THURSDAY, 11:32 P.M.
Xander and David’s late-night conversations had become habit.
It helped both of them process the day’s events and plan for tomorrow. So this night, like the two before, they faced each other in the motel bed.
“Do you miss Danielle?” David whispered.
“Of course.”
“Maybe you’ll find a new girlfriend.”
“I doubt it. Maybe you will.”
David smiled. A year ago, he would have protested that no such thing would ever happen, not in a thousand years.
They fell silent. Their parents breathed. Something ticked, ticked.
“I don’t think Dad saw us,” David said.
“No,” Xander agreed. An hour after they had stepped back into the corridor from the closet, from the school, Dad had returned home. If he had seen them peering at him from the windows in the doors, he had not let on. He had simply gone about organizing the rest of the upstairs exploration. Both of his sons said they could handle it and had urged him to find something else to do. He had wandered off, moping theatrically. By the time it became too dark to continue, Mom had made short work of the kitchen and butler’s pantry—that’s what she called the small room with cabinets and counters between the kitchen and dining room.
Toria had proclaimed her room ready for furniture and decorations. Dad had walked the grounds, finding nothing of particular interest. And the boys had finished the second-floor investigation. They were all so wiped out, Toria had suggested turning off the television midway through America’s Funniest Home Videos. Despite its ranking as their favorite show, everyone had agreed.
But now, an hour later, the brothers were wide-awake, sharing their thoughts.
David whispered, “Do you think the closet’s the only place that moves you from one place to another?”
“One place like that in the whole world is enough,” Xander said. Then he thought about how his father had seemed to instantly shift from the dining room to another part of the house when they had first been here. “I think there might be other spots like that in the house. We just haven’t found them.”
“Yet,” David added.
“I was thinking. What if the spots come and go? I saw that in a movie. These portals moved around. Once it was in a phone booth. Another time, in the bathroom of a Chinese restaurant. Same portal, moving around.”
“That would suck.”
“Yeah. What if you were taking a shower and suddenly you were standing in the middle of a football field at halftime?”
“Naked?
”
“Shhh.” Xander nodded. He could tell David was thinking about it.
“Ooh. That would really suck,” his brother decided.
“I don’t think that could happen.”
“Why not?”
“With the closet and the locker, you know what to do to make it work: you step in and shut the door. In the middle of a field, what would you do to return?”
David made a sour face. “Maybe you don’t.”
“Well, that tells you something, doesn’t it?”
“Like what?”
“Like we don’t know anything about what we’re dealing with. It could be dangerous.”
“So . . . should we tell Mom and Dad?”
Toria popped up from the side of the bed nearest David.
“Tell them what?”
Both boys screamed in whispers.
“Toria, go back to bed,” Xander said.
“Tell Mom and Dad what?”
“That David feels like throwing up.”
“Ugh!” She was back in the rollaway before Xander realized she was gone.
“And no,” Xander said, almost touching David’s nose with his finger. “Don’t tell them. Not yet.”
David didn’t respond for a minute. Then he said, “You know how when we got back from the school, we checked the rest of the second floor and closed closet doors with one of us in it?
Shouldn’t we go back and do that in the rest of the house?”
“I guess.”
“The basement?”
“Everywhere.” Xander knew what David was thinking: they’d both been surprised when nothing turned up down there.
Now they were going to give it another chance. He thought of all the rooms down there, all the doors. Lots of places to hide a portal. And if there was any correlation between the connected places—the relative brightness and friendliness of a linen closest and a school—where might a portal in the dark, creepy basement lead?
He whispered, “We need to stick together.” David said nothing. His eyes were closed. “David?”
A slight snore.
“’Night, Dae,” Xander said, and rolled over.