Cassie and I met outside Spencer’s house after midnight.
“Did you have trouble sneaking out?” I asked Cassie.
She nodded. “My parents stay up really late. I had to tiptoe downstairs and climb out the den window.”
“I’m lucky,” I replied. “My parents are heavy sleepers. Nothing wakes them. They once slept through an earthquake.”
Cassie shivered and pulled her parka tight. It was a cold, raw night. The air felt more like winter than fall.
“Did you talk to Jordan and Lenny?” I asked her. “I tried calling Lenny all evening, but no one answered.”
“I talked to Jordan,” Cassie replied. “He said he’d bring Lenny.”
We glanced up at Spencer’s bedroom window. A dim orange light glimmered in the room. But I didn’t see any sign of Spencer.
A few seconds later, the tall evergreens beside the driveway shook. The brushing sound startled me. I turned—in time to see Jordan and Lenny come trotting up to us. White steam rose up from their mouths.
“Hey,” Lenny muttered.
“Hey,” Jordan echoed.
“How’s it going, Diane?” Lenny asked.
I shrugged. “Where’d you go after school?”
“Just around,” Lenny replied. “I don’t know. I was so steamed. I just drove around.”
Jordan slapped Lenny on the back. “When you knocked over your desk, I thought Crowell was going to jump out of his skin.”
Lenny didn’t smile.
“You’ve got to cool it in that class,” I warned Lenny. “Maybe if you sit there like a statue, Crowell will ignore you.”
“No way,” Lenny replied angrily. “I’m not a good enough student for him to leave alone. Every chance he gets, he finds a way to get on my case. I never thought I could hate anyone as much as I hate that guy.”
A soft scraping sound interrupted us. I gazed up to see Spencer’s window slide open.
He waved at us, then quickly lowered himself down a rain gutter. “I knew you guys would come!” he exclaimed, grinning. “Everyone needs some Night Games from time to time—right?”
Spencer had his hair tied back in a thick ponytail. He wore a black sweatshirt—inside out—and baggy black chinos that were ripped at both knees.
He turned to Lenny. “How’s it going?”
Lenny lowered his gaze to the ground. “I’ve been better.”
“Crowell gave Lenny a hard time again in algebra,” Jordan explained.
Spencer shook his head. “That jerk Crowell,” he muttered with surprising anger. “He always gave me a hard time, too. I hate that guy.”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” Cassie chimed in. “I mean, what are we doing out here? It’s so cold. Why are we doing this?”
“Cheap thrills,” Spencer replied, without smiling. “Let’s go.” He strode off so quickly, the four of us had to jog to catch up.
The air felt even colder. I pulled up the hood of my down jacket. Mist from the nearby river floated in and collected in the low spots near fences and hedges.
The whole world appeared so still. So unreal. Different … as if Shadyside were a different place late at night. Some kind of fantasy place of silvers and grays and long, black shadows.
Something darted from under a bush and scampered across our path. I screamed.
Cassie and Lenny laughed. “A killer chipmunk!” Cassie declared. More laughter, at my expense.
“Late at night, Shadyside is ours!” Spencer proclaimed.
Weird thought, I decided.
“The whole world belongs to us at night,” Spencer added.
Lenny snickered. “Are you becoming some kind of poet or something?”
Spencer shook his head. “No way, Lenny. I’ll become a poet when you become a math teacher!”
We all laughed at that, even Lenny.
I slid my arm around Lenny’s waist and snuggled close to him as we made our way onto the next block. I had no idea where Spencer was leading us—until I saw the blaze of Christmas lights.
Mr. Crowell’s house!
“Hey—why did we come back here?” Jordan demanded.
A grin spread over Spencer’s face, but he didn’t reply. He locked his eyes on the front window of the house.
“Let’s keep moving,” Lenny suggested impatiently. “I’ve had enough of this guy. Really.”
Spencer turned his gaze on Lenny. “Maybe we can have some fun with him,” he said softly. “Let’s check Crowell out at home. You know. See if he has any dirty secrets.”
“Huh? You mean spy on him?” I blurted out. I caught the worried expression on Cassie’s face.
“Let’s just take a look in there,” Spencer replied. “You know. Peek in. See what Crowell does for laughs at night.”
“But he’ll see us!” Cassie protested. “This front yard is brighter than daylight!”
“We’ll be careful,” Spencer told her, his eyes trained on the house. “Come on. Quick.”
He moved silently over the wet grass toward the house, stepping around lights and decorations. We followed him, then ducked down behind a round bush that grew in front of the living room window.
“If he looks out the window, he’ll see us,” Cassie warned. She shivered.
A gust of cold air made me shiver, too.
What am I doing here? I asked myself. After midnight on a school night, crouched in front of a teacher’s window?
It’s crazy—but kind of exciting, I admitted to myself.
We raised our heads over the bush and peeked into the window. The lights were on, but turned down low. I could hear Christmas music playing.
Against the back wall, I saw Mr. Crowell stringing silver garlands on a Christmas tree. He’s working on his tree really late, I thought. Most teachers I know go to bed early because they have to get up so early.
Squinting into the dimly lit room, I saw four open boxes on the couch. They were propped on their sides and full of ornaments.
“Nothing like rushing the season,” Lenny muttered. “What’s with this guy, anyway?”
“He doesn’t have kids or a family or anything,” Jordan added. “He’s doing all this Christmas stuff for himself.”
“Weird,” Lenny said under his breath.
“Shh,” Cassie warned. “He’ll hear us.”
We watched Mr. Crowell trim his tree for another few minutes. Then he turned out the living room lamps to enjoy the sparkle of his decorations. He sat down in an armchair, drank from a can of soda, and stared at his creation with a satisfied expression.
“Boer-sing!” I declared. “All he’s doing is staring at his ugly tree.” I turned to Spencer. “This isn’t much of an adventure.”
“Yeah. Let’s go,” Lenny agreed. “I see enough of this creep during the day. I don’t want to watch him at night, too.”
Lenny tugged me away from the bush. Cassie and Jordan followed us. We edged away from the window and started to make our way down the gravel driveway.
I thought Spencer was right behind us.
But a loud crash made me spin around.
“Whoa!” I cried out when I saw Spencer swing his big flashlight. He smashed it into a cluster of twinkling red and green lights.
The lights crackled as they broke.
Spencer tugged out a section of lights by the wires. Then he stomped on a lighted Santa. The Santa cracked and toppled over. Spencer kicked it across the lawn.
“Hey—stop it!” I screamed.
“Spencer—what are you doing?” Jordan cried.
Spencer ignored us. He pulled out more lights.
Then he pulled an aluminum reindeer from the ground—and heaved it toward the house.
“Spencer—stop!” Cassie and I screamed.
Spencer was like a wild man. He was swinging his flashlight, smashing lights, grunting with each swing, his eyes wild, his mouth open.
“Let’s get out of here!” I cried.
Too late.
The porch light flashed on. The front door opened.
And Mr. Crowell stepped onto the stoop. “I see you!” he screamed.