“Sorry. I didn’t mean to blame you. I wanted out of there, too. It probably would have been worse if we stayed.”
“We haven’t gotten away yet,” Henry said.
At last the elevator reached the lobby. It took a long time for people to get out, and we were scanning the crowd outside. When enough people got out for us to see, there were two uniformed security guards with cellular phones, staring right at our elevator. People were still getting out of the car, blocking their view of us. But in a moment they’d see us.
I groaned. “Whelpley called them,” I said. “He told them which elevator we were on. We’ll never get out of here now.”
“Right. We don’t get out now. We go back up and get on another elevator,” Henry said, pulling me to the side, behind where the buttons were, so the guards might not see us. Already other people were crowding on. In a moment we were going up.
I couldn’t help smiling. “Henry, you’re brilliant!”
When we got back down to the lobby, in an elevator on the other side, the guards were still watching the one we had been on before, their backs to us. We grabbed hands again and got out of the building fast.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
We stood squeezed together in the crowded commuter train.
“What am I going to tell Aunt Ruth?”
“What am I going to tell my parents?”
Henry moved his arm to check his watch. It wasn’t easy; we were really wedged in there with all the passengers. Henry had to snake his arm slowly up his side before he could get it to a place where he could read the watch. “They’ll all be home by the time we get there,” he said, and sighed. “Maybe it was a mistake for us to run.”
“Stop blaming yourself, Henry. We both did it.”
He looked at me. “You know, you were doing really fine in there,” he complimented me. “I’ve never seen you stand up to people like that before. Good for you.”
I looked away from him, blushing. But I was pleased.
It was dark and very cold on the way from the train station to my house. Still, it was a relief to be walking past soft, frosted lawns and under big old trees, instead of through the sharp concrete and glass of downtown.
“I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how knowing about the clock keeps you out of the slowdown,” Henry said. “It’s the only explanation. That means if Crutchley got the clock and figured out how to make it work, they really could tear down and build things faster than anybody in the world.”
All I could do was groan.
“But I still can’t get over how stupid they are,” Henry said, his breath steaming.
“Yeah? How are they stupid?” I wanted to hear about their stupidity; it might make me feel safer.
“Remember what Crutchley said about how they didn’t need our help with the clock, they could take care of that themselves? They think they can work the clock without you and without the basement creatures. Even though on the tape you said all three elements are necessary to make a slowdown. They’re not even paying attention to the evidence they stole.”
“Yeah, but ... if they think they don’t need me and the basement creatures, then that means they might just steal the clock. Then what would we do?”
Henry shrugged, hunched over, his hands in his pockets. “What if they do steal it? They can’t make it work without you.”
I sighed. I was scared of the clock; I didn’t like it. And yet the idea of not having it in my closet bothered me in some way that I couldn’t explain. “But I was never supposed to open the boxes,” I told Henry. “I was never supposed to let anyone know they even existed. So if the clock gets stolen —even if they can’t use it—I’ll be in big trouble with Uncle Marco.”
“Don’t worry about that. Worry about what would happen if they did pay attention and did figure out what they really have to do to make it work.”
“What do you mean?” I said, very tentatively. I didn’t need anything else to worry about.
“Once they figure out they need you and the basement creatures,” Henry said slowly, “then they’ll take you and the basement creatures. They’ll do something to force you to make the slowdowns they want.”
“You ... you think so?” I said miserably. But I knew he was right. Everything was just getting worse and worse. I didn’t have to say that to Henry. I could tell by his manner and his tone of voice that he was scared—but not as scared as I was. Once they figured out about the clock, I would be their target.
“Oh, if only we could just forget about it for one night!” I said, clenching my fists. “But as soon as I get home, Aunt Ruth will be all over me to find out what happened.”
“Yeah. My parents, too,” Henry said. “We need to come up with a story to tell them. They might compare notes. And Crutchley will be in touch with them both, for sure.”
We spent the rest of the way back figuring out what to say. It took a while. We had to walk slowly in the bitter cold. It was not easy coming up with a story that would satisfy all the requirements. One thing we were pretty sure of was that Crutchley wouldn’t say anything to Aunt Ruth or Henry’s parents about the clock. They wanted it to be a secret. It was bad enough to them that Henry and I knew.
As much as I dreaded the confrontation with Aunt Ruth, it was a relief to step into the relative warmth of the house. Of course, Aunt Ruth was too cheap to keep the furnace at anything like a comfortable level, but when you first went inside out of the cold it felt good.
She squirmed around in her chair in front of the TV as soon as she heard the door and muted the sound with the remote. “Well?” she said. “What happened? Come over here and tell me.”
“Did Crutchley call you or anything?” I asked her—Henry and I agreed we had to find that out right away.
“Yeah, they did,” Aunt Ruth said, eyeing me coldly as I walked around her chair and sat down on the couch, my coat still on. “They wanted to know if you were okay. They said you and the other kid ran away before they’d finished. They want to talk to you some more.” She kept staring at me. “Well? What did they want? And what stupid blunder did you two make? I promise you, Anne, if anything happens to that million-buck offer, you’ll regret it—and your uncle will, too.”
“They didn’t tell you they were taking the offer away, did they?” I asked her hopefully.
“No, lucky for you. They hardly said anything—just that they had more to talk about with you.” She glared at me balefully. “Well, Anne? What happened?”
Aunt Ruth thought she was such a clever bargainer, but she had just told me all I needed to know about what Crutchley had said to her. “They tried to bribe us,” I said. “That’s what it was all about.”
“Bribe you? Why bribe you?” Aunt Ruth said, mystified. It wasn’t the idea of bribery that bothered or puzzled her —bribery she could understand. What she couldn’t understand was why they would try to bribe anybody as insignificant as Henry and me.
“I told you, I saw their spy right here at home yesterday. And they were spying on Henry’s house, too. They know it’s illegal to sneak into people’s houses and take videos without asking. They didn’t want us to tell you or anybody else.”
Aunt Ruth snorted. “They didn’t want you to tell me?”
“But it was too late—I already told you,” I said. “And they didn’t like that. Like I’ve said before, they’re slimy. Henry and I couldn’t take any more of it and left.”
“Hmmph.” Aunt Ruth was playing with her fat lower lip, one of her many irritating habits. “They didn’t want me to know ...” Aunt Ruth didn’t like that, I could tell, and that was great—anything I could do to turn her against Crutchley would help. I waited for her to get angry at them.
“What did they try to bribe you with?” she asked me.
“Clothes. Trips to Disney World. Dumb things like that.”
“Expensive things,” Aunt Ruth pointed out. “They may be slimy, but they have money. You better call them. Here’s the number they left.�
��
I sighed. Aunt Ruth didn’t care how slimy they were, as long as they were rich. And I couldn’t lie and pretend to phone them. She wanted me to do it now, where she could hear, and the phone was right next to the couch.
“Oh, hello, sweetie,” a woman’s voice said—Danielle Korngold. “You’ll have to forgive Mr. Crutchley for this afternoon. He does tend to get excited; it really isn’t good for him. And sometimes it can make the wrong impression. I can understand how you two kids might have been scared away.”
What was she up to? She was trying to make it sound like Adam Crutchley’s temper had been the only problem this afternoon.
But that might be a good thing. It would be to our advantage if we could convince them we had been scared of his angry outburst and not scared of what they knew. “Well, Henry and I were kind of upset when he started shouting at us,” I said. “We’re ... not used to that kind of thing. That’s why we ran away.”
“Yes, I understand, sweetie. We all do. But please don’t get the wrong impression. He’s a very kindhearted man—just a little excitable. We’re really all just one big happy family here, really.”
I wanted to gag again. The people at Crutchley were good at making me feel that way.
“So that’s why we’ve invited both your families out to dinner tonight. At La Poulette. Of course you’ve heard of La Poulette; it’s the best French restaurant in town. Your aunt and Henry’s parents have already accepted. We’ll—”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted her. “You said they already accepted?”
“Of course they did, sweetie. Who in their right mind would pass up the chance to dine at La Poulette? We’ll be picking you up at seven. That should give you just enough time to get all dolled up. See you then, sweetie.” And, without waiting for a response, she hung up.
I put the receiver down. Aunt Ruth’s lips were pursed smugly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked her, angry now.
“Tell you what, Anne?” she said, as if she didn’t know.
“That they invited us to dinner tonight, and you accepted.”
“I figured they’d tell you themselves. Better get ready. They’re coming at seven.”
I didn’t like this at all, and I was sure Henry didn’t either. “I don’t feel like going,” I said, standing up and facing Aunt Ruth squarely. “Thanks, but sorry. I’ve seen enough of them already today. I’m not hungry.”
Aunt Ruth looked up at me, pulling on her lower lip more nervously now, not saying anything. Then she fumbled for a cigarette. What was the matter with her? She actually seemed a little frightened.
Then it hit me. This was the first time in my life I’d ever dared to resist one of her orders. A feeling of excitement rose up through my chest.
“What’s ... got into you, Anne?” Aunt Ruth said, blowing smoke in my direction. “It must be the bad influence of... of that other kid.”
“For the tenth time, his name is Henry,” I told her, waving the smoke away from my face. “Why do you refuse to remember it? And it’s not his influence. I’ve spent enough time with Crutchley today, that’s all. They take my appetite away.” It was an odd feeling, speaking this way to Aunt Ruth—a feeling I liked.
Aunt Ruth just looked at me uncomfortably for a long moment. Then she thought of something. “Well, if you won’t go for my sake, then go for the sake of your beloved uncle,” she said, a just-perceptible certain tone in her voice. “Because if you don’t go, and if you’re not on your best behavior, to make up for the damage you caused this afternoon—then I cut off his annuity tomorrow. Understood?” She inhaled deeply, triumphantly.
My new confidence deserted me. She had won for now. I couldn’t do that to Uncle Marco—especially not after I had betrayed him about the boxes. If only because of Uncle Marco, Aunt Ruth still had me under her thumb.
I turned and went upstairs without a word. I felt humiliated that I had given in again. I was very worried about Crutchley. Something about this dinner was wrong, really wrong. Why did they want to see all of us together, when they knew they couldn’t talk about the clock or the slowdown in front of the others? What could they possibly accomplish in that situation? Were they really just trying to make up for this afternoon?
That didn’t make sense. All my instincts told me not to go, to stay at home. There was something devious about their plan; I was sure of it.
But I had no choice. Aunt Ruth would be happy to cut off Uncle Marco’s money.
I changed quickly—I had to see the basement creatures before we left for dinner. The phone rang just as I was about to go downstairs.
“Hi, Annie,” Linda said. “How’s it going?”
“Lousy,” I told her.
She seemed a little taken aback. “Oh. Uh, well, anyway, listen. I really need to tell Jeff that—”
“Linda, I wish I could help you,” I said. “But I’m completely tied up right now. I’m afraid it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I’m really sorry.”
I hung up, feeling better again. I was standing up to a lot of people today, and the world hadn’t ended because of it.
Aunt Ruth was still dressing. I hurried quietly down to the basement.
A sense of happy satisfaction filled my head as soon as I entered the root cellar. The creatures stood motionless in the colonnaded hallways, waiting.
One of them bowed to me from the large central archway on the ground floor, and I bowed back. Greetings. We have been expecting you. We are very happy you did not bring the uninvited one. We are sure the Lord chastised him well.
Now I was irritated with them, too, especially after all the trouble with Crutchley. The “uninvited one, as you call him, is my best friend and a wonderful person and I don’t know what I would do without him. And that obnoxious thing upstairs really hurt him for no reason and I’d like to tell it—
Our minds do not accept blasphemy, it cut me off. It is now time for you to bring the Lord down here. We are ready. We are waiting. Please do it right away.
Huh?
We do not understand your confusion, nervous system. This is the way it is meant to be. Bring the Lord down now. The longer you wait, the greater trouble you will cause.
Now even they were making problems for me about that stupid clock! I can’t bring it down now. I have to go out. And I’ll need help. I can’t carry it by myself. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow—I’ll need the uninvited one to help me. Is that okay with you?
We do not appreciate the hostile tone of your thinking. If you must bring another, so be it. But the longer you wait, the worse it will be—for everyone.
I’ll do what I can do; that’s all I can say. I’ve got to go now or there’ll be really big trouble. I turned and crept back upstairs.
I was more bewildered than ever. Nothing was making any sense. What did the creatures mean about trouble happening if I didn’t bring down the clock as soon as possible? Should I do it or not? Uncle Marco had said it was important to keep the boxes away from each other.
It was a very boring, phony, and obviously expensive dinner. Crutchley said all the purchase and sale agreements would be ready for signing the day after tomorrow, Saturday, even though he’d be in Tokyo at some big meeting by then. Whelpley wasn’t there, but Korngold and Junior just kept congratulating the adults on their wise decision, and Henry and I spoke hardly a word.
We got home around ten. Aunt Ruth went right upstairs. I snuck down to the basement. The creatures were still waiting, not so patiently now. They urged me more strongly to bring the clock down to them as soon as possible. I told them again I wouldn’t be able to do it until I could get Henry to help me.
But I still didn’t know if I should really bring it down to them or not. I trudged up to my room; I was wiped out and all I wanted was sleep. I opened my closet as I started to get ready for bed.
Only a fragment of a tendril lay, dry and wilted, embedded in the closet floor. The clock was gone.
I knelt on the floor and put my hands on the tendril.
But it wasn’t enough.
And I knew the feeling of loss wouldn’t go away until I had the clock back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Crutchley stole it. That was the whole point of the dinner,” Henry said at lunch the next day, Friday. “They wanted all of us occupied while their thieves got in.”
“I knew we shouldn’t have gone.”
We were sitting in the cafeteria. Linda and Jeff might start asking awkward questions if we skipped lunch together three days in a row. Linda was a little cold when we sat down and asked me if I was in a better mood today. “Not really,” I said. Of course, she didn’t want to pursue that. And now they weren’t paying any attention to us anyway.
I was really on edge, not having the clock. I picked up a French fry and put it down. I had to admit—the food at La Poulette was better than the school cafeteria. “We can’t tell the police it’s stolen because nobody else can know about the clock,” I said. “So ... we’re on our own. What are we going to do, Henry?”
Linda and Jeff both turned and looked at me. The desperation in my voice must have been noticeable enough to intrude on their preoccupation with each other. “What’s the matter, Annie?” Jeff said. “You having some kind of problem?”
I couldn’t remember either of them ever asking me before about my problems; their problems were the only ones that had ever interested them. And now that they were asking, of course, I couldn’t tell them.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just ...”
“You’ll do fine on the math test; don’t worry, Annie,” Henry consoled me.
Satisfied, Linda and Jeff turned back to each other again.
“The basement creatures won’t be happy,” I said in an undertone. “They want the clock down there with them right away. They say that’s how it’s meant to be. I’m afraid to tell them it’s gone.”
Henry was cradling his chin in his hand, thinking. “Yeah, what are we going to do? Good question,” he murmured. “Maybe ... maybe we don’t have to do anything.”
The Boxes Page 9