L I L L Y

 

It was an enjoyable ride, past farms with flowing rivers of cornstalks and pastures trampled by cows. She and Daddy had never done any long-distance traveling and the new terrain made her excited for everything she’d get to see on her journey. They drove in a straight line for a long time, and then finally Stop turned onto a smaller road. Soon after, he slowed and turned again, this time onto a steep and bumpy path that she realized was a driveway. At the top of the hill she saw a purple castle—a frosted gingerbread mansion, complete with a turret.

“Is that where you live?” she asked, awestruck as the magnificent place came into view. It had a huge porch that wrapped around the house, a hundred windows, and a pointy roof—like a dunce cap—that sat atop the round turret.

“Yes—but don’t be too impressed. Long ago this was the home of some bigwig—he owned lots of the farms out this way. But just like the land got broken up into pieces, the house is apartments now.” He pulled the van around to the side, where there was another entrance. A mishmash of mailboxes clung to the wall beside the door.

Lilly waited for Stop to release the sliding door, but first he got out of the vehicle and glanced around, and then unlocked the house door and stuck his head in—looking up toward what she assumed were a set of stairs. What was he looking for? The place looked deserted. Stop came back and pressed the keychain button that freed her from the back of the van. Knapsack slung over her shoulder, she followed him inside.

A pair of lovely golden birds chirped from the porch rail, “Stop, stop, stop, stop…”

He ignored them, but Lilly grinned.

“Oh,” she said when he headed downstairs. She’d hoped—assumed—that he lived within the curved walls of the turret, because, as the most castle-like part, she liked it best. She bent over to keep from hitting her head as they descended into the basement, and for a second Lilly felt a twinge of unease. Was he taking her to the dungeon?

Stop stopped in front of a door, a key at the ready. The floor beneath them was concrete, damp in places, and Lilly saw a laundry room with a bank of washers farther down the corridor. A light blinked on and off above them and Lilly hugged herself, partly from the chill, and partly from the anxiety of her failed expectations.

“You live down here?” she asked stupidly as he unlocked the door.

“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s a big space, and we have a communal garden in the back. I’m trying to save money, so I can move to a bigger city and buy my own place.”

He flicked on a light as he went in.

Lilly hesitated before crossing the threshold. Stop locked the door behind her as she took in his strange abode.

He wasn’t kidding about how big it was. There was a long open kitchen to her left, and a living room on her right that could accommodate four full-sized, slightly raggedy couches. The ceilings were surprisingly high, though there were only a couple of small glass-block windows. A few miss-matched ceiling fixtures illuminated isolated pools, leaving much of the room in shadow. The overall darkness confirmed her fears of its dungeon-like nature.

“There’s a bathroom at the very end there if you need it,” he said, pointing. “And my bedroom’s over there, but I usually sleep on one of the couches. It’s a bit gloomy in the bedroom, but if you’re more comfortable in there you’re welcome to it.”

She started toward the bathroom, but stopped when she noticed the textured walls. Large swaths of wall—and even the ceiling—were covered with gray eggshell foam.

“Is this to soak up the moisture?” she asked, remembering the wet patches on the floor beyond his door. The floor here was also uneven concrete, though much of it was hidden by threadbare Oriental rugs.

Stop laughed. “Nice try, but it’s soundproofing.” He directed her attention to his oversized speakers. “I like my music rather loud.”

Lilly nodded like it was all cool, and proceeded to the bathroom. His apartment was unique, but she knew she didn’t belong there. Though only eleven, she recognized it for the party pad it was, and hoped Stop didn’t invite friends over before she departed. Suddenly she felt very young, and even more lost than when she’d run helter-skelter away from the TV vans.

 

 

“I like your bathroom,” she said as she came back. It seemed like a mile between the bathroom and the kitchen.

“Everybody likes that crazy tub.”

“I might even fit in it.”

He laughed his easy laugh. “You can try it later, if you want.”

As Stop poured a gloppy mixture from the blender into two glasses, Lilly noticed the photographs spread across his table. She hovered closer to get a better look.

“Hey—these are me!” It was not a happy discovery.

“That they are.” He didn’t seem sorry at all. She thought he should’ve sounded at least a tad guilty, especially since half the pictures had nothing to do with her Case. Some were just shots of her leaving her house or walking into school.

“Why do you have these?”

“Because you’re the most interesting girl in the world.”

On another day that might have flattered her, but it was becoming super obvious that Stop was weird. His name, his apartment, his extracurricular activities.

“I made us smoothies—banana-strawberry. Sound good?”

They looked thick and fruity. Her stomach burbled.

“Okay.”

She reached for one, but Stop gestured toward the colossal living room, a glass in each hand. “Might as well relax. Do you want to call anybody? Your dad?”

Lilly thought about it. Her journey was in its infancy, and felt so precarious. It would be better to wait until she was a lot farther away before she called her dad. Stop was eccentric, but at least nobody would find her here.

“Maybe I’ll call my friend later.” She set her knapsack on the floor by one of the sofas, and pulled her red hoodie off.

“Sure.” He wedged himself into the corner of a perpendicular couch. When she was seated he handed her a smoothie, and clinked his glass against hers. “To an amazing adventure. And an amazing adventurer.”

He had a way of making her feel good about herself.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“I’m just glad I came along at the right time. You’re an exceptional young lady, Miss Lilly. Unwind, put your feet up.”

She kicked off her ugly shoes and stretched out. The sofa was l – o – n – g and she had ample room.

“Will you be mad if I fall asleep?” he asked. “I know it’s early for you, but I was working all night.”

“No problem.” She took a big chug of smoothie. “Yummy!”

“Oat milk, bananas, strawberries, and my secret ingredient.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down. “A squirt or two of chocolate syrup. Okay, maybe three.”

She giggled, and gulped the rest in noisy swallows.

Stop ogled her.

“Wow. You were either really hungry or really thirsty.”

“Both.” She set the empty glass on the table between the two sofas, the center of which was green glass etched with gold. All his furnishings looked like they came from an

earlier century. “I have a pretty big appetite.”

“I guess you do.” He seemed pleased. “Can I get you another?”

“No thanks, I’m good.” Good as in not hungry, but…. Something overcame her and she felt as if she’d been up all night and needed a nap. But she wasn’t just tired—her eyes wouldn’t calibrate and she was in a kaleidoscope, seeing the room in multiples. She blinked, trying to focus, but gave up and laid back on a tasseled pillow. “I feel really….”

Her arms were too heavy to lift. And she wasn’t sure if the rest of her body was still attached. Her eyes could still move; she looked at Stop.

He looked terribly pleased with himself, his right ankle resting on his left knee. “I guess I got the mixture just right. Or maybe it helps to drink it really fast.”

Lilly tried to ask a question, but her mouth wasn’t working. Oh no! This was what her father had feared—that her heart would give out and her giant body would start to collapse. Stop set his glass beside hers and leaned forward, but not with the urgency of a medical professional whose patient was in distress. Even if he mostly worked with mice, he should have been able to tell that something was wrong. Yet all he did was gaze at her.

A noise gurgled in her throat, a wordless question.

“Feeling more relaxed?” he asked in a smooth velvet voice. The sound of it made colors in her mind. Burgundy. Emerald. There were too many teeth in his mouth, smiling at her as she lay within the tomb of her uncooperative body.

Heart attack, she wanted to scream. Stroke.

But Stop appeared unconcerned. Did that mean she was fine? Her eyelids became heavy weights, blinding her, even while her brain still clamored What’s going on? Before she lost consciousness she wondered if he had tricked her, and if he meant to deliver her to the hospital, to the other doctors, after all.