One Night That Changes Everything (14 page)

“BUT I WANT WOOBY!” a little kid’s voice (Tyler’s brother?) screams. Yikes.

“Well, I don’t know
where
your Wooby is, you probably …” the woman’s voice fades away, along with the sounds of high heels clicking over a tile floor. I can hear soft classical music playing upstairs. Probably Tyler’s parents had some kind of old people party or something, which is why they’re still awake. And now apparently Tyler’s little brother is awake too, looking for his Wooby.

Leave it to us to pick the one night there’s a big commotion going on upstairs. I mean, parents should be in bed at this hour, sleeping or reading or watching
60 Minutes
.

I look at Marissa and put my finger to my lips, signaling her to be quiet. She gives me a look, as if to say, “Duh, I know.” I start making my way slowly over to the corner, where the chairs are set up. In the middle of the circle I can see what looks like a box. A big black box. A big black box that probably has my notebook in it. A big black box that has a big black combination lock on it.

Shit, shit, shit. I crouch down and try to slide the top of the box back, but of course it doesn’t open, and when I close my eyes for a second and will the lock to open, it doesn’t happen.

“Shit,” I whisper. I try to pick up the box, but it’s way too heavy.

“What is it?” Marissa asks, tiptoeing over to me. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s locked.” I’m punching Cooper’s number into my phone. I cannot believe he would do something like this to me! Talk about sending me to the wolves!

“Eliza?” he asks when he answers. “What is it, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” He sounds panicked, probably because he’s afraid of getting into trouble with Tyler and the dumb 318s.

“You asshole,” I hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me it was locked?” From upstairs, the sound of a TV comes through the floorboards. It’s muted, but sounds like some kind of late-night talk show. “And why didn’t you tell me his parents would probably be up, basically partying in their kitchen?”

“I didn’t know,” he says.

“That it would be locked? Or that the parents would be up?”

Marissa, who’s listening to my side of the conversation, sighs in exasperation.

“Either,” he says. “But listen, it’s okay, I know the combination. Twenty-eight, seventeen, seven.”

I take a deep breath and start to turn the dial on the lock. But my hands are shaking, and I go by number 7, and so I have to start over. And then, right when I’m on the number 17 for the second time, the door at the top of the stairs starts to open.

12:18 a.m.

My stomach jumps into my throat, and I look over at Marissa, whose eyes become wide with fear. Shit, shit, shit. I put my finger to my lips and then don’t move, hoping that whoever is at the top of the stairs is going to, you know, go away. Or at least decide they don’t need whatever it is they wanted from the basement.

But then the light flips on, and we hear footsteps shuffling down the stairs, and suddenly a little boy appears. He’s about six or seven, and he’s wearing a pair of pajamas with planes all over them.

He’s holding a book, and when he sees me and Marissa there, huddled over the box in the corner, he drops it on the ground.

“Oh, hi,” Marissa whispers. “Hi, honey.” She gives him a big smile. “We’re friends of your brother.”

The boy doesn’t say anything. He just stares at us, his eyes wide.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “We’re friends of Tyler’s, and I thought I forgot something here, but it turns out I didn’t.” Abandon plan! Abandon plan! Time to get the hell out of here.

Marissa and I are both moving back toward the window now, nodding as if that will make what we’re saying true. Tyler’s little brother (at least, I’m assuming that’s who it is unless Tyler has some other reason for a seven-year-old kid to be living with him) is just watching us.

I catch Marissa’s eye, and I can tell we’re thinking the same thing—just get the hell out of here, and then we can worry about everything else later. It doesn’t matter that we don’t have the notebook, the most important thing is getting out of here without getting caught.

“So, um, we’ll see you around, little buddy,” Marissa says. She puts one foot on the chair and starts to climb up, but unfortunately, her upper body strength isn’t that great, and she’s unable to hoist herself back out the window. I guess Cooper forgot to take into account that we’re girls, and that his dumb football-playing friends are probably lifting every single day, while I haven’t lifted in … since … well, ever.

“Let me try,” I say, after Marissa has tried six times unsuccessfully to lift herself up onto the ledge. Tyler’s brother is still standing there, just staring at us.

But it’s the same thing for me. I can’t get up.

“Let me try to lift you,” I suggest. “Then once you get outside, you can pull me out.”

“Oooh, good idea,” she says. I put my arms around her waist and lift with all my might. Marissa hauls herself up onto the ledge, and for a second, it looks like she’s going to do it, she’s going to get out, and yes, we don’t have the notebook, but for a second it seems like we’re going to be free, free, free.

And then Tyler’s little brother takes a huge deep breath and screams bloody murder.

Tyler’s mom is the first one to get down to the basement, and when she sees us, she freaks out.

“Cal!” she screams. “Cal, there are INTRUDERS IN OUR BASEMENT!” She picks up a broom from where it’s leaning against the wall, and for a second it seems like maybe she’s going to attack us with it. But then she thinks better of it, and just sort of stands there, brandishing it and looking threatening. She’s all dressed up, in a black cocktail dress and high heels, so the whole thing is kind of funny. If it wasn’t so serious, I mean.

“Oh, no,” I say “We’re not intruders. I mean, yes, we did intrude on your house, but we’re not … I mean, we don’t want to
take
anything.” Lie, but sort of not really. We don’t want to take anything that doesn’t already belong to us, but something tells me that wouldn’t go over well with this woman. “We’re friends of Tyler’s, and he told us we could come in through this window.”

“Tyler would never say such a thing!” Mrs. Twill looks like she can’t believe I would even suggest anything so outlandish. Shows how well she knows her son. “And especially not when he knows we were having the McIntyres over for dinner.” She pulls Tyler’s brother toward her. “You girls probably woke up Edward! His room is right over the basement!”

“I want my Wooby!” Edward yells.

“Of course, darling,” Mrs. Twill says. She smoothes his hair and then looks around the basement. “There he is, over there on the couch.” Edward scampers off and grabs a teddy bear off the couch, then buries his face back into his mother’s dress.

“Anyway,”
Marissa says. “Tyler did say we could come in through the window. He told us to climb in, and to wait for him here.” She shrugs and opens her eyes all innocent. I like where she’s going with this, although I don’t like her tone (kind of bitchy, which I think is the wrong tactic, since I can already tell Mrs. Twill is one of those mothers who doesn’t think their kid can ever do anything wrong).

“It’s true,” I say, all sweetness and light. “He said to come in here and wait for him, that he’d be home soon. He said you guys didn’t mind him having friends over late, but that he didn’t want to disturb you and Mr. Twill and Edward. So we just came in, but we’re so
so
sorry to scare you, I can’t even imagine how horrible that must be, I know that I get super-scared when I’m home alone and I think like every single little noise is some kind of stranger creeping in, not that I’m home
alone that much, but I am this weekend, my parents went away, so I can understand what you must feel like, coming down to the basement and seeing us here.” I’m babbling now, but I can’t stop.

Then Tyler’s dad comes thundering down the stairs. “What’s going on, Meg?” he asks. “Are you okay?” And then he sees us. “Oh,” he says. He peers at us closely. “Eliza, right?”

“Yes!” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. Because I just remembered that Mr. Twill knows me! Well, sort of. I met him one time when he came to pick Tyler up from Cooper’s house. He seemed nice enough, and we chatted for a few minutes about the weather and some football game he was excited about. He must be really good with names.

“You know her?” Mrs. Twill asks. She says it almost accusingly.

“This is Cooper’s girlfriend,” Mr. Twill says. “Right?”

“Yes, yes,” I say, not bothering to correct him. “Yup, I’m Cooper’s girlfriend all right.”

“We haven’t seen Cooper around here lately,” Mr. Twill says. “What’s he been up to these days?” Um, going out with me as a joke and then getting involved in some sort of cruel blackmail game involving your son and a weird notebook that I keep? “He’s just been, you know, busy with school and stuff.”

“Ahh,” Mr. Twill says, putting his arm around Mrs. Twill. “Young love.”

“Yup,” I say. “We’re young. And totally in love.” I beam at him. Although now that I think about it, Mr. Twill’s
young-love theory might not be that far off. If Cooper isn’t hanging out with me, and he’s not hanging out with Tyler, then he’s probably hanging out with Isabella. They’re probably spending all their time at her dumb little apartment, pretending they’re newlyweds or something.

“You’re pretty,” Edward says shyly to me.

“Thanks,” I say, happy in spite of myself. I mean, how sweet.

“So, it’s been great catching up, but obviously we’ve disrupted your night and I guess Tyler must not be coming home after all,” Marissa says. “So we’ll just be on our way out of here.”

“Sure, sure,” Mr. Twill says. “Come on upstairs and use the front door this time.” He gives a big hearty laugh. “And we’ll make sure we tell Tyler that you stopped by.”

Marissa and I look at each other in horror.

“Actually, um, if you could … not do that, we’d really appreciate it.”

Mrs. Twill narrows her eyes at us. She has short brown hair and a pointy nose, and when she narrows her eyes like that, she looks kind of like a chipmunk. But not in a cute way. More in a “I’m a deranged chipmunk that wants to maybe kill you” kind of way. “Why?” she asks suspiciously.

“Why?” I repeat, stalling for time.

“Yes,” she says. “Why would we not tell Tyler you stopped by, if, in fact, he asked you to?” She still has the broom in her hands, and it’s making me kind of nervous.

“Because,” Marissa says. She still sounds a little haughty,
which really makes no sense, since we have no reason to be haughty. Like, at all.

“Because,” I say slowly. “The thing is, Tyler didn’t invite us here.” Mrs. Twill gives us a smirk. Ugh. How annoying is she? No wonder Tyler is so misogynistic; he completely and totally hates his mother. “The thing is, that um, he just invited me.”

Mr. Twill frowns. “Say what, now?”

“Well, Mr. Twill,” I say, deciding that if there’s any way out of this, it’s with Tyler’s dad and definitely not his mom.

“Please,” he says, holding up his hand. “Call me Cal.”

“Cal,” I say, “The thing is that my friend Marissa here”—I point at Marissa—“she kind of has a thing for Tyler.”

Marissa’s eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to say something, but I shoot her a warning look. “Yes,” she says morosely. “It’s true. I have a thing for Tyler.”

“A thing for him?” Mrs. Twill asks, looking slightly interested.

“Yes,” I say. “She, you know, likes him.” I rush on quickly before anyone can say anything else. “And since Tyler is one of the most popular and sought-after boys in our class, you can see how Marissa would be shy about telling him her feelings.” I’m not sure which is more sickening—that Tyler’s mom seems to be lapping up all these compliments about her son, or that, unfortunately, all the things I’ve said about Tyler are true. He
is
one of the most popular and sought-after boys in our grade.

“I get that,” Cal says. “Tyler
is
kind of a ladies’ man.” He
looks pleased. Maybe he’s glad Tyler’s getting a lot of ladies. Maybe he himself didn’t do so well when he was in high school. Mr. Twill isn’t bad looking, although he could stand to lose a few pounds. But his super-nice personality makes me think he might have been one of those nice guys who always finished last. I mean, he did end up with Mrs. Twill.

“Totally a ladies’ man,” I say, deciding to lay it on real thick. “In fact, if I didn’t already have a boyfriend, I’m sure I’d be after him too.”

“What’s the point, though?” Mrs. Twill asks, all suspicious again. Wow. I guess it takes a constant stream of compliments to really distract her.

“The point
is
,” I say, “that I brought Marissa here so that maybe she and Tyler could hang out. So that maybe he would get to know her, and that maybe they could start being friends.”

“Yeah,” Marissa says, nodding. “I really think that the basis of any strong relationship is a good friendship.”

I nod. “I mean, right now they don’t even talk,” I say. “In fact, Tyler doesn’t even know she exists.”

“A pretty girl like you?” Cal asks. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Mrs. Twill doesn’t say anything, and I know she’s thinking that there’s no way Marissa is good enough for her son. Something tells me it wouldn’t matter if Taylor Swift was standing here; Mrs. Twill still wouldn’t think she was good enough for Tyler. It’s really amazing just how clueless parents are about their own kids. I mean, Mrs. Twill obviously has no idea just what a complete and total idiot Tyler is.

“It is true,” I say sadly. “Poor Marissa here hasn’t even talked to Tyler once in her whole life.” I put my arm around her and nudge her gently with my foot. In return, Marissa steps on mine. Hard. “Have you, Marissa?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“I haven’t,” she says.

“Which is why we don’t really want Tyler to know we were here,” I say. “Because if he knew Marissa was here, then he might want to know
why
she was here, and then he might ask me questions. Actually, knowing Tyler, he’d probably figure the whole thing out. About her secret crush, I mean. He is so, so smart.”

“Probably,” Mrs. Twill agrees. She slowly loosens her grip on the broom and then leans it back against the wall, which I think is a very good sign.