Missing Me

by Sophie McKenzie

  The girl stayed sitting, but raised her eyebrows. She was strikingly pretty, with slanting dark eyes and a tumble of blonde waves cascading down her back. One look at both of them revealed they were wearing hugely expensive designer clothes – the boy in a suit, the girl in a shimmering gold dress.

  ‘What are you doing in here?’ the girl demanded.

  ‘I . . . I was looking for the restroom.’ Damn, why did I always fall back into the American terms when I was nervous? I’d worked so hard to lose my accent in the past few years, it was totally annoying when words from the States crept back into my vocabulary. ‘I mean the bathroom, the toilets.’

  ‘There’s no bathroom here,’ the girl said with a haughty sniff. ‘This part of the house is off limits to party guests. The toilet’s a separate entrance next door.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  ‘It’s f . . . f . . . fine.’ The boy smiled at me. ‘I’m Wolf,’ he said. ‘This is my friend, Esme.’

  ‘Esme . . . Baxter?’ I exclaimed. ‘Is this your party?’

  Esme rolled her eyes. ‘It’s Dad’s frickin’ party. We’re hiding out in the Den. The door to outside was supposed to be locked.’

  ‘OK, sorry,’ I said again. I couldn’t work out what had happened. ‘I must have read the sign wrong.’ I headed back to the door. I grabbed the handle and tried to yank it open.

  But it was stuck. I pulled again. The door wouldn’t budge.

  ‘Are you all right?’ The boy, Wolf, appeared beside me.

  ‘Can’t open the door,’ I said, my guts twisting into an embarrassed knot.

  Wolf raised his eyebrows. ‘Let’s have a go . . .’ He turned the handle himself, but the door still didn’t open. He frowned. ‘What the—?’

  ‘What is it?’ Now Esme was here too. She was barefoot but still nearly a head taller than me and model-style skinny. Jeez, were those real diamonds in her necklace?

  Wolf turned to her. ‘The door won’t open,’ he said.

  ‘WHAT?’ Esme tried the handle herself. No movement.

  She turned to me accusingly. ‘Well done!’ she snapped. ‘Whoever you are, you’ve managed to lock us in.’

  9

  Escape to Danger

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ I protested.

  Esme paced dramatically across the room. Wolf tried the door again.

  ‘It’s frickin’ jammed or something,’ Esme snarled.

  ‘OK.’ Wolf stepped back, frowning. I followed his gaze around the room. There were no other visible exits. ‘Then we’re stuck.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks to her.’ Esme pointed at me. ‘You must have done something to the door.’

  ‘I didn’t, I swear,’ I said. ‘There must be some other way out, isn’t there?’

  ‘No.’ Esme shook out her long blonde hair. I had the sense that, despite her surface display of anxiety-fuelled rudeness, underneath she was enjoying all the drama.

  I shrank against the wall, not enjoying it myself at all. For a start, Allan would surely have noticed I wasn’t in the marquee anymore and what would he think? That I’d run away? Things wouldn’t improve once I was found, either. I’d only just met Allan and he’d been so nice to me, bringing me to this party, and now the daughter of the host clearly thought it was my fault we were locked in this room together.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said. ‘If I did jam the door somehow, it was an accident.’

  ‘It’s not your f . . . f . . . fault,’ Wolf said. ‘And there’s no need to be so melodramatic, Esme. This isn’t the end of the world; we can just phone someone to let us out.’

  ‘I can’t phone anyone,’ Esme said with a theatrical flourish. ‘I left my mobile upstairs.’

  Wolf turned to me, his eyebrows raised in question.

  ‘I had to hand mine in at the door,’ I said.

  ‘Ah, so did I,’ Wolf admitted.

  Esme glared at him. ‘But you’re my friend, Wolf,’ she said. ‘You didn’t have to do that. You wouldn’t normally.’

  Wolf shrugged. ‘Dad m . . . made me – he said it was the polite thing to do seeing as all the other guests had to.’ He paused. ‘It’s not such a big deal, Esme. Someone will notice when we don’t show up later. Then they’ll come looking for us.’

  ‘That could take hours,’ Esme whined. ‘We’ll miss the circus show Dad has organised.’

  ‘You mean the acrobats and people in the marquee?’ I said.

  ‘That’s nothing,’ Esme said. ‘Dad has a high-wire act lined up . . . there’s even a tiger somewhere. I saw the trainer earlier.’

  ‘A tiger?’ I stared at her. ‘In a private house? Isn’t that illegal?’

  Esme shrugged.

  ‘Money buys you everything,’ Wolf said drily. ‘What’s your name, anyway?’

  ‘Madison,’ I said.

  ‘As in Madison Avenue?’ Wolf said. ‘You know, the street in New York with the ad agencies?’

  ‘Er, yes.’ I could feel myself blushing. Wolf was taller than me by a good few centimetres. He wasn’t outstandingly handsome compared, say, to Rory’s friend Marcus. His nose was slightly crooked and his lips a little thin. But there was real warmth in his grey-blue eyes.

  We stared at each other for a moment. I had no idea what to say.

  ‘Hey, guys.’ Esme had wandered across the room and was standing facing one of the big couches. ‘If you could tear yourselves away from the geography lesson, I think I’ve found a way out of here.’

  ‘How?’ Wolf asked.

  Esme pulled the couch away from the wall, revealing a small door. ‘It’s locked,’ she said, ‘and I don’t have the key, but if we could force it open, I know it leads to the cellars that run under the whole house.’

  ‘I don’t know, Ez,’ Wolf said slowly. ‘Your dad won’t like us breaking a door down, and we won’t r . . . r . . . really know which direction to head in once we’re down there.’

  ‘I’ll know.’ Esme put her hands on her slim hips. ‘Man, Wolf is such a bad name for you. You should have been called Chip, for Chipmunk or something, not Wolf for . . . for Wolfhound.’

  Wolfhound? Jeez, was that his real name?

  Wolf’s pale cheeks pinked. He rubbed his thick fringe off his forehead. ‘Stop it, Ez.’ He turned to me. ‘W . . . what do you think, Madison?’

  I glanced at the little door, thinking of Allan. He would definitely be wondering where I was by now. I looked up. Esme was watching me, hands still on her hips. The light from the lamps around her shimmered on the gold of her dress and lit up the white-blonde highlights in her hair. She looked haughty and beautiful and more than a little scary.

  ‘It’s Esme’s house,’ I said, hesitantly. ‘If she thinks it’s OK to break down the door, then that’s what we should do.’

  ‘Yes.’ Esme grinned and offered me her hand to high-five.

  I slapped it, grinning back. Esme might be a little bit full of herself, but there was something about her I liked.

  ‘Fine.’ Wolf threw his hands in the air. ‘Bring it on.’

  It took another ten minutes to lever the door open. In the end, Wolf broke the lock by inserting the aerial from an old-style radio between the door and the frame, then kicking at the lock.

  ‘Yes!’ Esme clapped her hands together. ‘Thank goodness Mum never throws anything away.’

  ‘Your mum’s like that too?’ I said.

  Esme rolled her expressive eyes. ‘She’s the worst. A total hoarder.’

  Wolf peered through the little door. ‘I can see steps down. It’s dark, though.’

  ‘Not a problem.’ Esme raced across the room and fetched a box from one of the shelves. She took out one of those fortune-telling Magic 8-balls that light up when you spin them. ‘We can use this.’ She gave the ball a shake as she crawled through the small door.

  The outlook is good, said the ball.

  ‘W . . . well, that’s encouraging.’ Wolf smiled. There was a gap between his front teeth. I wondered if that was what made him stammer.
/>
  ‘It’s frickin’ filthy in here.’ Esme edged towards the steps.

  I peered after her. It did look dusty. I glanced down at my best and most favourite top. I’m no princess about clothes, but I loved this particular T-shirt and hated the idea I might ruin it.

  ‘Here, take my jacket.’ Wolf started shrugging off his suit.

  ‘No.’ How embarrassing that he’d seen what I was thinking. ‘I’ll be fine.’ I peered after Esme again. She was crouched low, by the top step.

  ‘Come on, guys,’ she said impatiently.

  Wolf was still holding out his jacket. He was wearing a black top with a crew neck and short, close-fitting sleeves. His arms were as slim as the rest of him, but the muscles were well-defined. He might not be buff, but he looked strong.

  ‘Esme’s dress is much more expensive than my top,’ I stammered.

  ‘Yeah, but Esme doesn’t value her dress,’ Wolf said. ‘And your top is . . . it’s nice.’

  ‘OK, thanks.’ I was still hideously embarrassed but it was easier just to take the jacket than to argue anymore. As I slid it over my bare arms, I felt the fabric. Light wool with a silk lining. Jeez, Wolf’s suit was probably as expensive as Esme’s dress.

  I crawled through the door, crept along the low-ceilinged passageway and followed Esme down the steps.

  Halfway down, the Magic 8-ball’s light went out and we were plunged into darkness. I froze.

  Esme shook the ball again. Cannot predict now, it said, its dim light glowing again.

  ‘N . . . not so encouraging,’ Wolf said behind me.

  At the bottom of the steps we found ourselves in a large room. The ceiling here was only just high enough for us to stand up. I reached my hands up to the rough plaster.

  ‘This way.’ Esme padded, barefoot, across the cold, dusty floor. She led us through two more doors into two more rooms. The first was cramped, filled with wooden crates, while the second was more spacious again, and lined with racks filled with wine bottles.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, looking round. ‘There must be hundreds of bottles here.’

  ‘Yeah, Daddy collects them,’ Esme said dismissively. She strode off, shaking the Magic 8-ball again. Ask again later, it said.

  ‘“Daddy” collects lots of things,’ Wolf whispered in my ear. ‘His favourite hobby is spending money.’ He paused, lowering his voice further. ‘Don’t let Esme f . . . f . . . fool you. She might look tough, but she was sent off to boarding school when she was ten. She’s had lots of money, but hardly any time with either of her parents.’

  I glanced round at him as we followed Esme through the next door. What was Wolf’s relationship with Esme, I wondered. He’d introduced her as his ‘friend’. Was that, like, posh-kid speak for ‘girlfriend’? They didn’t act like they were going out together. In fact, Esme had been quite rude to him. Still, how would I know what was normal behaviour? The closest I’d ever got to having a boyfriend was a totally embarrassing date in year ten with Samuel Jones, a gorgeous boy from the year above me at school. He’d spent the whole time talking about a band he was into and how great they were live. When he finally stopped speaking, I couldn’t think of a thing to say to him. As usual. After our date, Samuel had promised to call me, but he never did.

  ‘Is your full name really Wolfhound?’ I whispered as we crossed the next room. I had the strong sense we were walking uphill now and the air was definitely cooler than before. Hopefully we were near a way out.

  ‘No,’ Wolf sighed. ‘But the truth isn’t any better.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Wolf threw me a sideways glance, as if to check I wasn’t making fun of him.

  ‘I’m interested,’ I said.

  ‘OK, my full name is Wolfgang William Alexander Manville Yates.’ Wolf paused. ‘Go ahead and laugh, everyone else does.’

  ‘Whoa,’ I said. Up ahead Esme was struggling with the next door. ‘That’s a lot of name.’

  ‘You’re telling me,’ Wolf muttered.

  We caught up with Esme, just as she managed to open the door. We traipsed through, into another draughty, dusty room. This one was just as dark as the others – though with a higher ceiling – and filled with a strange smell, something sour and musty.

  ‘Pooh.’ Esme turned to face me. She wrinkled her nose. The 8-ball cast a spooky glow across her face. ‘What the hell is that?’

  ‘God knows,’ Wolf said. ‘Are we nearly out?’

  ‘Sure,’ Esme said. ‘We’ve come right round the back of the house. We’re near the big tent in the back garden.’

  ‘But the tent . . . the marquee . . . that was out front,’ I said.

  ‘There are two tents.’ Esme swept off across the room.

  Wolf and I followed. A second later, the 8-ball light went out again. A soft padding sound echoed across the room behind us.

  ‘What was that?’ I hissed.

  Esme shook the 8-ball. It lit and spoke: My sources say no.

  I turned around, peering into the shadows behind us. I could make out empty floor and the door. Nothing else.

  And then a low growl filled the room.

  Esme grabbed my arm. ‘Look.’ She pointed the 8-ball light at the door we’d just walked through.

  I gasped, unable to believe my eyes. An animal was watching us, its eyes yellow in the dim light, pacing past the door.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Wolf said hoarsely. ‘It’s the tiger for the circus show.’

  10

  Circus Show

  A piercing scream filled the air, nearly bursting my eardrums. It was Esme. Wolf slapped his hand over her mouth.

  ‘Ssshhhh,’ I hissed.

  Esme’s scream ended as suddenly as it had begun. The tiger stopped padding. It was looking in our direction, its eyes like orange discs.

  ‘Don’t run,’ Wolf whispered. ‘Walk slowly away.’

  Nodding, I started backing away. The tiger was still watching us.

  ‘Nice kitty, good kitty.’ The breathless whisper tumbled out of my mouth. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear myself speak.

  I glanced over at the others. Wolf was holding Esme’s hand now, tugging her backwards with him. Esme’s eyes – huge and terrified – were fixed on the tiger. It hadn’t moved.

  Yet.

  As we walked, I wondered how many seconds it would take the tiger to reach us. From the look of those sleek, muscular legs, not many. I looked around. In the dim glow of the Magic 8-ball light I could just make out an iron gate a couple of metres ahead. It was one of those concertina types that you can pull across and push back and was fastened with padlocks to iron bars on the walls either side.

  This metal gate stood between us and escape from the tiger.

  ‘What’s that doing there?’ Esme whispered. She had followed my gaze and was staring, shocked, at the iron bars.

  ‘I imagine it’s keeping the tiger in,’ I said softly.

  ‘So how do we get past those padlocks?’ Wolf whispered.

  We looked up and down but there was no way through.

  ‘It’s wall to wall,’ Wolf said. ‘There’s no gap.’

  ‘Oh, frickin’ hell,’ Esme breathed. ‘Frickin’ frickin’ hell.’

  The tiger was still watching us. Totally motionless. Unbelievably sinister. It was preparing to leap. I could feel it. But how on earth could we get away? The metal gate was impassable, while the tiger stood between us and the door we’d come through earlier.

  ‘We’ll be fine.’ Wolf sounded convinced, but I could see in his eyes that he was as terrified as I was.

  I looked up at the gate. It went right to the ceiling. No, there was a small gap. Right at the top. It didn’t leave enough space for a tiger – or a grown man – to crawl over, but there was surely enough for me, Wolf and Esme.

  ‘Climb,’ I ordered.

  ‘What?’ Esme breathed.

  ‘She’s right,’ Wolf said. ‘Hurry.’ He put his foot in the latticed metal of the gate, about a metre off the ground, and hauled himsel
f up.

  I looked at the tiger. It was still watching us, standing without moving in front of the door we’d walked through. It felt like hours had passed since we’d seen it, but it was only a few seconds.

  ‘Come on,’ Wolf urged.

  As he spoke, the tiger moved. It was padding towards us.

  ‘AAAGH!’ Esme screamed again. She dropped the 8-ball. It landed with a clunk on the stone ground.

  The outlook is good.

  The tiger roared. Sped up. Wolf, Esme and I turned and flung ourselves at the metal mesh. Clawing at the bars, I hauled myself up. Hand over hand. Foot over foot. Panting, I climbed. I didn’t look down until my hands gripped the top of the gate. The metal bit into my palms. Now I looked down, just as the tiger reared up. Its paws swiped at the gate, just centimetres below my feet.

  ‘Madison!’ Wolf was right beside me, straddling the gate. He just fitted between the highest metal bar and the ceiling. ‘Move!’ He held out his hand.

  I glanced down again. Again, the tiger swiped at my leg with his paw, missing me by centimetres. I scrambled higher. Beyond Wolf, Esme was almost over the gate. As I reached the top, there was a ripping sound. A strip of Esme’s dress hung from the metal bars but Esme herself was over. Another rip as she dropped to the ground. Wolf was waiting for me. I balanced on one leg, shifting my weight and moving the other leg through the gap. I found a foothold on the other side.

  ‘You OK?’ Wolf asked.

  ‘Sure.’ My whole body was trembling as I climbed fully over the gate. I took a couple of steps down. The tiger was right on the other side of the bars. Its low, rumbling growl made the metal vibrate.

  Wolf was climbing down beside me. His feet were perilously close to the tiger’s raised paw.

  ‘Jump away from the fence,’ I gasped. ‘Jump now!’

  ‘Together,’ Wolf said. ‘One, two . . . three!’

  We jumped. Landed on the hard ground with a jolt. I put out my hands to steady myself. Wolf grabbed my arm. And then Esme was there and the three of us were holding on to each other, hugging and laughing and crying all at once.