Disney After Dark (8 page)

9

W
hen Finn awoke, he hurried into the bathroom, tore his shirt off over his head, and studied the pea-size red-and-brown scab with the dime-size scarlet circle of flesh that surrounded it. The burn hurt something fierce. This was no dream. He winced as he cleaned it with soap and water.

“Yaaa!” he hollered, his cry echoing in the tiled room.

“Finn, dear?” his mother called from the hallway. She knocked. “Are you all right?”

“Fine!”

“May I come in?”

“Ah…”

She let herself in. She was in her nightgown. Dawn had arrived an hour earlier, the pink of the eastern sky now silver with clouds.

“Finn, dear?”

She studied him in the mirror’s reflection, from behind, no doubt wondering why he was only half dressed, his shirt in a ballon the floor.

“What’s
that
? What
happened
? Honey?” She laid her warm hand on his shoulder.

Finn felt like telling her the truth, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him. So what to do?

They both were focused on the burn. He couldn’t very well say that he’d been in a laser battle with invisible pirates. She’d cart him off to the mental ward, or worse, their minister.

“A cigarette,” Finn said. He hated smoking more than anything on the planet. In her right mind, his mother knew this about him. Finn had once walked across a restaurant and boldly asked a smoker to put out his cigarette so that his own hamburger didn’t have to taste like an ashtray. This, at seven years old. But his mother wasn’t thinking right. To her, seeing was believing.

“You? What?” she gasped.

He felt awful, both for lying to her and for using smoking as his excuse. He’d crushed her.

“Mom…”

“Who? How’d you get it?”

“Mom…”

“And don’t you lie to me!”

He tried to think of how to explain this without lying, because not to lie was one promise he had made to his parents that he hated having to break. “I didn’t smoke it, Mom! A cigarette…

burned me.” He bent and picked up his shirt off the floor and held it up to show to her. The hole was obvious enough. “It was this guy—a bully, you know.”

She collected herself. “A bully? Who did this to you, Finn?”

“A pirate,” he heard himself mumble.

“What?”

“He’s…called ‘Pirate’ because he’s so mean.”

“He should be arrested.”

“No! It’s nothing.”

“
Nothing
? That’s a—criminal act—burning someone. Finn.” She spun him around to face her.

“Breathe.”

“What?”

“I want to smell your breath.”

“Mom!”

“Now, young man!”

He breathed toward her groping nose.

She blinked rapidly. “So after all we talked about, you sneaked out anyway?”

He’d forgotten about that part of his explanation. “I…ah…”

“Well!” she brightened. Her eyes went soft and her eyebrows danced, and he thought that this was the way she looked before she cried. “Oh, Finn. Thank you for not lying to me. It’s
so
important not to lie.” She added matter-of-factly, “Give me his name, please. His real name. Right now.”

“I don’t know his real name. Just some kid. I don’t think he meant to burn me, just scare me a little. It’s just one of those growing-up things, you know?” She often talked to him about “growing-up things.”

She held him at arm’s length now, studying him thoughtfully. He didn’t like the look on her face. This was her best imitation of a lie detector.

“Did you
sleep
in your clothes?” The dark cloud in her eyes concerned him. “This is the same shirt—these are the same clothes you wore yesterday, for goodness’ sakes!”

As she pieced it together, Finn tried to think of something to distract her. But she was too quick for him. “I don’t remember that hole in your shirt at dinner.”

“Hands beneath the table, Mom.”

“Finn…”

“I can’t help it if you didn’t see it.”

“I should have known, with your going to bed so early last night.” She was thinking aloud. “We can’t tell your father.”

He breathed a huge sigh of relief.

She eyed his wound, “But this did happen to you
last night
, didn’t it?
After
you went to sleep.”

He had no choice but to nod. Being grounded for life was better than continuing to lie to her.

“How late were you out?” she asked, heading for his bedroom window to inspect it like a detective.

“Midnight.” This was the truth.

“How’d you do it? Your father and I were downstairs until eleven or later.”

Finn’s window looked down on an area of the driveway in front of the garage. There was no roof below him, just a tiny apron of flower bedding and then the driveway’s black asphalt. He had a brain freeze trying to think up a way to explain his nocturnal escape, knowing from previous experience that the more of the story he made up, the more difficult it would be to keep it straight.

Then he remembered the room’s window box. “The fire ladder!” he said. His grandfather had installed a chain fire ladder several years before. In the event of an emergency he was to block the bottom crack of his door with clothes or bedding and wait for instructions from firemen to use the stow-away ladder. He’d promised a long time ago to never use the ladder to sneak out.

“I see,” she said, clearly disappointed in him.

“If you have to ground me, I understand,” Finn said, trying to subtly encourage her to do so. If grounded, he could spend more time in his room without raising suspicions. More time in his room meant more chances to sleep, and sleep meant crossing over. If he napped, would he cross over into the park during the day?

So many questions to answer.

“Show me!” his mother ordered.

“Show you what?”

“The ladder. How you got down there.”

Finn looked out the window and felt a little dizzy. It looked about a hundred feet down. His mother knew he was afraid of heights.

“You want me to go down the ladder?” He knew she couldn’t possibly want him to do that. It looked like a death wish.

Glancing out the window, she said, “No. It looks dangerous to me.”

“It is dangerous.”

She put her hand down onto the window box’s lid.

He was in big trouble if she opened up the window box. That fire ladder was buried under a pile of unused toys that went back years. Probably dust an inch thick. How would he explain any of that?

He hurried to stop her. “I messed up, Mom! I’m sorry.”

“You’re definitely grounded.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’re not to use that ladder except in case of an
emergency.
I need your word on that.”

She added hotly, “And I’ll expect you to keep it.”

“I promise.” He hung his head, feeling a mixture of shame and excitement. He poked at his wound as if it hurt a lot more than it did.

“Now let’s get that cleaned up!” she said.

10

F
inn stood in front of his locker, wondering how he was going to find the remaining two DHIs, Willa and Maybeck. He didn’t trust Charlene to seek out Willa. Just as he was thinking this, a voice said: “Isabella Angelo. They call her Willa.” Amanda stepped out from behind his open locker door.

Where had she come from? Could she read minds
?

“What? How?” Surprised by her, he couldn’t get a sentence out.

“Willa,” Amanda repeated.

Finn remembered Willa as a bookish girl with chocolate-brown eyes and a loud voice.

“You found her?” he asked, astonished.

“Maitland Middle School.”

“But how—?”

“I have my ways,” she said.

“She’s into some weird kind of sport,” Finn said, remembering. “It’s not gymnastics.”

“Archery.”

“That’s it!”

“Like cupid,” she said. “And swimming.” Amanda had certainly done her homework. “She said you were cute.”

“You’ve spoken to her?”

“She’ll meet you in VMK tonight, like you suggested.”

“You’re amazing.”

“How was it last night when you went to sleep?” she asked curiously. “Did you…you know?”

“What?” asked Dillard Cole from behind them. Dillard’s sweatshirt was big enough to cover a chair.

“Hey, Dill. I’m kinda busy here.”

Dillard looked between the two. His gaze landed on Finn. He looked hurt. He shuffled off. The sides of his shoes were so worn on the outside edges that his ankles rolled.

Finn felt bad to see Dillard so crushed. He was a good guy. The crossing over was taking Finn away from friends like Dill, making all sorts of trouble for him.

Amanda persisted. “Did you end up in the park last night or not?”

“Yeah. Charlene was there. And Philby. And there were…pirates.”

“Pirates?”

“As in Pirates of the Caribbean. The machines—the guys you see in the ship, and stuff. It’s kinda hard to explain, exactly.”

The shock registered on her face, but dissipated just as quickly. “And?”

“It got a little…weird.”

“Define
weird
,” she said. “Did you see anyone else?”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know.”

Finn rolled his sleeve up past his elbow to the Band-Aid and the glowing red circle surrounding it. “I took a laser hit,” he said.

Her face twisted. “That looks like a cigarette burn.”

“You and my mother,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m grounded. As in, forever. It’s a long story.”

She said, “Maybeck works at Crazy Glaze.”

Finn looked at her blankly.

“The ceramics shop,” she said. “Over on Kilgore. You decorate mugs and plates and pitchers. Stuff like that. They fire them there, too. It’s his aunt’s store.”

“How do you know all this?” he asked.

She avoided an answer, blushing and staring at her feet. “I’m coming with you,” she announced. “That’s part of the deal.”

“What deal?”

“Our deal.”

“Do we have a deal?” he asked.

“We do now.”

“Maybe you missed the part where I told you I was grounded. I gotta get home after school.”

“Did you ride the bus?”

“My bike.”

“Well, there you go,” she said. “Me too. We’ll just happen to stop there on the way home.”

Amanda lifted her head as if she’d heard something. Her hair whipped around as she turned to look down the hall. “Uh-oh,” she said.

All at once, Finn felt a numbing coldness pass through him, a wave of nausea, as if all the blood had suddenly drained out of him. He sank to his knees.

Amanda caught him as he was going down. Her books spilled. Some kids stepped out of her way.

“Finn? Finn? Are you okay?”

“Cold…” he managed to explain.

She hugged him, trying to warm him. Finn couldn’t keep his teeth from chattering. His whole body was shaking.

Amanda pleaded with him. “Finn…” She rubbed his arms. “Think of someplace warm. A beach. A boat. Hot, hot sun…It’s a hot beach on a summer day.”

Finn felt himself warming. The more he thought of the beach, the warmer he felt.

A moment later he felt fine. He leaned away from her. “Whoa,” he said. “That was some kind of strange.”

A smallgroup of kids that had gathered moved on.

Finn stood up.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“Felt like I blew a fuse,” he told her. “Thanks for the coaching. Where’d you learn that?”

“So much of that stuff is in our minds,” was all she said. She giggled. “I thought you’d fainted.”

He said, “You turned…just before…like you heard something. What was with that?”

“I—” She looked away. She didn’t offer an answer.

Now it dawned on him what had just happened.

“‘
It isn’t safe,
’” he mumbled.

Amanda’s brow knit in grave concern. The second bell rang.

Finn whispered dryly, “Now I know I’ve got to get to Willa and Maybeck. I’ll meet you out by the bikes after the last bell.”

11

C
razy Glaze was crowded with mothers and their children busily painting blank pottery at brightly lit tables. There were several connected rooms, all filled with color and the murmur of activity.

Finn and Amanda locked their bikes out front. Once inside, they were directed to a heavyset gray-haired African American woman who wore hoop earrings and dark purple eye shadow.