The Secret of Rover (6 page)

“Like what?” he said. “You read too many books! She's mean, Kat; she's not an alien.”

“I didn't say that!”

“What did you say?”

“I don't
know
. Get out of my room.”

“Fine. You can eat with Trixie. I'll eat by myself.”

But when Katie crept downstairs a few minutes later, Trixie was not in the kitchen. She had already vanished into her regular haunt, the office. The door was once again shut and the usual music trickled out from beneath it. David, though, was in the kitchen, and he didn't look well. His face was ashen and he was staring into the garbage can.

“What?” Cold fear clutched at Katie.

“She threw them away,” he replied, bewilderment in each word.

“She threw
what
?”

He tipped the can so she could see inside it. Wadded up amid the usual eggshells and plastic bags were the skirt and blouse Trixie had worn the night she arrived at their home. Poking up from beneath the discarded clothes Katie saw the sole—barely worn at all—of a sensible low-heeled shoe.

Katie stared at her brother. “But they were new,” she said softly.

“It's like they weren't even really hers,” he said. “It's like she bought them just for one night.”

“She doesn't need them anymore,” said Katie. “She's done.” She understood it all; it came to her quite suddenly and she took his arm and shook it urgently.

“They were a costume, David. Like for a play. Like for pretend.”

“And now . . . ?”

“And now the pretending's over.”

David and Katie did stay all day at the pool. But the pool was not open all night. And when evening fell and the final whistle blew, they felt something they had never felt before, and had never in their lives expected to feel. They felt afraid to go home.

It was nearly dark by the time they cautiously entered the house. Inside, the familiar rooms and corridors were cloaked in shadow. No light shone from beneath the office door, no music trailed its wailing notes, and Trixie was nowhere to be found.

“We have to put away our stuff,” whispered David. “Our water bottles and junk.”

“Why are you whispering?” asked Katie at normal volume. Her voice sounded frighteningly loud and it
trembled a bit, but she refused to lower it. Take charge, she thought. Take charge; you live here.

Katie marched smartly across the towering foyer and flicked on the light. Hesitating only briefly in the sudden brightness, she willed herself to march straight back to the kitchen without even looking to see if David would follow.

It was lucky that he did, for yet another shock awaited them.

The kitchen was a mess. Four empty pizza boxes were piled in the center of the table and greasy plates were strewn everywhere—eight plates, she counted quickly; no, nine. Chairs had been pushed roughly back from the table and left scattered about the floor. Boxes of crackers, empty bags of chips, and half-eaten tubs of dip overflowed the counters. Over by the refrigerator, a sticky, dark drink had been spilled on the floor and a puddle of it oozed, unwiped, toward the center of the room.

“She had a
party
?” David was sputtering with amazement and rage. “How many people were here?”

But Katie's mind had moved in a different direction. “I think,” she said thoughtfully, “I think it's time to tell Mom and Dad.”

“They just got the baby today!”

“OK, so not this minute. We don't have to call them tonight. But tomorrow I think we should. Enough already! They need to know this stuff, David.”

“OK,” he said. “OK.” It was a relief, after all, to give in.

Tossing her backpack onto the counter, Katie marched to the refrigerator, removed the slip of paper with the number of her parents' hotel, and pushing past her brother in the doorway, headed for the stairs.

“I'm going to bed,” she said over her shoulder. “I'll make the call myself, first thing in the morning. You don't even have to wake up.”

But he did wake up. He awoke from a strange dream.

David was on a truck, rumbling down the highway. He was on the roof of the truck, then he was inside the back, and then he was outside of it, clinging to the door with the wind whipping through his hair. From somewhere he heard a radio playing. Bits and pieces of music and voices came to him through the roaring wind.

The radio was bothering him. Where was it coming from?

The driver of the truck must turn that music off, thought the dream David. From his perch on the truck door he pounded on the window, but he could not catch the driver's attention or even see who the driver was.

Bam! Bam!
The wind whisked away the sounds of his fists on the thick glass. “Open up!” he cried.
Bam!
“Open the door!”
Bam-bam-bam!

David's eyes flew open. He was in his room, and someone was pounding on his door.

“David—
open up
!”

It was Katie. Uncharacteristically, he had locked his door the night before and now she urgently wanted to come in. And there
was
a radio, and it was tuned to an unfamiliar station. He heard it in real life now, from very nearby.

“I'm coming!” David rolled out of bed and cracked open the door. Katie slid in and slammed it behind her, refastening the lock.

The music had been loud in the hallway in that instant when the door was opened. Where was it coming from?

“David.” Katie's face was anguished. “She's
in their room
.”

“What?” David rubbed his eyes. He had just woken up and none of this made sense.

“She's in their room! Trixie is. She's in Mom and Dad's room—
she slept there
!”

Now David was awake. “How do you know?”

“I saw her! I woke up and heard that music. Don't you hear it?” David nodded. “So I walked in to turn it off. I was mad 'cause I figured she'd been snooping there last night and turned it on. I didn't want it bothering me when I try to talk to Mom and Dad. So I just walked right in and she was still there! She's in their bed!”

“Did she see you?”

“She's awake! She looked right at me!”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. She just kind of . . .” Katie searched for the
right word. “She kind of smirked at me. Then she rolled over and shut her eyes. And I was so surprised, I just closed the door. Then I came here.

“But she's awake now. Don't you hear her moving around? She's getting up, and soon she'll be out. We have to call them right away—before she tries to stop us!”

“The phone's in your room,” said David, reaching for the door and pulling it wide open.

But they were too late. Standing in the doorway—filling it; blocking their exit—was Trixie.

She was wearing their mother's bathrobe. And she was wearing the smile.

“Morning time!” Trixie sang.

Even granted that Trixie had said very little to them in the three days that they had spent together, they could not help but notice the change in her voice. Always before she had been either syrupy or furious. Today she was ebullient. Today she was triumphant.

But Katie was beside herself. She had been outraged when she saw this woman in their parents' bed. But that was nothing compared to what she felt at seeing her in their mother's robe. She leaped to her feet and shouted, “
You take that off!
”

Trixie's eyebrows arched upward in mock surprise. “Oh?” she asked. “Are we cranky today? Did we get up on the wrong side of the bed?” And she laughed out loud.

“Please move,” said David tightly. “I need to leave.” They must get to the phone!

“Go ahead!” said Trixie, stepping ostentatiously out of his way and gesturing him out the door. “You go on and call them. You'll see!”

See what?

Phone, phone, to the phone. Both kids dashed beneath Trixie's outstretched arm and across the hall to Katie's room. As soon as they were in, they slammed the door behind them, but it would not shut. Trixie had stuck her foot in it. Now she elbowed it open and poked her grinning head into the room.

“‘You Are My Sunshine!'” she called. “It's not quite so sunny anymore, I think!”

In a rage, Katie stomped on Trixie's foot. Trixie withdrew it, laughing, and the door slammed.

“It's getting a little cloudy!” she called through the door. “I'm thinking it looks like rain!”

Katie turned the lock and through the walls they heard Trixie's heavy, stomping feet and her snorts of laughter in the hallway.

David, frantic, was scrambling on the floor for the phone.

“David, how does she know that? How does she know their ringtone?”

“He told her. Dad told her at dinner, that first night.”

“No, he didn't. He never named the song! I remember he didn't—I was relieved! But how does she—”

“Shhh! I'm trying to dial!”

David peered intently at the phone and punched in the familiar series of numbers. Then he clutched it to his ear with both hands.

Somewhere on the other side of the world, a piano plinked and two children sang a tender, sentimental song.

And sang, and sang. There was no answer.

“Let me try!” Katie snatched the phone from her brother and redialed with urgent fingers. Again the phone simply rang.

“They're napping or something, and they've turned it off,” she said. “Where's the hotel number?”

She had stuck it on the wall by her bed, and now David read out the series of digits as she punched them into the phone.

“Anybody home?” Trixie called merrily from the hallway.

Katie's fingers shook at the sound of that voice and she messed up the long international number.

“Give it—I'll do it.”

Katie thrust the phone at David, who began the number again.

“It's ringing!” he said to Katie, then returned to the phone.

“Hello? Hello. I'm calling from America.” David spoke loudly, remembering the expanses of land and ocean that lay between himself and his listener. “I want to talk to Alan and Sandra Bowden.”