Nine Doors (5 page)

No doubt. That was just what the movie needed—more people wanting to kill us.

“There's a problem,” I said. “I'm generally not allowed out at three in the morning—are you?”

He blew a blast of air out his mouth. “I can fix that!” he said. “You tell your mother you're staying at my place. I'll tell my mother I'm staying at yours. No one will ever know the difference. Piece of cake.”

He was smiling away at me like one of those guys on TV who sells discount carpet. I knew no matter what I said, he'd have an answer for it.

“Okay, fine,” I said. “We'll do it at night.”

I was lying. I figured if I could lie to the cops, I could lie to Richard. It was an easy out. I'd phone him later and tell him my mother said I couldn't stay at his place. Not much he could do about that. If I was lucky, by the next day he'd have given up on the whole stupid idea.

Unfortunately, right at that moment, my mother came barreling out of the house.

“Where are you going?” I said.

She squinted her eyes up and made this kind of “aargh” sound. “To the city! The Internet's down everywhere. I'm going to have to drive in if I want to get my article filed in time.”

She wasn't happy about it, but she was doing her best not to go totally berserk while Richard was there. She scrambled into the car. She jabbed at the ignition about four times before she actually managed to get the key in.

“Put a frozen lasagna in the oven, would you? I'm not going to feel like making supper by the time I get back tonight.”

Richard ran around and closed the car door as if he was her chauffeur or something.

“Mrs. Murray?” he said. “Would you mind if Emery stays over at my place tonight? We got a new Ping Pong table and...”

She was smiling, but I could tell she was anxious just to get out of there. She revved the engine a few times to keep the old clunker going and said, “Sure, Richard. As long as it's okay with your mother, it's fine with me.”

She backed out. Richard waved and, without moving his lips, said, “Boy, she's even easier to manipulate than you are.”

He elbowed me. “Just kidding.”

Yeah. Right.

Mom called from the car to say she wasn't coming home for dinner after all. She was frazzled after sitting in traffic for hours. She decided to stay in town and catch a play with her friend Cara.

That was fine by me. If she wasn't going to be there, I didn't have to bother eating any vegetables. I cut myself a piece of lasagna. I was hungry, but after a couple of bites I didn't feel like eating any more. I kept on thinking about Bebi—which was kind of
nice—and Richard—which wasn't. How did he do it? Even when he wasn't around, he managed to weasel into my brain.

I had to get out of playing Nicky Nicky Nine Doors with him that night. I know I'd been telling myself that all day, but I was serious about it now. I truly hated the game. It was mean, it was stupid, it was dangerous and, worst of all, it was potentially embarrassing. If anyone I knew caught me playing, I'd never live it down.

It should have been so easy to pick up the phone and say I'm not going. But this was Richard I was dealing with. He wouldn't just say, “Sure. Whatever. No problem.” One way or another he was going to talk me into playing again. I knew it. I could feel it in my stomach. It was like running a race with the world's fastest man or something. You know you're going to lose even before the starter's gun goes off. It kind of takes the fight out of you.

I tried not to let that bother me. I told myself, “Be a man. Call him. Tell him you quit.” I'd get all revved up to phone, but
somehow I always ended up putting it off. I guess I kept hoping something would happen. His mother wouldn't let him stay over, say, or a big thunderstorm would hit, or Richard would actually develop a conscience and decide he didn't want to do it either.

I scraped the rest of my lasagna into the compost bin and started playing video games instead. At least I knew how to defeat
those
enemy mutants.

That took my mind off things. I forgot about Nicky Nicky Nine Doors for a while. I have no idea how much time had gone by when the doorbell rang. I was sort of annoyed. The universe would have soon been mine. I got up anyway and opened the door.

Bebi must have thought I was an idiot. I just stood there staring at her with my tongue hanging out.

“Hi,” she said.

She probably expected me to say “Hi” back—or to at least nod or blink or something.

She said, “You okay?” and looked at me in such a worried way I felt almost obliged to snap out of it. I gave my head a little shake to get my brain started up again.

“Yeah,” I said. “I just, um...” I started searching for some reason to be acting so lame. I noticed something down the street. “Hey, look. An ambulance. Over there. Like, behind you.”

I poked my head half out the door and tried to seem concerned instead of just stunned.

Bebi turned her head to see. Two men in blue uniforms were bringing a stretcher into Apron Guy's house. She put her hand over her mouth. “Oh no,” she said. “It must be Norma. I hope she didn't die... Poor Bert. He's going to be so sad...”

Bebi kept talking about how Bert had quit his job to stay home and look after his sick wife, but I barely heard her. All I could think of was us ringing his stupid doorbell, dragging him out of the house and making fun of him in that apron. No wonder he was ready to murder us.

Bebi kind of pushed her way past me. “Ah, sorry. Do you mind if I come in?”

I must have nodded. She said, “Thanks” and closed the door. She peeked out the window. “My Dad would go insane if he caught me here. I'm not supposed to be alone with a boy.”

Alone with a boy.

A boy.

I'm a boy. She's a girl. That made me gulp.

“Oh,” I said. My face must have looked so weird.

“I probably shouldn't have come,” she said. She turned away. I realized that she was as embarrassed as I was. She put her hand on the doorknob. “I better go.”

“No,” I said. “Don't go.” I just kind of blurted it out, but it worked. She stopped. Her cheeks went all dark.

“Why are you here?” I said. It didn't come out the way I meant it to. I sounded like a principal who'd just caught a kid wandering the hallway during class time.

She looked at her hands and kind of laughed.

“Well, um...I have dance class tonight and, um...”

She stopped. Her eyes went all droopy. She took a big swallow. I knew exactly how she felt.

“Yeah?” I said.

“Well,” she said, “I just thought maybe I could leave half an hour early or so and we could, you know, hang out together for a while, I mean, if you want to or whatever.” She said it in one big long sentence. Then she sucked her lips into her mouth and sort of bit them shut.

We both took a breath at the same time.

Nicky Nicky Nine Doors with Richard didn't stand a chance anymore. “Yeah,” I said again and nodded my head a whole bunch of times.

“Cool.” She broke into this big smile. Her teeth were so white she could have done a toothpaste commercial. “I'll sneak out at nine and meet you here about ten minutes later. I told Dad I was walking back with Stephanie and Kuan-Yin.
As long as I'm home by nine forty-five, he won't suspect anything. That sound good?”

“Yeah,” I said again. “Yeah. Good. Great. Yeah.”

She slipped out the door. I had about an hour to improve my conversational skills.

I called Richard right away to say I couldn't meet him that night. Nobody was home so I hung up. I could have left a message, but I didn't. I was worried his parents might get suspicious.

I don't know if it was the excitement of having Bebi show up like that or nervousness about having to talk to Richard, but something was making me feel sort of sick.

I turned off the computer and had a shower. I used my mother's razor to shave
off the six whiskers I had growing on my chin. I should have just plucked them. What a hack job I did. I gave myself a big ugly gash and sliced the top off a pimple. I got blood all over my shirt. The only clean one I had was this white button-down thing Mom bought me for my grandfather's wedding. I put it on.

I looked like I was going to sing in the school choir. (No, I looked like I got beat up on my way to sing in the school choir.) I took it off. I went back to my old T-shirt. It was brown, so I figured once the blood dried it wouldn't show that much anyway. By the time I was ready, it was almost nine.

The doorbell rang.

I wondered if Bebi was early. This thought popped into my head: She just couldn't
wait
to see me. My heart went crazy. It was like I had a whole bunch of little animals inside me all randomly hurling themselves against my chest.

I checked my armpits. I did a quick look at myself in the hall mirror. I should
have worn the clean shirt. Did the blood look gross? My chin was starting to get all scabby.

I told myself to relax. I smelled okay. Nothing I could do about a scabby chin now. I smiled into the mirror. At least there was no lasagna between my teeth.

I stood up straight to make myself look taller. I opened the door and said, “Hello.”

No one was there. It appeared that Bebi
could
wait to see me after all.

I looked around, but it was dark. I couldn't see anyone. Not that I needed to see anyone. I knew immediately who must have rung my doorbell.

I went, “Richard!”

I stepped out onto the porch. I heard something move to my left. I turned my head.

Somebody grabbed me from behind.

I went, “Quit it, Richard! I mean it! Stop!” but even as I said it, I knew it wasn't him.

It couldn't be. He's too little. Whoever had me was way taller than Richard and stronger too.

I tried to scream, but all I got out was one sad little squeak before a hand covered my mouth from behind. The person leaned in hard against my ear and went, “
Shhhh
!”

I tried to get away. I rammed my elbows back. I kicked. I threw my body around the
way big fish do when they're trying to get off a line.

It didn't make any difference.

The person just held on tighter and kept hushing me. It was so creepy. It was like some really violent babysitter was trying to rock me to sleep.

I was terrified. I thrashed and thrashed until I realized it wasn't working. I was weak and getting weaker all the time. I had to do something else. Maybe if I pretended to cooperate, I could catch them off guard. I stopped struggling. We both just stood there panting for a few seconds. Then the person said, “Thank you,” in this croaky voice.

Thank you? For what? For being a good victim?

It's weird, but that just made me mad. As if I'd give up that easily! What kind of a wuss did they take me for?

I lifted my leg and stomped down as hard as I could. My foot landed on a nice soft-toed sneaker.

I don't know if it was the pain or the
shock, but it worked. There was a yelp, and suddenly I was free.

Too free.

With no one holding me back, I went flying forward. I tried to turn around and grab the railing, but I was too late. I fell backward down the steps.

I remember thinking this was really going to hurt, but I was wrong. I didn't feel anything.

I was out cold.

Someone was wiping my face with a wet cloth. I groaned. I opened my eyes. It was pitch-dark. I said, “Who's there?” The person dropped the cloth and darted away. I heard a door shut and a lock click. I sat up. My head spun. I lay back down.

What was going on?

“Where am I?” My words sort of echoed.

I heard a noise, like someone laughing. I recognized the voice immediately. It made me so mad.

“Richard, you jerk!” I said. “Is this your idea of a joke? It isn't funny. Quit laughing!”

There was a long pause.

“I'm not laughing,” he said. He sounded really small. “I've never been so scared in my life.”

My whole body erupted into goose bumps. I realized this wasn't one of Richard's stupid pranks. Someone had got him too. We'd been kidnapped. Why?

My heart started pounding so hard it hurt.

I told myself to stay calm. I had to say it a few times before it sunk in at all. I clamped my teeth together to keep them from chattering.

I lay on the cold floor like that for a few minutes, too scared to move. I tried to blank out Richard's crying but I couldn't. It drilled right into me. He kept on crying until my brain finally got the message: Richard wasn't going to be any help. If I wanted to get out of there, I'd have to do it myself.

I took a deep breath. I got up on my hands and knees. I crawled in the direction
of Richard's voice. The floor was smooth but really dusty. It left a chalky feeling on my hands.

I bumped into his body. I figured out where his shoulder was and gave him a little pat.

“We'll be okay, Richard. Don't worry.” I heard him gulp. “We just need a plan.” I said it in the cheery type of voice Mom always used after the divorce. It didn't fool me then, and I'm sure it wasn't fooling Richard now, but it was the best I could do.

“Do you know who was just here? The person wiping my face?” I said.

“No.” Richard sniffed a few times. “It was too dark. I didn't see anything.”

I had a headache. I ran my hand through my hair and felt a lump the size of a computer mouse.

“How did you get here?” I said.

“Someone grabbed me.”

“The same person?”

“I don't know.” He hesitated. “I didn't see. It was about eight thirty. I was getting some footage of the sun going down
behind your house before I picked you up. I thought it would make a nice scene change between—”

I cut him off. “Richard. Forget about the stupid movie, would you?”