Balmythra

Chapter Three

  Attack!

  We left right after that, but I felt like biting my friends' heads off until we went to bed. Everyone noticed; Ashley even commented on it. I just shrugged her off. Though it wasn't in my nature to snap at my friends, I had my moods. And boy was I ever stuck in a bad one.

  With that on my mind, I faked sleep at nine forty-five that Friday night when Mad Matilda did her usual bed check of Girls' Dorm One. Shuffling over the scarred wooden floors in bed slippers, she briefly pointed the beam of her flashlight at each of the four of us.

  Calling the room a dorm was such a joke. It was really more like a jail cell, with nothing but two double beds and a single dresser crammed into it. Girls' Dorm Two, located a bathroom away, was no bigger and had the same sad furniture and number of occupants. The boys' room sucked, too.

  The minute Matilda left, I put my mouth to my bedmate's ear. "Brady, did you pee before you got in bed?"

  "Uh-huh." Four-year-old Brady Smith sometimes wet the bed if she forgot to make a last-minute potty visit. I didn't really mind an occasional accident, but washing the sheets and PJs without detection was always tricky, and Matilda would've hit the roof if she'd known someone wasn't "housebroken" as she put it.

  Not that she visited the laundry shed that often. She didn't. Nor did she bother caring for the younger kids at Pringle's. Instead, she put each teenage poP in charge of one, leaving us to take care of things. As a group, we poPs had widely varied backgrounds but one thing in common: no one could or would take us in. That left Matilda with way too many kids to legally oversee, which is why her older sister and brother were also on the payroll as so-called caretakers. Did we ever see them? No…thank goodness. They were as bad as she was. Maybe worse.

  I lay as still as possible on the lumpy mattress for what seemed like hours trying to doze off. I heard the even breathing of the little ones who'd managed sleep, plus the contrasting crunch of Ashley's candy apple as she devoured it in the dark. I also heard the popping and creaking of the old Victorian house, responding to the autumn air as it cooled.

  I'd always liked that sound for some reason, though it sometimes spooked red-haired, blue-eyed Ginzy Gilbraith, who was six and in Ashley's care. She'd recently told me that she thought she saw shadows moving around the place.

  Ginzy had asked if she could sleep with my leather bag. Of course I let her, even though I didn't know how that could help, and it had become a nightly ritual. The other kids occasionally got scared, as well, something I blamed on the older boys and their stupid stories. They teased the little ones about living in a haunted house, a tall tale the kids believed no matter how many times I told them that there were no such things as ghosts, goblins, or monsters.

  What about M'jorca?

  That crazy thought took my breath. I came to a sudden decision, but had to lie still until I heard the rattle of cellophane that told me Ashley had finished her apple and was now hiding the evidence. Though she usually fell asleep in a heartbeat anytime, anywhere, I waited for what seemed like an eternity before I made my move.

  "Ash?" I kept my voice low, but loud enough to be heard if my friend were still awake. She didn't make a sound.

  As quietly as possible, I slipped out from under the covers. I figured my oversized T-shirt would be okay, but pulled on a pair of sweat pants over the boys' boxers I always slept in. I then headed to the door, expertly avoiding obstacles even though I could barely see my hand in front of my face in the dark.

  Creeping down the hall, I hugged the walls so that the worn path down the middle wouldn't squeak and give me away. My gaze darted from one shadowy corner to another. Just as I reached the boys' dorm, something—a cobweb probably—brushed over my face. I ducked, then had to slap my hand over my mouth to stifle my nervous laugh. When I reached the boys' dorm, my destination, I stood outside the door for several seconds, listening for any activity. I heard nothing but the sounds of sleep.

  I closed my eyes and pictured how the room was in the daytime. Though Matilda strictly forbade girls to enter the boys' dorm and vice versa, I'd been in there a time or two and knew which bed Matt slept in: second on the right, top bunk. His charge, five-year-old Jeremy, slept below him. I hoped there wasn't too much clutter on the floors. I couldn't see squat and had to feel my way along the end of each bed.

  Two bare feet that I sincerely hoped were Matt's size elevens dangled off the top mattress, second bunk. I tickled the sole of one. That foot was jerked away, but its owner merely grunted and flopped over on his stomach. I grabbed the big toe, right foot and yanked hard.

  "Toe jam Tessie!" Matt flipped back over and abruptly sat upright. "Who's there?"

  "Shhh. It's me."

  "What's up?" He sounded alert and calm, one of the things I loved most about Matt Wright. Though he could be startled, he rarely wigged out.

  "We've gotta talk."

  Matt didn't argue or complain, but dropped to the floor with a soft thump. I saw him bend and scoop up something. Belatedly realizing it was jeans, I quickly turned my back so he could step into them. A second later, I felt his firm grip on my wrist. Silently he led the way through the room, even more crowded than the girls' dorm, thanks to two bureaus and four bunk beds. I knew that one bottom bunk lay empty tonight since John's young charge had been sprung to a foster home that very morning.

  We crossed our personal mine field without incident. Matt drew back the heavy drapes and raised the window. It made no sound. The guys, who used this escape route fairly often, had made sure of that. Without hesitation, Matt went right out the window onto the tiny moonlit balcony that was really only for looks. I crawled out after him. He shut the window behind us and sat down. Wooden railing now hid him from the street. I followed suit, carefully lowering myself to where I sat opposite him, our feet overlapping and bent knees nearly touching.

  "What's up?" Matt kept his voice low.

  I took a deep breath for courage. "I've got to talk to you about what happened tonight."

  "You mean Larry blowing chunks after he rode the Twister?"

  I could just make out his gleeful grin in the moonlight. "No, about—"

  "Me blowing five dollars trying to win that Harley Davidson T-shirt?"

  "No, about—"

  "Mad Matilda clobbering her elbow on the van door?"

  "Will you hush?"

  Matt sighed and shook his head. "Look, I know what you're worried about, okay? M'jorca the Magician."

  My jaw dropped. "How'd you guess?"

  "You were as white as Matilda's knobby knees when we got out of the coffin, and you didn't say three words the rest of the night. So what was it that spooked you...? The box or M'jorca, himself?" He leaned forward slightly and tugged a strand of my hair, which was probably sticking straight up, now that I thought about it. "He didn't really disappear, you know. I saw him later at the popcorn stand."

  "I saw him, too, but that's not what scared me." I smoothed my bed head with hands that shook. "It's what happened when we were in the box."

  I heard Matt's hard swallow. "I swear I didn't mean to touch you. We were just so danged close...."

  Huh? "What are you talking about?"

  "Er, what are you talking about?"

  "Listen, Matt," I said with a huff of exasperation, leaning forward to frame his face with my hands. "I need to know exactly how long we were in that coffin."

  "Five minutes, tops."

  "What?" Abruptly releasing him, I leaned back against the rail. "But it had to be longer than that. I mean you called out several numbers—"

  "Say again...?"

  My gaze clashed with Matt's. Though I could barely read his expression in the dark, I knew he wondered if I'd lost it. For that matter, so did I.

  "I had a dream or a vision or something while we were in there. I... You... We were both in this weird Bingo hall." In a rush of words, I described every single detail, an easy task since they were all still clear as crystal. What I didn't share were details of the four voices
in my head. Though I remembered hearing some, at the moment, I couldn't recall a single cryptic word. I also didn't mention how furious I'd felt when I caught the magician staring at us later.

  "Holy horse hockey!" Matt blurted. His faux curse almost made me laugh. No one could string silly words together better, and he usually did it on the fly. "You've just described in exact detail a dream I had last week."

  "Last week? Are you sure?"

  "Well, maybe it was this week. Man, I can't believe it. I didn't tell anyone about that."

  "Are you certain it was a dream, Matt?"

  "Of course, and it was Tuesday night. Yeah, Tuesday when I had the dream."

  "So Wednesday night, when Mad Matilda left to play Bingo at the Senior Citizens Center, you'd already had it?" I was on my knees now and could just make out his frown.

  "Actually, I don't think so. It must have been Thursday."

  "Last night."

  He nodded. "That's right."

  "And when we walked past the Bingo tent on the way to the magic show, you were reminded of it?"

  "N-no." Now he seemed confused.

  I rested my hands on Matt's bent knees and leaned closer. "Are you positive you did not have this dream when we were in that stupid box?"

  "Of course I'm...not."

  "Not?"

  "No."

  Our gazes locked again. The look on his face made my heart begin to thump extra hard. I sat back on my heels. "Did it really happen, Matt? Did he send us to Bingo Land?"

  "People can't really disappear, Leah. You know that. And since when have you smoked?" He shook his head. "Look, I swear we weren't in that box any time at all."

  "Maybe, but something happened all the same."

  "Yeah. Something happened, but not what you think."

  At that moment a gust of wind ruffled my hair. I glanced at the sky in time to see a dark cloud glide over the moon. Goose bumps skittered up my arms. I shivered violently from head to toe.

  "You're cold." To my surprise, Matt grasped my arms, tugging until I was on my knees again. Then he turned me so I could settle myself between his legs, my back against his bare chest. He next wrapped his arms tightly around my body. A guilty thrill and instant warmth resulted, and for the first time in hours, I felt safe.

  What on earth was I going to do when he turned eighteen? The state would kick him right out of Pringle's, leaving me without the best friend I'd ever had. And though I should've been worried about my own fate—I wasn't that many months behind him—all I could think about was how lonely I'd be when he moved on.

  "We've lost the moon." Matt's whisper sounded oddly husky in my ear. My resulting shiver was a good thing this time. "But I can still see Cassiopeia."

  My stomach lurched. "Cassiopeia?"

  "Yep. It's right there." Matt released me, rested his chin on my shoulder and pointed high in the sky. "Those five stars that look like a W. They match these five freckles by the way." He put his finger on a spot just above my left eye. "And you have Orion right here." He touched the back of my hand. "That makes you a very stellar chick, I guess."

  My heart stopped. "Matt. Oh, Matt…"

  "What?" He released me as if I were hot to the touch.

  "I just remembered...oh wow." I twisted my neck so that my face was inches from his. "Did you hear voices in your dream?"

  "What kind of voices?"

  "Just...voices. Inside your head. There were some inside of mine."

  "Male or female?"

  "I couldn't tell."

  "Well then, what did they say?"

  "I don't remember everything." At Matt's snort of impatience, I tried to explain. "It was just so weird. All I can tell you for sure is that they said something about Cassiopeia being above my left eye and Orion being on my hand."

  "So the whole time we were in Bingo Land, you were hearing a conversation between two people?"

  "Actually, there were four, I think, and each one spoke in a different way." I squeezed his knees as another memory popped into consciousness. "I remember one saying something about a capture. What could that possibly mean?"

  "I don't know, but now I'm spooked." He rose up slightly and peered over the top of the railing. "Maybe we'd better go inside. If aliens are going to drop by, I'd like to have my baseball bat handy." Scooting me aside, he got awkwardly to his feet.

  I let him help me up. "That's not funny, you know." I brushed off the seat of my sweats.

  "Am I laughing?"

  Something in Matt's tone made me look him in the eye. "You're not serious about the aliens?"

  "No, but that perv, M'jorca, obviously had his eye on you. I mean he picked you out of the crowd, didn't he? And he was leering at you later. What if you read his thoughts? What if he's got plans for you?" Matt's sudden dramatic emphasis made him sound like a villain from a retro cartoon. It didn't help that he curled the ends of an imaginary handlebar mustache.

  I had to laugh. A Bingo game in a parlor on Mars was far more likely than M'jorca lusting after me. I heard Matt's answering chuckle and knew he was glad I'd found my sense of humor. He reached for the window and raised it...or tried to. It wouldn't budge.

  "What the—" With both hands, Matt tugged hard, but to no avail. He cursed softly, real swear words this time.

  I touched his shoulder. "Stuck?"

  Matt squashed his face to the glass, trying to see the locking mechanism inside. "I can't tell for sure, but I think it's locked."

  "But who...?"

  "Kenny. Getting back at me for not loaning him that ten tonight."

  Since making a racket and risking Matilda's rage were completely out of the question, I peered over the edge of the balcony to assess possibilities. The ground was awfully far away. "What are we going to do?"

  "This."

  To my horror, Matt stepped right up on the railing and grasped a limb of the oak tree that towered over the house. It wasn't a very big limb. I suspected it wouldn't hold his weight. "Matt, no!"

  "It's okay." He reached through the brown leaves to produce a rope ladder. I watched in astonishment as Matt loosened it and then noted that it was attached to a higher, stouter branch. With a jaunty wave, he stepped onto it and carefully climbed down. I held my breath until he put his feet on solid ground and gave me a thumbs-up. "Come on. I'll hold it still."

  My heart in my throat, I stepped onto the railing and then the ladder. I managed two rungs before I heard a commotion below and felt the bottom of the ladder swing free. "Matt?"

  "Stop, Leah! Go ba—" Matt's words ended in a yelp of pain.

  Panicked, I continued my descent as quickly as I dared. I missed the last step and landed hard on my butt on the ground. Sounds of a struggle brought me to my feet, but the pitch black night disoriented me and hampered any help I might have given. "Matt?"

  "It's him! It's M'jorca! Run!"