The
Time
Thief
Angela Dorsey
Chapter 1
Mika threw her book down on her bed. How could she concentrate on homework when her little brothers sounded like they were killing each other? High-pitched screams and thunderous pounding from outside her room battered her brain; a massive headache was forming behind her eyes. Brothers!
Someone crashed into her door. Mika leapt off her bed, clutched the doorknob in a white-knuckled grip, and paused.
If she opened the door, she’d shriek at them. If she shrieked at them, her dad would yell at her — so totally unfair — and say she couldn’t go to Aimee’s after supper. Mika mouthed a silent frustrated scream, clamped her hands over her ears, and stomped back to her bed and book.
Just two more science questions and supper, and I’m out of here, she promised herself.
Yells erupted in her bedroom as Joseph, the oldest of the Terrible Trio, opened her door and poked his head inside.
“Get out!” Mika yelled.
Joseph seemed immune to her outrage. “Mom says supper’s ready. You’re supposed to come downstairs right now.” He stuck out his tongue.
Mika threw her book at the door and Joseph’s head disappeared. His footsteps rejoined his brothers as the Trio galloped down the stairs to the kitchen.
Mika retrieved her book, flopped back down on her bed, and tried to keep reading. At last, it was quiet. But she still couldn’t concentrate. All she could think of was how the Terrible Trio was destroying her life. Joseph wasn’t even the worst of the three. He was eight and not nearly as irritating and noisy as Billy and Matt, the twins. They were a thousand times — no, a million times — more unbearable than Joseph.
Mika’s best friend, Aimee, had an eight-year-old brother too, Seth. But he was an angel compared to the Trio — until he hung out with them, of course. Then he turned into one of them. Mika and Aimee called them the Frightening Four when they were together and avoided them as much as possible.
Mika reread the paragraph she’d just skimmed, then threw the book down on her bed. She couldn’t focus, so she might as well go eat supper. It was just too bad she’d have to see the impish faces of the Trio, her mom trying hard to look cheerful, and her dad being sour and grumpy, while she ate.
I’m never going to have kids, she vowed for the millionth time. I don’t know how Mom can stand them.
Mika knew how her dad could stand the chaos. He was hardly ever at home. He stayed at work later now, and when he was home, he spent most of the time in his little office at the back of the house. She sighed and rolled over on her bed, taking her stuffed buffalo in her arms. Dad hadn’t always been that way. He used to enjoy spending time with her and the Trio — and the Trio wasn’t quite as awful then either. It was as if when her dad withdrew from the family, her brothers had turned into raving fiends.
It all started six months ago, when Grandpa died. One afternoon they’d received the news that he was just gone. The doctors said it was a heart attack and that he hadn’t suffered. Well, the rest of them sure had, especially Dad and Grandma. And when her dad suffered, the rest of the family suffered too.
“Mika! Supper!” her dad’s voice boomed up the stairs. “Get down here right now!”
Mika jumped. “Coming!” she called.
Supper was the ordeal she’d been expecting. The twins weren’t as boisterous as usual, but that was only because Dad was in a particularly bad mood, speaking to no one and jabbing his baked potato with his fork like it was something alive that he wanted dead. When Matt elbowed Joseph in the ribs, Dad only had to glare at them to make them stop fighting.
Almost halfway through the silent meal, Mika noticed a spider crawling across the floor. She held her breath and watched it move toward the living room. When it finally went around the corner, she exhaled in relief. No one else had seen it. She was just about to look away when the dark dot crawled back around the corner.
As it skittered closer to them, Mika tried to scare it into the darkness under the fridge by tapping the floor with her foot. It didn’t work. Mika glanced sideways at Billy. He was concentrating on his peas. Maybe he wouldn’t see it.
No such luck. The spider was in the centre of the room when Billy jumped down from his chair.
Mika leapt between him and the spider. “Leave it alone,” she hissed. “Mom, Billy’s going to kill the poor spider.”
“Why don’t you kids just sit down and finish your supper,” Mom said, sounding tired.
“It’s a big, ugly, hairy one, Mom!” yelled Billy. “I’ll kill it for you!”
“No, you won’t,” said Mika, just as loud. “That spider has as much right to live as you do!”
“Mika, be nice to your brother,” demanded her father. “Billy, get a jar and put the spider outside.”
“But Dad, he’ll kill it!”
“Please don’t let him kill it,” begged Joseph.
“I can put it outside,” Mika offered.
“Okay. Billy, sit down,” said Dad.
“But I want to put it outside,” Billy complained. “You said I could. It’s not fair. Mika gets to do everything.”
Before Dad could change his mind, Mika grabbed a glass from the cupboard and scooped the spider inside with one of her mom’s recipe cards. She threw a triumphant look at Billy as she walked toward the door. Her little brother lurched after her.
“Billy, sit down! I’m not going to tell you again!”
Mika relaxed the moment the door closed behind her, then raised the glass and watched the spider struggle to climb the inside of its cage. “I know just how you feel,” she whispered.
She wandered through the back door of the garage toward the vegetable garden. Back in the old days, Dad had been fun. He’d play games with them and was glad to see them when he got home from work. When Mika was little, her favourite game had been Tickle Tiger. She’d hide and Dad would pretend to be a tiger hunting her. When he found her, he’d tickle her until her stomach hurt from laughing. She was too old for the game now, but the Trio wasn’t. But still, Dad hadn’t played Tickle Tiger with them for months, or any other game. All the family did now was fight. Everyone except Mom. She just kept trying to convince Mika and the Trio that nothing had changed.
In the garden, Mika gently laid the glass on its side and waited for the spider to crawl out, but now that it could escape, it seemed reluctant. Finally, she tipped the glass and the spider slid onto the soil. “Good luck, little guy,” she whispered as it scuttled under a tomato plant.
Too soon she found herself back at the kitchen door. She paused for a deep breath, then walked inside. The room was deathly quiet. Matt was playing with his food and Billy had tears on his cheeks. Things had not gone well after she’d left.
“Mika,” said Mom, “when you’re finished, I want you to wash the dishes.”
For a second, Mika didn’t reply. Her mom sounded different, like she wasn’t trying to be nice any more. “But Mom, then I won’t have time to go over to Aimee’s tonight.”
“You’ll have an hour if you hurry. Joseph can help you if you want.”
“No thanks,” said Mika before Joseph could protest. The job would go faster if she did it alone.
When they finished eating, Mika gathered up the dirty dishes and ran the water. Thankfully, there weren’t a lot. Her mom had washed the pots and pans before supper.
In some ways Mika liked doing dishes, though she’d never tell her parents that. The warm, soapy water felt nice on her hands, and the gleam of the clean plates and utensils made her feel good inside. And bonus, the kitchen was usually deserted after supper. Joseph always took off right after eating, in case he was forced to help. Dad would go hide out in his home office or
drive back to work, and Mom went upstairs to give the twins their bath. Some nights Mika would linger over the sudsy water to put off doing her homework, but tonight was Friday. She had all weekend to finish her science, and she needed to get out of the house tonight, just as much as she needed air to breathe.
As she was putting the dishes away and wiping the table, Mika heard Matt and Billy splashing and yelling in the tub upstairs. Mom was trying to calm them, but their excited yells dwarfed her voice. They were being airplanes, and they sounded like they were dive-bombing each other. Mika imagined Dad grinding his teeth in the office as she put the last plate in the cupboard, then she quickly wiped off the counter and grabbed the broom to sweep the floor.
“Mom,” she yelled up the stairs when she finished, “I’m going to Aimee’s now.”
Her mother came to the top of the stairs. Wisps of hair hung loose around her face and she wiped her wet hands on her jeans. “Can you sweep the kitchen floor before you go.” It wasn’t a question.
“I already did,” replied Mika.
Her mom smiled. “Thanks, love. You’re a huge help. Be home by nine, okay?”
Mika laughed suddenly as Matt dashed out of the bathroom; he wore his towel over his shoulders like a cape — and nothing else!
“Ta-da! I’m Superman!” he yelled as he streaked away from them.
“Have fun,” Mom called to Mika as she turned, just in time to grab Billy slipping past her with no towel at all.
“I will,” said Mika even though there was no way Mom could hear her above Billy’s hysterical laughter.
On the way out, Mika grabbed an oatmeal cookie — and then she was finally outside and free. She took a deep breath. The late September air was clear and crisp. It had cooled since afternoon, and she thought of going back for a coat, but just then one of the twins let out another Superman yell. Mika wrapped her thin summer jacket around herself a little tighter and hurried down the road toward Aimee’s house.
Aimee lived a kilometre away at the end of the gravel road that lay in front of both of their houses. Mika really liked how Aimee’s house was always clean and not half as noisy as her own. Aimee’s parents were nicer too. At least Aimee’s dad wasn’t always growling and her mom wasn’t constantly rushing about. Aimee’s mom even took Aimee out for lunch once a week, and they did other stuff together, just the two of them.
Mika slowed when she reached the first of the two houses between her home and Aimee’s. She wouldn’t hear even the Trio’s loudest yells now. She glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Smiths’ neat white house as she ambled by. The Smiths always seemed to have company, either their grown-up daughters’ families or their friends. Mika and Aimee avoided their grandkids whenever they could, because they were around the same ages as the Frightening Four, but Mika liked the elderly couple. They made her wish her own grandma lived closer than seven hundred kilometres away. They made her miss Grandpa even more.
Her eyes searched the pasture beside the Smiths’ house. There he was, Chocolate Drop, the pony the Smiths kept for their grandkids to ride, standing beneath a tree in his field. He turned his dark brown head toward her, his star completely hidden by his lush, honey coloured mane.
“Chocolate,” she called as she moved toward the pasture fence. The pony whinnied and trotted toward her. He took the offered cookie from her fingers with soft lips, and an expression of bliss settled on his face as he chewed.
Mika stroked his neck. “I miss our rides, buddy,” she whispered. Mika and Aimee had ridden him everywhere in other summers, back by the river and along the trails in the woods. They liked to pretend he was theirs and that they lived in their fort, an abandoned homesteader’s cabin they’d discovered during their forest explorations. But now they were too big to ride him.
She rubbed him behind his tiny furry ears, then continued on. Chocolate Drop walked beside her on his side of the fence. He stopped when he reached the corner of his pasture, and Mika leaned in to give him a chin scratch. “See you later, buddy.”
She quickened her pace as she passed the second house between her home and Aimee’s, but despite her rush, a shiver still slid down her back. The house sat at the end of a long driveway in the middle of a weedy field and had been abandoned for as long as Mika could remember. Yet she always felt watched as she passed it; the second-storey windows were like eyes and the age-darkened front door was a gaping mouth. She broke into a run, and soon the creepy house was hidden by the patch of forest that came next.
Mika loved the beautiful old growth fir and cedar trees, some of them over a thousand years old. Sometimes when she was totally stressed from being around the Trio, she’d come to the woods and allow the peace of the ancient trees to wash over her. They always were able to soothe her.
She hesitated at the roadside and glanced at her watch. She had time to stop for a few minutes. There was no rush now that she was away from the Trio, and she’d still have almost an hour at Aimee’s house. A few metres into the forest she looked back. The road was already hidden from view.
Finding a spot in the forest with little underbrush, she lay on her back and gazed up at the huge trunks spiralling into the sky. A squirrel chattered and Mika glanced around. There it was, moving in quick jerks down one of the forest giants. It looked at her with cautious curiosity as it darted closer and closer. When she moved her arm to a more comfortable position, it jumped back and scolded her loudly.
“Sorry,” Mika whispered and held still.
The squirrel moved warily forward again, then suddenly leapt to the ground, raced across the forest floor, and scooted up another tree. A safe distance up the massive trunk, it stopped and looked back at Mika. Loud complaints shattered the stillness.
Mika laughed out loud, and the squirrel disappeared around the truck. A minute later she heard it jabbering happily far above her head. Then silence. She adjusted her position and closed her eyes. Her body relaxed into the soft moss.
Abruptly, her eyes sprang open. What was that noise? Mika held her breath. There it was again, very faint and far away — but unmistakably the cry of a cat. She jumped to her feet and listened again.
The daylight was fading. Was it really that late? How long had she been lying there? Soon the dusk beneath the trees would be turning to dark.
She heard the faint yowl again and moved toward the sound, trying to listen as she walked, but her movement through the undergrowth made too much noise to hear anything other than rustling vegetation. She stopped. There it was again, and this time it seemed louder. She was getting closer.
Mika stumbled over a branch hidden in the shadows and steadied herself on a pitted trunk. A spider web brushed against her face. “Ew, ew, ew!” She tore the sticky threads from her skin and ran her hands through her hair. No spiders. Unless they were on her clothes!
The cat yowled again, and Mika forgot about spiders and the growing darkness. There was a blatant urgency in that cry. Panic even. She had to find the cat, now. She hurried on. The trees were thinning out ahead, and finally she reached the forest edge. She stopped short. In front of her, across a stretch of open ground, was the side of the creepy abandoned house.
A loud cry burst from inside the wreck and echoed across the overgrown desolate field like the cry of a lost soul. For a moment, Mika felt terror close off her throat, but she forced herself to be reasonable. It was only an empty house. Only a cat. A cat that was in trouble and pleading for help.
There was no way she would leave it to suffer.
Chapter 2
A cold autumn wind swept across the open field, rattling the dry seed heads. The sea of waist-high grass seemed to whisper and bow in waves, making Mika think of storms and swells on the ocean. For the second time, she wished she’d gone back for her coat.
“Here, kitty, kitty!”
The cat answered her, its cry instantly hopeful and excited. There was no question now; it was inside the house.
Mika waded through the overgrown field to the front porch and walked up the step
s. The front door was locked. She shoved it with her shoulder, but the heavy door didn’t budge. The cat, hearing her, increased its urgent cries.
“Don’t worry, kitty. I’m coming.” She hurried around the house looking for an open window or another door, but the windows along the side were all too high. Even if she had a box to stand on, which she didn’t, she’d have a hard time getting inside.
When she turned the corner to the back of the house, Mika stopped short. The backyard was a mess. Gnarled, twisted fruit trees grew among overgrown rose bushes and other shrubs, and a few pickets from an old fence jabbed up from the wild growth like smashed, crooked teeth. Some of the tree limbs were laden with fruit, and others lay broken and were either dead or dying.
Mika guessed that bears had ruined the branches as they climbed the trees looking for apple, pear, and plum dinners. Mr. and Mrs. Smith sometimes had trouble with bears trying to steal their apples, and here there would be no one to chase the wild animals away. Mika looked around nervously. There were no bears here now — thank goodness — but she should get away from the house before dark.
One tree near the back porch had almost been split in two. “All right!” said Mika, when she saw the tip of one branch had reached out like a bony hand and shattered a pane in the window of the back door.
Some of the boards in the porch stairs were soft with rot, and the second step was only a long, black hole. Mika stepped over it carefully, then reached through the broken glass, unlocked the door on the inside, and shoved it open.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” she called again and waited for the cat to appear. Instead the cries grew more insistent — and oddly they sounded farther away than they had outside, as if the cat was trapped somewhere deep inside the house. “Come on out, kitty,” Mika begged. “I don’t want to go get you.”
A forlorn yowl and faint scratching answered her. Mika gathered her courage, stepped into the kitchen, and looked around. An old-fashioned fridge and stove stood to one side and cupboards lined two more walls. A small table sat in front of the single window. Overcome by curiosity, Mika opened one of the cupboards to see filthy plates stacked among a lot of dirt, dust, and ancient mouse droppings. She turned a circle in the middle of the kitchen floor. The room was like a filthy time capsule.
The Time Thief Page 1