The Stranger Next Door (4 page)

“You won’t be living in the city,” Mr. Valdez said. “The house is in a new development called Valley View Estates. The houses aren’t fancy, but the lots are large, with many trees. It’s near Hilltop, an old mining town about thirty
miles southeast of Seattle. You’ll attend Hilltop School.”

“We’ve never had a brand-new house before,” Rocky’s mom said.

I’ve never had a brand-new name before, either, Rocky thought. He hoped his future classmates wouldn’t pry too much into his past. He understood now why it was imperative that nobody know who his family really was or where they had come from. He still didn’t like leaving his dog and his friends and his school—but he did understand why it was necessary.

Rocky had already decided to keep to himself at his new school. He didn’t want to answer a bunch of questions. He didn’t want to worry that he’d slip and say something that would give away his family’s secret.

He didn’t want to make new friends because there was always the chance that his family would have to pull up stakes again and leave suddenly. It was better not to have friends, he thought, than to walk out on them without any explanation, the way he had walked out on Nathan.

Mr. Valdez stayed with them until it was time to board the airplane.

Three hours later, Rocky followed his parents off the plane into SeaTac International Airport. As they entered the terminal, a man approached them. “Mr. Morris?” he said.

“Yes,” Blake replied.

“I’m Gus Franklin. I’ll be driving you to your home.” The two men shook hands, then Blake said, “This is my wife, Ginny, and my son, Rocky.”

Rocky shook hands, too. He wondered if his family was going to have a driver forever.

While they waited for their luggage, Mr. Franklin said, “Your furniture was delivered this morning. We’ll get you a car tomorrow.”

*   *   *

Alex poured maple syrup on his pancakes. He had just put the first forkful in his mouth when Benjie galloped through the front door, letting it bang shut behind him.

“They’re millionaires!” Benjie yelled as he raced into the kitchen.

Pete ran from the kitchen to the family room, then jumped on top of the piano. From there he could still hear and see what was going on.

“Keep your voice down,” Mrs. Kendrill said, “and take your shoes off. You’re tracking mud across the floor.”

Benjie removed his shoes. “The new neighbors are millionaires,” he said.

“How do you know?” Alex said. “Have you met them?”

“No, they aren’t here yet. But a big truck from a furniture store came and unloaded a whole bunch of new furniture: beds and a sofa and tables and some chairs and a television set.”

“Are you certain it was new?” Mr. Kendrill said. “Maybe you saw a moving van.”

“It said
MASON’S FINE FURNITURE
on the side,” Benjie said, “and the sofa and chairs were still wrapped in plastic. So were the lamp shades.”

“How nice to have new furniture in their new house,” Mrs. Kendrill said as she looked at the scuffed tables and worn couch in the family room.

“If these folks were wealthy,” Mr. Kendrill said, “they would more likely have bought a custom-built home, not one here in Valley View.”

“Then another truck came,” Benjie said, “and brought a new washer and dryer. And then—”

“I hope you stayed out of the way,” Mrs. Kendrill said.

“I rode my scooter and watched. I asked the men from the furniture store who the neighbors are, but they didn’t know. Neither did the men from the appliance store.”

“Just because they have new furniture doesn’t make them millionaires,” Alex said.

“I bet they’ll have a new car, too.”

“You mustn’t jump to conclusions,” Mr. Kendrill said. “Their financial status is none of our business, anyway, so don’t go asking them how much money they have.”

Benjie looked offended. “I know better than to ask how much money they have,” he said.

“Have some pancakes, Benjie,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “I was just going to call you.”

“Is it okay if I sit on the front steps while I eat?” Benjie asked. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Heaven forbid,” Mr. Kendrill said.

“Maybe the quintuplets will all have fancy mountain bikes, and they’ll let me ride them sometimes,” Benjie said as he got a plate of pancakes. “Maybe they’re so rich they’ll all go to Florida for their vacation and invite me to go along.”

“What quintuplets?” Mrs. Kendrill said.

“The boys who are moving in next door,” Benjie said. “Five of them, all my age.” Then he carried his breakfast outside and sat on the front porch to eat.

“I hope that’s another of his fantasies,” Mr. Kendrill said.

“It is,” Alex said.

“Good. I wouldn’t want to have to move when we’re barely settled.”

Pete looked at his calm family, quietly enjoying breakfast, and decided it was time for a cat fit. He leaped to the top of the sofa, ran from one end to the other, jumped to the floor, raced into the kitchen, then hopped on top of the refrigerator. He reached a paw over the top and pushed at the magnets that held family pictures, a grocery list, and Benjie’s artwork. Two of the magnets fell to the floor; the pictures they had held fluttered after them.

Pete jumped down. He batted one of the magnets across the floor, ran after it, pounced on it, rolled around while he
kicked at it with his hind feet, then batted it some more until it went under the sofa.

“My toy is gone!” Pete shrieked. “I can’t reach my toy!” He jumped to the small end table beside the sofa.

“I don’t know what gets into that cat,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Sometimes he goes completely loony.”

“Maybe he’s lonesome,” Mr. Kendrill said. “Maybe we should get another cat so he has someone to play with.”

Pete stopped rubbing his face against the lamp shade. “Share my food?” Pete said. “Share my litter pan? Let another cat sit on Alex’s lap? No! If you bring another cat in here, the fur will fly. The new cat will never have a minute’s peace, and neither will you.”

“I’m not sure we need two cats,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Pete is more than I can handle.”

Alex said, “I’ll take Pete outside as soon as I finish eating. That will settle him down.” He helped himself to another pancake. He hoped Benjie was wrong about the new neighbors being millionaires. So much new furniture did sound as if they had money to spare, and that thought made Alex uneasy.

If it weren’t for Duke, Alex wouldn’t care if the neighbors were wealthy or not, but he knew Duke would care. He didn’t understand why Duke was so against people who had money. Was it jealousy? Why did Duke assume
Alex’s family was well-off? Was it just an excuse to act mean?

Although Alex hoped for a neighbor boy his age, he didn’t want the boy to be rich. He could just imagine how Duke and his buddies would react if they found out that the new boy was wealthy.

They would never quit picking on him—or me, Alex thought. Life at school would be totally miserable.

T
ime to come in,
Benjie,” Mrs. Kendrill called. “But they aren’t here yet.”

“It’s getting dark. They probably aren’t coming until tomorrow.”

“Mr. Woolsey said they were coming Saturday.”

“Maybe he meant next week, or something might have delayed them. Put your scooter in the garage; it’s supposed to rain tonight. Then come in and get undressed; your bath is ready.”

Benjie trudged into the house. He took off his shoes but carried his binoculars with him into the bathroom.

Alex, who was watching a movie with Pete on his lap, felt sorry for his brother. Benjie had spent the entire day either riding his scooter past the neighbors’ house or sitting on the front porch looking up the street through his binoculars, hoping to catch the first glimpse of the new family.

Half an hour later, just as Alex’s movie got to the most exciting part, Benjie ran into the living room and yelled, “They’re here!”

Pete, startled out of his dream of catching a mouse, dug his back claws into Alex’s thighs and shoved off.

“Ouch!” Alex said. “Benjie, for crying out loud, quit scaring Pete.” He hit the
PAUSE
button on the remote control, then rubbed his legs.

“They just pulled into their driveway,” Benjie said, “and I was right.”

Alex gaped at his brother. “They have quintuplets?” he asked.

“They have a new car, a big fancy one.”

“Benjie,” Mrs. Kendrill said, “I told you not to spy on the neighbors. If you can’t mind, we’ll have to take your binoculars away from you.”

“I didn’t spy,” Benjie protested. “I saw lights through the trees, and I looked to see who it was, that’s all.”

“Are there any kids?” Alex asked.

“Do they have a cat?” Pete asked.

“I only saw one boy,” Benjie said. “He’s about your size, Alex.” He slumped onto the couch and ate some of Alex’s popcorn. Then he brightened. “Maybe the rest of the boys are coming tomorrow because they wouldn’t all fit in one car.”

“Do they have a cat?” Pete said, louder this time.

“Alex,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Pete is hungry.”

Alex went to the kitchen to get the cat food.

Pete did not follow him. Instead, he went upstairs to Alex’s bedroom and hopped on the sill of the window that faced the new neighbors’ house. Benjie’s bedroom faced that direction, too, but Pete was too smart to take a chance of getting trapped in Benjie’s room.

He peered through the window at an unhappy-looking boy who was carrying a suitcase up the front steps. Pete saw no cat or dog or any other animal.

*   *   *

Alex waited until Sunday afternoon before going next door to meet the new boy. He would have preferred to go by himself, but Benjie insisted on going, too.

Alex carried a warm cinnamon-walnut coffee cake that his mother had baked as a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.

“Tell them to come over if they need anything,” she said as she gave the coffee cake to Alex. “I’ll give them a couple of days to get settled before I go over to introduce myself.”

The woman answered the door. She was about the same age as Alex’s mom, but there were dark circles under her eyes, as if she had not slept well or was recovering from a serious illness.

“We’re your neighbors,” Benjie blurted, the minute the door opened. “Mom made you a coffee cake.”

“I’m Alex Kendrill,” Alex said, “and this is my brother, Benjie.”

The woman smiled. “I’m Ginny Morris,” she said. “It’s nice of you boys to come over.”

“We want to meet your kids,” Benjie said.

“Rocky and his dad went to the hardware store,” Mrs. Morris said.

“What about the quintuplets?” Benjie said. “Where are they?”

“Quintuplets?”

“Benjie hoped you would have five boys, all his age,” Alex explained.

Mrs. Morris looked both astonished and amused. “Good heavens, no,” she said. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“No quintuplets?” Benjie said.

“I’m afraid not. We have just one son, Rocky, who’s twelve.”

“I’m twelve and a half,” Alex said. “When he gets home, tell him if he wants to come over I can show him where the school bus stops. Maybe he’d like to shoot baskets or something.”

“That’s kind of you,” Mrs. Morris said. “Please thank your mother for the coffee cake and tell her I’ll invite her over as soon as we’re settled.”

Half an hour later, Alex saw a car turn into the Morrises’ driveway. A man and a boy, presumably Mr. Morris
and Rocky, went into the house. Alex waited, expecting the doorbell to ring any minute, but it never did.

The next morning Alex went to the bus stop early, hoping for a chance to talk to Rocky for a few minutes before the bus came.

Just as the bus appeared in the distance, the Morrises’ car went past with Rocky in the backseat. Alex wondered if Rocky’s parents planned to drive him to school every day or if they just had to go with him this first time, to get him registered.

Class had already started when Rocky entered and handed the sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Bolen, a piece of paper. She smiled, spoke to him quietly a moment, and then said, “Class, this is Gerald Morris. He’s just moved here from . . .”

She looked expectantly at the new boy, but he did not tell her where he was from. Instead he said, “Call me Rocky.”

“Where did you live before you came here?” Mrs. Bolen asked.

“Down south.”

Duke snickered.

Alex looked curiously at Rocky. When you live near Seattle, the entire rest of the United States except Alaska and Hawaii is either “back east” or “down south.” It was almost as if the new boy didn’t want anyone to know where he was from.

Mrs. Bolen directed Rocky to sit in the third row, in the empty seat beside Alex.

Alex whispered, “Hi. I live next door to you.”

Rocky nodded but said nothing.

I’ll talk to him at lunch, Alex thought. I’ll invite him to sit with me while we eat. Maybe he won’t be so shy when he finds out that I’m new here, too.

Lunch was a disaster. Alex saw Rocky in line ahead of him and watched as Rocky selected an unoccupied table. Alex carried his tray there and sat down across from Rocky, but before he had even said hi, Duke and his sidekick, Henry, approached.

“Where do you live?” Duke asked. “We didn’t see anybody move to town recently.”

Rocky put a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth and began to chew.

Duke tapped Rocky’s shoulder. “I’m talking to you,” he said. “Which house did you move into?”

Rocky shrugged. “It’s a white house,” he said. “I don’t remember the address.”

“You moved to Valley View Estates, didn’t you?” Duke said. “The same as your friend Alex here did.”

“What difference does it make to you where I live?” Rocky said.

“We don’t like spoiled rich kids,” Duke said.

Rocky just looked at him.

“That means we don’t like you, Mr. Big Bucks.”

“Leave him alone,” Alex said.

Duke’s hand shot out and grabbed the chocolate chip cookie from Rocky’s tray. Instantly, Henry reached for Alex’s cookie. Alex, who was holding an open half-pint carton of milk, tipped the carton and poured milk on Henry’s arm, soaking his shirtsleeve.