The Locker (17 page)

“Marlee!” Aunt Celia ordered me. “Marlee, stop it! Tell the police what happened!”

She had me by the shoulders and was shaking me pretty hard, and as I focused in on her face, that's when I realized I must have gone slightly hysterical. Dobkin had his arms around my waist and was holding me so tight I could hardly breathe, and when I tried to take a step, we all three fell in a heap on the floor. It would have been funny if I hadn't been so terrified, but as it was, the policemen helped us all up again and turned on the lights in my bedroom and ushered us back through the door.

“What exactly happened, miss?” the first one asked.

“Tell him, Marlee.” Aunt Celia nodded, and she was being stern with me, the same kind of stern she always used when she was trying to get through my panicky state. “Don't leave anything out.”

“There's something under my bed,” I babbled, pointing, hopping from one bare foot to the other, still feeling the touch of those icy cold fingers pulling on my own.

The second policemen walked slowly over to the bed, and I jumped back and instinctively pulled Dobkin against me.

“No! Don't look under there!”

The man waved his hands at me in a calming motion, and I pressed up against the wall and held my breath. He got down on his knees and tossed up the covers and angled himself downward while he ran his flashlight from one end of the floor to the other.

“Nothing,” he said at last, getting back up again, wiping his hands. “Nothing at all under that bed. No offense, miss, but you must have been dreaming.”

“It could have been a spider,” Dobkin said helpfully. “If a spiderweb wrapped around your hand, you could have thought—”

“They were like ice!” I burst out. “And I think I know what fingers feel like when they're trying to pull me out of my bed!”

I was insulted and angry all at once. I knew how preposterous this all sounded, but I also knew I wasn't totally off the deep end—not yet, anyway.

“If Marlee says she felt something—” Aunt Celia began indignantly, and the first policeman touched one hand to the brim of his cap.

“A hand in a dream,” he suggested kindly. “Dreams can seem pretty real sometimes.”

“It
was
real.” I held my ground. “Not a dream.”

“Then”—thesecondpolicemanscratchedhishead— “where did they go? These fingers of yours?”

I glanced over at the closet and shuddered.

Dobkin retreated to the hallway, shaking his head.

“Huh-uh.
I'm
not going to open that closet.”

Aunt Celia marched straight over and flung open the door. Of course I knew there'd be nothing there, and I wished she'd stop making such a production out of it.

“Nothing,” she declared.

“Why would a person be hiding under your bed?” Dobkin asked.

“He could have come in the window,” I pointed out.

This seemed an agreeable solution, and so the two officers both went to the window and stared out at the tree.

“How come you don't have screens on these windows?” one asked, and he gave me a sly wink. “So your boyfriend can sneak in here at night?”

My cheeks flamed furiously. Aunt Celia gave the officers a tight, cold smile.

“They're on order,” she said stiffly. “And since the nights are chilly, and since the furnace in this house gives off heat like the bowels of hell itself, I can hardly expect these children to keep their windows shut and suffocate at night, now, can I?”

The two men exchanged looks. “No, ma'am,” the first one said. The second one winked at Aunt Celia, and she looked startled.

“We'll check outside, then,” the first one said, throwing me a look that said exactly what he thought of my mental state. “But if it was someone trying to break in, it's most likely your screaming scared him off. He won't be back to bother you, I stake my reputation on it.”

I thought of a lot of things I could have said to that, but Aunt Celia, knowing me so well, was shaking her head at me, warning me to keep still. I slammed down the window as she showed the policemen out the front door.

“So?” Dobkin asked from his safe spot near the hall.

“So what?” I muttered.

“So … tell me.”

“I did tell you. Someone was hiding in here.”

“Maybe it was Suellen.”

I gave him a scathing look. “Go back to bed.”

“I'm serious—maybe she's trying to make contact with—”

“I'm sick of Suellen and her damn problems. Now go back to bed.”

He made a face at me and turned away, and then I heard his door slam really hard. I got down on my hands and knees and made my own inspection underneath the bed, and had just sat down on the edge of it again when Aunt Celia came back.

“Come on.” She smiled. “I'll tuck you in.”

“I'm too old for that,” I muttered, and her smile grew sort of sweet and sad.

“Never,” she said.

I lay there while she arranged the covers around my chin, and then she sat beside me and took my hand in one of her own.

“You know, your mom would be so proud of you,” she said, and we both looked at the picture of the smiling young woman on the nightstand by my bed. “The way you always stand up for what you believe, even when people don't agree.”

“Think I'm crazy, you mean,” I corrected.

She pursed her lips and thought a minute before she spoke.

“You know, Marlee, I've never liked to pry into your private life. But I have this feeling you're trying to work out some pretty heavy problems right now, and you're feeling really alone.”

I glanced at her and barely nodded.

“The other morning when I said you looked strange—well …” She took a deep breath and calmly met my eyes. “Your mom used to get that same expression when we were kids … when something important was about to happen.”

I stared at her for a long while. I don't think it really sank in right away, what she was trying to tell me.

“You're so much like her,” she said softly, smiling at the photo and then at me.

“No, I'm not. She was so pretty. I'm so plain.”

“Never, darling.” Aunt Celia touched me lightly on my hair. “You might not have her face, but you have her gift. Marlee … do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?”

I raised up on my elbows and stared at her. “Gift? What—”

“Two days before her accident, she called me and seemed very upset … very frightened … about something.”

Aunt Celia paused for several seconds. Her hand tightened around my own. And when she finally spoke again, I could hear a tremble in her voice.

“She asked me to promise that if anything ever happened to her, that I'd take you and Dobkin and give you a happy life.”

“You … you never told me that.…”

“I was afraid to. After the accident that night, you didn't want anything to do with psychic gifts. You pushed it as far down in your consciousness as it could go. You didn't ever want to deal with it again … and I respected your wishes.”

I think my mouth dropped open a little. She nodded and let out a deep sigh, and her calm cool hand was stroking mine very gently.

“She had that
same
gift, Marlee, ever since she and I were very small children. She could see things and feel things that none of the rest of us ever could. And she handled it the same way you did—denied it. Ignored it.
Hated
it—because she didn't want to be different. She didn't want the responsibility. Except sometimes she
couldn't
ignore it, you see. Sometimes she couldn't, because the very things she was trying so hard to ignore were much, much bigger than her own will. And then, they just
had to
come through her. She had to
let
them—do you understand—in spite of her own personal feelings. She
had
to, because they were just too important.”

I kept staring at her, and tears brimmed in my eyes, and she leaned over and kissed me lightly on my cheek.

“Good night, darling,” she whispered.

I watched her disappear into the hallway.

I heard her voice soft, soft from the darkness of the hall.

“Shall I leave the light on?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I answered back. “Please.”

I lay there and watched the light for a long time.

And then I put my mother's picture beneath my pillow, and at last I slept.

20

T
yler's having a party Saturday night,” Noreen said as we hurried down the hall to homeroom. “You've got to come.”

“I do?” I groaned. “Oh, Noreen, I can't—”

“No excuses!” she tried to look stern, but her face crinkled up into a smile.

“But I really have to help Aunt Celia—”

“You can help her on Sunday. Saturday night is party night!”

“So where is this party?” I asked reluctantly.

“At Tyler's cabin.” She grinned. “A wish-it-was-summer party. There'll be tons of food and we'll cook out and take music and videos and all sorts of stuff. You've got to come, Marlee—I already said you would!”

“You did?” I couldn't help laughing. “Since when are you my social secretary?”

“Since all the kids are dying to know you!” She giggled. “I mean, it's just not the same as seeing them in school! I've been telling them how much you've traveled around the country, and everyone wants to talk to you!”

I groaned. “Thanks a lot. I won't know what to say to any of them, and it's all your fault if I make a complete fool of myself.”

“Too late!” A voice spoke at our backs, and Tyler swung lithely into step beside us. “After the first time you saw ghosts in your locker, your reputation was shot.”

Inwardly I groaned even louder.
My wonderful power
—
the bane of my existence.
It was the very thing I'd tried so hard to avoid, and now it was my one claim to fame.

“They're just curious, that's all,” Noreen said, trying to soothe me.

“Like people at the county fair who always want to see the six-legged goat,” Tyler deadpanned, and Noreen whacked him over the head with her books.

“Don't you have something else to do besides annoy us?” she demanded, then turned back to me without waiting for his answer. “Okay?” she persisted. “Okay? You'll come?”

She was pinching my arm, and I finally let out a yelp.

“If it's between that or being tortured, I guess I'll choose the party.” I gave in grudgingly, rubbing my arm where a little welt was already forming.

“She's merciless,” Tyler deadpanned. “Definitely a good person to have on your side.”

“I'm so excited.” Noreen giggled. “I love parties!”

“You
are
a party,” Tyler said. “And
speaking
of parties, am I expected to go down there and clean up the whole place by myself?”

“Of course not.” Noreen poked me in the ribs. “We wouldn't
think
of asking you to get ready for your own party, would we?”

“Jimmy Frank's bringing over the coolers tomorrow night so we can go ahead and start icing down drinks,” Tyler said.

“What about food? Can we start fixing something ahead of time?” Noreen asked.

He shrugged as if he hadn't thought much about it.

“Men!” Noreen sighed. “It's amazing how they just expect things to happen automatically. Like the barbecue fairy will magically have the burgers there on time … and the dance fairy will just wave a wand and presto!—all the right music!”

“We could take care of the food, couldn't we?” I offered. “And I'd be able to come over tomorrow night and help clean.”

“Me, too!” Noreen nodded. “Between the four of us”—she tried to look stern“—and I
do
mean the
four
of us, which means you
and
Jimmy Frank have to do your share—it shouldn't take us long to get the place in shape.”

I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at her.

“No, I can't come tomorrow.” I sighed, and her face crumpled.

“Why not?” she wailed.

“I just remembered—Aunt Celia's going into Freeburg to try and sell some of her sculpture, and she won't get back till really late, and I have to stay with Dobkin.”

“So? Bring him along,” Noreen said without hesitation, looking over at Tyler, who nodded.

“Sure. He's a cool kid.”

“Well … I don't know.…”

“If you don't come willingly,” Noreen said, leading the way into homeroom, “we'll kidnap you.”

Tyler looked as though the idea appealed to him, and I knew I'd lost the battle. I could only guess what Dobkin would say about it—he hated being babysat, and he hated cleaning even more.

The day went by quickly, but everything was pretty much a blur to me. So much had happened the last few days, my mind felt numb, and I wished I could just turn it off. Every time I changed classes, I looked for Jimmy Frank, but he never seemed to be around, and I wondered if he'd even come to school today. I wanted so much to talk to him about his experiences—the things he'd sensed about Suellen since her disappearance. I had this terrible feeling he regretted having told me about it, and that it would be a cold day in hell if I could ever get anything out of him again.