Don't Scream! (6 page)

The next day, I kept the cell phone in my backpack and didn't take it out. I didn't hear a word from Emmy.

Miss Rush and some kids kept glancing back at me. I know they wondered if I would leap out of my chair and scream or stand on my head or do something else totally insane.

But the voice in the phone was silent. I crossed my fingers.

Please … please let her be gone. Gone somewhere far away
.

Of course, that was too much to wish for.

The final bell rang at three o'clock. I packed up my backpack. Took my jacket from my locker. And started outside to get the school bus.

“Not so fast,” a voice said.

I jumped. I knew it was Emmy. Inside my backpack.

“Take out the phone, Jack,” she ordered. “I
want to be closer to you. You know we have something to do.”

“The … the bus,” I stuttered.

“Afraid you'll miss the bus today,” she said.

“But how will I get home?” I asked.

She didn't answer.

“Take out the phone,” she said finally. “Turn around. Act normal. Smile at everyone.”

“Act normal? How can I act normal?” I cried. “If it was
normal
, I'd be climbing on the bus. Instead, you want me to be a thief. That's normal to you?”

“Please be my friend, Jack,” she said. “Do this for me, and I'll go away. I promised you.”

With a sigh, I pulled the silvery cell phone from my pack. I saw Mick and Darryl bump through a crowd of kids, heading to the bus.

At least I'll escape THEM today,
I thought.

“Find a place to hide,” she said. Her voice made the phone vibrate on my hand.

“Hide? What do you mean?” I asked. My heart started to pound. I couldn't think straight.

“I mean find a place where you won't be seen,” she snapped. “Do I have to explain everything to you?”

“Well …” I gazed around the crowded hall. Where could I hide?

“We have to wait for the school to clear out,” she said. “You don't want to be caught.”

I hid in the back of the music room. I hunched on a stool behind a bass drum and listened to the kids leaving school. They were talking and laughing and joking.

Some kids were happy. I wasn't in that group.

I heard a girl shout from the doorway. “Anyone in here? Mr. Brock?”

Mr. Brock is the band teacher. I held my breath till the girl went away.

I shook my head. “I think I'm going crazy,” I muttered. “Please tell me this is all some kind of weird joke.”

“It's not a joke,” she said. “I know there are others like me. People who exist only in the digital world. I need to find them, Jack. I need a friend who is like me.”

“I'll be your friend,” I said. “Really. Just don't make me steal a computer from the school. If I get caught —”

“Is it getting quieter out there?” she asked.

I listened hard. A few voices out in the hall. Someone was singing a song. A locker slammed.

“It takes a long time for the school to empty out,” I said. “Maybe I can still catch the bus. Maybe —”

“We'll wait,” she replied.

So I sat there, huddled behind the bass drum. I gripped the phone tightly in my sweaty hand. And thought about how much trouble I could be in.

Time passed slowly. I kept glancing up at the round clock high on the far wall. I could hear the tick of the second hand. Each tick made my heart beat a little faster.

Outside the window, the afternoon sun was lowering behind the trees.

Finally, the hall was silent. No voices. No footsteps.

I glanced at the clock. Four fifteen. I'd been hiding in the band room for over an hour.

I climbed to my feet and stretched. My back felt sore from sitting so stiffly.

I raised the phone to my face. “Are you still there?” I whispered. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yes, we are,” she replied, her voice tinny inside the phone. “I think I hear a signal. I think I may have a friend in there.”

“But —” I started to protest once again. “The kids are all gone,” I said, “but the teachers stay late. If a teacher sees me …”

“Don't get caught,” she said.

I stepped into the hallway and glanced up and down. Someone had left a locker open. One white sneaker lay on the floor in front of the locker.

No one in the hall. The silence seemed so
loud
.

I took a step and then another. My whole body tingled with fear.

“I … I've never stolen anything in my life,” I whispered.

Emmy giggled. “That's cute. Just hurry to the computer lab, okay? Let's find that laptop and take it home, Jack. I have a good feeling about this.”

“I don't,” I muttered.

But I crept down the hall, turned the corner, and stopped in front of the computer lab.

The red wooden door was closed. I pressed my face against the small window at the top and peered inside. The room was dark.

“What are you waiting for?” Emmy snapped. “Go inside.”

I turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The fading afternoon sunlight washed in through the row of windows to my left. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the light.

In front of me stretched long tables with desktop and laptop computers. A tangle of cables and wires covered the tables.

The screens were dark. The computers were all shut off.

“Okay, here we are,” I whispered.

I heard a sound out in the hall. A soft thud. Footsteps?

My heart skipped a beat. “Which one? Hurry!” I said.

“I'm trying to decide,” Emmy replied. “I'm getting a definite vibe.”

“Please — hurry.”

“The laptop on the end,” Emmy said finally. “I'm getting a strong signal. Quick, Jack. Grab it. Unhook it. Let's go.”

I stepped up to the table. My legs were shaking. I groaned. “I … can't believe I'm doing this.”

I closed the screen against the keyboard. It made a soft click. I grabbed the power cord and tugged it loose.

There were two USB cords attached to the back. I grabbed them with a trembling hand and struggled to tug them off.

“Hurry,” Emmy urged from the phone.

I finally pulled the USB cables free. Then I lifted the laptop from the table. I raised it and tucked it under my arm.

My heart was pounding against my chest.
I'm a thief,
I thought.
I'm stealing this from my school. I'm a criminal!

I turned — and saw Mr. Feingold, the computer lab teacher, standing in the doorway.

I uttered a startled cry.

He didn't look happy. “Jack? What are you doing in here?” he demanded.

Mr. Feingold is big and wide and looks like a grizzly bear. His curly brown beard covers almost his whole face and meets the curly brown hair over his head.

He wears short-sleeved shirts and has hairy arms that look like they're covered in bear fur. He has a big belly that bounces when he walks.

He looks a lot like he should be a wrestler on TV. But he's a nice guy and a really good teacher. He knows
everything
about computers and the Internet. Everyone likes him.

But now I wished he was somewhere far away. Not squinting at me with that frown on his face. “Jack?”

My brain froze. My mouth dropped open. I still had the laptop tucked into my armpit.

Jack, think fast. Think of
something
!

“Why are you in here?” Feingold repeated. “What are you doing with that computer?”

“Uh … Returning it,” I said. My voice cracked.

He rubbed his bear whiskers.

“I … borrowed it this afternoon,” I said. My heart was in my throat. I could barely speak. “Uh … Miss Rush asked me to bring it to her classroom. So now … I'm returning it.”

He nodded. I couldn't tell if he believed me or not.

He glanced at the wall clock. “It's kind of late,” he said.

“I know,” I replied. “I … had to stay late in class. Working on a project. But I wanted to return the laptop.”

When did I get to be such a good liar?

“Very good,” Feingold said. “Don't bother hooking it up. I'll do it tomorrow.”

He believes me! Yay!

He flashed on the lights. “Have a nice evening, Jack,” he said. He lumbered toward his desk. “Thanks for returning the laptop.”

“Hey, no problem,” I said. Could he see the sweat pouring down my forehead?

I turned and hurried out of the computer room. No one in the hall.

I spun around the corner and started toward the front doors. I didn't walk — I jogged.

I burst breathlessly out of the school, onto the front steps. The air was cool. The sun floated low behind the houses across the street.

“Well,
that
went well,” Emmy said sarcastically.

I uttered an angry cry. “You almost got me in a lot of trouble.”

“You failed, Jack,” she said coldly. “I hope you do better next time.”

Next time?

Yes.

There would be a next time. And a next time after that. And guess what? I finally ended up getting caught.

But that's a long, frightening story.

That afternoon, Mom had to come pick me up in her car. I think she believed my story about having to stay late in the computer lab.

I was becoming a total liar, and I hated it.

After dinner, I called Eli. I needed him to think hard about my Emmy problem. I needed his help desperately.

I told him the whole story. About stealing the laptop. Everything.

Eli listened in near silence. Every few minutes, he muttered, “Wow. Wow.”

“ ‘Wow wow' doesn't help me,” I said. “What should I do?”

“Jack, it's a no-brainer,” he answered.

“Excuse me? A no-brainer? What?”

“Stop fighting her. Find her a friend,” Eli said. “Find her a digital friend as fast as you can, and she'll go away.”

“You're definitely right,” I said. “But what will I have to
steal
to find the friend?”

The next morning, I found out.

I was walking through the halls at school, on my way to the lunchroom. I had the phone in one hand. My backpack bounced on my back.

I blinked at a white flash of light. The light bounced off the tile walls.

“I just got a signal,” Emmy said from the phone. “A strong signal.”

“You mean that flash of light?” I asked.

“Find it. Hurry,” she replied.

It didn't take long to find out what made that flash. I turned the corner, and I saw Mick holding a little camera up to his face. He was taking Darryl's picture against a locker. He flashed the camera again.

The phone buzzed in my hand. “That's it,” Emmy said excitedly. “There's someone in there. I'm getting a strong vibe. Go get it, Jack!”

I gasped. “Huh? Are you kidding me? That's Mick's camera. Do you really think I'm going to steal Mick's camera?”

“Go get it — now!” The phone vibrated wildly in my hand. “I mean it, Jack. Go get it.”

“No way,” I said. “Mick will pound me into cat food.”

“I can hurt you too, Jack,” she said.

“Not if I put you away,” I replied.

I spun my backpack around and jammed the phone deep inside it.

“I'll find you a friend,” I called into the backpack. “But I won't steal Mick's camera. You can't do anything to make me.”

And then I opened my mouth in a horrified scream as my backpack burst into flames!

Other kids screamed. Mick and his friends backed away.

I hoisted the backpack — and slammed it against the wall until the flames were smothered.

I shook it hard. Smoke rose up from the canvas. I turned it in my hands, examining it.

Only slightly scorched. The bottom was all black. It smelled terrible.

“I can take a hint,” I called in to Emmy.

“Go steal the camera,” she said.

I sighed. “I'll try.”

My legs were trembling. My stomach did flip-flops as I followed Mick and Darryl into the lunchroom.

I stayed far back in the food line. I definitely didn't feel like eating. But I put some things on my tray. I didn't even look to see what I was choosing.

Mick and Darryl and some other guys took a table in the corner. I saw Mick set his camera down and begin to paw through his food.

Mick eats with his hands. Even mac and cheese and Jell-O. No one has the nerve to tell him he eats like a pig. Probably, his parents are also afraid to tell him.

The camera sat on the edge of the table. Mick was talking to Darryl, who sat across from him. Mick was stuffing his mouth with both hands.

I took a deep breath. I started toward their table. I was going to end up with Mick's camera. Or I was going to end up dead.

Was I a little tense?

I don't have to answer that question.

“Hey, Jacko!” Mick shouted with a mouthful of food.

I pretended to be startled by his shout. And I faked a big fall. I tripped right at the side of the table. I stumbled forward. And dropped my tray onto Mick's tray.

“Hey! Klutz!” Mick shot back as my food bounced off the tray.

In one quick motion, I slid the little camera off the table and shoved it into my jeans pocket.

Did anyone see?

I grabbed the edge of the table and caught my balance. “S-sorry,” I stammered. “I tripped.”

“No problem,” Mick said. He grabbed a plate
of French fries off my tray and began gobbling them up.

Darryl took my ham-and-cheese sandwich and shoved it into his mouth. He giggled. “No problem, dude.”

I lifted my tray and started away. “Sorry,” I repeated.

I got away from them as fast as I could. I couldn't breathe. My legs felt like rubber bands.

I knew any second Mick would shout: “Come back! Bring back my camera!”

But no.

I set the tray down and ran into the hall. The camera felt heavy in my jeans pocket.

“Success!” I told Emmy. “I took the camera — and I'm still alive!”

I pulled the camera from my pocket and jammed it into the burned backpack. “Is there a digital person in there?” I asked Emmy.

“I can't tell,” she said. “We need to examine the camera carefully. Wait till we get home with it.”

That was a mistake.

Because we never got home with it.