Let's Get Lost (15 page)

As soon as Elliot found and flipped the lights on, the door slammed behind them. Elliot didn't know what to react to first: the surprise of being shut in, the couple on the bed aggressively making out (not Maribel, at least), or the fact that the walls were completely covered in shelf after shelf of Cabbage Patch dolls. Hundreds of creepy plastic faces stared out at them like something out of a B horror movie. Some of them were old enough that they'd lost all their hair, or a limb, or their facial features had been eroded away, leaving them faceless except for the bump of a nose, a blue smudge where an eye used to be.

The couple on the bed—thankfully, still clothed—finally noticed that the lights had come on and stopped making out. The girl sat up, glared at Leila and Elliot, then slapped her boyfriend across the face. “Tacos for dinner, forties at the prom, and you texted your friends to walk in on us again? I'm so done with you.”

“Babe, I don't know these people,” Carl cried, holding a hand to his quickly reddening cheek.

As Leila let out a laugh, Elliot felt himself start to hyperventilate. He could feel the Cabbage Patch dolls' eyes on him. The slight smiles etched onto their plastic faces looked as if they were purposefully mocking him. Even Carl could get the girl, even if he was about to lose her now. He rushed to the door and pulled frantically on the handle. It was locked from the outside. He rattled the knob a few times and called out for help but was answered only by the sounds of the party raging on.

“Very funny,” he called out. “You locked us in the room. Now stop being dicks, and let us out.”

A little girl's voice called out from the other side. “Can't you people read? That's my room, and you need my permission to go inside. So now, you need my permission to come back out.”

“Is that a child?” Leila asked. “What is a child doing at this party?”

“Kid! We were just looking for someone. Please let us out!”

“Nope,” the little voice answered, already fading away.

Elliot pounded on the door, but even he could barely hear his own knocking above the beat of electronic music. He let his forehead drop against the wood.

“You promised tonight would be special!” Carl's girlfriend was yelling in between sobs.

Elliot banged his head against the door. This was not how his night was supposed to go. He felt Leila's hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we'll get out of here. Don't worry.”

“Look at what you did,” Carl said, pointing at his girlfriend sobbing into the pillows.

“Sorry,” Leila said, “we were just looking for someone.”

“Yeah, well, they're not here. Now will you please get the hell out?”

Leila made a show of jiggling the door. “Did you miss that whole part about us being locked in here?”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, turning his attention back to his girlfriend, whose whole body was shaking. Carl tried to put a hand on her back, but she smacked it away. “C'mon, babe. I love you, okay? Don't be so dramatic.”

Elliot stared in awe as the girl lifted herself from the bed and smiled. “You do?” Within seconds they were back to making out, the noise of smacking lips like food being chewed with an open mouth.

Elliot put his back to the wall and slid down to the floor, rubbing his face with his good hand. Leila took a seat next to him. “I'm dead, right?” he said. “You ran me over with your car, and I'm now in hell.”

“I must have killed both of us,” Leila said, grimacing at the unsightly exchange of saliva taking place on the bed.

“You don't happen to know how to pick a lock, do you?”

Leila shook her head slowly. “If I do, I'm not aware of it. Think you can break the door down?”

“I'd like to say yes, but I'll probably just end up having to go back to the hospital.” Elliot looked at his bandaged hand, wondering if the scars would ever be anything other than a painful reminder of that night. “I can't tell which is worse: them, or the dolls. I feel they're going to come to life and try to tickle me.” He shuddered at the thought.

Elliot banged his elbow against the door behind him, hoping someone would hear the knocking, or that the little girl would let up.

“I love you so much,” Carl said, kissing his girlfriend, though she continued to sob.

She pulled away, her eyes blinking back tears. “You do?”

Leila and Elliot looked on with a mix of awe and repulsion as the couple went back to making out, murmuring not-so-sweet nothings to each other in between sloppy kisses.

“We have to get out of here,” Elliot said.

“Immediately,” Leila agreed. She stood up, looking around the room as if a second door might appear. She put her hands on her hips as she thought. “Windows!” she cried out. “A house like this wouldn't have an upstairs bedroom without windows.” She moved to the back wall of the room and started clearing dolls from their shelves. Sure enough, the Cabbage Patch kids had been covering up a window.

Elliot rose to his feet and rushed to Leila's side. Fortunately, the shelves themselves weren't bolted into the wall but were just fitted into slots on supporting beams on either side of the window. The two of them started pulling the shelves out, laying them down on the floor next to the dolls, which were just as creepy looking up at them from below.

When Elliot removed the last of the shelves, Leila reached for the window. “Maribel, here we come,” she said, and pulled up. The window didn't budge. Before Elliot could feel too dejected, though, Leila reached and flipped the latch that was locking it into place. She tried again, and this time the window opened easily, letting in the warm summer air. Elliot poked his head out the window. There was a ledge right below them, and they were no more than ten feet above the lush front yard. Even without the desperation of being stuck in that room, it didn't seem like a long way down.

Leila hoisted herself up and through the window. Elliot, operating mostly with just one hand, followed her carefully. They climbed down onto the ledge, hands flat against the side of the house to steady themselves. Leila turned to Elliot with a smile. “We're not giving up on this, even if it takes us all night. You'll have your big movie moment.”

And then they jumped.

 

5

ELLIOT LANDED ON
the grass with a thud. There was a shooting pain coming from his hand, but he was so happy to be out of that room that he ignored it. When he looked up at the house, the lights in the Cabbage Patch room turned off. “Where to now?”

“I don't know,” Elliot said. “She could be at another party, or at someone's house.”

“Why don't we just call her?”

“She accidentally put her phone in the washing machine the other day. Hasn't gotten a new one yet.”

“That's inconvenient. What about one of her friends?”

“We don't have a whole lot of mutual friends,” Elliot said. “My social circle has a diameter of, maybe, four people.” Leila didn't laugh. “Not that I need much more than that. Three good friends and someone to be hopelessly in love with—that's about all I can handle.” He chuckled to himself, but she was still quiet.

Leila looked up and down the street, chewing on her bottom lip. “Where else could she be?”

“The record store,” Elliot realized aloud. “Sometimes she likes to go think on the roof of the record store where she works.”

“Last day of high school, and my best friend just professed his love for me,” Leila said. “If it were me, I'd be probably feeling pensive. Let's go check it out.”

They returned to Leila's car. Leila put on some music and started the car, and Elliot closed his eyes and thought of Maribel, imagining that the toe prints on the windshield belonged to her. After only a few minutes, though, the car started groaning, slowing down, and then advancing in small bursts that snapped Elliot from his reverie.

“Shit,” Leila said. She reached to turn on the hazard lights just as the car slowed to a stop.

“What? What happened?”

“We may have run out of gas.” She turned off the engine and tried starting it again, but it wouldn't take. “Damn. It can usually go a solid twenty miles after the light turns on.”

“Why didn't you stop to get some?”

“I got caught up in this whole Maribel thing.” Leila smacked the steering wheel and leaned back in her seat.

Elliot's stomach grumbled another
goddamnit
. “Do you have Triple-A or something? Although at this time of night it's gonna take them forever to get here.” He looked at the windshield to find the toe prints, but the car was between streetlights, and the marks had disappeared in the dark.

“No,” Leila said, giving the engine another try.

Elliot picked at a still-crusty spot on the tux, feeling deflated. “I guess that's a sign, then. This probably isn't going to happen tonight.” He examined the stuff that came off under his fingernail, grimaced, then wiped it back onto the tux.

“Hey, none of those guys in the movies ever have it easy, right? Getting the girl of your dreams is supposed to be an obstacle-filled journey.”

“Great, we have the tagline for my night. And how, pray tell, are we gonna get around this particular obstacle?”

“You get up and push from the back. I'll steer and push from up here,” Leila said, opening her door.

“What?”

“We'll push the car to the nearest gas station.”

“You're joking. It's, like, two miles away. I can barely even walk two miles with a backpack on. You want me to push a car that distance when I only have one functional hand?”

“If you're fishing for another rousing speech, you're not getting one. Now get out, and help me push.”

Elliot shook his head, then got out of the car, walking around to the back and trying to figure out a way to get enough leverage to push without hurting his already-injured hand. After a few clumsy, painful attempts, he finally found a comfortable position and started pushing the car. Leila was directly in front of him, one hand on the steering wheel to keep the car straight, leaning over as she helped him push. He kept his eyes on the ground. “We're going straight two blocks and then turning right,” he said. “If I haven't passed out by then.”

There were no other cars on the road, and the night was still. Elliot could hear their slow footsteps as they pushed the car forward, the tires passing over the gravel sounding like bugs being squashed. In the distance, the brilliant skyline of the Twin Cities illuminated the horizon, little trails of light cutting through the darkness that separated the golden sight from Burnsville.

“You okay back there?” Leila called out.

Elliot was breathing heavily, his body exhausted by the long night and the alcohol and the blood loss. “I'll be okay. I'll just buy a Gatorade at the gas station. And maybe have a lung transplant.” He stopped pushing for a second to catch his breath. “I think the last time my heart rate was this high was in fifth grade.” Another deep intake of breath, the air painful in his throat but soothing when it reached his lungs. “We played tag during recess one time.” He went on that way for a few more blocks, wheezing until he'd caught his breath and then telling Leila, a few words at a time, how Maribel had come running at him and how his heart had been torn between wanting to run fast to impress her and standing still so she'd plow into him.

“Such a romantic,” Leila said. “If she could hear you talk like this, I'm sure she'd already be yours.”

Elliot felt himself flush. His friends had always been supportive, but no one other than his own fantasies had ever made it seem like being with Maribel could actually happen. He kept pushing the car.

“Which did you end up going with? Did you run or stay still?”

“I took three steps and then tripped. She helped me up before tagging me. Happiest day of my life.”

Leila laughed out. It was a wonderful sound that echoed down the empty street and made Elliot wish that Leila had been in his corner a long time ago.

When they finally reached the gas station, they took a moment to catch their breath. It had taken less time than Elliot had thought it would. He hadn't realized earlier, but the gas station was on the same block as the record store. His first good-luck stroke of the night.

“Good,” Elliot said, sniffing at his tux. “The one smell this jacket needed: sweat.” He looked across the street at the record store. There was a sign on top of the building, making it impossible to see if anyone was on the roof, which, coupled with the view of the Performing Arts Center and the Minneapolis skyline, was why Maribel loved going up there.

“Come on,” Leila said, moving toward the convenience store. “I'll buy you a Gatorade.”

They picked up some drinks and a travel-sized deodorant spray for Elliot, but when the cashier tried to ring them up, Leila's credit card was declined. “Shit,” Leila said. “It must be all the traveling. The bank gets confused that I'm in different cities every day. I know I said it was on me, but I don't have any cash. Do you mind?”

“I don't have any, either,” Elliot said. “I gave all my money to some guys at prom for that bottle of bourbon.”

They looked pleadingly at the cashier, who shrugged and picked up the magazine she'd been reading. They dragged their feet back out the door. “You know what? Don't worry about the gas,” Leila said. “We're on a mission, right? You go check the record store. I'll stay back here and check my car for any cash I might have lying around.”

“What should I say? If she's even there.”

“It doesn't matter. Just talk to her the way you talk
about
her, and you'll be fine.”

He looked over at the record store. The lights were all out except for the ones illuminating the billboard-size sign on top of the building. He could just make out the window art announcing new arrivals and special sales, most of it in Maribel's neat handwriting.

“Leila?”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever need help chasing after the boy of your dreams, you can count on me to help.”

“Thanks. I might have to take you up on that.”

Elliot crossed the street in a half jog, checking for traffic. He went around the back of the record store, unlocking the gate the way Maribel had showed him. He climbed onto the dumpster to reach the stepladder that led to the roof. His heart was beating so loudly that he could feel his pulse in his empty stomach. He took a few deep breaths and then started climbing. Throbbing pain shot through his hand with every rung, but Elliot pictured Maribel sitting up there in her prom dress, her back bare to the warm summer air, her big brown eyes narrowed in thought, and he climbed faster.

He reached the last rung and hauled himself onto the roof. It was a completely open space, nothing between the ladder and the street-facing sign but a few pipes. Elliot stepped toward the middle of the roof, even though he was clearly alone up there. It wasn't just the visual evidence; Elliot could feel Maribel's absence. He felt for a second as if he would never see her again, that the emptiness of the rooftop signified not just another obstacle but that she'd been removed completely from his life. He didn't know how many more of these false hopes he could take.

He walked toward the sign, then peeked around it to look across the street at the gas station. Leila was inside the convenience store, leaning against the counter and talking to the cashier. What kind of teenager traveled on her own to Alaska to go see the Northern Lights? What kind of girl was willing to help a total stranger out the way she was doing?

Elliot climbed back down the ladder and crossed the street to the gas station. Leila saw him coming and walked out of the convenience store to meet him. For some reason, Elliot waved at her, as if he hadn't seen her in a long time.

“No luck?” she started saying, before focusing on his raised hand. “Whoa, you're bleeding.”

“Huh?” He turned his bandaged hand. A small circle of blood had appeared over his palm, and it was spreading slowly. “Crap.”

“I'd offer to take you back to the hospital, but...you know.” She gave one of her tires a kick.

“There's a twenty-four-hour CVS a couple of blocks from here. Some fresh gauze is all I need.”

“That's what I like to hear,” Leila said

* * *

At the CVS, they tried Leila's credit card again with the same results. Then they tried convincing the manager to let Elliot take the gauze now and come back with the money the next day.

“It's an emergency,” Leila said, pointing to the blood coming through the bandage.

“I'd recommend going to a hospital, then.”

“Please, sir. If I don't bring you the money tomorrow, you can call the cops on me. Worse, you can call my parents. I've been ignoring them all night and they'll probably give you a reward just for telling them I'm alive. My name's Elliot Pinnik. I live on—”

“It's $7.49.” The manager said. He put his hands on his hips and furrowed his brow, the classic adult stance signifying that the conversation was over.

Elliot and Leila left the CVS and stood out in front. “I kind of hope I bleed to death, just so he'll have to deal with the guilt.” He sighed and picked some dirt off the bandage. “So, tireless cheerleader, now what?”

Leila bit her bottom lip, then kicked at a pebble on the ground. Elliot followed the pebble's path across the parking lot until a car pulled in and blinded him with its headlights. By the time his eyes had recovered, the car was parked, and a guy wearing sweatpants and a stained T-shirt was walking toward the entrance of the CVS. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.

“Excuse me, sir,” Leila said as he approached. “I know how this is going to sound, but we're in—”

“Sorry, no change,” the man replied, barely looking at them as he entered the store.

Leila watched as the automatic doors slid shut behind him; then she turned to Elliot. “Huh. So that's what that feels like.”

“Should we try to steal the gauze?”

“No!” Leila yelled, strangely forcefully. “No shoplifting.” She calmed herself down a little. “Hopefully someone shows up who has a good heart and will be willing to lend us some money. If they're willing to give us some gas money, too, we'll go to Maribel's house and wait for her to show up. Take a seat, and look like you're in pain. But don't show the bloody side of your hand; we don't want to freak people out.”

Elliot did as he was told, taking a seat on the curb of the parking lot. There was no movement for a while. The tired guy left the store with a jumbo pack of diapers and drove off. A middle-aged woman who'd been smoking in her car tossed the cigarette butt onto the ground without bothering to stamp it out and completely ignored them as she marched past them. A couple of guys in their twenties actually stopped and listened to Leila but eyed Elliot suspiciously and then shook their heads. Elliot's foot started falling asleep, and he thought back to seventh grade, when Maribel had hosted a movie night at her house. He had sat on the couch, and she took the spot on the floor by his feet, at one point even resting her head against his knee. Afraid that he would break whatever spell she had come under, he hadn't moved for the remainder of the movie, even when his foot had been asleep so long it hurt.

A van pulled into the lot. Elliot tried to look innocuously glum and let Leila do the talking. He kept his eyes on the ground. He heard the door of the van open, followed by a familiar voice.

“If it isn't the man of the night!”

Elliot looked up, confused. It was Kurt. “What the hell are you guys doing here?” Kurt asked. He nodded at Leila, who gave him a wave back. “How'd it go with your girl? After the show you put on, I thought you'd be somewhere romantic and with a mattress.”

“She wasn't at the prom anymore. She didn't see it.”

“That sucks. Did you check that kid Bobby's party?”

“Yeah, she wasn't there, either. We've been looking for her all night.”

“Why would she be at the CVS?”

“We just had to take a quick detour to get myself patched up.” He raised his hand so Kurt could see the blood.