Silent Symmetry (The Embodied trilogy Book 1)
Page 13
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When I got back home, Mom was freaking out. Flash had vanished. Of course I knew where he’d gone, but for Mom it was completely inexplicable. One thing for sure – there was no way I was going to tell her about the secret tunnel.
“He must have scooted out when we left this morning,” I ventured, hoping she would buy it.
“But we would have seen him!”
“I dunno, we were in a bit of a rush,” I said.
She shook her head. “No, it’s impossible. He just wouldn’t do that.”
“It’s still a strange new place for him. Maybe he was confused?”
“Even if he raced out through a gap in the doorway while I was looking for my keys or something, he wouldn’t have run away any further. You know what he’s like – he never wants us to leave so he would have followed us, meowing.”
She had a point. “Yeah, I guess.” I was trying not to come across as too bothered. This strategy backfired immediately.
“What’s the matter – why aren’t you freaking out?” she frowned at me.
“You’re right – we should look for him.”
“But I already have!”
Her voice was rising and I could understand why. If I’d actually believed Flash was lost, I’d be running around like crazy trying to find him.
“Did you try shaking the cat food bag?” I suggested as I walked into the kitchen.
Mom threw up her arms in exasperation as she followed me. “Of course I did.”
My eyes shot to the cupboard. The door was open. The cat food bag was sitting on the tiled floor in front of it. I didn’t want to shake it again because if Flash was in the tunnel and heard it, he would come running back and Mom would find out about the passageway. I needed to distract her so that I could go into the tunnel myself while she was asleep. I was cursing myself for not having thought about finding a way to stop Flash pushing open the flap at the back of the cupboard.
I grabbed the bag and walked out of the kitchen with Mom right behind me. “What are you doing, pumpkin?” she asked. I stopped in my tracks. She was stressed and reverting to her old habits.
“Mom...”
“What?”
“Pumpkin?”
She grinned sheepishly at me. “Oh yes – sorry!”
I opened the front door and went out into the hallway, shaking the cat food bag. “Flash!” I shouted, making squeaky noises with my lips. This went on for about half a minute until an old man in a robe opened the door across from the elevators.
“What in God’s name is going on?” he grumbled, peering through thick eyeglasses, his thinning gray hair mussed up as though he’d been napping.
“Aw shucks, we didn’t mean to disturb you, Sir,” apologized Mom, doing her best impression of a Midwestern farmer’s wife. The man grunted something and shuffled back inside his apartment. “See? He’s gone,” said Mom in desperation. She meant Flash, not the old man. “We’ll have to make a bunch of those sad Lost Cat posters and put them up around the neighborhood.”
“Good idea,” I answered, not really knowing what else to do. Then I thought of a way that Flash could reappear without it seeming like magic to Mom once I’d found him in the tunnel. “Hey – what if he’s just lost in the building somewhere – we should leave the door open so he can come back in.”
“Are you crazy?!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper, glancing over at the old man’s door. “This is New York! People have three locks on their doors. No one leaves them unlocked, let alone open.”
“But there’s a chain, so we could almost close it and it would look closed to anyone who happened to come by, and how many people are going to do that anyway between now and the morning? Then if Flash comes back he can nudge the door open a bit and come inside.”
She had that look on her face that always appeared when she was processing. She nodded slowly, which was usually a good sign. “You’re right – statistically the odds of a thief getting in the building and then happening to pass by our door out of the hundreds of apartments are practically zero. And if Flash does come back, the chain will allow the door to open just enough for him to enter, but stop anyone else coming in.”
“That’s my whole point!” I smiled. “And when he does come in, he’ll meow hello to us and we’ll get up and close the front door.”
“Okay, okay... I guess it’s pretty low-risk.” She cheer up a bit and went back inside the apartment. “I’ll get supper ready while you work on the posters in case we need them,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.
I was super proud of myself. This was the plan: I’d set my alarm for 3 a.m., crawl into the tunnel, track him down, bring him back, and pretend that he’d come through the chained front door and woke me up by jumping on my bed. Then I’d just have to find a way of stopping him going back through the flap tomorrow. What could go wrong? By morning, I had the answer.