Liar Liar (10 page)

I made my way along the side of the house to the back. A dim yellow light spilled out from one of the bedrooms. Otherwise, I moved through total darkness.

I stepped onto the terrace in back. My heart started to pound with excitement.

I was so hot and drenched with sweat. I could use a cold swim.

Especially a swim that would bring me home.

I'll jump into the shallow end and swim toward the deep water, I told myself. Just as I did that night at Max's party.

I'll swim to the deep end … slip through the portal … and be out of this frightening world forever.

My shoes scraped the stone terrace as I jogged to the pool.

I stepped eagerly to the edge. Peered down.

And stared at bare concrete.

“No! No! No!” I pounded my fists against my sides.

The pool had been drained.

I had no choice. There was no water in the pool, and I was out of ideas. I had to go back to my twin's house. I had to talk to him. He was the only one who might be able to help me.

I sneaked in through the back door and crept upstairs to his room. He looked up from his computer as I walked in, and flashed me a disgusted scowl. “You're back?” he sneered.

He stood up, walked to the window, and gazed out into the blackening night.

From far in the distance I heard the shrill call of a bird, a strange, trilling sound I'd never heard before.

A sound from a different world.

A different reality.

“You've got to help me,” I pleaded. “Tell me, how … how do I get back to my world? What do I have to do?”

He turned slowly and stared at me for a long while. Finally he snickered coldly. “I don't know. It's your problem.”

“No!” I cried. I jumped up and crossed the room to him. I grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt. “You have to know!” I screamed. “You have to know!”

He pulled free and stumbled away from me. “I—I don't want to fight again,” he said.

“Then tell me!” I demanded. “You know all about this—right? You studied it in the fourth grade. You know about portals and parallel worlds. You know it all—don't you?”

I backed him into a corner.

He tensed his body. Raised his hands, as if expecting another fight.

“Tell me!” I screamed.

“Okay, okay,” he replied, motioning with both hands for me to back off. “Just sit down, okay? I think I know how you can do it. But stop screaming.”

Breathing hard, I took a few steps back. “Tell me,” I demanded again.

“Okay. Sit down,” he said. “You've been a liar your whole life, right?”

I glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“Just go with me on this,” he said. “You've been a liar your whole life.”

“Whatever,” I muttered. And then I snapped, “How do you know?”

“I already told you. Because I'm you,” he replied. “You slipped into my world because your whole world became a lie, okay? If you want to get back to your world, you have to reverse it.”

I scratched my head. “Huh? Reverse it?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You have to tell the truth. You have to tell the truth to someone about what has happened to you.”

I swallowed. “You mean I have to explain to someone from your world that I'm an Intruder? That I came here from another world?”

“Yes. And you have to make them believe you.” he said.

“But—everyone knows I'm a liar!” I cried. “Everyone knows I make up stories all the time. Who would believe me? Who?”

He shrugged. “Beats me.”

And suddenly, I had an idea.

“Where can I sleep tonight?” I asked.

My twin yawned. “I don't care. Go sleep in a tree.”

“Can I sleep on the floor?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Do what you want. Just leave me alone.”

A short while later my twin clicked off the lights and climbed into bed. I struggled to get comfortable on the rug.

We live in different worlds, I thought. But our lives are a lot alike.

If his Mom was like mine, she would get up early. And she would go into the kitchen to make coffee and call her friend Stella, who also gets up early.

And if I came downstairs while my twin was still asleep, I could talk to her. And I could quietly, calmly explain the whole thing.

Then I would bring her upstairs—and she'd see the proof. Two Rosses!

This is going to work. I'm practically home, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, gray morning light filled the window. I raised my head and squinted at the clock-radio beside the bed. Six-ten.

I had overslept a little. But it was okay.

My twin was sound asleep on his stomach, covers pulled up to his head.

If he was like me, his alarm wouldn't go off for another hour.

Yawning silently, I dragged myself to my feet. My back ached from lying on the hard floor. I'd slept in my underwear. I pulled on my jeans and T-shirt from yesterday.

I bent to tie my sneakers. Then I crept out of the room on tiptoes, and down the stairs to the kitchen.

The aroma of fresh coffee floated out to greet me. The kitchen was dark, except for the pale gray light from the windows.

Mom sat with her back to me on a tall stool at the counter. She had a white mug of coffee steaming beside her. The telephone was pressed to her ear.

The same Mom, I thought. The same blue bathrobe. Her hair unbrushed. One blue slipper on her foot, the other on the floor.

“I know, I know,” she was saying into the phone. “Stella, tell me something I don't already know. Nothing changes. Really.”

I tapped her on the shoulder.

A mistake.

She let out a startled squeal and dropped the phone. “Ross—what on earth!”

“Sorry, Mom,” I said softly.

“What are you doing up so early? You scared me to death!” Mom exclaimed.

She picked up the phone and returned it to her ear. “Sorry, Stella. It was Ross. What were you saying?”

“I want to tell you something,” I said. “Something kind of crazy.”

She shrugged and pointed to the telephone. I could hear Stella's voice at the other end. She sounded like a quacking duck.

“Go make yourself some cereal,” Mom whispered, waving me away.

“Okay,” I said. “But I need to tell you something.”

“I know, I know,” she said into the phone. “You're not the only one, Stella. It happens. It happens a lot.”

I went to the cabinet. I pulled down a bowl and a box of cornflakes. “I really have to talk to you,” I told Mom.

She lowered the phone from her ear. “Stella got another call. She put me on hold. What do you want to tell me?”

“Well …” I shoved the cereal box away. I didn't really know where to begin. I knew I had to tell it right. I had to make her believe me.

“Are you in trouble, Ross?” Mom asked, her face wrinkling in concern.

“Well … yes and no,” I said. “You see, Mom—a strange thing happened to me.”

“How strange?” She had the phone pressed to her ear, but she was studying me, her eyes locked on mine.

“Pretty strange,” I said. “You see, you're not really my mom. I—”

“Oh, Ross! Not another one of your crazy stories!” she cried. “It's too early! Go back to sleep, okay? You've got another hour to sleep.”

“Just listen to me,” I said. “I know I've made up a lot of things in the past. But not today. Today I'm really serious, and I really need your help, okay?”

I took a deep breath. I stared at the cereal box. For some reason, I couldn't look at her. I didn't want to see her face in case she didn't believe me.

“Just let me tell the whole thing, Mom. And please believe me,” I begged. “Please. I'm not making this up.”

I stared at the cereal box. “The portal was open, and I slipped into a parallel world,” I continued. “You probably know all about parallel worlds. Ross—I mean, the other Ross, your Ross—said he studied them in school. Well, that's what happened to me.”

I took a deep breath. “I'm Ross, but I'm not the same Ross you know. I belong in a different world. I'm what you call an Intruder. And I need to get back there fast. I need you to believe me, Mom, so I can get back there. If you come upstairs, I can prove it to you. The other Ross—your Ross—is still in bed. Sleeping.”

Whew. I got it all out.

I took a deep breath and hesitantly raised my eyes from the cereal box to Mom. “Do you believe me?” I asked in a whisper. “Do you? Will you come upstairs?”

I held my breath. “Mom?”

She hung up the phone. “What is it, Ross?” she snapped.

“Do you believe me?” I repeated.

“Believe what? I have to run over to Stella's house. She's very upset.”

She waved me away. She hadn't heard a word I said.

“Just stop in my room before you get dressed,” I begged. “I have something to show you. It's an emergency!”

“I'm not getting dressed, Ross. I'm only going next door.” Mom grabbed her raincoat from the coat closet and threw it over her bathrobe. “Stella has an emergency. A real emergency. She doesn't make up stories.”

Mom stepped out the back door. I watched her hurry across the lawn to Stella's house.

I sighed and slumped out of the room. Strike one.

I trudged back upstairs to my room. My twin was still sound asleep. He had kicked all the covers onto the floor. I do that sometimes, too.

I suddenly felt so homesick. I wanted to be back safe and sound in my real room. I wondered what my real mom was doing. I wondered if the real Jake was awake yet.

I stood over the bed and stared at my twin for a long moment. It felt so weird to see myself, how I looked, how I slept. He was me in every way.

And this was his room. I didn't belong here. And if I didn't find someone to believe my story, I wouldn't be here much longer.

“Wake up,” I whispered. I bent down and shook him by the shoulders. “Come on. Wake up.”

He blinked one eyelid open. “Huh? What's your problem?” he asked, hoarse from sleep. “What time is it?”

“It's early,” I said. “But I don't have much time. I want to go to school with you.”

He opened his other eye. “Excuse me?”

“I have to find someone to believe my story. So I have to go to school with you. As soon as my friends—your friends—see the two of us, they'll believe me. I know they will.”

He sat up sharply. “No way,” he said.

“Huh? You won't let me go to school?” I cried.

“Of course I'll let you go to school.” A slow smile spread across my twin's face. “But I'm not going with you. You're going to have to make someone believe you all by yourself. No way I'm helping.” He let out a loud yawn.

“Fine. I'm going to school now,” I said. “I'm going to school—and I'm going to make someone believe me.”

I stepped out into a warm, smoggy day. The air already heavy and damp. Along the block, gardeners were unloading their trucks. A woman in a gray maid's uniform was walking two white standard poodles along the curb.