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Voices erupted. I had one choice. I dashed into the boy’s bathroom stall and slid the lock into place.
My heart pounded in my chest, the beats echoing in my ears. Soon Otto and Mr. Morton conversation roared in my ears as they strolled into the office. "Does the team we're playing on Friday use a 4-3 defense?" Otto asked. The chair hinges squeaked.
"Yep."
"I think our Wing-T Offense will work."
I peeked through the crack in the stall door. Crap. I had to get out of the locker room. I was already ten minutes late for my club meeting. By the time I got there, I’d be president. I leaned into the stall door and watched.
They had mugs of coffee in their hands. Otto leaned back in his chair, sipping his brew while he studied a piece of paper. They weren’t budging. It would be impossible for me to get out without being seen. I stuffed the notepad in my backpack, zipping it, so it didn't accidentally fall out. Pressing the handle, I flushed the toilet and strode out. From the corner of my eye, I saw Otto lean forward and frown. His gaze followed me out.
Whew! I exhaled, leaning against the wall. My stomach was in a knot. A light coating of sweat covered my face. I had never stolen anything in my life. Now, I knew, becoming a thief wouldn’t be a good career choice for me. My legs wobbled as I jogged to my magic club meeting.
The room had tiered rows formed in a semicircle. Desks were arranged below the platform, and the teacher’s desk was at the head of the class, to the left of the door. A whiteboard hung on the wall behind the teacher’s desk with a written note on it announcing a date for their first performance.
Our club placed the desks in a circle. I dropped into the seat Sam had saved for me, dumping my backpack at my feet, my face was heated.
"Hey, David. You're late. I've already nominated you." Sam frowned.
I groaned. "Anybody second it?"
"About four guys."
Great! I scanned our group, which had twelve people, eleven guys, and one girl, Rita Rogers. She was a junior and a darn good magician. Mr. Almond ran our group and pretty much let us do what we wanted. But the first meeting of the year, he showed up to get the officers nominated and voted on. Then he’d come occasionally and let us run the meetings. We spent a lot of time discussing new tricks and practicing.
I raised my hand. "I nominate Rita for President."
Sam gaped at me.
Rita blinked at me in surprise. She pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose. When she smiled, she revealed a mouth full of braces. Her lips formed a thank you.
I nodded to her and nudged Sam to second the nomination. Another guy, new to the group, offered his vote. Now, I had to get the rest of the group to vote for her and not me. So, without thinking, I stood and made my case. "Mr. Almond, may I speak?"
He nodded.
I scanned the faces in the group. "I think Rita should be President rather than me. She's been in this group going on her third year, and she’s always helped out at fairs and shows, whenever and wherever she was needed. And beings she's the only girl in our club, I think it's fitting she becomes president." A few heads bobbed.
“Mr. Finkleman." Mr. Almond, a tall, thin man with thick brown hair and long narrow nose, always wearing thick black-framed glasses, frowned. "You're not trying to get out of being president are you?"
"Me? Of course not." My voice squeaked. "Rita deserves it more than I do." I swallowed and sunk into my chair.
Mr. Almond handed out voting sheets. He wrote on the board the names of the students nominated and their position. Our sheet listed President, VP, Secretary, and Treasurer. We wrote in our choice. Once everyone turned in their sheet, Mr. Almond tallied the votes.
I fisted my hands as he read the results with Treasurer first and worked his way up. "We have a tie for President. Between David and Rita. Now we can handle this one of two ways. We can have another vote, or we can have co-Presidents. What do you want to do?"
I clamped my mouth shut. If we had another vote, I might be president, which I had no time for. If we shared the duties, we could share the work. I had already declined the VP last year. Mr. Almond wouldn’t buy another excuse.
Sam raised his hand. "I think we should let David and Rita decide."
Mr. Almond nodded. "Good idea. Everyone who is for this, raise their hands." Everyone raised their hand, including me. He turned to us. "So what do you two want to do?"
I wanted her to run everything, and let her speak first.
"I think David and I should be co-President," Rita said.
"David?" Mr. Almond turned to me. "Do you agree?"
"Sure."
"Okay. David and Rita will share the duties as President. You two can figure out how you want to divide the duties." Mr. Almond continued, "The school talent show is in a month. Think about the club participating in it."
"David," Sam piped up. "You're the best magician in the group. Maybe you should enter."
I liked Sam, and knew he meant well, but darn it, the last thing I wanted was to join the talent show. It took hours of practice. I didn’t have the time. "Why don’t we all participate? You know, each of us shows our favorite trick to the crowd."
"Hey, good idea." Rita smiled.
We discussed more of this idea as a group, and the bell rang for lunch. I slung my backpack over my shoulder. “I’ll meet you at the table.”
“Where are you going?” Sam asked.
“Bathroom.”
“Oh. I’ll save you a spot.”
Slipping into a stall, I zipped open my bag. I snatched the notepad and opened it. Pages had been torn out of it, leaving bits of paper caught in its wire ring. Flipping the pages, I reached near the end, and found an address written on it. If Otto had been the one who ripped the pages out of the notepad, he missed this one, probably because it was stuck to another page. I tore out the page and stuffed it into my front jeans pocket, zipped the notepad back into my backpack, and headed out of the bathroom stall. I dialed Sabrina.
She answered on the second ring. "Hello."
"Sabrina. It's David. I think I found something. You want to meet after school?"
"Sure. Where and when?"
"My parents’ store at three?"
"I'll be there."
I paused, wanting to make more of our conversation, but chickened out. "I'll see you."
"Okay. Bye." The line clicked.
I stuffed the phone back in my pocket. A hand clamped on my shoulder. I jumped.
"What are you up to Mr. Finkleman?" Mr. Otto said.
I rubbernecked behind Otto, and back to him, frowning. "Where'd you come from?"
"I asked you a question."
"Nothing," I squeaked.
His hand tightened in a vice grip on my shoulder, hurting me.
"I'm missing a notepad from my briefcase. Have you seen it?"
"Me? No." Heat rushed to my face. Crap. My breaths came out short and shallow.
Otto drilled me in the eyes, a low humming growl followed.
"Hey, David," Sam yelled. He sauntered over to me.
Otto released his hold. "Stay out of trouble, Finkleman." He abruptly left.
Sam frowned. "What was that about?"
"Heck, if I know." For some reason, I knew Otto intended to harass me again on the subject. Geez, he snuck up on me without a sound. I held back a shiver.
We returned to our table, one we had claimed as a freshman and used as sophomores. The long line for hot lunch discouraged me from standing in it. Instead, I bummed food off my friends, Martin Howell, Ryan Gibson, Trevon Knox, Brett Vass and Sam. I gobbled a couple of chicken nuggets, apple slices, milk, and Cheetos. We sat at a table of ten, all having attended Pine Elementary and George Carver Washington Middle School together. As I listened to the conversation, about girls and teachers, my mind wandered back to the lime green pad. Did it hold the clue we desperately needed? Was Tom at this address? I hoped so because time was running out. I didn’t want to disappoint Gramps or Sabrina. And I sure as heck didn’t want to disappoint Tom!
"You want to walk the pond?" Sam liked to exercise before returning to classes.
The freshman pond had trees and bushes, cattails and tall grass surrounding the water. Ducks and birds lived there, along with squirrels, chipmunks, and rabbits. I even saw a red fox once, crawling under the fence.
Many students hung out near or at the pond at lunch time. Sam wanted to walk this route because many groups of girls huddled there. Some we knew. Most we didn't. We rarely stopped and talked to the girls, only looked. Once in a while, one might smile or say hi. It always made our day.
"Hey, do you ever hear from Sabrina?"
"I'm going to see her after school today." Oh, crap. I shouldn't have let that slip. Too late.
Sam drew his thick brows together. "You two together?"
“We’re friends.”
"You think she'd go out with me?" Sam asked.
The hope in his eyes stabbed at my gut. Part of me wanted Sam to go out with Sabrina because I wanted to see my best friend happy, but the selfish part of me wanted Sabrina to myself. I kept my eyes downcast. "I don't know."
"Do you have her phone number?" He sounded hopeful.
"Yes."
"Can I have it?"
I hesitated. Sticking to my mother's golden rule of never giving out someone else's number without their permission, I said, "Let me ask her if it's okay. If she says yes, then I will."
"What if she says no? Does she have a cell phone?"
"Yes. Why?"
"’Cuz if she does, I’ll text her instead."
Yes, the safe and chicken approach, texting versus calling. It was easier to take rejection by reading it rather than hearing it I guess.
The bell rang, and we went to our remaining classes.
After school, I walked home and headed for the refrigerator. I gulped a glass of milk, and a chocolate muffin grabbed the notepad and hopped on my motorcycle. Sabrina stepped off the bus at the top of the street as I pulled into a parking spot in front of my parent’s store.
"Hey." She smiled.
I lifted my leg off the bike and the notepad from my coat pocket. "Is this your father's?"
Her eyes widened. "I think so." She snatched it from my hand and thumbed through it, turned it over to the back cover, and met my gaze. "This is his. Where'd you get it?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. See." She showed me the back cover; pencil markings scratched on it.
“I don’t get it. What's that?"
"My father always started his pencils on something before he writes. You know, like getting the ink flowing in a pen. It’s a habit of his."
I nodded.
She flipped through the pad. "Most of the pages are torn out."
"I know, but he missed one. I recover it." I slipped the paper out of my front pocket and handed it to her.
"It’s an address." She looked at me, biting her lower lip.
"Yep. I thought we'd take a ride over there."
"You know where it’s at?"
"It's not too far from here."
"Let's go." She moved to get on my bike.
I pointed a finger toward the sky. "Wait. I've got an extra helmet in the store. I'll be right back." I ran in.
My dad waved to me. "What’s going on?"
"I'm going to take Sabrina for a ride on my bike."
My dad grinned. "You're getting awfully chummy with her."
"We're friends, Dad." I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress the grin on my face.
"Uh huh. Uh huh." He worked at the computer, probably putting sale items on our Web site. Our store made more money on the Internet than running our shop, but Mom loved meeting and talking with people, which was why we kept the store.
I grabbed the helmet from the back room and headed out the door. Handing it to Sabrina, I climbed on the bike, waited for her to join me, and revved my engine. We had to wait several minutes before I made a U-turn. We zoomed south and drove into an area not too far from town. The houses in this neighborhood were some of the oldest in Olympia. Many of the houses were historical two story homes with big front porches. I drove my bike over the cracks and buckles in the road, parking along the curb.
"Let's go on foot from here."
Sabrina hopped.
We hung our helmets on the handlebars of my motorbike. I led the way up to an old house in a historical part of town. The neighborhood was quiet. Fences and green hedges walled the sides of the houses on the street. As we approached, I saw into the darkened living room. The driveway was void of a car.
"What do we do now?" Sabrina asked. "We can't walk to the door and knock."
"Let's see if there's an unlocked back door or window." We jogged along a narrow sidewalk beside the garage. The sliding back door was locked. As I retraced my steps, I twisted the knob to the garage door. Locked. I patted my coat for my wand and groaned. I had left it at home. I could create magic straight from my hands, but had control issues and might blow a hole through the door. A window to the garage was cracked open. "Hey," I murmured. "Let me lift you, and you can get inside and open the door.”
She nodded.
I interlocked my fingers. Sabrina planted her foot, and I lifted. “Ugh!”
Sabrina pushed the window wide, and like a gymnast on the uneven bars rested her hips with her hands on either side and whipped a leg inside, and the other one followed. Her feet padded on the ground.
Seconds later she opened the door. I stumbled into the dark interior of the garage. It took me a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. Moving boxes were stacked on one side of the garage, with the other side empty for a parked car. Who lived here?
I used my sleeve to open the door and slithered inside. Quiet greeted us. "I don't think anyone's home."
She bit her lower lip, nodded, and followed me in. "Should we be doing this?"
"Do you want to find your father?"
"Yes, but what if we get caught?"
"We won't." I waved her forward. "Come on." The garage door led into the kitchen. It was a long narrow room with a sink and counters on one side and refrigerator and stove on the other. Cupboards lined both sides. I tiptoed to the pass-through door leading into an open dining-living room and peeked around the corner. A simple wooden table and four chairs made up the dining area. The living room had two brown leather matching sofas adjacent to each other with a wooden coffee table, sporting a sheen of dust. Mustard colored curtains hung on the sides of the rectangular front window. The room was bare of a television, stereo system, or DVD player. The walls reflected the same emptiness, lacking photographs or paintings. So who ever lived here didn’t plan on staying long or hadn’t taken the time to make it home. A set of stairs with a railing on one side and wall on the other began a few feet from the front door and ran to a second level.
“Coast is clear.” I waved for her to follow me. We crept along the stairs, the boards creaking as if the house was groaning in pain. On the second level, an empty hallway appeared along with four doors, two on each side, all closed. "I'll take the right. You take the left."
She nodded.
I moved first, again grasping with my coat sleeve. The hinges never made a sound as I pushed the door wide. Cold air brushed my face. Empty.
Sabrina opened her door. She shook her head. "Just the main bedroom," she whispered.
I tread inside her room and rummaged through the dresser. The top drawer held men’s sized boxers. The second drawer contained socks, but not one of them matched. I found shirts and jeans further down. The nightstand held a flashlight, book, dog chew toy bone, and whistle. “I don't see anything." Again, the room was empty of photographs, mail, or personal items, nothing to give me an identity of who lived here. Frustrated, I sighed.
We started cautiously down the shadowed hall to the next set of doors. She opened hers first, finding another empty room. A chill ran along my back, and I rolled my shoulders. The hairs on the nape of my neck stood. Muscles in my back tensed as if someone was ready to attack me from behind at any moment. It was creepy rummaging through someone’s house, knowing I was unwelcome and invading their space, but was this feeling something more?
Two steps brought me to the last door. Flipping on the light, I shuffled inside. Moving boxes were stacked to the right. To my left was a closet with sliding doors. A few clothes hung on one side. A full-length mirror framed in wood stood in a corner and faced the wall. White lace curtains covered the bedroom window. Again, that feeling of watchful eyes stroking my back arose, yet no one was here.
I strode further in and raised my arms to my sides. "I don't see anything helpful here. Do you?"
Sabrina hovered at the threshold as if by not coming into the room she wasn't trespassing. I think we broke that rule a while ago.
Tap. Tap. Tap. I crossed to the window, pushing the curtains back. Sunlight slanted through.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Do you hear that?" I whirled, facing Sabrina.
"Yes."
I put a finger to my lips and listen. Rap. Rap. Rap. I followed the sound over to the full-length mirror. Thinking it came from the wall, I swiveled the mirror, the glass facing me. A cry ripped from my throat. Stumbling back, I fell on my butt, staring at the mirror. Instead of seeing my reflection, a man stared back. And it wasn't any man.
It was Tom Stevens.
The second Sabrina spotted him she ran over to the mirror. "Daddy!"
Tom Stevens’s mouth opened and closed, while he gestured with his hands, but no sound penetrated the glass. He tapped the mirror with his finger. It reverberated on our side. His lips formed the words, "Get help."
I recovered quickly and crawled over, studying the mirror; my nose inches from the glass. I pushed to my feet and searched around it, and in it. Man, this was one fantastic spell. But I had no clue as to how to undo it or get Tom out of there. Or was he in there? Was it an image of him trapped somewhere else? I swallowed. This wizard was incredibly powerful.
Tears filled Sabrina's eyes and spilled over. "Daddy. How do we help you?"
I placed my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Sabrina. We’ll get him out.”
She didn’t acknowledge me but stared at her father, her sweaty palms smudging the glass on either side of his face.
His lips and hands moved in sign language, neither I could read, but I didn't need to. He wanted us to get my grandfather. I removed my hand from Sabrina, unsure how to comfort her. I reached in my pocket for the handkerchief my mother always made me carry and gave it to her.
"Daddy." Sabrina wiped the tears from her face. "This is David Finkleman, Ashir Finkleman's grandson. He's a wizard too.” She sniffed.
I met Tom straight in the eyes. We needed my grandfather for this. He knew it too.
A car rumbled. I rushed to the window, peeping between the curtains. Two vehicles motored into the driveway. I whirled around. "Sabrina. We've got to get out of here."
She didn't move.
"Sabrina. Did you hear me?"
"We can't leave my father here."
"Like heck, we can't. We'll come back." I pushed her out of the way and gripped the frame of the mirror. “I’ll be back with my grandfather. Hang on.”
He must have understood me because he nodded.
I spun the mirror to face the wall, flipped the light off, and grabbed Sabrina by the hand. We ran through the hall and down the stairs, but as we hit the bottom, the door opened from the garage. Having no choice, I unlatched the front door and widened it enough for us to slip through, and shut it as quietly as possible. Through the front window, I spotted a man opening the refrigerator door. His jerked his head to the side toward the living room.
"Go." Sabrina and I ran across the lawn to the street, ducking the entire way. Someone had parked their car next to the curb in front of my motorcycle. We dashed behind it and hunched down. As I peered around the bumper of the car the front door whipped open. I ducked back and held my breath. Waiting a few seconds, I peeked again to find the front door shut. I exhaled, briefly closing my eyes. "That was close." My heart rammed in my chest and knees trembled.
"Who lives there?" she asked.
I didn't know or care at the moment. I wanted to get us the heck out of there. Putting my helmet on, I stood and handed Sabrina hers. I flipped my leg over the bike and started the engine. Once she climbed on, I pulled away from the curb and drove at an average speed. As I passed the house, I recognized the brownish Dodge Dart in the driveway, unable to remember who owned it, but knowing I’d seen it at school. Pressing the gas, I sped back to town.
