Behind the Bookcase Page 5

Sarah did as she was told.

  The inside of the hole was as smooth as it was dark. They moved quickly and soon lost even the feeble light from Scotopia behind them. Sarah felt the tunnel angling upward, and then she saw faint yellow light ahead of them.

  “That’s it,” she said. “That must be my room.”

  Balthazat continued climbing until they came to a wooden ledge. Sarah lifted Balthazat onto the floor beyond the ledge, then hoisted herself up. Sure enough, they were inside the secret room behind the bookcase. Sarah was greatly relieved. Balthazat, on the other hand, was so excited he darted right past the bookcase into her room without her. Sarah followed him quickly.

  When she saw her room again, there was something strange about it, as strange as the Forest of Shadows had appeared to her when she’d first seen it. She looked around, trying to find anything familiar, but it all seemed different.

  “I can’t very well do this myself,” Balthazat said, and Sarah saw that he was standing with his front paws on the middle shelf of the bookcase. She giggled, then used her feet to push the bookcase back into the wall. When she was sure it was all the way in, she got up and checked the edges with her fingers. Satisfied, she took off her slippers and flopped onto her bed. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until now. “You can’t go to sleep yet,” Balthazat whispered. “You need to open the window so I can get into the bushes in the morning and you can ‘find’ me.”

  Sarah gasped. “Oh, no!” she said.

  “What is it now?” Balthazat asked.

  “We’re on the second floor.”

  Balthazat sighed. “Let’s have a look.”

  Sarah unlatched the window over her bed and pushed it up. She and Balthazat peered into the darkness. The ground was too far away, she was sure.

  “Oh,” Balthazat said. “That’s nothing.”

  “Really?”

  “Not for the King of the Cats,” he said, and sprang out. Sarah couldn’t help letting out a little squeak of fear as she watched Balthazat sail through the dark, but he landed on the ground on all fours. He turned around, flicked his tail twice, then said, “See you in the morning,” and darted into the bushes.

  Her mouth still open in surprise, Sarah pulled her head back in, then closed the window and dropped her head to her pillow.

  Before she knew it, she was asleep.

  Sarah was in court, standing in front of a desk behind which was a huge four-armed man in a black robe and one of those white wigs that looked like carpet. “Guilty!” he shouted, and banged his gavel down on the desk. Sarah shook her head, confused. She didn’t understand how she had gotten here, let alone what she was guilty of.

  “But—” she said, and the judge cut her off by banging the gavel down again.

  “Guilty!”

  Sarah turned around, hoping to find someone who could help her. She was happy to see her parents and Billy sitting on a long bench. They were dressed in black clothes, as if they were going to a funeral. Her mother even had on one of those hats with a net that covered the face.

  “Mom?” Sarah said.

  When her mother tried to say something, the judge banged his gavel down a third time and shouted, “Guilty!”

  Sarah faced him, frustrated and angry. “Stop banging that thing!” she yelled.

  But the judge didn’t stop. Instead, he banged the gavel down again and again and again.

  Sarah reached up to plug her ears with both hands and nearly fell out of bed.

  She wasn’t in court at all; it had just been a dream. But where was she? One thing she knew for certain: she wasn’t in her bedroom. If she had been, she would have been looking at the horse posters she had on the ceiling over her bed. But the ceiling here was white and full of cracks.

  All at once she remembered she was in Grandma Winnie’s house. And then the rest of it came to her: the trip to Scotopia, bringing Balthazat back, watching him hop out the window. Had that all been a dream, too, she wondered? But before she could answer her own question, the banging came again, louder than ever. It seemed to be coming from downstairs.

  She looked at the clock. It was exactly 3:00 a.m. What could Mom and Dad be doing at this hour?

  Throwing the covers back, Sarah got out of bed, turned on the light, and hurried to the door. She opened it a crack and peered into the hallway. She was glad to see that Billy’s door was closed. He could sleep through anything, and she didn’t feel like dealing with him right now.

  “I’m telling you it’s not the pipes,” she heard her father say, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s someone at the door.”

  “At this hour?” her mom replied. “They’ll wake the children.”

  “I know,” Dad said.

  Too afraid to go back to bed, Sarah ran down the stairs as fast as she could. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Mom and Dad looked at her. “Go back to bed,” her mom said.

  The banging sounded again, and this time they all faced the front door together.

  Dad tied his robe closed angrily and stomped to the door. He tried to find the peephole, then realized there wasn’t one. With a sigh, he tried to open the door, but it was locked. Sarah could tell that he was ready to let whoever was out there really have what he called a piece of his mind. This meant it was very likely Dad would be yelling soon.

  The banging sounded again and Dad finally got the lock open and flung the door wide. Whatever he was going to say never made it past his lips.

  There was no one there.

  Dad looked at Mom and Sarah, his “I’m going to give you a piece of my mind” face completely gone. Then he turned toward the empty doorway again and pushed the squeaking screen open. He stepped out and looked around, but there was no one in sight.

  “No one,” Dad said.

  Mom moved forward to see for herself. “Well,” she said. “Maybe it was the pipes after all.”

  Dad grunted in agreement and closed the door. They started back to their room and Sarah said, “Wait.”

  “What is it, sweetie?” Dad asked.

  Sarah was about to ask if she could sleep in their bed with them, but she suddenly realized she was only doing it out of habit. To her surprise, she wasn’t really as afraid as she thought she ought to be. She saw her parents staring at her, waiting. “Good night,” she said.

  Mom and Dad traded glances.

  “You okay to go back up by yourself?” Dad asked.

  Sarah nodded and smiled. She really was okay to go back upstairs by herself. Maybe Dad was right after all. She had faced some pretty big fears on her trip to Scotopia and she wasn’t nearly as afraid as she used to be.

  “All right, then. Let’s see you do it.”

  Sarah found the light switch and turned it on, then went upstairs without looking back.

  As she headed toward her room, she glanced down the hall and was surprised to see Billy’s door open and the light on. She walked over and looked in, but he wasn’t in bed. Two worries flashed through her mind: first, that he was playing a practical joke and would jump out from some hiding place to scare the pajamas off her; second (and far worse), that he knew about the secret passage behind the bookcase in the yellow room and had gone through on his own.

  As quickly as she could, Sarah turned on her heels and rushed to her room. She saw that the bookcase was still pushed into the wall. Billy was there, sitting on the floor, a big red book in his lap. But his chin was on his chest. He was asleep.

  Sarah approached him and bent down to shake his shoulder gently. “Billy,” she said. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I heard someone knocking,” he said.

  “That was downstairs.”

  “No,” he insisted. “It was in here. They were pounding this book on the floor.”

  Sarah frowned. “You were just dreaming,” she said, and tried to take the book from his lap, but he held on to it with an iron grip.

  “No,” he said. “I want to keep it.”

  Anxious to get him out of her room
as soon as possible, Sarah said, “Fine,” and then got him to his feet and through the door. “Now go back to bed.”

  He waved at nothing and kept walking. Sarah waited until he was through the door of his room; then she climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head.

  When Sarah woke, she jumped to her hands and knees, unlatched the window, and flung it open, peering outside. “Balthazat?” she called in as loud a whisper as she dared.

  For a long moment, she heard only suburban silence: a car passing on the street, a dog barking, some kids yelling.

  “Balthazat?” she called again, less certain this time. But then she saw him in the bushes below, looking up at her. He meowed loudly, and she got out of bed, put on her slippers, and ran downstairs.

  As she streaked through the kitchen to the back door, Dad lowered his paper and said, “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

  “Outside.”

  “Not while you’re still in your pajamas.”

  “But Dad, I think I heard a cat out there. He sounded like he was in trouble.”

  Dad looked out the window into the backyard. “All right,” he said. “But let me come with you.”

  “No,” Sarah said. “I can do it.”

  “I know you can. With my help.” Dad folded his paper and put it down. He took one more sip of coffee, then got to his feet and went outside with her.

  Sarah hurried down the steps onto the grass and turned left. She stopped at the bushes in front of the fence and kissed the air as loudly as she could. “Here, kitty, kitty!” she called.

  Balthazat answered with a loud meow and Dad stepped forward quickly. “Wait a second,” he said as he pushed the bushes apart. “Let me pick it up. We don’t know how friendly it is, and I don’t want you to get scratched.” He reached down carefully and grabbed Balthazat by the scruff of his neck. The cat froze so stiffly, Sarah thought he looked like a stuffed toy. Once Dad had Balthazat out of the bushes, he set him on the porch and patted his head. “I wonder who he belongs to.”

  “He doesn’t have a collar,” Sarah said, as if she had just noticed this. “So he must not belong to anybody.”

  “That’s not necessarily true,” Dad said. “Lots of people don’t put collars on their cats.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cats like to explore bushes and small places. The collar might get caught on something and the cat could be stuck.”

  “Do you think he belonged to Grandma?”

  Dad shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Can we keep him?”

  “No, honey. We have to find out if he belongs to someone.”

  “How?”

  “After breakfast, we’ll go around the neighborhood and ask people if they’ve seen him before. If nobody has, then we’ll have to take him to the pound.”

  “No, Dad!” Sarah said. “We can’t do that. We have to keep him!”

  Dad sighed. “I guess we can see what your mother says.”

  “Deal,” Sarah said, and smiled at Balthazat. “Shouldn’t we feed him now? Maybe he’s hungry.”

  Dad nodded. “I suppose. I think I saw a can of tuna in a cupboard somewhere.”

  Dad opened the back door and Balthazat shot through, into the kitchen. He stopped in the middle of the room, sat down, and began meowing loudly. Sarah and Dad both laughed. Moments later, Mom and Billy came downstairs.

  “Do I hear a cat?” Mom asked.

  Dad nodded. “Sarah found him outside.”

  “Can’t we keep him, Mom?” Sarah asked. “Please?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Just while we’re here.”

  Mom and Dad exchanged knowing glances. Perhaps they knew that when it was time to go back to California, Sarah would no doubt beg for the cat to come with them.

  “I guess,” Mom said.

  Dad explained how they planned to ask around the neighborhood first, to see if the cat belonged to anyone. Mom agreed that was a good idea.

  Billy came over and knelt down next to Sarah. “What’s his name?” he asked.

  “Balthazat,” Sarah said without thinking. Balthazat looked at her and his eyes went wide.

  Mom and Dad both laughed. “Baltha-who?” Dad asked.

  “Balthazat,” Sarah said again, quickly trying to think of an explanation for how she had picked such a strange name. “That’s the name of a cat in a book I’m reading right now.”

  “Oh,” they said, and Balthazat looked at her. She was sure he was smiling.

  After breakfast, they did as Dad wanted and put Balthazat into a box to take him around the neighborhood. It was a complete waste of time, of course. Nobody was missing a cat, and nobody had seen Balthazat before.

  “All right,” Dad said after they had knocked on every door in a three-block radius. He looked at Sarah. “Looks like Balthazat has found a new home.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Sarah said, and gave him the biggest hug she could.

  “Okay,” he said. “You’re welcome. But remember, you’re responsible for him. Understand? Don’t let him tear up any of Grandma’s furniture before we can sell it.”

  Sarah nodded. “I think he’ll be good.”

  “Oh?” Dad said. “Did I ever tell you about my cat, Lola?”

  “Only about a hundred times,” Sarah said.

  “Then this will make a hundred and one,” he said, and started telling Sarah the story of Lola, the cat he and Mom had had before Sarah and Billy were born, and how she used to rip up their curtains and furniture. In spite of how many times Sarah had heard the story, she laughed at the way her dad told it.

  When they got home, Dad told Mom they needed to put cat food on the grocery list.

  Sarah thanked them both again, then took Balthazat up to her room and closed the door. She could hardly wait to have a real conversation with him. Apparently, he felt the same way, because as soon as the latch clicked shut he said, “Well, that was humiliating.”

  “I’m sorry, Balthazat,” Sarah said, dropping onto her bed. “I had no idea it would all be so complicated. But it’s over now.”

  “Good,” he said, jumping up next to her. “Now we can get down to business.”

  “What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

  Balthazat stepped closer to her, lowering his voice to a purring whisper. “What do you say we take a little trip?”

  Sarah sat up straight. “You mean back to Scotopia?”

  “No, no, no,” Balthazat said. “To Penumbra. I’ve heard it’s much more exciting than Scotopia.”

  “Really?” Sarah asked.

  Balthazat nodded.

  Sarah’s shoulders sagged. “I’d love to,” she said glumly. “But I don’t think we can.”

  “Why not?” Balthazat asked, his tail getting bushy.

  “For one thing, the door is locked.”

  “So we find the key.”

  Sarah hesitated. “That’s not the only reason …,” she said.

  “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts again.”

  “I don’t know,” Sarah sighed. “I had a weird dream last night. It made me think about what you said. About how we weren’t supposed to be going through to these places.”

  Balthazat stared at her for a long moment. Then he slowly shook his head and said, “I’m afraid I’ve had the wrong idea about you. After what we went through to escape the sentinel and then what we went through this morning, I thought you were a brave and clever girl.”

  Sarah bristled. “I am,” she said.

  “Not if you’re going to let a little thing like this stand in your way. After all, you’ve already been through one door. I hardly see how going through another can be any worse.”

  Sarah thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “I suppose we could try to find the key,” she said.

  Balthazat nodded slowly. “Now you’re talking,” he purred. “Where should we start?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Grandma’s desk, I guess. I need to pack
it up anyway. Plus, when the boxes are full, that will give us an excuse to go down to the basement.”

  “Excellent thinking,” Balthazat said, and together they went to the desk and started their search.

  Two hours later, Sarah had been through every drawer, every cubbyhole, every envelope, every metal box bound with rubber bands, every jar—all to no avail. She had filled three boxes with the contents of the desk but had not found the key.

  Sarah was about to tell Balthazat she was ready to give up when the door flew open and Billy ran in. “Look what I found,” he said. “It’s the key to that door in the basement, I just know it.” He held up his hand and when Sarah saw the key, she jumped to her feet and ran over to him.

  “Let me see that,” she said, and grabbed it from him.

  “Hey!” Billy shouted. “Give it back. It’s mine! I found it.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “None of your business.” Billy jumped up to grab the key from Sarah’s hand, but she held it out of his reach.

  “Hold on a second,” she said. “I just want to look at it.”

  Billy glared at Sarah and then suddenly turned and ran from the room. Glad to be rid of him, Sarah whirled around and bent down so Balthazat could see the key, too.

  “What do you think?” he whispered.

  Sarah nodded. It sure looked like it belonged to the lock in the basement. It was big and ornately carved with fine dark lines that looked almost like Egyptian hieroglyphs or Celtic runes. “Only one way to find out,” she said.

  When she stood up and turned around, Dad was standing in the doorway, his hand held in front of him, palm up.

  Behind him stood Billy, arms folded across his chest, a satisfied smirk on his face. Sarah had never felt quite as angry as she did at that moment. She didn’t know what to do, so she decided to play dumb.

  “What?”

  “You know exactly what!” Billy shouted. “Give me back my key.”

  Dad turned to Billy. “It’s not your key, Billy. At least, not yet. If it fits that lock downstairs, I’ll need to keep it. If it doesn’t, then you can have it.” Dad faced Sarah again. “So?”