Mr. Blasingame didn’t answer, just went back to his typing with a thoughtful look. It struck me that even my bizarre statement didn’t faze him. Perhaps I wasn’t going crazy after all. Perhaps I was just becoming a writer.
The clock read 2:28. I couldn’t waste more time on trying to get Mr. Blasingame to move.
I undid the latch to the window on one side and then the next. I eased the pane sideways so it wouldn’t crash to the ground. I had been prepared with an explanation of why I dressed the pillows in my nun costume—I needed someone to read my lines to—and I could perhaps say I’d taken the window out because I wanted fresh air, but I had no reasonable justification for crawling out of the trailer. I had to hope he didn’t notice. Once I had the window out, I gently lowered it onto the trailer floor. Against the carpet, it didn’t make a sound.
I took one last look at Mr. Blasingame to make sure he was still engrossed in his work, then as quietly as I could, I heaved myself out of the window. I landed on the ground with a thump. I didn’t wait to see if he noticed my departure and was about to look out the window to see what I was doing.
The trailers were lined up next to each other, not touching but close enough to make a good screen from everything on the front side. Now I just had to stay behind them until I could make a run for it. I hurried toward the front end of Steve’s trailer, trying to be as quiet as possible. I listened for the voice of the security guard.
I didn’t hear it, but I did hear shouting come from inside of the trailer. Steve’s voice. He’d come back.
Chapter 10
I peered around the edge of the Winnebago. The space between the trailers was clear right now, but I could hear footsteps thundering out of Steve’s door and his voice shouting, “She can’t be far. Drop to the ground and look for her feet.”
Which meant in a moment they would see how very close I was. I did the only thing I could think of. I ran to the next trailer’s back end, jumped on the fender, and shimmied up the ladder. Once I had reached the top of the trailer, I lay on my stomach, hoping no one would think to look up.
The warmth of the sun-baked roof pressed into my arms, legs, and face, along with tiny pieces of debris that bit into my skin. I lay there, willing myself to be one with the Winnebago.
I didn’t dare lift my head to look, but voices rang out below me. Crew-cut said, “I don’t see anything. How long ago did Jim say she’d left?”
“A couple minutes,” Steve said. “She couldn’t have just disappeared.”
“I’ll call the other guards. We’ll fan out and find her.” A set of footsteps jogged away.
I listened for the sound of Steve’s voice or his footsteps. I didn’t hear anything, perhaps because the sound of my breath, coming in frantic spurts, was so loud.
Then I heard footsteps on the roof. I looked up and saw Steve, still dressed as Robin Hood, standing on the top of his trailer. He walked slowly over to the gap separating us. I got to my hands and knees, unsure which direction to go or what to do. I felt like a sprinter waiting for the gun to go off, only I didn’t know which way to run.
He put his hands on his hips. “I thought you said you wanted to talk to me for two minutes.”
“And I thought you said you were turning me over to the police.”
“I still might. How did you get past the front guard and onto the set?”
I got to my feet and wiped the debris off my hands. “Look, I can’t go to jail right now. I won’t tell you anything unless you promise not to call the police.”
He regarded me without worry. “You’re stuck on the top of a trailer. I don’t think you’re in a position to bargain.”/I
I took a step away from him, then another. “In the time it takes you to go back to your ladder, climb down, walk over here, and climb up this ladder, I’ll be gone.”
He tilted his chin down. “The trailers aren’t that far apart. What makes you think I won’t jump over?”
“Because you’re the kind of guy who needs a stunt double.”
He sent me an arrogant smile, then backed up in order to give himself a running start. I already stood a ways back from my edge, which gave me a second to weigh my options. Could I make the jump? He had the advantage of being taller and stronger.
He ran toward my trailer, I ran toward his. We both leapt. What I lacked in ability I made up for in determination. We passed each other in the air, then landed with two loud thunks.
He turned around and stared at me. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“You didn’t leave me a lot of choices, did you?”
His lips pressed together in resolve. It wasn’t just the costume—a Robin Hood glint passed through his eyes. I knew he didn’t like being bested by a fraudulent extra. He took another run toward my trailer. I ran toward his. But it was one of those moments when being able to read people pays off. I knew he wouldn’t complete the jump. He planned on stopping at the edge and watching me leap to his trailer.
I stopped at my edge too. The two of us stared at each other, only feet away.
He smiled at me, surprise and respect mingling in his expression. Then he backed up. “You know the problem with playing Rock, Paper, Scissors?”
I backed up too, matching his rate. “What?”
“Eventually you guess wrong.”
He ran toward my trailer. I ran toward his. This time, I knew, we were both going over. He made jumping trailers look easy, but it wasn’t. I pumped my arms hard and pushed my legs to go faster. The pounding noise of our feet momentarily paused as we glided past each other in the air.
I landed on the trailer and breathlessly turned to face him. “Actually, I never lose Rock, Paper, Scissors.”
He took a few deep breaths, and his gaze ran up and down me, taking me completely in for the first time. “Hey—you’re wearing my clothes.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. The nun’s outfit was a bit conspicuous.”
With aggravation in his voice he said, “You can’t steal that. That’s my lucky poker shirt.”
I glanced down at it. “Well, I don’t think it’s working. I’m not having a lot of luck so far.”
He shook his head and laughed. I’d seen him do this on every episode of Teen Robin Hood, but it still mesmerized me. I couldn’t do anything but stare back at him.
I heard footsteps from down below and looked to see Crew-cut hurrying toward the trailer. “There she is!” he yelled.
“Yeah, I noticed,” Steve called back, “but don’t climb up. She’s half cat and doesn’t realize she hasn’t got nine lives.”
The security guard stopped below me and, still panting, spoke into his earpiece.
“You don’t have a choice anymore,” Steve said calmly. “You’ll have to come down.”
“Are you going to turn me over to the police?”
“Maybe. Why so much concern? Do you already have a record?”
“No. I have a brother with cancer who’s going into surgery on Friday morning.” The words came out in a rush, and my voice broke. “I can’t make my parents drive four hours to come bail me out of jail.”
Steve’s features momentarily softened, and he looked at me closer. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
He swore under his breath, and his eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Climb down and meet me in my trailer. I won’t turn you over to the police.”
When I got to the front of Steve’s trailer, both he and Crew-cut were waiting for me. The Polynesian guard walked quickly across the lot toward us. Perhaps they thought I’d run for it.
Steve held out one hand, making a sweeping motion toward the trailer door. “Ladies first.”
I walked up the stairs without speaking to him, went inside, and sat sullenly on the couch. If he wasn’t going to turn me over to the police, I didn’t know why he didn’t let me go and be done with it. I was probably in for a huge lecture, and frankly I didn’t want to hear which laws I’d violated or how horrible I was to co
me here when I’d just been trying to help my brother.
If Steve had been straightforward with me at the basketball game, all of this could have been avoided. I would have learned last night that he didn’t have a drop of compassionate blood in his body, and I could have been on my way home by now. Home to face failure.
Steve and the security guards walked into the trailer. Mr. Blasingame stood by the window, leaning out of it and peering up at the sky. “What was all that noise on the roof?”
Steve took off his hat and threw it onto a couch. “That was the sound of my teenage fan club and me leaping from trailer to trailer.”
“I’m not your fan,” I said.
“That’s not what you said last night.”
“And as I remember, you saw through that pretty quickly.”
Mr. Blasingame pointed a finger at Steve in accusation. “You leapt across the trailers? Dean would kill you if he knew. The insurance people would kill you. Do you realize we’re only halfway through shooting the season? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Steve turned to me. “That, by the way, is why I have a stunt double.”
Mr. Blasingame looked at me and waved a hand in my direction. “And what is going on with this girl, anyway? Since when did you start using your trailer as a brig, and when did I become a jailer?”
“I never said you were supposed to be a jailer.” Steve crossed his arms and gave me a sharp look. “I only said a normal person would have questioned why someone would create a decoy nun and then crawl out the window.”
Mr. Blasingame picked up his laptop from the couch and tucked it under his elbow. “Well, I’m not a normal person; I’m a writer.” He walked over to me, shook my hand, and nodded approvingly. “You know, you’ve given me the perfect idea for next episode. Maid Marion escapes on her own and runs away—only she doesn’t realize it’s Robin Hood she’s running away from. It’s going to be gold.”
With that, he walked out of the trailer whistling. We all watched him go. “He’s right,” the Polynesian guard said. “He’s not normal.”
Steve sat down on the couch in front of me. The guards stood on either side of the door, like they were still on duty, which I suppose they were.
“Okay,” Steve said, leaning forward. “First off, who are you?”
“You promise you won’t turn me over to the police?”
“I promise.”
I relaxed a little into the couch cushions. “My name is Annika Truman.”
“All right then, Annika Truman. How did you get on the set today?”
My name sounded strange coming from his mouth. He wasn’t on television acting this out. He sat in front of me, staring at me with eyes that could strike a girl mute. I brushed the sensation aside and told him the whole story. From the part where I’d promised Jeremy I could give him two wishes, to the point where I put the snake in the prop box.
Steve shook his head slowly. “You brought a snake into a place with horses?”
“I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known they were using those flowers for your scene. I’m really sorry about all the screaming, and the people colliding in the fishpond, and the horse trampling your little village—”
From behind me I heard the Polynesian guard chuckle. Steve glared at him.
“Did they find the snake?” I asked. “His aquarium is in the makeup trailer.”
Crew cut said, “Yeah, one of the stagehands has him. I’ll let them know.” He took out a walkie talkie and said something into it.
“Look, Annika,” Steve said, and the sound of my name on his lips distracted me for several more moments. “I’m really sorry about your brother—”
“Jeremy, his name is Jeremy.”
“I’m really sorry about Jeremy—”
“Do you want to see a picture of him?” Before he could answer, I took the photo from my pocket. Steve’s expression grew reluctant; he was already refusing me with his eyes. So I took the picture to the security guards first. They had no qualms about looking at Jeremy’s photo.
“That was Jeremy at Halloween,” I said. “He insisted on being Robin Hood. We had to search all over the place to find him boots that looked enough like the ones on the show.”
Crew-cut took the picture. “He’s a fine-looking kid.” He nodded approvingly and passed the picture to the other guard.
The Polynesian guard pulled his wallet from his pocket. “Let me donate some money for him.”
I took the photo from his hands. “That’s okay. I didn’t come here to ask for money.”
Crew-cut had his wallet out too. He pressed a twenty-dollar bill in my hand. “I’m sure the medical bills are adding up.”
Steve walked across the trailer to join us. “I already offered her money. I’m not completely heartless, you know.” He took the picture from my hand. “Why are sick kids always so cute? Why couldn’t just once, one of them look like a little troll who I wouldn’t feel guilty saying no to?”
I took a step closer to Steve, one hand across my chest, pleading. “Please come see him. It would mean so much to Jeremy. I promised him his wish would come true. I made him believe. If he believes his wish came true, he’ll believe he can make it through the surgery.”
He handed the photo back to me and shook his head. “I would if I could, but the rest of my week is already booked. I’m supposed to meet someone at five tonight. I’ve got to work tomorrow, I have an awards ceremony tomorrow night I’m presenting at, and somewhere in the week I’ve got to go over the next script.”
“Henderson is only four hours away—probably three and a half if you drive as fast as I do. If we left now and drove straight through, you could make it back in time—”
“To be exhausted to the point where I’m incoherent for tomorrow’s shoot.”
“You can sleep while I drive,” I offered, but I could tell from his expression he wasn’t even considering the possibility of coming with me. My throat felt tight, and it was suddenly hard to talk, but I did. I voiced my darkest worry, the one I’d pushed away every other time it had surfaced. I brought it out in the open, raw and painful, to show Steve.
“Jeremy might not make it through surgery; he’s six years old, and he might be gone forever after Friday morning. The thing he wanted most in the whole world was for you to come and visit him. I’m sorry I barged in your life this way, but I thought if I could talk to you, if you understood. . . .” I kept my gaze on his, searching for a sign that he might relent. “I need you to grant him just one wish.”
He shut his eyes, almost as if to shut out my gaze.
“I don’t know how much time I have left with Jeremy,” I went on. “And I gave up my time with him yesterday to drive here and talk to you. Couldn’t you take a half a day out of your schedule to see him?”
Our eyes connected, and for a moment he didn’t say anything. I didn’t breathe, as though this would somehow help my case. Then he looked away from me. “I can give your brother a call before surgery. I can sign a picture. I’ll even give him one of my arrows, but I don’t have the time to go see him.”
I had thought for sure I could persuade him to come with me. Even the security guards, who had started out acting as though they could cheerfully snap my limbs off, had been moved. But not Steve Raleigh.
I felt sharp pricks of disappointment needling my heart. They would have turned into tears for most people, but in me they turned into stabs of anger. Still, I kept my voice even. “The real Robin Hood would have come with me.”
Steve crossed his arms. “Yeah, well maybe that’s because the real Robin Hood didn’t have to spend all his time promoting his show. He also didn’t have to meet with fencing, sparring, and archery instructors, and he didn’t have to work out at the gym for two hours a day in case someone wanted to shoot a scene without his shirt on.”
I knew it wouldn’t do any good to make Steve mad at me when he could still charge me with trespassing, but at that point I just wanted to hurt him. “You’re nothing
like Robin Hood. In fact, if you lived in the Middle Ages you’d be the type who hangs around at King John’s court so everyone would know how famous and important you are. You don’t care about helping people at all.”
He let out a slow breath, and his eyes grew hard. “You don’t know anything about me.” He swept his hand around the trailer as proof of what he said. “I spend more time being Robin Hood than Robin Hood did, and I bet I could outshoot him too.”
“I bet you couldn’t even outshoot me.”
“Yeah, well, you’d lose that bet.”
I took a step toward him. “Are you willing to wager on that? We’ll have a shooting match. If I win, you’re mine for the next”—I decided to add a cushion of time—“eleven hours. If you win, I’ll never bother you again, and I’ll promise not to call the tabloids and tell them how awful you are.”
“How awful I am—because I won’t drop everything and drive to Nevada with a stranger? You think the tabloids would buy that story?”
I shrugged and smiled. “I’m a pretty teenage girl with a sick little brother. A whole room full of people saw you order the security guards to hold me captive in your trailer.”
Steve’s gaze ran over me, sizing me up. “What are you, some sort of teenage mercenary?”
“I can cry on demand in front of news cameras,” I lied, and held out my hand to shake his. “Do we have a wager?”
He looked up at the ceiling and then back at me, his frustration evident. “And when I win you promise you won’t beg, stalk, or attempt to blackmail me anymore?”
“Right.”
He shook my hand.
And it was foolish, I know, but I couldn’t help the tingling sensation that I felt where he touched me. I thought: Steve Raleigh is holding my hand.
Chapter 11
We set up the target behind the trailers, then Steve and I stood about sixty feet away. Steve nocked an arrow and drew the bowstring without looking at me. The muscles in his arms flexed, and his eyes narrowed in on the target, examining it. He held the arrow in position for a moment, then let it fly. I knew it was a good shot even before it hit the target, just inside the bull’s-eye.