Alexis

by Erica Rodgers

  Alexis was just about to say, “I’ll think about it,” when a noise behind them made them jump. Chipper whistling…to the tune of “London Bridge.”

  The girls spun around where they sat and saw the old woman dressed as a hag coming toward the bridge. She spotted them, but she didn’t run away this time. Instead she turned a little so she was heading right for them. The spring in her step told Alexis the old lady was in a good mood and that maybe she wasn’t as old as they had thought. She kept whistling as she reached the bench near the sidewalk. Alexis moved to get up, but a sharp whistle made her freeze.

  She looked up, and the old woman raised her eyebrows and shook a finger at her. Then she sat on the bench and looked around, much like a tourist just enjoying the view. What in the world is going on? thought Alexis. She watched the woman for almost five minutes before anything else happened.

  The lady reached into the pocket of her ragged robe and drew out a small, yellow envelope. She held it in front of her for a moment and looked at the girls to make sure they saw it. Then she placed it beside her on the bench, got up, and left—whistling her tune again.

  Alexis and Elizabeth looked at each other. They both asked the same question.

  “What was that all about?”

  When they could no longer see or hear the old woman, Alexis got up and approached the bench. The little yellow envelope lay facedown on the seat. Alexis picked it up and flipped it over. Three words were scratched on the front:

  For the Curious

  Alexis looked at Elizabeth and shrugged her shoulders. She tore the envelope open and pulled out a matching note card. The twiglike handwriting said:

  442 Lakeview Avenue

  7:00 tonight. Don’t be late.

  That was all. No name. Nothing.

  The girls exchanged glances again. What on earth did this mean?

  “I guess she wants to talk to us,” said Elizabeth.

  “Yeah,” said Alexis. “But why tonight? At…four hundred and forty-two Lakeview Avenue? Why not here and now? Wouldn’t that have been more convenient?”

  “Maybe,” said Elizabeth. “But maybe there’s more to it. Maybe she wants to talk where no one can overhear.”

  They glanced over their shoulders to where the engineers were still investigating the bridge.

  “Or,” said Alexis, “maybe she wants to lock us in a cage, fatten us up, and throw us into her giant oven.”

  “Enough with the Hansel and Gretel stuff, okay?” said Elizabeth. “Do you want to investigate this stuff or not?”

  “Of course I do!” said Alexis. “I think my imagination keeps running away with me.” Alexis had no idea why she had been so freaked out lately. Maybe the dream and the bridge had her on edge. Whatever it was, she needed to get over it. She had never thought of herself as a chicken before.

  “It’s okay, Alex,” said Elizabeth. “It’s easy to let that happen here. Half the town thinks it’s back in seventeenth-century London. You know what you need?”

  “Huh?”

  “A little water to wake you up.”

  Alexis took a fearful step back and pointed to the channel. “I’m not going in there.”

  “Not the lake, nerd! The swim meet! It will give us something to do until we go meet Miss Creepy.”

  Alexis lit up. “Yes! Let’s go!”

  Again she asked herself the question: Why was she so excited about a swim meet? Maybe it was just the allure of something new. She’d never been to one before.

  The girls walked across downtown to the Aquatic Center. Alexis thought it looked like a giant concrete ice cube. They were greeted by more purple and gold signs and a gaggle of giggling girls. It looked like the entire female population of Lake Havasu City had shown up.

  Other schools were there too. Alexis could tell by the many different colors on the swimming caps of the swimmers. Yellow and black, green and silver, red and blue—just like her school colors back home.

  She and Elizabeth found seats halfway up the bleachers. From this place they could see everything. Swimmers were warming up or cooling down in a smaller pool at one end. The huge pool in the middle was divided into eight lanes. Small platforms lined one end.

  Within minutes the crowd was on its feet screaming. Alexis and Elizabeth stood too, so they could see. A woman with huge hair was standing right in front of Alexis. Elizabeth looked over and laughed.

  “Here,” she said. “Trade me spots!” The girls swapped seats, and Alexis saw the reason for the insanity. The Arizona swimming champion was making his way to one of the platforms at the edge of the pool.

  “In lane five,” said an intercom voice over the crowd, “David Turner!”

  The crowd roared. All the other swimmers had waved and smiled up at the crowd when their names were called. Turner kept his eyes on the water in front of him. The swimmers bent forward, ready to enter the water, and the gun went off.

  One swimmer on the end had been late jumping off, but everyone else was already gone. In the middle of the pool, Turner hadn’t yet broken the surface. He powered through the water, moving his body like a dolphin, until he was almost halfway across. Then his arms came up at the same time, propelling his head and shoulders out of the water as they pushed back under.

  It looked as if he were flying.

  “So that’s why they call it the butterfly,” said Alexis. She had always heard of the butterfly stroke but had never seen what it looked like.

  Turner was at the end of the pool, diving underwater to turn around. When he finished, the person in second place was still in the middle of the pool. The crowd cheered. Turner didn’t even look up at the board that showed the swimmers’ times in bright lights.

  The crowd settled a little as the other swimmers filed out of the pool. The other competitors were greeted by warm hugs of family and the excited smiles of friends. Alexis saw David Turner receive a wet slap on the back from his coach before he slipped away to the locker room. Alone.

  His fans, who were still cheering for him, hadn’t even noticed he was gone.

  “He always looks so sad,” said Alexis out loud.

  “What?” said Elizabeth, who was watching another race that had already started.

  “Nothing,” said Alexis. But she couldn’t help thinking about the champion. How could someone be so popular—so adored—and still look so alone?

  The girls watched the rest of the meet and then went to meet Elizabeth’s family for dinner. They ate at a little café near the square, where the jousting tournament was taking place. The sound of clashing metal and pounding hooves made it easy to ignore Elizabeth’s little brother, who kept pretending to pick his nose.

  “Talk about little things that spoil stuff,” Elizabeth said to Alexis, nodding at her brother. “He’s a case in point!”

  Alexis’s reply was drowned out by the thud of hooves. Every few minutes gigantic horses charged each other. The men on their backs wore real armor and held shields and lances.

  Alexis was about to ask why they had to wear the armor when two knights clashed. The lance that the blue knight was holding slammed into the green knight’s shield, snapped in half, and then slid up and landed with a crack on the piece of metal protecting the man’s throat.

  That was why they were wearing real armor.

  “Hey, this isn’t any game!” she exclaimed to Elizabeth.

  “What, jousting?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, I guess I thought they were like stuntmen. I didn’t realize they were really fighting,” she said.

  “Jousting is a big hobby all over the United States,” Elizabeth said. “A lot of regions have jousting clubs where they’re really into it. A lot of cities have Renaissance festivals where jousting is part of the action.”

  “Do people often get hurt?” Alexis asked.

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth admitted. “I guess they sometimes have accidents, but I haven’t really paid attention or heard much about it.”

  Alexis had no idea that people
still did this kind of thing. Her heart was beating so fast she could hardly eat.

  After dinner the girls began wandering through the streets of downtown. Alexis had gotten a map at her hotel that showed them how to get to 442 Lakeview Avenue. They followed the tiny red lines that indicated where streets were block after block. Finally they ended up in a small neighborhood.

  The houses were perfect. Each one was small and built of stone or brick. Short fences surrounded each front yard, and wild—but beautiful—English gardens were in full bloom. The fall flowers filled the air with a smell that reminded Alexis of the honeysuckle back home in Sacramento.

  When they finally reached number 442, it was getting dark.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone is home,” said Elizabeth.

  The girls walked up to the porch, and sure enough, no lights were on inside the house. The flicker of a light with an electrical short licked at the darkness, throwing shadows against the front door.

  “Maybe she forgot,” said Alexis. “Let’s take a look around to be sure she’s not home.”

  Elizabeth knocked, and Alexis left the porch to peek into the first window. The other side was absolute darkness. There was no way to tell what was inside. That didn’t matter, really, but Alexis found that she was very interested to see how this woman lived.

  “Do you think this woman is really creepy, or is she pretending?” she asked Elizabeth.

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “Does she dress up and walk around town cackling to entertain the tourists? Or is there more to her?”

  “It’s awfully dark around here,” Alexis said. “Reminds me of a scary movie.”

  “ ‘People loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil,’ ” Elizabeth quoted. “John 3:19. Sometimes the Bible just has the perfect words!”

  “I don’t think anyone is home,” Elizabeth added.

  “Yeah, maybe we’d better leave,” Alexis said. “It’s too much like a scary movie.”

  “Yep. It’s after dark. Two young girls out alone. Supposed to meet someone at a house, but the house is empty,” Elizabeth said.

  “And the light is flickering,” Alexis added.

  “Now all we need is—” She abruptly stopped talking as the girls heard footsteps.

  They heard the footsteps turn off the sidewalk and enter the gate of 442 Lakeview Avenue. The girls spun around, expecting to see the old woman. Instead, a tall man raised something over his head. It looked like a short baseball bat.

  He was coming toward them!

  Alexis tried to scream. Elizabeth covered her head.

  Then the object in the man’s hand blinded them.

  It was a flashlight.

  “What are you doing poking around people’s houses?”

  “Oh no,” groaned Alexis. It was Deputy Dewayne, the officer the girls had met on their first day in Lake Havasu City.

  “I got a call about some trespassers, so I came to investigate.”

  “We’re not poking, really, sir,” said Alexis. “We had an appointment. We were supposed to come see this woman at seven.”

  “This woman?” asked the deputy. “And what is this woman’s name? Huh?” The girls looked at each other. He would never believe them. “That’s what I thought,” Deputy Dewayne said. He put his hands on his hips.

  “I have half a mind to take you in,” he said.

  “But sir, we weren’t doing anything,” said Elizabeth. “I promise!”

  “Well, get out of here then. If I find you out here again, I won’t be so forgiving.” He shined his flashlight in their faces, and Alexis turned around to get out of the glare. That’s when she saw it. A sentence, scribbled in pencil on the white paint of the front door.

  Watch beneath the moon when the bridge calls out.

  Deputy Dewayne gave the girls a ride back to their hotels. Alexis didn’t dare bring up the writing in the police car. The deputy hadn’t noticed it, and she wanted to keep it that way. She didn’t want him blaming them for graffiti too. When the officer dropped off Elizabeth, Alexis waved goodbye. She would have to call Elizabeth later.

  There was a note from her grandmother when she got to her room. Some old friends from Europe had come to the conference, and Grandma Windsor was going to be out with them until late. Alexis watched some old detective shows on TV Land for a while. But her mind kept going back to the things that had happened that day. Since she had so much to think about, she got in her pajamas and climbed into her bed.

  Watch beneath the moon when the bridge calls out.

  What on earth did that mean? Watch beneath the moon was easy enough. Alexis suspected it meant to watch when the moon was shining, which would mean at night. But what about the last part? What did the woman mean, When the bridge calls out? Stone and cement didn’t talk, as far as Alexis knew. Bridges definitely didn’t call out.

  Whatever. The lady was obviously a little crazy. And who knew? Maybe the message wasn’t for the girls anyway.

  Alexis looked at her clock. Too late to call Elizabeth. She would run the clue by Elizabeth tomorrow and see what she thought. She wondered if Elizabeth had gotten any emails from the Camp Club Girls.

  Alexis rolled over onto her side. She had left the curtains and the window open to let in the fresh, cool evening air. The desert smelled wonderful at night—like cooling sage. She drifted in and out of sleep as she watched the moonbeams dance on the wall. And then she heard it: the distinct ringing of metal hitting stone, followed by a splash.

  Alexis sat up, looked toward the window, and heard it again. Ring, thump, splash.

  Was the bridge calling out?

  Moonlight Sonata

  Alexis pushed the covers away and scooted to the edge of her bed.

  Ring, thump, splash!

  What could that sound be? It was strange and muffled, as if it were coming from under a pillow…or water. Could this be what the writing on the old woman’s door was talking about? Did she know something was happening to the bridge during the night? Alexis inched her feet down into the soft hotel carpet and tiptoed toward the window. Her grandma hadn’t come back to the room yet. This and the darkness made Alexis feel very alone.

  When she reached the window, the breeze stiffened and blew her unruly, bed-head hair out of her face. It was dark outside. The moon was hiding behind a large cloud. The noise had also stopped. Maybe it hadn’t been the bridge. Maybe some tourists had been out late playing around the water.

  Ring, thump, splash!

  Alexis leaned out the window to get a better look. The strange noise was definitely coming from the bridge. The streets were empty. All the tourists and engineers were at home in their beds. She couldn’t see anyone. So who—or what—was making the noise?

  Alexis heard another splash, so she focused on the water. She couldn’t see anything along either shore. No one was skipping rocks or taking strolls along the water’s edge. Eventually she looked at the bridge again. If it was dark outside, the areas beneath the bridge were pitch-black. There was no way to see anything without some light. Alexis jumped from the window and grabbed her backpack. She rummaged through it and found what she was looking for: a flashlight.

  Alexis carried the flashlight to the window and turned it on. She aimed it across the water toward the bridge. It didn’t help much. The beam of light was small, and it didn’t penetrate very far into the darkness under the bridge.

  Splash.

  Alexis turned the light toward the sound. In the second arch, near the crack, the water rippled. Had someone thrown something into the water? She looked to the top of the bridge, but still she saw no one. So what had dropped into the water? Alexis moved the light back toward the water, but it went dark.

  Alexis hit the flashlight with the palm of her hand. The batteries were dead.

  “Oh come on!” she whispered furiously. “You have to be kidding me!” The light flashed back on but only long enough to blind her before it went dark again.

  “Kate would tell me I
should have a solar-powered or hand-crank flashlight for emergencies,” she muttered, almost hearing the voice of the most techno-savvy of the Camp Club Girls in her mind. “But a lot of good that does me now!”

  She dropped the light and leaned out the window again, trying as hard as she could to see without it. She couldn’t.

  Alexis sighed and was about to go back to bed when the wind blew again. The clouds drifted out of the way, and the brilliant rays of the moon lit up Lake Havasu like it was day. Alexis couldn’t believe what she saw under the bridge. Bobbing up and down on the water was a small, wooden rowboat.

  That shouldn’t have been surprising, because it was a lake. People rowed small boats around Lake Havasu all the time. Even at night. What confused Alexis was the fact that the small boat was empty. Had it come untied from the dock and drifted to the bridge on its own? And she still had no way to explain the noises.

  Then…

  Splash. A head emerged from the water.

  Thump. Something heavy fell into the boat.

  Ring. Something else fell in on top of it.

  Alexis gasped. A long, dark shadow pulled itself out of the water and slid into the boat. Then it began to paddle in the opposite direction and out of sight. Alexis left the window and grabbed her notebook and a small camera she had brought for the trip. She left the room and sprinted down the hallway to the elevator.

  When it opened on the first floor, Alexis ran toward the front doors. The coolness of the marble under her feet made her realize she had forgotten to put on her shoes. Oh well, she thought. I’ve had dirty feet before.

  But when she saw the automatic doors swing open, she stopped in her tracks. Deputy Dewayne was sitting just outside in his patrol car, as if he was just waiting for her to do something like this. Alexis didn’t want to cross his path for the second time in one night, so she turned around and trudged back to the elevator.

  On the ride up to her floor, her mind raced. How did all of this fit together? Was it a coincidence that someone was diving in the dark beneath the bridge right where it happened to be cracked? Or could something more sinister be going on?