The Last Chance Texaco (14 page)

• • •

"I need to do something," I said to Nate that afternoon as we picked up garbage.

"Do something?" Nate said.

"About the car fires. If it's Alicia who's setting them, I need to catch her in the act. If I can prove that it isn't someone from Kindle Home, then they can't close us down."

"Are you serious?"

"Sure. I'll sneak out tonight. It can't be that hard."

"But what if you get caught? People will think you set the fires!"

Nate was right. If I got caught outside the house at night, it was all over. Even Leon couldn't help me. Sneaking out at night was a Mortal Sin even without people thinking I was setting the fires. I'd get shipped to Rabbit Island for sure.

"You don't understand!" I said. "If I don't catch whoever's doing this, they'll close the house down!" I surprised Nate with my intensity. But it was like Nate had said before, when he was talking about Alicia: If Kindle Home got shut down, I'd be sent to another group home in a different school district, or even a different city. In other words, we might never see each other again.

"But Lucy," Nate said quietly, like he was embarrassed by something. "What if you
do
catch whoever it is? I mean, what if people don't believe you?"

I knew what Nate was trying to say. Even if I caught the arsonist red-handed, it would still be my word against his. Or hers. And if that "her" happened to be Alicia, there was no way anyone was ever going to believe me over her. Which meant there really wasn't anything I could do. Kindle Home was going to be shut down, and I'd get moved away from Nate whether I liked it or not.

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I scanned the area for garbage. But the only I trash I spotted was a bottle cap and a couple of gum wrappers.

"Unless . . ." Nate said.

I looked back at him. "Unless?"

"Unless you, like, got the arsonist on video! No one could argue with proof like that! I have a camcorder you could use. It even works in low light!"

I smiled. Nate was absolutely right. With a digital camcorder, I could prove beyond a doubt that whoever was setting the fires wasn't anyone from Kindle Home. I'd still have to explain how I'd snuck out of the house in order to record the arsonist, but I figured I'd deal with that when the time came. Maybe I could mail a copy of the evidence to the police anonymously.

"I'll do it," Nate said.

"Do what?" I asked, confused.

"Sneak out and try to get the arsonist on video. There's no reason for you to come with me. It's not nearly as big a deal if I get caught."

Now I was more confused than ever. Nate was going to try to catch the arsonist for me? If he did get caught, people would think
he
was the person setting the fires. He might not get sent to Rabbit Island, but it wouldn't be pretty. Why would he risk that for my sake? Why would anyone risk anything for my sake?

"No," I said, firmly.

"But Lucy--"

"Forget it, Nate. This is my responsibility. Besides, you don't have nearly the experience sneaking around that I do. You try to do it by yourself, you'll get caught for sure."

"Well, at least let me come with you."

I thought about that. Truth was, I didn't want to be alone. Even more than that, I was secretly

thrilled at the thought that Nate cared enough to want to help me out.

"Okay," I agreed at last.

"Fantastic!" Nate said. He kept talking, mentioning a place where we could meet and offering different strategies we could use to catch the person setting the fires. I was listening, but I was also thinking two things: This crazy plan of ours just might work. And also, Is this what it means to be in love?

• • •

That night, I waited in bed with the lights out until I finally heard Yolanda snoring. Then I had to wait for the first spot check. The hard part wasn't staying awake--I was too excited to fall asleep. The hard part was not getting bored waiting. They say a watched pot never boils. Well, when you're living in a group home and waiting for the first nightly spot check so you can sneak out of the house and catch the person who's setting the neighborhood cars on fire, that spot check never comes either.

Just before midnight, the door to our bedroom finally creaked open, and Leon stepped inside to make sure Yolanda and I were both in bed.

Once he was gone, I crawled out of bed, being careful not to wake Yolanda. I didn't bother making a dummy of myself out of pillows and extra blankets, like I'd heard of other kids doing when they snuck out at night. I knew that any counselor doing spot checks on this night would make absolutely sure that he or she saw my actual face. And if any of the counselors did find a dummy in my bed, they'd know I'd snuck out for sure. On the other hand, if one of the counselors found my bed empty, that only meant I wasn't in bed. I could still be somewhere else in the house. In other words, they'd have to search for me, and that would buy me precious time I might need in order to sneak back inside the house.

I listened at the door of my bedroom until I was positive Leon was done checking in on the other bedrooms. The counselor on night duty usually spent most of the time down in the kitchen or living room, so once I heard Leon plodding downstairs, I slipped quietly out into the hall. I was still wearing what I always wore to bed--shorts and an oversized T-shirt. That way, if I ran into anyone in the hallway, I wouldn't have to explain my being dressed for outside.

The hall light was on as usual, and I walked casually toward the bathroom, like that's where I was really going. But halfway there, I stopped at the doorway that opened onto a set of very narrow stairs that led up to the attic. The door was locked, but it was old, and I knew I could pick the lock. I had done this earlier in the day to make sure I could.

The instant I touched the doorknob, another bedroom door opened behind me in the hallway.

For a split second, I panicked. What if it was Ben or Gina? How would I explain my being at the door to the attic?

But then I remembered my backup plan, which I immediately put into effect. I turned to the linen closet, which was just across the hall. I pretended to be looking for another blanket.

I peeked around to see who had emerged from the bedroom.

It was Melanie, on her way to the bathroom. Her hair was messed and her eyes were barely open. She'd obviously just woken up.

"'Sup?" I said.

"Hey," she said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

I now had however long it took Melanie to pee to unlock the door to the attic stairs and then get it closed again.

I slipped my plastic library card into the crack between the door and the frame and started working it around, trying to unlatch the lock. Earlier in the afternoon, I'd been able to hear the lock click when it opened.

It didn't click.

I kept poking around with my library card, but it still didn't click.

I heard the toilet flush.

Damn! I thought. What now? Did I head back to my bedroom and risk waking Yolanda up? Ifl turned back toward the linen closet, would Melanie believe that I still hadn't found a blanket?

Suddenly, I remembered: I'd managed to open the door earlier that day, but it had an old-fashioned lock that needed a key to lock again, so I'd had to leave it unlatched.

In other words, the door was still unlocked!

I turned the knob.

Sure enough, it wasn't locked.

I pulled on the door, but it didn't open. Had I been wrong? Had it been locked again somehow?

No. It wasn't locked, but like almost every door in Kindle Home, it had a tendency to stick.

I yanked at the door. Was Melanie the kind of person who always washed her hands after going to the bathroom? I hoped to God she was! To my relief, I heard the quiet splash of water in the bathroom sink.

I gave the attic door one more jerk, and finally, with a quiet pop, it gave way.

I pulled the door the rest of the way open, and quickly stepped inside just as I heard Melanie yank open the door to the bathroom.

At the same time Melanie closed the bathroom door, I eased mine shut too. Then I waited at the bottom of the attic steps, listening as Melanie worked her way down the hall back to her and Joy's bedroom.

Once she was gone, I started up the steps. They hadn't been this dark earlier in the day, but I didn't dare turn on a light. They hadn't squeaked so much either. In the silence of Kindle Home at night, the creaking sounded like the whine of distant sirens.

It was just as dark at the top of the stairs. But it had been easy to maneuver up a narrow stairway without light. The attic, on the other hand, was completely full of clutter--lamps and paintings and boxes and a rocking chair and a bed frame, taken apart and leaned up against one wall. I'd done my best to clear a narrow pathway on my earlier visit, but I hadn't expected it to be this dark. Somehow I had to make it all the way across the room to the window on the far side. And if I accidentally stumbled over anything, or knocked over any of the stacks of cardboard boxes, I might very well wake up whoever was sleeping below me.

I took it very, very slowly. I kept my feet planted firmly on the ground at all times, sliding them like a clumsy ice skater. Yeah, I caught my socks on splinters in the wooden floor. Yeah, I jostled into things. But no, I didn't knock anything over.

When I reached the window, I unlocked it and pushed it open. It didn't set off the burglar alarm, just like I knew it wouldn't. I'd checked out all the windows of the house earlier in the day, and this was the only one that didn't have one of the sensor thingies on it. Burglar-alarm companies never put sensors on third-floor windows. Why would they? No burglar would be able to climb all the way up here. Like I said before, if you're already inside a house, it's usually pretty easy to find a way out again. I wouldn't have been surprised if there was another way out too--from some vent in the basement, maybe.

But now that I had a way out, I had to make sure I had a way to get back inside again when the time came. In the movies, there are always amazingly strong drainpipes or ladderlike trellises running up the sides of houses. In real life, I'd never lived in a house with a drainpipe you could actually climb, or one with any kind of trellis at all, and Kindle Home was no exception. So I pulled out a rope from where I'd hidden it behind some boxes. Then I tied an end firmly around one of the attic center beams and lowered the other end out into the darkness outside the window. If anyone walked around the side of the house, they'd probably spot the rope, even in the dark. But I figured the only way anyone would be walking there at night was if they already had a pretty good idea I was gone.

The only thing left to do now was to put on some heavier clothes and a pair of tennis shoes, which I'd also hidden in that attic earlier in the day. Then I grabbed hold of the rope, tested it, and climbed out of the window. From there, it was easy to lower myself carefully backward down the side of the house all the way to the ground. The wood on the side of the house squeaked too, which surprised me, but then I'd never walked down a house before.

Finally, my feet touched dirt.

I'd done it. I'd made it out of the house without being caught. But, of course, that was just the first little part of a much bigger plan.

• • •

I ran to where I'd arranged to meet Nate, in some bushes at the end of my block.

"You there?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he said, stepping out into view. "I was getting worried."

"Sorry. I told you you might have a wait. They don't exactly do spot checks on a schedule."

"It's okay." Then he kissed me, and it occurred to me that this was the first time we'd ever been alone together outside of detention. It was sort of like the first day out of prison.

He held up something in his hand. "I got the camcorder."

"Great," I said. "Now let's go catch us an arsonist."

• • •

But fifty minutes later, we'd hunted all over the neighborhood and we hadn't caught any arsonists. We hadn't even seen anyone, except lots and lots of police cars. But there was almost no chance of our getting spotted, since the police never got out of their cars and it's really easy to hide from someone who's in a car, even if they're looking for you. We made a point of staying crouched down, usually hiding in yards behind bushes and fences.