Duck Boy (16 page)

Chapter 13

“It worked,” Lindsay whispered hoarsely.

“Unbelievable.” Steve shook his head.

“One down, one to go,” Lindsay sighed with a grin.

Steve returned the smile. “I’m still amazed that this actually works.”

Lindsay gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean? You just saw what
happened, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I saw it. I don’t mean to say that I don’t believe in this kind of
thing. It’s just that I was brought up to believe that things like this weren’t
possible. That’s what I learned in school. That’s what my dad tells me at home.
That’s what Larry says. If you listen to those people long enough, this alchemy
stuff is a big surprise.”

Lindsay’s puzzled look gave way to an understanding smile. “Shannon always
said that we ought to be surprised that life rumbles along as normally as it
does. She was always surprised that she wasn’t surprised. She told me once that
she was surprised at how many miracles it took to give someone a boring life.”

“Yeah. That’s true—I’m beginning to see her point. You get so used to those
little miracles that you take them for granted.”

“We really should leave and work on your stone.”

“I think we need to go to my house.”

“Great, then that’s where we’ll go.”

“I’m a little nervous. The police will probably be watching my place. I
don’t know how we’ll get in.”

“That’s a good point.” Lindsay added, “You might be recognized on the
street, too—your picture was in the paper.”

“Right, I forgot about that. What should I do?”

“Just wear a hat to cover your hair and use one of my dad’s coats instead of
your regular one. That should fool the general population.”

“What if there is a police car in front of my house?” Steve asked again.

“Let’s worry about that when we get there. Do you have your house key?”

Steve patted his pocket. “Yup.”

“Then let’s get going. I’m going to write a note to my dad so he knows where
I am—not that he’ll care.” She sighed.

The two of them cleaned up the objects Steve had selected for Lindsay’s
experiments and prepared to leave. Steve slid into a long wool overcoat
belonging to Mr. Locket. It was far too big, but it did alter his look fairly
well. He wore one of Mr. Locket’s hats, too, pulled low over his brow to cover
his hair and shade part of his face. His own gloves and hat he removed from his
backpack and pushed into the coat pockets. Then Steve placed his notebook in
his backpack, alongside Aunt Shannon’s and his mother’s, and slid the pack onto his shoulders. “This might
not be so bad…” he started to say, but his words were cut short by a loud bang.

The front door to the house swung open and Walter Locket walked in.

“Hello Lindsay, I’m back. How’s my little girl?”

The two teens froze in the living room. Lindsay grabbed Steve’s sleeve and
whispered harshly into his ear, “Hide quickly. My dad will get really mad if he
knows you’re here. He’ll think… well… just hide, OK?”

Steve whipped his head around the room looking for possible places to hide.
He selected some heavy drapery that shrouded the far corner of the picture
window in the living room.

“Hello, Dad,” Lindsay called in a honey-sweet voice as Steve headed for his
hiding spot. “How was your night?”

Mr. Locket jogged up the stairs. “Why, you’re in a pleasant mood today.” He
smiled vacantly towards her and headed into the kitchen to open the fridge. “I
am absolutely starved.” He poked through the contents of the fridge. “Did you
eat all the ham, Lindsay?”

“Umm. Yeah. I guess so.”

“You should know so. You ate almost all of it.” He looked up from behind the
fridge door. “I thought you hated ham.”

“Most of the time I do, but today I was in a weird mood,” Lindsay said with
a weak smile. Steve’s heart pounded as he listened to the exchange.

“Hmm. Teenagers.”

Mr. Locket pulled a few bits of food onto a plate and headed into the living
room. He flopped onto the couch right beside the drapery where Steve was
hiding. Still wearing Walter’s coat and hat, Steve felt like a furnace. He
carefully slid his hand up beside his body and removed the hat, quietly
stuffing it into a pocket of the coat.

Lindsay stood nervously surveying the whole scene.

“Did you have something to say?” Mr. Locket inquired. “You have a weird look
on your face.”

“Umm, do I?” Lindsay returned hesitantly.

“Are you feeling all right?” Mr. Locket asked. “If you’re feeling all right,
I’d like you to go out for a while. I’m having a friend over. You look like you
were going somewhere, anyway.” Lindsay glanced down, noticing that she had her
coat on, too.

“I’m meeting a friend at the BUS TERMINAL,” Lindsay said, emphasizing the
last two words. “I might be a bit late coming back from the BUS TERMINAL
because I don’t know when he—I mean she—is going to arrive.”

“That’s fine, dear. You go along and have a good time. Here’s twenty bucks.
You can leave now, and don’t come back until, say, eight tonight, OK?”

Lindsay nodded.

“Thanks, my little Sweetums,” he replied.

He thumbed through his wallet, chose a couple of bills, and extended them
towards her. Lindsay crossed the room and pocketed the cash. “Here’s an extra
five for the girl I love,” he added, poking out another bill. “I’m planning to
have a few friends over for a party tonight, around ten of them. Just so you
know. Please don’t make a scene like you did the last time.”

Lindsay felt the blood rush from her face. “Yeah, I promise.” She shot an
eye at the drapery.

“See you,” her dad said, clearly hinting that he wanted her to leave.
Lindsay gave no response, but hovered where she stood. Her father stood where
he was and pointed to the door. “Get out,” he said firmly. “Go.”

She sighed, swallowed around what looked like a big lump in her throat, descended
the stairs, and walked out the door.

Steve panicked silently as he heard the door shut behind Lindsay.

Duck Boy. Duck Boy.

He leaned over carefully and looked out the window. Lindsay was standing
just below the window. When she saw him she waved frantically. She mouthed a
couple of words at him. They looked like the words he had heard—“Bus Terminal.”
He nodded, trying not to disturb the curtains. She jumped in the air a few
times and pointed to the street. A look of terror crossed her eyes, and she ran
out of Steve’s view—towards the bus stop, he supposed.

He turned back towards the living room and retreated from his view of the
window. Walter was chatting on the phone.

“Hello, Alice. No, no, I’m fine. I just got home. Yes, I want to see you
again, too. That’s why I’m calling. My kid’s away this afternoon, and she won’t
be coming back until tonight. Yes, exactly, why don’t you come over? A few of
the people you met yesterday will be over later tonight. Sure, I’ll see you
then. I love you, too.”

Walter made several more phone calls to arrange for his evening
get-together. He wasn’t leaving the room any time soon. When he finally hung up,
he stood silently for a moment, and Steve noticed a change in his friend’s
father’s mood. Something had eclipsed Walter’s sunny demeanor all of a sudden.
The older man sighed heavily and again picked up the phone.

“Hello, honey, it’s Walter. Listen. I wanted to know if you could do me a
favor.” He paused, listening to a tinny, hostile sounding jabber pouring from
the phone’s earpiece. “I don’t really want to argue about that right now. Can
we save that for another time? Could you help me out? I’m really busy here this
Christmas with work and everything. Could you take Lindsay for the second week
of Christmas break? No. I know we said I should have her for the entire holiday,
but my work plans have changed. I’m absolutely stuck.” He paused again as the
tone on the other end seemed to go ballistic and shrill. “You won’t, huh? Geez,
I wish I knew what to do. No, I won’t call again. Bye.”

Steve peeked out from behind the heavy drapery through a sheer fabric
curtain. He could see the dim outline of the room and Walter. Walter stretched
out on the couch and closed his eyes. Steve scanned the room for exit locations.
From where he was hiding, the closest exit was the front door. No chance of sneaking past. He stood there for what
seemed like hours. Sweat drizzled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. His
underarms—well, enough said.

After what seemed like hours, the doorbell rang.

Walter rolled off the couch and headed to the doorway. “Hi! Come on in.” He
led a woman into the living room by the hand. She shed her coat, dropping it on
the floor. The two of them fell onto the couch in an embrace and began chatting.

“Could we have something to eat? I’m absolutely famished,” said the woman.

“Let’s check out the kitchen,” Walter suggested.

He stood and pulled her off the couch towards the kitchen. Steve’s heart
pounded as the two of them left the room.

This might be my break.

He stepped from behind the curtain and moved behind the couch towards the
inner wall.

“Did you see the paper?” the woman asked as she stepped back into the living
room. Steve dropped flat on the floor between the couch and the wall. He felt
his heart pound wildly in his throat as he lay face down on the carpet.

“The police are looking for a kid who hurt some old people across the street
from here. It was in the paper. A couple of people disappeared, and they think
he’s involved.”

“Really?” Walter responded from the kitchen.

She walked over to the living room window and pulled aside the sheer
curtain. “I think that’s it. That must be the place. It has all the police tape
strung across the property.”

Walter joined her at the window. “I didn’t notice that when I came home.”

“Did you know them?”

“Yeah. Sort of. A wacky old couple live there.”

“Did you ever meet the nephew?”

“No,” Walter replied, showing little interest in the story. “But did you
find my cigarettes last night?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “They were in my coat.”

“Let’s finish that sandwich then, shall we?”

“I am under your control,” she quipped. They both returned to the kitchen to
finish their meal. Steve let himself breathe again. He moved slowly to his
knees and carefully peered over the couch. The living room was empty once
again.

He inhaled deeply and stood, moving quickly to the edge of the kitchen
entrance. He’d have to cross the entrance to get to the front door. He
carefully scanned the edge of the kitchen to see which direction the two were
facing. They were wrapped around each other in a deep embrace. He pulled the
hat out of his pocket and pulled it over his head. Then he made a run for it.
He passed the door to the kitchen quickly and headed down the short set of
stairs to the front door.

“Is that you, Lindsay?” asked Walter. Steve froze on the steps.“I didn’t hear you come in. Did you forget something?”

Steve forced his legs into motion again. He opened the back door, slammed it
behind him and ran, crossing the lawn quickly to the alley.

He was five houses away before he turned around to see what had happened
behind him. Thankfully, the house seemed uninterested in his exit. Steve slowed
his pace and waited near the bus stop, fishing his bus pass out of his
backpack.

As he waited, his hammering heart quieted enough that he detected the heavy
silence that surrounded him. A lead-colored evening sky threatened to smother
the earth. A few lonely snowflakes wafted to the ground. But the sky stewed and
brewed, looking as though it might deliver a lot more than these few flakes.

No time to waste
.

The bus squealed to a stop, the doors flopped open. A quick flash from his
wallet to show his pass.

“Just a minute there son, can I see that pass again?” The bus driver asked
firmly.

“Sure,” Steve squeaked.

Duck Boy. Duck Boy.

His hand shook as he tugged the bus pass out of its wallet sleeve and handed
it to the driver.

“Cold, are you?” the bus driver commented.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. He glanced towards the closed bus doors.

Would they open if I hit them hard enough?

The driver looked over his glasses, holding Steve’s pass close to his
forehead and passed it back.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to pay,” the bus driver declared.

Steve blinked several times, surprised by the bus driver’s request.

“Your pass is valid on school days only, not on weekends and holidays.”

Steve nodded without speaking. He stirred his hand in his pocket, searching
for change with his fingers. He didn’t have enough, but he had a lot of small
change. He dropped it into the fare box, and it jingled impressively.

“Thank you,” the bus driver said.

“Transfer, please,” Steve requested, just in case he needed another bus
ride.