Confessions of a So-called Middle Child (19 page)

Finding the Magic

You wanna know what I thought about as I fell? My funeral, of course, and how I was gonna look. I just hoped they put my fake glasses on me, a cool Goth black dress, and a pair of rockin' high heels, like my mom's red alligator pumps I've loved my whole life. Maybe with a pair of fishnet tights? Wouldn't that be flippin' fantastic if Mom finally let me wear those?

And then we landed with a splash in what I hoped was some kind of pool and
not
a giant puddle of rat pee. I immediately looked for Marta; she popped up too, thank goodness. “Are we dead?” I hit the button on my flashlight. The pool lit up.
Yes!
The Flashlight Is Waterproof! I loved Dad even more.

“What the—” Marta looked around.

I moved the light against the rocks and water trickled in. “Is this hell?”

“No. Purgatory, maybe.” Marta dunked her head again. “Not hell, no, warm pools in hell.”

I swam over to the edge and shone the light against the wall I was pretty sure we had fallen from, but there was no opening at all. It seemed like we were trapped underneath. I didn't do well with the whole locked-in thing, and I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate. “How, how are we gonna get out of here?”

Marta took my flashlight and pointed it to a dark corner. “This must be Houdini's secret chamber—look.”

I turned, wiped my eyes, and saw it. Against the wall was a giant, brown leather trunk, big enough for a body,
no
! Two bodies. “Oh my
God
!” I felt like I was looking at Jesus himself. “Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for this?” The trunk had big straps and brass buckles. Framed posters of Houdini's circus shows were propped up on the floor behind it. I got out of the water and walked over to the trunk. On top of it was an old brown envelope.

Marta got out too, dripping over my shoulder. “What is it?”

She was getting drops all over my beloved trunk. “Do you mind?” I pushed her away a little while I carefully lifted the flap of the brown paper envelope, which felt like it might dissolve. My heart was racing. I was holding a piece of history, a piece of Houdini. “It's a note.” When I read, my voice shook:

 

 

I looked up. “Really? Beautiful? Have you taken a good look at her?”

“Charlie, be nice,” Marta said.

“Fine.” I kept reading.

 

 

What! “The keys to all magic!” I could see myself with a wand, waving away Pickler and Trixie, turning Roxy into a rat and Marta into a princess and me, well, me into the chick with the wand that is attached to her hand like Spider-Man's webs are attached to his. I was just about to open the trunk when Buzz-kill grabbed my hand and screamed, “Wait! Should you open it?”

I stared at her like she'd just grown a third eye. “Are you kidding me? Of course I'm gonna open it!” I lifted the hinge, my mind racing with the possibilities. Oh, what will it be? A book of his future tricks? The keys to his past tricks? I could sell this on eBay and make a bloody fortune! I shone the flashlight inside and couldn't believe what I saw.

“It's empty,” Marta said softly. “The trunk's empty.”

The wood shelves were completely empty, like they'd been wiped clean. “What the—” I stared into the deep, dark trunk. I wanted to cry, I did. “There's nothing in it—man, what a gyp!” Why isn't anything,
anything
, easy, huh?!

“No, wait, there's something.” Marta reached in and pulled out the single thing in the trunk. She held it out to me. “A mirror.”

I grabbed it, stared at it, took in every inch of it. But it was nothing more than a small silver mirror; it didn't even have jewels or gold, nothing. I felt like smashing it against the wall. “A friggin' mirror! That's it! Who the heck cares about a mirror?”

“The key to my magic and yours.” Marta stared into it, summarizing his note. “Protect it with your life—” She closed her eyes. “He's talking about us.”

“He's giving us a moral?” I kicked his trunk. “I hate morals, mirrors, life lessons! Jeez, I just wanted some magic, man, that's all I wanted. I
need
magic!”

“But he's right.” Marta looked like she'd been kicked in the head. “It's in us. It's up to us.”

Clearly it was up to us. It's not like anything ever came easy in this life. All I wanted was a little magic,
or
cash. Now we were back to square one. Suddenly I was tired and starving. I shone the dimming flashlight around. “Where's the food?”

She pointed to the ceiling. “Up there.”

“Great, just great!” I wanted to cry. I grabbed my face in my hands. “I'm gonna die,
die
! No food, no way out!”

Marta held the mirror up to my face. “Up to us, remember?”

I tried to slap the mirror out of her hand. “Oh, go away. Just leave me alone to die here, hungry, without sugar!”

Marta walked over to where she thought the rocks had separated and we had come down. “Wait a second. Where was it exactly, the hole?”

My stomach was in a knot; I was so hungry that for a second I thought my tongue was a stick of strawberry bubble gum and I chewed it. “What do you mean, where was it?” I pointed the flashlight to the spot I was 99.9 percent sure we'd fallen from, but there was absolutely no hole whatsoever. “It's gone, Marta, gone.” The hole had closed. Forever, sealed.

That's when Marta hauled off and slapped me. Two times. “Stop it with your defeatist attitude!” she yelled. “What's with you? You're the glass-half-full kinda gal, remember?”

“Only when I have sugar,” I cried. I could feel myself crumpling into a hellhole of zero sugar. “I have to have sugar!”

She lifted my sagging, depressed chin. “When we get out of here, I'm buying you a month's supply of those candy bears you eat all the time, all right? Just stay with me.”

“Really?” Just the thought of those little guys made me smile—red, yellow, green, white, pink. White was my all-time favorite. Pineapple.

“Yes, now get your big butt up and start using that weight of yours to move some rocks.” Marta yanked my arm; she was looking pretty mean. “We are going to look for the hole, we are going to sit on every rock until it moves, and believe you me, with the size of your butt, something's gotta move.”

“Nice! Criticize me when I'm down.” I slapped her back, but I let her pull me up and fill me with that incredible force that Marta had in abundant supply.

The Secret Pin

Three hours—and an incredibly sore butt—later, not a single rock had budged. The flashlight was barely a shadow of light now; how much longer it would last had me seriously worried.

“Houdini, help me!” I screamed. I kicked. “Where is it?” There had to be an escape button; Houdini was the master of escape, right? I turned off the flashlight to save the battery and went back to where I was pretty sure we'd come through the wall. And then—with every bleeding, raw fingertip—I felt like a blind man for cracks, buttons, you name it. Marta walked around the circumference of the pool again and again, kicking rocks, touching seams, screaming as loud as she could, but nothing. On a hunch I grabbed the mirror and rubbed my hands over it. On the back there was a very small but distinct needle. I turned the flashlight on it. “Do you think this could be anything?”

Marta ran over, felt it, and shook her head. “Nah, it's too small—”

But me, I'm the glass-half-full gal, remember? With the last remaining light I went over every inch of the wall where I was convinced we came in. I stopped. “See that?” A tiny, perfect hole in the rock, like it was made for a needle.

Marta rubbed her finger over it and stared at it. “Oh, come on, it's tiny.”

“Yeah,” I said, “exactly.” I took the back of the mirror and stuck the needle into the hole. The rocks separated.

“Oh my God!” Marta covered her face. “You did it; you're a genius!”

Marta led the way up through the rock slide. Just as we reached the top and fell through the other side, the wall closed like an elevator door,
bam!

I rolled on my cold, wet belly, clutching the mirror to my chest. When we had each finally caught our breath and sat up against the wall, my hunger came back strong. “The food, Marta. Where's the food?”

She handed me the bag and checked her watch. “It's already after eight.”

Three and a half hours to go. We put the food out on top of the bag and made sandwiches out of cheese, turkey, and crackers. “Man, for healthy food, this is good!” I devoured everything I could find. And so did she. I checked her watch again. I stared at the walls, listened to the trickle of the springs, checked her watch again. Still only a little after eight. “I have to pee.”

“Well, hold it.” Marta took a deep breath, holding her knees to her chest.

“For three hours,” I mumbled, then decided to listen to my echo. “Hello, hello, hello . . .”

“Stop it!” Marta slapped me. “Where do you think they are?”

“Probably long gone by now.” I stretched out my legs, pulled them back in, made the holes on my leggings bigger, took a deep breath, and then made a snow angel in the dirt.

She winced like a mad mom. “What are you doing?”

I had to see just how much trouble I was in. At last count, I was:

 

1. Being framed for poisoning.

2. Being accused of kidnapping Marta from the laminated card people.

3. Running away.

 

And that's only the crimes they knew about. I got up and dusted myself off. “Three more hours trapped in here? I can't. I just can't.”

She wouldn't move. “I'm scared, Charlie.”

“It's okay.” I pointed down the dark tunnel. “I know this place like the back of my hand. I'm just gonna open the hatch, take a quick peek around, and see what's going on.”

“No!” Marta clung to me. “You can't leave me! Please!”

“You're gonna be fine, I swear. No way will anyone come down here.”

“Fine.” Marta looked up at me with her horrible Bambi eyes. “Fine. Just leave me here until my aunt arrives. Then come get me. Okay?”

I resisted the urge to pull her to her feet because, well, part of me knew she was right. It was safer. If she came up and the Social Services people were there, they would take her,
for sure
. “Okay, sit tight, all right. I'll find out what's going on, and I'll be back soon, really soon.”

“The mirror, the tunnels”—Marta looked kinda dazed—“don't tell them about them. Whatever you do.”

I thought about it for like a second and knew she was right. Houdini had always been there for me. No way would I ever lead the suits to him.

Marta gave me that mean old look of hers. “Promise me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” I said. I left her the flashlight but took the mirror—no way was I leaving that thing down here—and I ran down the dark hallway, arms out like a blind person, feeling my way. I found the trapdoor, unlocked it, and lifted it up. My plan was to scurry like a soldier to the house, check in with the parents, and see what was going on. But when the trapdoor opened, there was no need.

“Oh crap!” The entire sky was full of light. A helicopter was circling, its light whipping through the trees, noise filling the air, dirt making it hard to grasp the details until the helicopter light stopped right on my head like I was the target. A loud horn blared. “Stop right there!” I threw my hands above my head and crawled out of the hole like an escaped convict.

A Piece of Me

I walked out into the flashing lights of rescue choppers, hands held over my head, gripping Houdini's mirror like it could get me out of this one, too. The place was surrounded. Police cars, news vans, fire trucks. I felt like I was in a crime scene, and I was the criminal. I saw Mom and Dad, Pen and Felix, all lined up by the front of the house staring at me. I had a sneaking suspicion that I was in
huge
trouble.

“Easy, easy.” A super cute fireman on the ground came running toward me. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.” I tried to run to Mom and Dad, but the fireman pulled me back.

He yelled over the helicopter, “Is the other girl down there too?”

“Other girl?” I shook my head. “What other girl?” I looked over at my parents. “Can I just please go now?”

“Where
is
she?” The firefighter put his huge hand on my shoulder.

“How would I know? I was down there by myself doing a little decorating for my party when the door got stuck, that's all. Can I go now?”

“Sure.” He nodded, and I ran to my parents. Man, was I happy to see them.

They threw their arms around me. “Charlie!”

Mom whispered in my ear, worried and sad, “Why didn't you tell us about Marta?”

Dad looked just as sad. “We could have helped.”

“I promised her I wouldn't.” I shrugged a little; I was too tired to shrug a lot. “She was fine. Her neighbor came over to check on her while her aunt was gone, plus Marta doesn't really believe in personal hygiene, so there really wasn't that much to worry about.”

They hugged me. “You're a good, good friend.”

I looked around at all the chaos. “I didn't mean to worry you.”

Dad held my face in his hands. “We knew where you were the whole time, kiddo. The key was gone, and you left this.” He held up my beaded turquoise necklace that I put on the hook in the place of the key and kissed me. “Good thinking.”

Mom whispered in my ear, “Marta's still in there, right?”

I nodded.

Dad whispered, “Is she okay?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the people running toward me with their laminated badges flashing. Uh-oh. “Mom, Dad, help.” They wrapped me in their arms like a protective shield.

“Young lady.” The people with the badges came fast. “Where is Marta Urloff?”

“I have no idea.” I wasn't gonna take this lying down. That's when mean old Principal Pickler saw me and started marching over, all red.

“Pickler, she's been through hell,” Dad said. “Leave her alone.”

But Pickler didn't listen. “I wish I could.” His eyes were narrow and tired. “Ms. Cooper, we gave you the benefit of the doubt, but you went back to your old tricks, didn't you?” His finger was in my face. “And the lack of originality of it—”

“Exactly,” I interrupted.

“Don't interrupt.” He held my water bottle and waved it in front of our faces. “There are your fingerprints everywhere. The laxatives used were Romanian, but poor innocent Marta isn't to blame.” He took a deep breath and got all puffed up. “You, young lady, are hereby expelled.”

Calm as could be, I looked at Pickler. I had nothing to lose anymore. “Think motivation for a sec. Who wants Marta gone most, Pickler?”

“Oh please.” Pickler rolled his eyes.

“You have to believe her,” Penelope said, getting between us. “Trixie set up the whole thing because she wanted Marta off the team.”

“That girl comes from a family of psychologists! She is well-adjusted; she has been nothing but a pleasure until
you
came along. Whatever she's done, I'm sure you drove her to it.” He pointed his finger in my face. “You, Charlie, it's always you.”

Felix watched the scene, pulling on Pen's jacket. “Why do they all pick on Charlie so much?”

Mom looked at Pickler. “You should be ashamed of yourself for joining this witch hunt.”

“It's called order, Mrs. Cooper; I am restoring order to what was once a peaceful school. Your daughter has brought nothing but chaos and lawlessness to my school. Her lies could have led to horrible danger for that poor child Marta—”

“You don't care about Marta!” I shouted.

“Oh, I care about Marta,” he said, glaring. “We never had a lick of trouble with her until your daughter came.”

“Charlie didn't hurt her, Principal Pickler,” Pen yelled. “She helped her. It was Trixie, Trixie all along.”

“What a doofus!” Felix shook his head and went inside.

That's when a policeman came up to Mom. “Ma'am,” he said, “where exactly do those tunnels lead?”

“Nowhere; it's a dead end,” Dad explained. “It's been walled off.” He turned to Pickler. “Don't you at least want to talk to Charlie and Marta to get the whole story?”

“Why, when I have all the proof I need?” He held up my water bottle. “All the fingerprints, the backstory, the motivation, the character reference?” He hopped over the mud so his dorky dress shoes wouldn't get dirty. “And good luck finding another school for that little troublemaker.”

We watched him leave. It felt like it was all over. We were surrounded by all the wrong people: cops, paramedics, and, of course, the Laminated Badge People.

Mom squeezed my shoulder. “Come on, let's go inside, get you warmed up. You're freezing.”

“Jerk!” Pen yelled after him. That was when two cops started coming toward us. Man, did they make me nervous.

They looked at Mom, then at me. “We need to talk to your daughter.”

“Oh, great.” I rolled my eyes. “Look, I didn't do anything, all right. Jeez, you people are seriously barking up the wrong tree!”

They weren't taking no for an answer. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

“Fine, fine.” I looked at Mom and Dad. “Let's just get it over with, all right?” But just as we were about to go inside, we heard a loudspeaker blare. “You! Hold it right there!”

We all turned to see Marta, halfway out of the tunnel, waving her hands in the air. “I'm here, I'm here!” Police, firemen, and paramedics rushed to help her, and then the Laminated Badge People caught her in their sights and took off running.

“Marta!” I yelled. “Watch out!” Was she crazy or what? It would have all been so perfect. All she had to do was stay down there.

I ran over to her. “What are you doing out here?”

“I heard all the noise.” She looked at all the mayhem. “I couldn't let you take the blame, Charlie, I couldn't.”

I guess that's what real friends are like.

“Thanks, Marta.”

Pickler froze. “Marta?” He ran over to her like he was her long-lost dad. “Thank goodness you're all right.” Poor Marta had to field a hundred questions and all that unwanted attention. None of this was her fault. It was mine.

Dad was amazed. “Pickler actually seems to care about someone besides himself.”

“Yeah, well, he thinks she's gonna bring the team all the way to the Nationals.” I'm sorry, I'm an optimistic person, but I also can read humans pretty well, and I knew why Pickler was getting all touchy-feely with Marta, pretending like he cared. Before he knew how great she was, he'd barely looked at her.

“Come on, let's help her,” Dad said, and we walked over just in time to intervene.

“You're gonna have to come with us.” The Laminated Badge People took Marta by the arm.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just don't touch me.” Marta shook them off. “Charlie,” she called out to me, “come with me, all right, please.”

Pickler couldn't believe it. “You want Charlie to go with you? After all she did?” He was waiting for a response, but everyone just ignored Pickler.

“Mom, Dad, her aunt is arriving at eleven forty-five tonight. You've got to pick her up at LAX—she's on a British Airways flight out of Bucharest. Meet us at whatever jail they're taking us to.”

“It's not a jail,” declared a humorless Laminated Badge Person. “It's on Wilshire and Third.” They wrote the address for my parents. “Follow us down the hill.”

I looked around the place; it really did seem like the end of the world, with the giant construction holes, the cops, fire trucks, cars, holes, and ladders, and yet there wasn't a single kid from our school. That hurt, you know? Two girls had gone missing. Two girls had been framed, and yet not a single person had come forward to set the record straight, and that said a lot about the kids I went to school with.

Pen squeezed my shoulder like she knew what I was thinking. “They're not worth it.”

“We'll discuss this when your aunt is here.” Pickler didn't even look at me; Marta was all he cared about. But Marta didn't care about him. She knew when people were using her. I wondered if she knew that I had used her too, once. Because that was how this whole thing started. I needed to redeem myself. Did I? Was I any better than I was six months ago? I asked myself that as they pushed my head into the car.

“I'll see you guys there.” I waved to my parents, and we started down the driveway. I let my head fall back against the seat and let my eyes fill with tears.

Marta elbowed me. “Charlie.”

I bit down hard. “Can I just have a moment?”

“Charlie!” She elbowed me again.

“Marta”—I took a huge breath—“just leave me alone!” I screamed. The driver honked. I opened my eyes and couldn't believe what I saw. A sea of my classmates standing behind the gate with flashlights. The driver honked again. They shone their lights into the car. “Is that our entire class?”

Marta nodded. “Maybe more.”

The driver threw the car into Park, rolled down his window, and held up his badge. “Kids, you're obstructing official business.”

They chanted, “Charlie! Charlie! Charlie!”

They chanted, “Marta! Marta! Marta!”

Mr. L walked up to our car and tapped on our window. Marta lowered it. “Hey, guys, how are you?” He reached in and held our hands. “I sure am proud of you two girls.”

I couldn't believe my ears. “Really?”

“Oh yeah, and now it's time to kick some butt.” Looking all tough, Mr. L went over to the driver's side. “Is Mr. Pickler here?” He stood tall, his hands on his hips. “We're looking for Mr. Pickler, and we're not letting you leave until we talk to him.”

I couldn't help but smile; Mr. L was so not a tough guy, but the driver went for it. “He's over there,” he said. “Make it quick.”

“Babs, let's go,” Mr. Lawson said.

“What?” I looked at Marta. “Babs? Did I hear that right?” Marta put her head out in time to catch Mr. Lawson walking Babs and her parents through the crowd toward my house.

I swiveled on the vinyl seat. Marta and I looked at each other, and at almost the same time we put our hands on the handles and jumped out of the car.

“Wait!” The driver turned. “Stop!” He ran after us. But we ran up the hill just in time to hear Babs tell Pickler the truth.

Her eyes were glued to the ground. “Trixie did it all.” Her parents nudged her. “All of it. And I helped her. I'm a follower.” She turned to her parents, whose faces were about as hard as granite. They nudged her. “And they're making me see a shrink.”

“And she's cut off all ties with that Chalice girl.” Her mom wiped her wet nose. “I should have known! Kids of shrinks are always bad news.”

Pickler's face tightened. “Oh God, don't tell me Cooper's completely innocent.”

Babs took a deep breath, nodding like someone who's as guilty as you-know-what. “We crushed the laxatives; we stole her bottle to make it look like what happened at her old school. We framed her.”

“But, but why?” Pickler asked, stunned.

“Because she stood up for Marta, and we wanted Marta gone.”

He was shaking his head, still not getting it. “But Marta's the team's best chance for winning. What's wrong with you people?”

“But she was Trixie's biggest obstacle,” Babs said. “Trixie wanted to be on the team so badly. First she blackmailed Charlie to get her kicked out, and when Charlie refused, she tried to get them both expelled.” Babs looked over at the Laminated People. “She called them too.”

Pickler took a deep breath and dropped his head. “Where is Trixie?”

“She was right up there.” Babs pointed to the hills across the street. “She's been watching the whole thing.”

Mom looked at the Laminated People, who were circling like buzzards. She grabbed Marta and hugged her like she was her own kid. “Her aunt is landing tonight at eleven forty-five. Please, she doesn't need you.”

“We have to take her,” they replied like robots.

“Is
Sixty Minutes
here?” I scanned the place. “Because I swear I want to talk to the people at
Sixty Minutes
. Or CNN, CNN, anyone?”

But there was no
60 Minutes
, dang it. “Dad, can you get my laptop?”

Dad ran inside the house and came back with my computer. He handed it to me, and I quickly pulled up all the documents on Marta's aunt. “Here you go, Dad.”

“See?” He pushed the laptop into their faces. “Here they are, her flight number, her visa. She's Marta's legal guardian; her mother put it in her will.” He watched their stern, unbendable faces. “Just let Marta stay with us for two and a half hours, that's it. Then we'll all go to the airport and pick up her aunt.”

Marta pleaded. “My aunt and I will be at your office first thing in the morning, and if we're not, you can come get me.”

Dad put his arm around Marta. “Don't you think she's been through enough for one day?”

Pen, Felix, and I surrounded Marta—we were an unbreakable chain, but the law is the law, and Social Services wasn't budging.