Don't Stay Up Late (7 page)

“That's the way my brain feels,” Isaac said.

Nate rubbed his leg. “Since when did you get a brain?” he growled.

“My band has a gig Saturday night,” Isaac said, ignoring Nate's insult. “You know. At the Hothouse. An actual paying job. And guess what? We're down to two members—me and the dopey kid from across the street who doesn't know which end of the drumsticks to hold.”

“That's bad news,” Nate said. “Remind me not to go see you Saturday night.” Nate kept flashing Isaac angry looks. I wondered if he was thinking about Isaac kissing me in front of his garage.

I knew Nate had seen us. But he still hadn't said a word about it to me.

Isaac growled again and turned away from the three of us. He buried his head in his hands and muttered curses to himself. He likes to be as overdramatic as he can.

“Can we talk about something else?” Saralynn said. “How was your first day back at school, Lisa?”

“Not bad,” I said. “Everyone was really nice. I was so happy to be back. I didn't even mind Mr. Trevalian's horrible jokes.”

“He thinks he's a riot,” Saralynn said. “He probably gets his jokes from kindergarten books. What did the apple say to the ground? I think I'm falling for you.”

“That doesn't even make sense,” Isaac muttered.

“I hope Lisa didn't go back to school too soon.” We all turned as my mom came walking into the room. She carried a tall blue vase of yellow tulips to the coffee table in her good arm. “I don't want her to put extra pressure on herself. She needs to recover in good time.”

“It was Dr. Shein's idea, Mom,” I snapped. “I'm back at school, so stop fretting about it.”

I found myself getting easily annoyed at my mother the past few days. She never used to be a worrier. She was always the calm, unemotional one in the family. But since the accident, she fretted about every little thing, and she was always totally negative and disturbing about anything that happened.

I wanted to get better and go on with my life. I didn't want to mope around and worry that I shouldn't try things.

Mom set the tulips down and fussed over them for a few seconds. “Did Lisa tell you about her job? It's such good news for us. Especially since I can't go back to the salon because of this.” She waved her cast in the air.

“Lisa will be an awesome nanny,” Saralynn said. “That kid is lucky. He—”

“But the job is on Fear Street,” Mom interrupted, shaking her head. “I'm just not sure about that.”

“Stop it, Mom,” I said. “Stop trying to discourage me. It was Dr. Shein's idea, remember? She thinks I can handle it. Let me give it a try. Besides, since when are you so superstitious?”

Mom flinched. I could see that my question hurt her. But I didn't care. I was starting a new part of my life, and I needed encouragement, not more doubt.

Everyone went home a short while later. Isaac said he was going to beg his friends to come back to the band. Nate kissed me quickly and said he'd be glad to drive me to my new job the next day after school. Saralynn said to call later if I needed her.

I went to my room to do some reading for English class. But before I could find the assignment, the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number on the phone, but I answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“Lisa? It's Summer Lawson.”

Summer Lawson? It took me a few seconds to remember her. A tall, copper-haired girl in my Government class, very pretty, with high cheekbones like a fashion model, always wears a lot of clanky plastic bracelets and beads and long dangling earrings. Has a lot of attitude and style.

Summer Lawson. My mind whirred, trying to remember more. She was Nate's girlfriend. Yes. Before me. What broke them up? I didn't really know.

“Hey, Summer,” I said. “What's up?”

There was a long silence. Then she replied. “Do you know you're in major trouble?” Her voice was cold. Flat.

“Excuse me?” I said. “What kind of trouble?”

“Lisa,” she said, “do you have any clue about Nate?”

“Huh? I-I really don't know what you're talking about,” I stammered.

“You'll find out,” she said.

A loud click ended the conversation.

 

18.

After school the next day, I felt kind of shaky, tense about my new job. As I walked up the driveway to Brenda's sister's house, I saw Harry in the front window. The sunlight caught his blond hair and made him glow like an angel.

This is going to be fun,
I told myself.

Alice's house was small and square, painted white with dark green shutters at the windows. A racing bike leaned against the side wall. Spring flowers in large pots on both sides of the front stoop hadn't yet opened their buds.

Across the street, a boy kept throwing a tennis ball onto the slanted roof of his house, then catching it as it rolled off. I saw a red kite caught in the high limbs of a tree at the neighbors' driveway.

I stepped onto the front stoop and the front door swung open. Alice greeted me with a smile and waved me inside. She looked like an older version of Brenda. Her cheeks and forehead were lined. Her hair was cut short, streaks of gray with the black. She wore maroon sweats and carried a
Harry Potter
book in one hand.

“Lisa, it's so nice to meet you.” We shook hands. Her hand was warm and soft. “Brenda told me all about you. I understand you've already met Harry.”

Harry ran up to me and tugged at my arm. “Can we stay up late tonight? Can we?”

I laughed. Alice frowned and shook her head. “How about saying hello first, Harry?”

“Hello,” Harry said. “Can we stay up late?”

“No, you cannot,” Alice said firmly. “Don't try to take advantage of Lisa because she's new. Remember, Lisa is the boss. Can you remember that?”

“Maybe,” Harry replied.

Alice waved the book in front of her. “I've started to read him his first
Harry Potter
book. You're enjoying it, aren't you, Harry?”

He nodded. “I like him because his name is Harry.”

“That's a good name,” I said. “Would you like me to borrow the book from Alice and read you a few chapters tonight?”

“No,” he replied quickly. “I want to watch cartoons.”

Alice rubbed a hand through his hair. “Don't forget you have homework to do first.”

“I already forgot,” Harry said. He laughed. He was making a joke. His blue eyes twinkled.

“Go get your backpack,” Alice told him. “It's in my bedroom.”

When Harry left the room, she pulled me aside and spoke in a confidential tone. “He stayed up late last night. That's very bad for him. He's a beast when he doesn't get his sleep. Be sure to get him to bed early.”

“No problem,” I said. “He seems very sweet.”

“He is,” Alice said, her eyes on the hallway, watching for Harry to return. “He's a good student, too. He learns quickly, and he really likes to learn new things.”

“That's awesome,” I whispered back.

Alice placed a hand on my shoulder. “Eight-year-olds can be a challenge, though, even if they're as sweet as Harry. If you have any problems at all, just call me.” She reached into the pocket of her sweatpants and handed me a slip of paper with her phone number on it.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I don't think you'll have problems with him. But just in case…”

I started to thank her again. But I stopped when I heard a shrill cry. A tiny voice. Was it coming from the basement?

Startled, I listened hard. It sounded like a sob.

“Mister Puffball—be quiet!” Alice shouted. She laughed and shook her head. “My cat is very good at letting me know when he's hungry.”

“Oh, wow,” I said. “It didn't sound like a cat.”

Alice laughed again. “Mister Puffball
can communicate really well
—especially at dinnertime.”

I smiled. But the cry I heard didn't sound at all like a cat. It sounded human.

 

19.

“Can I sit on your lap?”

Harry had to be the sweetest, friendliest eight-year-old in the world. By the time he finished his mac and cheese dinner, he and I were already BFF's. He was funny and smart. He whipped through his homework, about six pages of math problems.

His big joke of the night: He'd tug at my hair and make a different sound effect each time. For some reason, he thought that was a riot. But when I tugged his hair and made an
oink oink
sound, he said it wasn't funny at all.

He kept begging me to stay up late. “Maybe some other night. Not tonight,” I answered. That seemed to satisfy him—until ten minutes later, when he'd ask me again.

He sat on my lap, and we watched
Kung Fu Panda 2
on Netflix. The cartoon made him laugh. A couple of times he leapt to the floor and did some crazy kung fu moves.

When the movie ended, I glanced at the time. Nearly eight o'clock. “Bedtime,” I told him.

“I have a panda upstairs,” he said. “In my closet. Maybe I could bring him down. We could do our own panda movie.”

“Not tonight,” I insisted.

“A short one?”

“No. Not tonight. I see what you're doing, Harry. You're stalling. Come on. Let's get you in your pajamas.”

After that, he was no problem. We got him changed and tucked in. I said goodnight. He asked me to close his door, so I did.

Downstairs, I washed the dinner dishes. Then I sat down on the living room couch to read my English assignment, a short story by an author I'd never heard of, Willa Cather. I'm not too interested in farm life, so the story was pretty boring.

I was glad when my phone rang and it was Nate. “What's up? How's the kid?” he asked.

“He's awesome,” I said. “Maybe the most adorable kid in the world.”

“Sweet. What did you give him for dinner? Frosted Flakes?”

I laughed. “No way. I made him mac and cheese. Right out of the box. It's his favorite. The kid is so easy, this job is a breeze.”

“Nice,” Nate said. “I'm just checking in. You know, see how it's going.”

“Hey, I have to ask you something,” I said. “I had this weird phone call from Summer Lawson.”

“Huh? Summer? You're kidding.”

“It was totally awkward and strange, Nate. I think she was calling to warn me about you.”

“About me?” He snickered. “Yeah, I'm real dangerous. I'm a real dangerous dude.”

“Well, why did she call me?” I demanded.

“How should I know?” he snapped. “She's crazy.”

“No. Really—”

“She's crazy, Lisa,” he said. “Ask anyone. And she's a total troublemaker.”

I heard a crackling in my ear. “Hey, where are you?” I asked. “It doesn't sound like you're home.”

He hesitated. “I'm … uh … out.”

“Where? Are you nearby?”

“Kind of,” he said.

Why is he being so weird? Why won't he tell me where he is?

“Did you hear about Isaac?” he said. “He convinced his friends to come back to the band.”

“Amazing,” I said. “How did he convince them?”

“He said he'd divide up the money they make at the club Saturday night evenly.”

“That's all it took?”

“I guess,” Nate said. “They'll still suck but at least Isaac won't be standing up there with that twelve-year-old drummer.”

“It's a shame about the band,” I said. “Isaac is a good guitar player.”
Isaac kissed me. Isaac kissed me and Nate saw.
That moment played again in my mind.

“Maybe we should go see him Saturday night,” I said.

“Maybe,” Nate replied.
Was he thinking about that kiss, too?

We talked a little longer. Then I returned to the short story. Not much happened in the story. It seemed to be mostly description of the wheat fields and the dry, flat plains around the farm.

After a while, my eyelids began to feel heavy. I think maybe I drifted off to sleep for a little while.

Then a noise jolted me awake. The book fell from my lap and bounced on the carpet. I heard the noise again. A tapping. From upstairs?

“Harry?” I called. “Is that you?”

I jumped to my feet and turned to the stairway. “Harry? Are you still awake? It's late.”

No reply.

Silence.

I jumped as the floor up there creaked from footsteps. “Harry? Are you walking around up there? Answer me. Harry?”

My heart started to pound as I made my way to the stairway.

I gazed into the dim light at the top—and gasped in horror.

 

20.

I saw a blur of light. Two legs. A shadowy figure. Darting across the landing.

Was it a man? An intruder?

“Hey—stop!” I choked out a cry. My heart was thudding so hard, I thought my chest might explode. “Stop! I see you!”

I should have called 911. But I didn't think. I saw the intruder flash across the landing heading toward Harry's room. I grabbed the banister and pulled myself up the steep stairs.

“Stop! Who are you? What are you
doing
here?” I screamed all the way up.

My legs trembling, my chest aching, I reached the landing. I gazed down the long hall. Harry's door was wide open.

“No! Stop! Get out of there!” I screamed in a hoarse voice I'd never heard before.

My shoes caught on the ragged carpet as I lowered my head and ran down the hall. I stumbled and nearly fell to my knees. Regained my balance and kept running.

“Harry?” I shouted. “Are you okay?”

No answer.

I burst into his room, gasping for breath. The room was dark. The only light came from the open window. And in that gray light, I saw the intruder. His back to me as he thundered to the window. Lowered his head.