Instead, she heard the metallic ting as someone’s hands clutched the door to the dumbwaiter.
As the door flew open, both she and Sid screamed.
A woman wearing a gray cleaning uniform lurched back, her own scream erupting from her thin lips. She clutched her chest, her head shaking from side to side and sending her gray hair flopping back and forth on her head.
“What are you kids doing in there?” She fumed. “Get out this instant. Good Lord, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Damn kids,” she continued, still wide eyed.
“It’s not them?” Sid whispered.
“No, no, a cleaning lady.”
Ashley climbed out and tugged Sid’s hand to follow. He half fell out of the dumbwaiter, struggling as Ashley tried to keep him from tottering over completely.
The cleaning lady glared at them furiously.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Sid said, squinting at the woman.
“Yeah, sorry,” Ashley offered, pulling Sid down the hall.
They took the stairs slowly, stopping often to listen for any sound of the Thrashers. When they reached the laundromat, the coast was clear.
Outside Sid’s glasses had been crushed into a dozen pieces.
“My mom’s going to kill me,” he grumbled, as Ashley placed the pieces in his hands so he could feel the damage for himself.
“Yeah,” Ashley agreed. “But better they destroyed your glasses than your face.”
“It’d probably be an improvement,” Sid grumbled.
Ash elbowed him.
“Oh, come off it, Sid Putnam. I’ll pity you for your glasses, but that’s where it ends. There’s nothing wrong with your face.”
“Except it’s attached to my body.” He waved at his thick middle.
Ashley never knew how to respond when Sid went down the long winding road of ‘I’m fat.’
“Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I think I’ll go eat worms,” she started singing.
Sid stuck his tongue out at her and then picked up the second verse.
“Big fat juicy ones. Eensie weensy squeensy ones. See how they wiggle and squirm!”
They sang the song together as they walked the last few blocks to Sid’s house.
“MY MOM’S RUNNING ERRANDS,” he said, relieved when he stepped out of his house wearing an old pair of spectacles. “And look what she got!”
He held up a box of Spokey Dokeys. “Glow in the dark,” he added.
“Cool,” Ash said, following Sid as he pushed his bike out of the garage.
He sat down and started trying to attach the little plastic beads to his spokes.
Ashley walked to the side of the house and gazed into the woods. If only they’d picked up what Travis had said to his friends. Clearly, he’d whispered the location of Warren’s hideout. She tried to imagine where someone like Warren would disappear to, where any kid in Roscommon would.
She wandered back to Sid, watching absently as he fumbled with the beads. He squinted through his glasses and bit his lower lip as he worked. His face reminded her of similar expressions from several days before. He’d been prising at a board, a grim look of determination in his eyes.
“The Crawford House,” Ash blurted, startling Sid as he attempted for the third time to attach a neon green Spokey Dokey to the spokes of his Huffy bicycle. The plastic bead bounced on the pavement and disappeared into the grass.
His old glasses, with duct tape on the bridge, slid down his nose.
“Gosh damn-it,” he fumed, kicking the plastic package and sending the rest of the spoke beads flying. His mouth fell as he watched the beads disappear, and he bit his bottom lip. Ashley saw tears sparkling in his eyes, and she grabbed his shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay. Here.” Ashley bent and scooped up a handful of the scattered spokeys. She knelt down and quickly attached five to his spokes.
Sid sat heavily on the curb, picking up the remainder of the beads and dropping them into the plastic package with a frustrated plunk.
“What about The Crawford House?” he asked finally.
“Someone could hide there. Live there even.”
Sid wrinkled his nose. “If they want to die from the plague.”
“You don’t get plagues from dingy houses, stupid,” Ashley told him, rolling her eyes.
“I don’t follow, Ash.”
“If Warren’s the boy in the woods, he might be hiding out at The Crawford House? It would be the perfect place.”
Sid shuddered. As if to do something ordinary, he took off his glasses and picked at a little smudge on one lens. “In an old funeral home?” Sid asked, shaking his head.
“I bet you anything that’s what Travis was talking about,” she continued.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“Have any better ideas?”
She watched Sid’s forehead crease, and he stared at the line of cracks in the pavement beneath him.
“Maybe we dreamed it. Maybe there is no boy in the woods or Warren or whatever it is.”
“Come on,” Ashley hollered.
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “We didn’t dream it. But what’s he up to then? Stalking other kids from Winterberry? Was he trying to kill us?”
“I don’t know, but… I think he got Simon and the other kid too, Vern,” Ashley said, remembering again the image of Simon’s lifeless body as they carried him from the woods.
15
“Listen,” Max announced. “Quiet, hush. You’re mine for five more minutes, so hush up.”
The din in the room quieted except for Ashley and Sid. Max gave them a pointed look, and they both clamped their mouths shut.
“I don’t want to alarm any of you, but I’m sure you realize multiple kids have gone missing over the last six months,” Max started. “And what happened to Simon Frank is just, well, it’s a terrible tragedy.”
“Who else?” one girl piped up.
“Vern Ripley, dummy,” a boy across the room shouted. “He’s been gone for like six months!”
“He went to live with his dad,” another boy stated matter of factly. “His stepdad’s a total prick.”
“No, he didn’t,” another girl argued. “I live next door to his mom. She said his dad is working on the pipeline in Alaska. No one knows what happened to him.”
“Okay, hold on,” Max said, trying to talk over the voices.
“My brother said Warren probably got eaten by the same bear as Simon. Last year we saw three black bears in the woods.”
“Black bears don’t eat people, dummy,” yet another boy chimed in.
“I saw Warren like two days ago,” another boy said. “He’s not missing!”
“Quiet,” Max yelled, finally silencing the group once more. “Warren’s parents have reported him missing. Vern Ripley’s parents have reported him missing, and Simon Frank’s parents had reported him missing. I don’t know what happened to these kids, and I don’t know if any of them are connected.”
“What do you mean, connected?” Jessica Blanchard, a straight A student who also played several sports and was president of the debate club, asked.
“He means a kid killer,” Travis Barron hissed, smiling cruelly at Sid and Ashley, who looked quickly away from him.
Max stared at the kid, unnerved by his tone, but then continued. “I am saying be careful this summer. When you go out to play, go together. Don’t let your friends walk home alone, especially at night.”
“Like the buddy system?” another girl asked.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Forget buddies, carry a knife,” Travis said, patting his side pocket and offering the other students another cold smile.
“That’s a good way to get hurt,” Max told him. “Just be on the lookout,” Max finished. “And tell your parents what’s going on. They need to be aware. We all need to be more aware.”