with brown dots, and pink shoes," my brother added.
"And her hair is a mess because her ponytail slipped off," mom sighed. It's funny how rehearsed we must have sounded, but I suppose, subconsciously, we knew we would have to provide a description of our lost Ruby someday.
         The lady behind the desk pulled a walkie-talkie out of nowhere. "Security guards, we have a code Adam," she reported bluntly. She then gave a description of our little imp.
         Not long after, two security guards came, with Ruby skipping - no, frolicking - alongside them as if nothing was wrong, as if she hadn't wandered off and given us heart attacks. "Ruby, where were you?!" we asked.
         She looked at us as if we were the crazy ones. "Where were you guys?" she asked back.
         "We were down in the meteorology exhibit, then we went through nearly all the other exhibits looking for you," Brian growled.
         "Oh. I was looking at the dinosaurs," Ruby stated as-a-matter-of-fact.
         "You found the dinosaur exhibit?"
         "Yeah, and there are sooo many dinosaurs. I saw a dinosaur with big plates - "
         "Ruby, you're supposed to stay with your brother and sister!" our mom interrupted.
         "But I thought you said we were going to see the dinosaurs!" Ruby said, turning to me.
"What? When did I say that?"
"You said we were getting Brian and then," she squinted her eyes in concentration, "I heard something about dinosaurs. So I ran upstairs. But then I couldn't find you guys. So then, I was hanging out in this big room and then I heard someone say 'Hey, let's go see the dinosaurs!' so I thought 'Hmm, my brother and sister must be in the dinosaur exhibit already. I think I'll follow these people and then I'll find my siblings.'"
         "What about the announcements on the intercom! They were telling you to come here!"
         "Oh, yeah... I heard it, but I couldn't find the exit. It's like a maze. The exit looked like a wall. And then I saw this fossilized piece of wood..."
         "What, so you gave up looking for the exit?"
         "Well..." she shrugged "yeah." We stared at her, mouths agape.
         Eventually, we forgave her and spent the rest of the day enjoying the exhibits, but we also learned an important lesson: do not let your high strung daughter watch over your perpetually-annoyed son and your special goofball of a youngling. It doesn't end well.