Open If You Dare

by Dana Middleton

  I sit there feeling guilty and sad, and my mom doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me like her eyes are the glue that holds me together. Finally, she says, “You know, there’s a blessing and curse to having great friends like yours.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, wiping my nose with a napkin.

  “Best friends are wonderful. They make you feel like you always belong. But they can be a sort of crutch, too. You already have your friends, so you don’t have to make friends with new people—people who might be interesting in different ways. You don’t have to be brave on your own, because being with friends makes us braver. Maybe it’s time for you to step out on your own for a while. And find out what the world’s like for just you.” She gives me a little smile. “And maybe there will be other kids going through the same thing as you are. Kids whose friends are going to different schools, too. You never know, it might turn out better than you think.”

  She might be right but I can’t see that right now. Maybe, one day. I nod, wipe my nose again, and ask, “Can we see Zora now?”

  34

  “HELLO, MRS. ASHCROFT. It’s Birdie. Is Rose there?” It’s late to be calling but I’ve tried Rose’s cell phone three times and she hasn’t answered.

  “Hi, Birdie,” Rose’s mom says. “How is your sister?”

  “She’s going to be okay,” I say. “My dad is staying at the hospital with her tonight. She’s mostly sleeping now.”

  Before my mom and I came home we visited Zora, and she was asleep most of the time except for once when she opened her eyes and said, “Hi, Birdie.” Then she conked back out again.

  “I’m very glad about that,” Rose’s mom says. “Please let your mother know if she needs anything at all to phone me.”

  “I will.”

  “Hold on a sec.” I hear muffled voices in the background, and one of them sounds like Rose. “Sorry, Birdie,” Mrs. Ashcroft says, speaking into phone again.

  “Can I speak to Rose, please?” I ask her.

  There’s a pause when I can tell Rose’s mom is thinking what to tell me. “Rose wasn’t feeling so well tonight and went to bed already. Can you talk with her tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” I say. “Will you tell her I called?”

  “Yes, of course, I will.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Ashcroft,” I say and hang up the phone. I’m not used to adults lying to me. It usually works the other way around.

  The next morning Mom and I go to the hospital early. I can hear Zora’s voice from outside the room before we get there.

  “Zora!” Mom says as we enter. “Look how good you look!” As Mom goes to hug her, Dad puts his arm around me and kisses the top of my head.

  “You okay?” he says. I nod and lean into him.

  Zora’s eyes peek around Mom’s neck, then go wide. “Peg Leg!” she exclaims. “You brought Peg Leg!”

  I walk over to Zora, Peg Leg Fred in my hands. “I thought you might need a friend while you’re here.” I hand Peg Leg to Zora and she clutches him to her chest like he’s the most treasured stuffed polar bear amputee in the world. “How are you feeling?”

  “My head hurts and they poked me a lot, and look,” she says, frowning at the needle taped to the inside of her arm. The needle is connected to a tube that connects to a transparent bag holding some sort of transparent fluid. The bag hangs on a metal stand that looks like a medical hat rack.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not too much. But it hurt when she put it in.”

  “Astronauts have to be poked with needles sometimes. When they do tests on them after being in space,” I say.

  Zora considers this as thoughtfully as she can with a concussion. “I guess it will be okay when I’m an astronaut. Daddy says the crack in my head will make me even better at mathematics.”

  “He did?” I ask. “How’s that?” I look at Dad standing at the foot of Zora’s bed, looking tired but okay.

  “Because,” Zora says seriously, “there are mathematics molecules that float through the air and bump up against our skulls every day but can’t get inside. Because there are no cracks. But since I have a crack, they get to go inside. And it’s happening right now. Can you see them?”

  “I think I can,” I say convincingly. “I think I see some mathematical molecules seeping into your brain right now. Zora, you’re going to be even smarter!”

  “But only this one time,” my mom warns. “And I hope your father told you, it won’t work at all after the age of seven.” She gives my dad an Are you kidding me? look. “So no more cracks, okay?”

  Zora nods her little head agreeably. “No more cracks.”

  My parents go to the cafeteria for breakfast after I promise to stay with Zora responsibly. They can totally believe me this time.

  I sit in the chair beside the bed and watch her have a full-blown conversation with Peg Leg about the accident and how she ended up in the hospital. “But don’t worry, Peg Leg,” she says and yawns. “I heard the doctor say I’m going home tomorrow.” Her eyelids start drooping.

  “Hey, Ace,” I say. Zora smiles groggily. I used to call her Ace when she was a little kid. She had this airplane she would carry around all the time with a tiny toy pilot in the cockpit called Ace. But one day, she couldn’t find him. We looked and looked but he was gone. Zora cried buckets over Ace until I told her what really happened—that Ace came to talk to me the night before he disappeared. He’d been recruited to go on a secret mission and didn’t know when he’d return. He would try and come back one day but in the meantime, he asked if Zora would take care of his plane. And he would be very honored if, when she flies it, she would go by the name of Ace, too.

  Dad is pretty much the only one who calls her Ace anymore. I haven’t called her Ace in a long time.

  “Did you see me crash?” she asks.

  “Everybody saw you crash.”

  “I forgot to wear a helmet.”

  “I know. You should always wear a helmet.”

  “Yeah. Mom was mad at me about that.”

  “She wasn’t mad,” I say. “She was just worried.”

  “Okay. Can you see the mathematics molecules now?”

  “Millions of them. They’re all trying to get in your head. And they’re very excited about it. By the time you leave the hospital, you’re going to be a mathematical genius.”

  “But I’m already a mathematical genius,” Zora says and manages a lazy smile before closing her eyes.

  I look at her little fingers lying on top of the hospital sheet. Our nails are shaped exactly the same. “I’m sorry, Zora.”

  She doesn’t open her eyes but says, “You are?”

  “Uh-huh. I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have been so mean. I was really selfish and horrible. If I’d been a better big sister, none of this would have happened. So, I’m sorry.”

  She doesn’t say anything, only pulls Peg Leg closer. I think she’s fallen asleep when she says, “Birdie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When I get out of the hospital…”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you want to go flying with me?”

  “I do, Ace,” I say. “I really do.”

  As Zora falls asleep, I stare out the window at the gray clouds rolling in. An American flag ripples outside. I feel so grateful that Zora is going to be okay. I’ll make it up to her. I promise myself.

  Leaning back in the chair, my eyes grow heavy. I suddenly feel so tired I can’t keep them open. Slowly, I begin drifting. Floating, in fact. Back to the bottom of the creek. The water is clear and calm there. Just like before. Girl Detective’s waving hair dances weightlessly above her head. I want to call out to her but I can’t speak underwater. So I swim down. I push her hair away so I can see her blue eyes. So I can finally pull her to safety. As the curls part, I see her face. And gasp. Because it’s not Girl Detective I’m looking at. It’s Rose.

  I have no idea how much time has passed when my mom comes back in t
he room and says, “Rose’s mom just called me. They can’t find her. She wasn’t in her bed this morning. Do you know where she might be?”

  35

  THE CLOUDS have turned darker and it’s sprinkling now. As I run past the pool, a sharp clap of thunder is immediately followed by three short bursts from Mrs. Franklin’s whistle. I don’t have to look to know she’s clearing everyone out of the pool.

  As soon as Dad and I got home (Mom stayed with Zora at the hospital), I went to Rose’s house. Rose had not returned and her mom was really worried. She asked me if I knew anything—if Rose was upset. Or angry. I told her I did. I told her everything. “Maybe she’s with Ally,” she said. “That’s probably it, but I can’t reach anybody on the home phone or Ally’s mobile.”

  “Why don’t you try again,” I said, “and I’ll go look at the pool.”

  “Already looked. She wasn’t there.”

  “I’ll look again.” Before she could object, I flew out the front door because I knew the only place Rose would be.

  In minutes, I’m on the trail behind the clubhouse heading for the woods. Halfway there, I see her. Rose. Walking toward me.

  I stop, and when she sees me, she stops, too. We stare at each other before she turns and runs back into the trees.

  “Rose!” I yell, and chase after her.

  As I enter the woods, goose bumps bubble up on my arms. I’m not sure if they’re from the chill or impending dread. The trail ends at the creek and as usual, I turn downstream and keep running. It doesn’t take long before I’m at the tree bridge, stepping onto the fallen trunk.

  “Stop!” Rose stands on the other side of the tree bridge, her hand held up. “You can’t come on our island anymore.”

  “Come on. Let’s talk about this,” I say and take another step, the creek speeding past beneath me.

  “I mean it. Traitors aren’t allowed!”

  “I’m not a traitor.”

  “You’re the biggest kind of traitor!” There’s a crack of thunder and Rose recoils, searching the sky.

  “It’s raining. Come on. Let’s go. Your mom is freaking out.”

  “I don’t care if she’s freaking out. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “So you’re just going to stand out here in the rain?” I know she would rather do anything than that.

  “If I have to,” she says uneasily.

  “Okay, then. Let’s stand here. I’m not moving until you talk to me.”

  She crosses her arms and glares at me—two stubborn chess pieces in a standoff.

  “I don’t like him, you know,” I say. “I don’t even like boys. This is completely dumb.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me? You’ve found all this time to look for some crazy dead girl this summer and you didn’t find two minutes to tell me about you and Romeo?”

  “I wanted to tell you a thousand times!”

  “But you didn’t.” She stares at me from across the creek. “You let me look like an idiot with Romeo. It was so uncool. I would never do that to you.”

  “I know,” I say, and it’s true. She wouldn’t.

  “And then you take us on this wild goose chase looking for some girl who buried a box, which by the way, I wish we never found. She’s dead. She’s alive. I don’t know and I don’t care! What I do know is this was our last summer together. We’ll never get it back. And you ruined it! You ruined it, Birdie!”

  I don’t know what to say. She’s right. I did ruin the summer. I made the mystery of Girl Detective more important than anything else. And I don’t know why. Something about the box, the clues, even the creepy knife seemed to hold the loosening bits of me in place. As if without them, I might have come apart like a poorly built bicycle. Even now, I can feel the photo of Girl Detective’s house getting soaked in my back pocket. All I can say is, “I’m sorry.”

  Rose shrugs. “Yeah, well, me too. I’m sorry I trusted you. I’m sorry I’ve been your friend. I’m sorry I’ve wasted all my American time on you. Maybe it is time I go back to England. Maybe this America thing wasn’t going to work out for me after all.”

  “You don’t mean that. Even if you don’t like me anymore, you like it here. You like Ally.”

  “Yeah, I do like her,” Rose says. “I like her a lot.” She glares at me poisonously. That hurts. I want to say something, anything, to make this better, but I see it in her eyes. My worst fear is coming true and I’m powerless to change it.

  Keeping this secret from Rose was not a Greater-Good lie. It was a cowardly one. If I had told her right way, it would have been awkward and uncomfortable, sure. But only for a day. After that, we would have gone back to what was important. The friendship between Ally, Rose, and me.

  I feel like an idiot because I’ve been one.

  Heavy raindrops begin to fall. I know this has never been about Romeo. This has been about me. I was so afraid of hurting Rose that I really hurt her. By withholding the truth for so long, the truth became toxic. Each day, it became more and more volatile, like an unstable isotope. Building up inside me like a bomb.

  “Please, Rose.” I say it loudly because the rain is pouring down now. “I don’t want you to leave this way.”

  Rose stands like a stone. I see the hurt in her eyes and don’t know if it’s rain or tears running down her face.

  “It’s bad enough you’re leaving, but we can handle that.” I’m practically shouting now. “We can talk or e-mail or Skype every day. But you can’t leave me leave me. You can’t do that! I screwed up. Totally! But I never meant to hurt you.” Raindrops are streaking my face but tears are, too. “You are my best friend, Rose. You and Ally. Ever since that day in first grade. Ever since you came to us. And I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

  Rose is drenched. And so am I.

  “And boys suck,” I yell. “We can’t let this happen to us over a dumb boy!”

  Her eyes slightly soften.

  “I’ve learned my lesson,” I say. “No more secrets.”

  She stares at me, not giving in.

  So I add, “And no more clues.”

  “Promise?” she says.

  “Promise.” We stand there just looking at each other. For a moment, there is no space or time. No rain. No England. No Romeo. Until Rose looks up to the sky. “It’s raining really hard, Bird.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say. “Let’s get out of here!”

  As Rose takes a step onto the tree bridge, the loudest crack of thunder I have ever heard descends like a monster from the sky.

  “Bird!” Rose yells, her eyes reaching their enormous limits. I swing around. The tree behind me is on fire. Cracking. Hissing. Falling.

  My eyes return to Rose, her arms reaching out to me. “Come on!” she yells. And I do. I sprint across the tree bridge, grab on to her arms, and we scurry up onto the island together as the smoking tree behind us falls. Creaking and moaning, it drops to the forest floor, crushing the spot where I was standing. Demolishing the tree bridge. Dying on our island’s shore.

  “Holy crap,” Rose utters as we stand together, holding each other’s arms tightly. The part of the tree that fell onto the island is on fire, but the rain quickly devours it.

  “You all right?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says quietly. “You?”

  “Yeah.” I can’t take my eyes off the smoking tree. “Holy crap is right.”

  We stand there hypnotized by the hissing and groaning tree as the hard rain turns soft. “Did you hear that?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  She does and then yells, “Ally!”

  “Rose!” Ally calls back.

  “Al!” I shout, too.

  Ally appears on the other side of the creek, running down the path toward us. Her face fills with disbelief as she approaches the smoking behemoth lying before her. “What the—” Her eyes flip to us. “You guys okay?”

  I look at Rose and she looks back at me. “Are we okay?” I ask her.


  She makes me suffer, for just a second, then says, “Yeah. We’re okay. We’re okay now.”

  Ally disappears, then reappears on the top of the fallen tree, like she’s the queen of the jungle. “Cool,” she says, calling down to us. “New tree bridge.”

  Rose grins. “Ally would see it like that.”

  36

  I KNOW I promised Rose. And I didn’t lie to her. Really.

  When I came home from the island, soaked from the rain, I pulled the wet photo of Girl Detective’s house from my back pocket and read the clue on the back one last time:

  Good work, detective.

  You’re almost home.

  The evidence you need

  Lives where I used to

  Upstairs. Second on right,

  Creaky floorboard by the bookshelf.

  Thank you.

  In that moment I realized I would never peek under that squeaky floorboard and discover the last clue that might solve everything. And that was going to have to be okay. Because the box, the clues, even Girl Detective, they were all ancient history. Rose, Ally, and I, we were right now. And I wasn’t going to waste another minute of it.

  I took the clue box out from under my bed and opened it. Inside, I saw the Allman Brothers Band ticket, the weird knife, and the yellowed paper clues. Slipping the mood ring from my finger, I returned it to them. Then I placed the black-and-white photo right on top.

  As I gazed at it all, one last time, I said a silent good-bye to Girl Detective. I wished her well, wherever she was, and closed the lid. My eyes fell upon the words that started it all, Open If You Dare written in bold marker on the silver surface, and I couldn’t help but grin. Because I dared. I opened the box. I followed the clues. But it was done now. I placed the box back under my bed and planned to bury it on the island again once Rose was gone. It would almost be like it never happened.

  And it worked. Over the next week, I hardly thought about it. Really.

  Zora was doing better, recovering, and Rose, well, she was leaving in two days. We had had the very best week together. All of us. Even me and Zora. And Girl Detective was becoming a phantom.