Confessions of a So-called Middle Child (18 page)

The Showdown

Marta and I were out running the laps—she was on her eighth, and I was on my second—when out of the corner of my eye I saw, on the soft, squishy mat of the play structure, Trixie fake a fall to the ground, using the old “I have a ruptured appendix” routine.

“Oh, oh, Coach!” she cried like a Southern belle. “I'm dying, dying!”

I nudged Marta. We slowed to jog in place and watched the whole thing go down. Coach totally bought it, which really irked me, because I'd tried the appendicitis routine like every day, but never, and I mean not once, had he believed me. Trixie's friends swooped in and carried her off the track and into the locker room.

“It's starting.” I took a deep breath to ease my nerves, because this time, for the first time in my life, I was not going to stop Trixie from executing her plan.

By the time I had finally run the
entire
mile, everyone had finished. There was just Coach standing over me with his dumb, little stop clock. “Great job, Charlie; you did a thirty-minute mile. That's one for the record books.” He laughed. “In fact, I think I see an Olympic coach coming right now.”

“You know, sarcasm is
not
a great motivator, Coach,” I said, and stormed off to get a drink. “Hey, Marta, you see my water anywhere?”

She pointed to the wall. “You put it right there.” Marta looked at her watch. “The cafeteria's about to close, and it's Pizza Monday.”

To heck with the bottle, I loved Pizza Monday! “Good point—I'm starving.”

So Marta and I ran up to the cafeteria, totally unaware of what they had planned for us, and grabbed lunch. I loaded up on pizza and French fries, all those precious carbs I could have lost during my
mile
run. We took our trays and went outside. Trix and her crowd were nowhere to be seen.

Marta picked at her salad. I'd let her borrow a black top and a pair of my overalls and helped braid her hair. If you didn't know her, you'd think she was normal, except for the panic that surrounded her like a bubble. She looked at her watch again. “Twelve hours and counting.” Until her aunt landed. “Permit office tomorrow, and then it will all be okay, right?”

“Right,” I repeated, for like the thousandth time that day. I scanned the yard. In the far corner behind the bamboo, I spotted them. Lillian and her crew doing the standard LOOK AT ME I'M SO PRETTY! cartwheels and Trix and Babs looking like the big, fat bosses of the yard, watching it all go down.

After lunch was silent reading time. Mr. L called out, “Find a book, any book!” And then he put his feet on his desk, pulled out his beloved
Huck Finn
, cracked open a bag of nuts, and started chuckling, the poor guy.

I grabbed a book from Mr. L's secret stash of young adult books that he kept on the back shelf. The one I got was about a girl who got her period (gross) and didn't even know what it was because her parents
never
told her about it (demented), and she went
nuts
(funny), and I was really getting into it when something caught my eye. I looked out the window and saw Principal Pickler on his cell walking quickly across the yard like he had a giant pole up his you-know-what.

Mr. L caught me. “Cooper! Read!”

“Fine,” I mumbled. Trixie turned and giggled. I was getting that sick feeling.

“Sit!” Marta scolded me. “We don't want to get in any more—”

That's when I saw the nurse—who was so old, she could barely walk—
run
to the cafeteria.

“Charlie!” Mr. Lawson yelled. And I was about to sit when I saw the doors of the kindergarten class open and all the little kids run for their lives toward the lower yard.

I scanned the crowd for Felix, but the kids were running too fast. “What the heck—”

Pickler stopped in the courtyard, hands waving up in the air, hysterical. The nurse came running out. “Principal!” she yelled.

“What?” Pickler yelled back, mad as could be.

“Charlie Cooper!” Mr. L said in a not-so-patient voice. “I said sit down.”

“Yes, sir, sorry, sir.” I began to sit, but before I did, I saw she had something in her hands—

And then I felt my stomach drop to the floor. “They've got my water bottle.”

Pickler stared at it, looked up at me, and ran into the office, the old nurse following him. I fell back on my butt; the room was spinning. Trixie had just gotten me expelled.

Marta looked at me. “Charlie, you're sweating. What's happening?”

“She must have used my bottle to poison the food.” I felt like I was in a trance.

Outside, kids were grabbing their bellies, and people were running from the cafeteria to the bathrooms. My brain was spinning out of control.

Trixie turned, put her glossy lips together, and mouthed,
Gotcha
.

I wanted to punch her in the face almost more than I wanted to run. But their footsteps would be racing up those stairs any minute, and I was so not into being manhandled by Pickler. “I gotta get out of here, Marta.”

“What?” Marta lowered her head, whispering. “Now?”

“Yep, right now.” I checked to see where Mr. L was, then looked back down on the courtyard. There were more people now, official-looking people, scary-looking people, walking at a brisk pace across the lower yard, meeting in a huddle, and then looking up at my classroom at the same time. I ducked.

Marta got up and looked down into the courtyard. “Oh God!” She covered her mouth with both hands. “They're here!”

I peeked. “Who?”

She pointed. “Social Services.”

“What?” I looked down at all the people coming for us.

“See the plastic badges clipped to their belts?” She took a huge breath, tears filling her eyes. “They're gonna take me!” Her face crumpled. “Your parents called!”

“Girls!” Mr. L put down his book. “Is something wrong over there?”

It was now or never. I stood up. “Mr. Lawson?” I took Marta's hand and went to his desk. Everyone in the class stared at us like we were total freaks, which was justified; holding hands at our age was just wrong.

“What?”

I leaned in and whispered the most embarrassing thing I could think of, the only thing that would grant us an immediate Leave the Classroom Now card, and I had no choice but to play it. It was so gross, it even made me blush to say it. But what could I do? They were coming for us. “Um, sir.” I cleared my throat. My head throbbed with shame. “Marta here, well, she just got her, um, period.”

He blushed. “Oh, um. Well, I . . .” and started to frantically search for something he did not need.

Marta's face looked like it was on fire.

“I need to take her to the nurse, before it goes all over the—” I paused and pointed to the carpet. “She has stuff.” I knew these things because of Pen. She had her own little compartment of what I liked to call
gross
things.

“Fine, fine,
go
!” He looked horrified and waved us out, like he couldn't wait to be rid of us. I knew this too. “Just be quick.”

“Sure, yes, absolutely.” When we walked out of that room, there wasn't a single eye on a single book. I closed the door tightly behind us; the hallway was empty and so very quiet. I stared down the length of it and was faced with a heck of a choice. Two exits, one on either end of the massive hallway. “Where, which one?” Marta cried, and pulled in
both
directions.

“That one.” I pointed to the one farthest from the office, and we ran down that hall so fast, papers flew out of cubbies. I hit the bar on the door, and we ran out, down the outside stairs, until we got to the bottom and hid behind the cubbies.

Marta froze. “Now what?”

I heard voices. We peeked out onto the yard, and Principal Pickler and the badge people in horrible clothes were running up the stairs on the other side of the courtyard, toward our classroom. We had only a minute or two until they got there and found out we'd left, and then all hell would break loose, the school would go into lockdown mode, and they'd call my parents. “We have to get out of here now,” I said. “Run, don't stop.”

Marta closed her eyes tight, like she was saying a prayer, grabbed my hand, and then we ran across the yard and out to the front of the school. We hit those double doors so hard, I swear I thought you could hear them across the canyon. As we ran down the hill, we looked like escaped convicts, and every driver I looked at seemed to slow down, to stare, to pick up a phone. Or was I imagining it? Were they all calling about us? Turning us in?

We got to the bottom of the hill and stared out at the busy Laurel Canyon traffic and hit the button. The light changed; all traffic stopped and waited for us to cross. Marta pulled me back onto the curb. “It's the first place they'll look,” she said. “No way.”

I watched the numbers on the crosswalk start their countdown. We had to go; we couldn't afford to miss this light. “Marta,” I yelled, “we're not going to the house, all right?” I looked at her fierce eyes. “Trust me, I know a place we'll be safe.” I tried to yank her off the curb, but she was stronger than I was. “Come on!”

“We need a day, one day.” She looked terrorized.

“I know. I'll get you a day, all right, but you gotta trust me.”

And she did.

On the Run

We crossed Laurel Canyon and ran up around the house. We stood at the top of the hill, where Mr. Houdini saw everything. Marta was crying, and me, I was waiting for the sound of sirens. They were coming after us hard—that I knew. From here I could see Dad standing, watching eagerly, while the cement truck poured and bricks were being lined up in neat rows. Off to my right, Mom was on her knees, rebuilding the original rock walls. So far no cars with sirens.

When their backs were turned, we ran down to the house and opened the door. I found a cloth bag and tossed it to Marta. “Pack food, a lot of it, because I've got a serious appetite.” Meanwhile, I grabbed flashlights and sweaters, and then I remembered the most important thing of all. “Junk food. Mom stashes candy in the third drawer next to the stove. I need candy.” I found a piece of paper and started to write.

Marta came over and ripped the pen from my hand. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Leaving a note.” I looked at her. “Come on, they'll be worried.”

But Marta was firm. “They'll come after us. They'll find a way to get your parents to tell them where we are; they will; they always do. Please, Charlie, once they take me, I'll get lost forever.” She took the paper and crumpled it up. “Please, just a day, all I need is a day.”

“Okay, fine, one day.” I said, feeling not so hot about the idea. “But after one day, no matter what, I'm out, got it?”

Marta took a deep breath. “Okay.”

I went over to where the key was hanging and took it. “You ready?” I opened the door, poking my head around the corner. The bulldozers and cement trucks provided awesome cover. Dad was standing over the foundation, his back turned, and the men were all focused on moving the cement around. “Now!” I said, and we ran out into the garden, trying to get to the tunnels, when suddenly the bulldozers stopped. Dad turned.

We threw ourselves behind the giant sycamore tree, our chests heaving, our hearts beating so loudly, it felt like everyone could hear us. The bulldozers started back up again, and we looked around the tree. The workers were pouring again, pouring and spreading. We just had a few more feet to get to the hatch. “Now!” We ran, the key to the new padlock in hand. I dived on my stomach and slipped the key into the new padlock and lifted the hatch. “Come on!” I descended into the total darkness.

But Marta was frozen, crouched over the hatch looking scared and confused. “What is this place?”

“Houdini's secret tunnels.” I looked up. “Marta, jeez, come on already, before he sees you!”

Marta climbed down the ladder and grabbed me; she was hysterical. “Oh God, Charlie, I don't like this, not one bit!”

“Stay here.” I went back up the ladder, pulled down the hatch quickly. “Calm down, all right?” I opened my bag and searched for the flashlight. “It's here, it's here.” And then I found it. I hit the button, and the tunnels were illuminated.

Marta looked around. “Wow! This place is insane!”

We walked down the hall. I shone the light on the horrible pictures of Houdini's mother and wife, the sofas, the human and animal specimens in jars.

“Untouched for eighty years and change.”

I took a seat on the sofa next to the skeletons. “Check 'em out.”

“What the—” Marta froze, her face draining of color. “They're not rrr-eal,” she stuttered. “Tell me they're not real.”

“What does it matter?” I put my arm around one of their shoulders. “They're dead. Dad thinks Houdini used them for his magic tricks.”

“Can we go now?” Marta couldn't take her eyes off Mr. and Mrs. Bones. “We're so—unprotected here.”

“We're belowground, for the love of God, Marta!” I countered.

“Yeah, but if your dad made another key, and he came down here, we'd be trapped,” she said matter-of-factly. “Am I right?”

I rolled it over in my mind. “You have a point.” And we kept on walking.

But poor Marta kept going on and on about life if she got caught. “They'd never pay for gymnastics. I'd run away—I'd run so far, no one would ever find me. I'd find a gym; I'd hide there, and then I'd practice all night when they closed.”

I sometimes forgot that for Marta, gymnastics wasn't just a sport; it was the key to everything. I saw Dad's shovel propped up against the wall and looked at her totally-freaked-out face. “Marta, your aunt is coming. She's on her way, all right? Just calm down.”

She took a huge breath and held it until I thought her head might explode. “Okay, Charlie.”

“Great.” My voice echoed. “Let's go.” We walked until we got to the very end of the tunnel, where there was nothing but a huge wall loaded with boulders.

Marta panicked at the sight of it. “If they come, we're done for.”

I hit the wall with my shovel, searching. “These tunnels go all the way under Laurel Canyon. If we could just break through, we could go out the other side and spy on 'em!”

“Unless he cemented it all up,” Marta, the buzz-kill, said.

But me, I am a glass-half-full kinda gal, remember? I'm not one to give up easily. We middle kids always find a way. I put my hand against the wall. I felt for any crack, my fingers searching for any kind of path, hidden latch, anything. But there was nothing.

After a few hours of searching, Marta just slumped against the wall. “So now what?”

“Oh, I'm gonna keep trying,” I announced. I lifted the bag of food from her fingers. I pulled out the food, searched inside, and all I saw was brown bread, cheese, apples, what! I dropped the bag. “You've got to be kidding!”

Marta looked at me. “What?”

“Where's the junk food? The candy? I can't be stuck down here for an entire day without candy!”

Marta winced. “I—I'm sorry, Charlie. I grabbed what I could—”

Now that was it.
Agony!
No sugar! For twenty-four hours! “Crap!” I slammed my fist into the wall, and then all of a sudden, the entire wall moved. I felt myself falling downward, backward. “Marta!”

“Charlie!” Marta reached out and grabbed my hand, and together we fell long and hard into the cold, wet air.