Charlie Ray huddled under the covers, listening to the stranger hiding in his cupboard.
He’d woken when he heard the window slowly slide up. The creak of a floorboard and the click of the cupboard door softly closing had convinced him he wasn’t dreaming. Now a strange crunching noise emanated from inside.
He opened one eye and saw the digital clock read 3.00 a.m. Far too late for any of his friends to be playing a stupid prank. Anyway, he didn’t have any friends.
Charlie lay perfectly still, pretending to be asleep, forcing his breathing to remain rhythmic. A month ago he would have pulled the pillow over his head and curled into a ball, hoping the intruder would leave him alone.
Not any more. These days, the only thing that scared Charlie was himself.
His mother was sleeping in the next room, but he had no intention of shouting for help. There was no way he was going to put her in any kind of danger. This was his problem and he would deal with it.
He remained motionless, calculating which object in his room would make the most useful weapon. There was a guitar on its stand by the window, a baseball bat leaning against the bookcase and a baseball Blu-Tacked to the second shelf. A heavy paperweight lay on his computer desk.
Charlie threw back the covers and rolled across the floor. He grabbed the bat and sprang to his feet, clutching it in both hands.
Pthhhhhp.
He blinked rapidly.
“You in there.” He looked incredulously at the closed cupboard door. “Did you just… fart?”
“Couldn’t help it,” a muffled voice retorted. “I’m scrunched up like an accordion.”
Charlie could see the key was still sticking out of the cupboard’s lock, so he marched over and swiftly turned it. The handle rattled a few times then stopped.
“Uh oh.”
“Yeah. You’re trapped, whoever you are,” Charlie announced. “Now I’m going to call the police.”
“Good luck with that, buster,” the voice scoffed. “Your phone is in here with me. I’m lookin at your photo gallery right now.”
Charlie glanced at the desk. Sure enough, his phone was gone. “Why?”
“’Cause it’s boring in the closet and I wanted to have some light entertainment while I ate my crisps. What’s a prawn cocktail anyhow?” Charlie heard the sound of a packet being scrunched.
“I’m finished now,” the voice continued. “So open this door or I’m gonna post that video you recorded of yourself singing along to Beyoncé in front of the mirror.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” The boy’s head was spinning. “Who are you?”
“Just let me out. I ain’t gonna harm no one.”
“I’m going to get my mum and she can call the police on her phone.”
“You might find it a smidge difficult to rouse her,” the voice said apologetically. “I was told to put a few sleeping pills in her hot chocolate so she wouldn’t disturb us.”
“You did what?” Charlie’s jaw tightened. “Nobody messes with my mum. Not after all she’s been through. Nobody!”
He unlocked the door and yanked it open, bat raised above his head.
A girl burst out of the darkness and crashed into him. Charlie landed on his back with a grunt, the intruder squarely on top.
“Surprise!” she giggled, then got quickly to her feet.
The boy stared in astonishment as she did an awkward little dance on the spot.
“Gotta go to the ladies’ room,” she gasped. “Had a whole bottle of Coke before I got here. 1.5-litre size.”
“It’s at the end of the landing.” Charlie was too taken aback to say anything else.
“Back in two shakes.” She hobbled out of the door. “Nice tartan PJs, by the way.”
When she returned, Charlie had changed out of his pyjamas and was sitting cross-legged on the bed, tapping the baseball bat into his palm.
He studied the stranger carefully. She was a well-built girl with cold blue eyes and her round face was framed by a glossy shoulder-length bob. She wore a sparkly green top, short skirt and large black boots over crimson striped tights. He supposed she was quite pretty, in an odd sort of way, and looked about the same age as him.
“That’s better.” She grinned, revealing a huge gap between her front teeth. “I must have a bladder the size of a pea. Should have gone before I climbed up your drainpipe.”
Her way of speaking was decidedly strange and reminded him of the old gangster movies his father, Gerry, used to watch. But he didn’t like to think about his dad. Not if he could help it.
“Why were you in my cupboard?” he demanded.
“Nobody but you can know I’m here, see? I had to hide until I was sure your mom was out cold.” The stranger shrugged. “’Sides, I thought it would be funny.”
“Do I look like I’m laughing?”
“You sure don’t seem the jolly type,” the girl muttered. “I reckon your face would slide off if you tried to raise a smile.”
“Excuse me?”
“The name’s Daffodil McNugget.” She held out her hand. When Charlie refused to shake it, she stuck a finger up his nose.
“Stop it!” He batted her away. “I want some answers or I will call the police.”
“All right, grumpy.” Daffodil backed off. “A voice in my head told me to how to find you, so I could pass on an important message. Happy now?”
“Well, that explains a lot.” Charlie clutched the bat tighter. “Want me to whip you up a tinfoil hat?”
“Ooh. Is that what the in-crowd are wearin these days?” Daffodil glanced down at her clothes. “Only I reckon it might clash with my outfit.”
“Oh, dear God.”
“Relax, will you?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m only joshin.”
“Stop ‘joshin’ and start explaining before I wallop you with this bat. Who the hell are you?”
“That’s a real thorny subject. See, I don’t actually remember who I am.” Daffodil scratched her temple uncertainly. “In fact, I don’t recall much at all.”
“Is that why you made up such a daft name?”
“You’re one smart cookie, Chaz!” She beamed. “Howd’ya figure it out?”
Charlie jerked his thumb at the bunch of yellow flowers his mum had plonked on the dresser to brighten the room. Next to it was an empty carton of Chicken McNuggets.
“Ah.” Daffodil pulled a face. “That obvious, huh?” She shrugged. “Call me Mac if you like.”
“There are several things I feel like calling you and ‘Mac’ is at the bottom of the list.”
“All right grumpster.” She looked at him quizzically. “Ain’t you even a little curious about why I’m here?”
“I’d be a lot more curious if it wasn’t the middle of the night.” Charlie rubbed his eyes. Now that he could see the girl wasn’t some robber, he was more annoyed than alarmed. “Right now, I’m leaning towards escorting you out the front door, using the toe of my boot. My neighbour has a four year old. Go hide in his wardrobe, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
“Wise guy, huh?” Daffodil adjusted her tights and smoothed down her skirt, while Charlie tried not to stare. “I already said I’m here ’cause I got a message for you.”
“From an imaginary voice in your head.”
“Nothing imaginary about it,” she corrected. “He’s called Frankie and he knows everything.” Her voice lowered in admiration. “He told me what an accordion was and how to put pictures online. I should ask him about prawn cocktails next.”
“The kid next door could tell you all that.” Charlie pointed his bat at her. “Get out of my house. I won’t warn you again.”
“Whatever.” Daffodil gave a disdainful sniff and turned to go. “But the message ain’t from Frankie. It’s from a guy called Gerry Ray.”
Charlie was off the bed in an instant.
“Wait!” He grabbed her arm. “What did you say?”
“The message is from a guy called Gerry Ray,” she repeated. “Hey. You both got the same last name! Is he some kinda relative?”
“Gerry Ray is my father.” Charlie steered Daffodil to his computer chair and sat her down. When he let go, his hands were shaking. “And I haven’t seen him since he walked out on us.”