From Hero to Zero - Chris Tebbetts

by James Patterson

  And that was for two reasons.

  Actually, three.

  Well, actually, four.

  1. I wanted out of that meeting the way a turkey wants out of a turkey sandwich.

  2. I wasn’t exactly in a hurry to go hang out in my room with Miller, either.

  3. I was still trying to do at least one nice thing for everyone on the trip.

  4. So far, I’d been nothing but deadweight. I needed to show Mrs. Stricker I could do this. Even if I was pretty sure I couldn’t.

  Then, when everyone got up to leave, Jeanne kind of hung back a bit. She looked like she wanted to say something to me, and I think she was about to. But then Jared showed up out of nowhere.

  I couldn’t even look at Jared. I still didn’t know for sure that he was the one who tripped me at the jewel display—but I was pretty sure. And the embarrassing truth is, I was kind of scared of him. He wasn’t as big and strong as Miller, but he was still bigger and stronger than me, and way more popular, too. And in my world, that’s like having a whole extra set of fists.

  I didn’t know what to say to Jeanne anyway. I kind of owed her an apology, but at the same time, she really owed me one, too. Not that it mattered, because a second later, she and Jared went off to do whatever it is popular people do with their friends in London. And I was left in the Learning Center, by myself.

  Maybe Day Three would be better than Day Two, I thought. But what I didn’t know was that Day Two hadn’t ended yet. In fact, it was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

  Snoop on the Loose

  It was just before curfew when I finished working in the Learning Center and headed upstairs. I pretty much expected some kind of Miller-related disaster to be waiting up there for me. Like maybe all my boxers would be flushed down the toilet. Or worse.

  But when I opened the door, Miller was just sitting on his bed and talking on the phone. The second he saw me, he told whoever it was that he had to go. Then he jumped up and headed straight for the bathroom door.

  “I’m taking a shower,” he said. “You wait out here.”

  As if I was going to follow him in there?

  Two seconds later, he was in there with the water running, and I was wondering what had just happened. It didn’t seem like he was crying or anything, but something was definitely up.

  It seemed like a perfect chance to do a little looking around and see what I could find out. If this were my sister, I’d call it “snooping.” But this was me, so let’s call it… “investigative reporting.”

  And there was plenty to investigate. The room looked like Hurricane Miller had just hit, right on top of Tornado Miller, and just after Earthquake Miller. Seriously, Miller was a bigger slob than me, and that’s saying something.

  The first thing I saw was Miller’s report packet. It was sitting half under the bed and looked like he hadn’t even brought it with him that day. I don’t think he was too worried about getting a good grade. Or any grade, really. I think Miller had something else on his mind—but what was it?

  Mostly, I was interested in his phone. It was just sitting where he’d tossed it on the nightstand, partly hidden by a hotel brochure, three empty water bottles, and about eighteen different candy wrappers.

  I really wanted to see who Miller had been talking to when he was crying the night before. But I didn’t want to actually touch his stuff. That just felt a little gross. I mean, even Miller deserved his privacy.

  Besides, when my finger maybe, kind of, accidentally brushed against the phone to turn it on, a security screen lit up. I’d have to figure out some other way to find out what was going on with him.

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Miller roared behind me.

  When I turned around, he was standing there in all his clothes, with his head soaking wet. He had a towel in his hand, but mostly he was dripping all over the floor.

  “That was your shower?” I said. “You must be going for a world record—”

  Miller took a step closer.

  “I said, what are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” I said. By now, I was practically passing out and peeing my pants at the same time. It felt like I was standing under a heat lamp, and all I wanted to do was change the subject.

  “I was just, um…,” I said.

  “Just what?” he said.

  When I looked down at his phone again, I saw that hotel brochure, and picked it up.

  “I was just looking at this,” I said.

  “What for?” Miller said. He was squinting at me now, like he wasn’t done being suspicious yet (which made sense—I don’t think I was selling this very well). It also meant I wasn’t done being maybe-dead yet.

  I looked at the brochure again. On the cover, it said, “Welcome to the Helmsman’s Arms!” and “Complimentary Wi-Fi!” and “Enjoy our seasonal roof terrace.”

  And I thought, Bingo!

  “I was thinking about checking out the roof of this place,” I said. “You want to come?”

  I don’t think he was expecting that. Heck, I was barely expecting it myself until it popped out of my mouth. But the faster I got Miller away from the scene of my not-quite-a-crime, the better.

  “Huh. What about the security guy?” Miller said.

  “There’s ways around that,” I told him. Which was true.

  Mrs. Stricker had hired this overnight guard to make sure we all stayed in our rooms while the chaperones were asleep. He had a little desk in the hall, but mostly he kept on the move, from the boys’ floor, to the girls’ floor, to the boys’ floor, to the girls’ floor, just all night. But that also meant he was only around half the time.

  “Yeah, okay,” Miller said. “I’m in.”

  Which is right around when I started thinking my great idea wasn’t so great after all. I mean, a high rooftop isn’t exactly the safest place in the world to hang out with someone who has the word Killer in his name. All kinds of stuff could happen up there—most of it bad.

  “You know what?” I said. “Maybe we should just watch a movie or something instead. That could be just as—”

  “Too late,” Miller said. He was already heading for the door and dragging me there with him. “Because now you’ve got me interested, and you’re the one who knows how to do it. Let’s go.”

  So, we went.

  Mission: Roof-Possible

  Before we went anywhere, I looked at the hotel map on the back of our door. It showed where the stairwell was, in case we needed to get out in an emergency.

  But we didn’t need to go down right now. We needed to go up.

  The good news was, every time the security guy opened that stairwell door to head down to the girls’ floor, it made this squeaking sound and then slammed shut behind him when it closed. So we could hear when he was on the move, no problem.

  The bad news was, we had to use that same door to get to the roof. It was going to be risky, but not impossible.

  As soon as we heard the next squeeeeeeeeeak and SLAM!, I opened our hotel room door and leaned out into the hall.

  “Anyone?” Miller whispered behind me.

  “Nope.”

  It was deserted. But there was one more piece of bad news. When I looked down, I saw a piece of blue tape stuck to the edge of our door. It was the same on Martin and Kadir’s door across the hall, and Rudy and Simon’s door next to that. The difference was, those pieces of tape were still plastered across the crack like they were supposed to be.

  I guess Security Guy had a few tricks up his sleeve. That tape was like an alarm system—if it was unstuck when he came back, that meant someone was out of their room.

  “What do we do about that?” Miller said.

  “We’ll figure it out later,” I whispered.

  The damage was already done. It wasn’t like we could put that tape back from inside our room, and they’d know if we just stayed out all night. So I closed the door behind us, pressed it into place to make it look like we were still there, and kept moving.

  “Le
t’s go,” I told Miller.

  We rushed on our tiptoes down to the stairwell door. Then I held up a hand for him to wait again. This was the trickiest part, and I wanted to go first.

  The trick is to open a squeaky door at just the right speed. That way, if it creaks, it only makes a tiny sound. Then you kind of press through sideways so you don’t open the door any more than you have to. I showed Miller and then he did it behind me.

  The whole hotel was twelve stories high, so we huffed up a ton of stairs after that, until we got to a dead end at the roof door. A bunch of folding chairs were leaning against the wall on the landing, and I grabbed one. Miller opened the door, I propped it open, and we ducked outside.

  It was dark on the roof. It looked like they had a restaurant up here when the weather was warmer. Now it was like a ghost restaurant, but that wasn’t the cool part.

  Spread out all around us, in every direction, there were city lights as far as I could see. We weren’t that high up, but the view was awesome.

  I took out my phone and started panning it back and forth for some good shots of the city.

  “What are you doing?” Miller said.

  “Making a movie,” I said.

  “Seriously?” he said.

  “Well, a video, anyway. I’m still figuring it out,” I told him.

  “What a geek.” He laughed.

  Then we just hung out there for a while, not saying anything at all. It was actually, almost, kind of… peaceful. Which was pretty weird, with Miller standing right next to me.

  And that’s when I started thinking about something else.

  I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but there was a reason Miller and I were stuck rooming together, and it wasn’t just because Bobby kicked me out.

  The thing was, neither one of us had any friends on this trip. All the Neanderthals Miller usually hung out with were back in Hills Village. Nobody wanted to room with him here, the same way nobody wanted to room with me. It was like the first thing we’d ever had in common.

  Which I guess is how I ended up three thousand miles from home, hanging out on a dark rooftop with my biggest enemy ever, way past curfew.

  Sometimes my life is so weird, I can’t even believe it.

  Cutting It Close

  By the time we snuck back down to the fifth-floor hall, I still hadn’t figured out what to do about that blue tape on our door.

  But Miller was way into it now and getting in on the planning.

  “Hey, I know!” he whispered. “What if we go through Bobby and Tyler’s room? Then we can go out their window, around the outside, and back into our room.”

  “Seriously?” I said. “You must watch even more movies than me. And besides, that wouldn’t help.”

  “Why not?” he said.

  “Think about it,” I said.

  “You think about it,” he snarled.

  I was going to explain all the thousands of reasons that was a terrible idea, but then we heard a squeak and a slam coming from one floor down. That meant Security Guy was on his way back. Our time was up.

  “What do we do now?” Miller said.

  “Just… go in,” I mumbled.

  I was getting an idea. Maybe it would work, and maybe not. But at that point it wasn’t like we could stay in the hall and blend into the wallpaper.

  As soon as Miller got the door open, I booked it straight into the bathroom. I grabbed my pajama top out of my suitcase, put it on over my T-shirt, messed up my hair, and zoomed back over to the door.

  “What are you doing?” Miller said, but I didn’t stop.

  “Just stay out of sight,” I said. Then I opened the door again and leaned out into the hall, but only halfway so my pants and sneakers didn’t show.

  Security Guy spotted me right away. “You’re supposed to be in your room!” he said, kind of shouting and whispering at the same time.

  “Sorry,” I said. I made my face all squinty like I’d just woken up and the bright lights were messing with my eyes. “I thought I heard someone out here.”

  “Ye-eaah,” the guy said, like I was the dumbest kid who ever visited from America. “That was me.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Right. Well… good night, then.”

  That was it. A second later, I was back inside with Miller breathing down my neck.

  “What’s that supposed to do?” he said.

  I just put a finger up on my mouth to keep him quiet. A second later, I heard someone outside the door. Security Guy was right there.

  Miller leaned in. So did I.

  The next thing we heard was this tiny rubbing sound, while he put that piece of blue tape back in place. And… bam! Mission accomplished!

  You should have seen the look on Miller’s face. It was like he couldn’t believe Rafe “Squeakadorian” had just pulled that off.

  “Okay, that was actually kind of cool,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  It was like the best conversation we’d ever had. So I kept going.

  “Hey, Miller?” I said. “Speaking of cool, it’s kind of cold in that bathroom. I was just wondering if—”

  “Nah. You’re still sleeping in there,” he said, and flopped out on his bed. “And keep it down, by the way. I’m beat.”

  Oh, well. It was worth a shot, anyway.

  Up and at ’Em

  I woke up early the next morning. And I woke up thinking about all the work I had to do.

  And Jeanne.

  And Mrs. Stricker.

  And the whole Editor in Chief thing.

  Especially the Editor in Chief thing. I had three days left to get this report—and my act—together. So even though it was super-early, I got up and went down to the Learning Center. I was hoping maybe I could get a jump start on my day.

  But you know who else gets up early to do homework? Smart people. People like Jeanne Galletta, for instance.

  People exactly like Jeanne Galletta.

  When I walked into that room, there she was, working away at one of the computers.

  Time-out for a second. You know those corny romantic comedies? Well, if life were really like those movies, I would have taken one look at Jeanne and said…

  And Jeanne would say…

  And I’d say…

  And she’d hold up two tickets and say…

  Then somehow, we’d end up outside in the pouring rain, where we’d probably kiss. No—definitely kiss. Just as a super-romantic pop hit starts playing in the background. That’s what always happens in those movies, even though I’m not sure why pouring rain is supposed to be so romantic.

  But it doesn’t matter anyway, because we weren’t in a movie, I don’t look anything like that, and it wasn’t even raining out. It was just me, standing there at six in the morning, looking like a doof.

  “Hey,” Jeanne said when she saw me.

  “Hey,” I said. “What are you doing down here?”

  “I wanted to work on my report,” she said. “What about you?”

  “I wanted to work on my report,” I said, and then we both kind of smiled. I probably should have said more, but my brain felt like the world’s emptiest rubbish bin (that’s what they call a garbage can in England).

  So Jeanne went next.

  “Rafe? I’m really sorry about yesterday,” she said. “I do want to win that contest, but I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. It was, too. “The truth is, you were right. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I could really use some help.”

  Then Jeanne pulled out the chair next to hers and waved at me to come sit down.

  “Maybe we could just start over,” she said.

  So even though it wasn’t a movie, Jeanne almost made it feel like one. Which only made me like her more. Which was a good feeling and a bad feeling at the same time, if you know what I mean.

  And if you don’t, just trust me on this one.

  Artist in Chief

  The time flew by after that
, right up until breakfast. Jeanne showed me a bunch of great stuff we could do to make the report better, and I showed her some of my videos to see what she thought.

  “These are great,” she said—more than once. “They’re like moving paintings. We should call you the Artist in Chief.”

  I liked that. A lot. Because the fact is, I have a way better chance of getting an A in art than I do in social studies (or anything else).

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I still don’t know what I’m doing. I wish I was half as smart as you about all this stuff.”

  That’s when Jeanne got this look on her face that I’d never seen before.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked me.

  “I have no idea,” I said. I never know what girls are thinking.

  “Well, it’s not exactly against the rules for me to help. And maybe we just don’t tell Mrs. Stricker about it,” Jeanne said. “So what do you think, Rafe? Do you want a secret partner?”

  I actually wondered if she was joking. Jeanne’s pretty straitlaced, if you know what I mean. She’s not the first person you’d run to if you wanted to rob a bank. Or even fake a hall pass.

  But it was also kind of perfect. Jeanne had the brains. I had the creativity. Jeanne was super-competitive. I knew a thing or two about being sneaky. Jeanne really wanted to win that contest. I really wanted whatever Jeanne wanted.

  “Deal?” she said.

  “Secret deal,” I said, and we shook on it.

  “What secret deal?” someone said.

  When I turned around, Jared was standing in the Learning Center door. He’d just snuck right up on us, like the flu. (You know, if the flu played guitar and lacrosse, and had perfect teeth.)

  “Hey, Jared!” Jeanne said. “I’m helping Rafe out with the Editor in Chief stuff, but we don’t want Mrs. Stricker to know. At least, not until we win that contest. Right, Rafe?”