Melanie was scrolling through her phone contacts. She stopped on one name, dialed. “Jen? I need you to run to the Clock Island books on the shelf, see if we have number thirty-two.”
Lucy’s call went to voice mail. It took all of her willpower not to bean Jack with her phone. She could feel Hugo’s eyes on her. Lucy called again, betting that Mrs. Bailey was probably just in the next room with the twins. With every ring, precious seconds were draining away. When it went to voice mail again, she simply redialed. Someone had to hear her calling over and over in that house. Where was Mr. Bailey? Even though she knew Christopher wouldn’t pick up, there was still a chance he would see she was calling if the phone was sitting out on the counter.
If you’re there, Christopher, get Mrs. Bailey to answer her damn phone, she said in her mind like a prayer. It’s your mother calling.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
In his bedroom, Christopher was packing his clothes into his bag. It was a nice bag. Mrs. Bailey had gone to the Goodwill that day and bought him his own suitcase. He’d never had a suitcase of his own, and this was a really cool one. It was blue and red with a rocket ship with the words Blast off! on it in big letters made of smoke. It had some scuffs and scrapes, but otherwise it was nice and looked almost new after Mrs. Bailey wiped it off with Windex and some paper towels. Better than the last time he moved when all his stuff had to go into a garbage bag. His books that Lucy had given him would go into a cardboard box Mrs. Bailey promised to find for him. Maybe he should ask her about that. He couldn’t leave his books behind, but she had taken the babies for a walk around the block, and Mr. Bailey was asleep in their bedroom and wouldn’t get up until it was time to start his night job.
Christopher remembered that sometimes there were cardboard boxes by the back door set aside for recycling. He’d feel better once his Clock Island books were packed up and ready to go with him. Mrs. Bailey had told him his new foster family, Jim and Susan Mattingly, were a really nice couple with two kids in college, and they’d decided they weren’t ready for an “empty nest.” He thought that meant they kept pet birds, but Mrs. Bailey explained that just meant their kids were growing up and leaving home.
He found the recycling area in the kitchen, but it looked like the boxes in it this week were all too small.
Maybe he’d better wait for Mrs. Bailey to come back inside to help him find a box. Until then, he’d open the fridge to look for a Capri Sun. They didn’t have them all the time because Mrs. Bailey said they were expensive, but because he was leaving this week, she’d bought a bunch for him.
As he drank his fruit punch Capri Sun—his favorite because it was the sweetest one, and it always turned his tongue red—he thought about his plan. He was going to be really good at the Mattinglys’ house and make them see how smart he was and how well he could read. After a day or two, he’d tell them about Lucy, and if they were as nice as he hoped, then they would let Lucy move in with them too. She could be his mom and they could be his grandparents, and everybody would be happy. He didn’t remember much about his grandparents—they’d died even before his parents did—but he did remember his grandpa being funny and laughing loud and giving him great big hugs and throwing him in the air and catching him. Life would be great with a mom and a grandpa.
It would be really great. It would be the best. And Mrs. Bailey said the Mattinglys were “supernice.” He liked the sound of “supernice.” But if he liked the sound of “supernice” so much, why was he crying so hard?
The phone began buzzing in the hallway. Christopher sniffed and sat up. He got out of the chair and went to check it, since Mrs. Bailey was still out with the babies. She’d told him to let her know if the Mattinglys called.
He stood in front of the table where it was plugged into the charger. The screen flashed a name.
Lucy Hart.
Christopher wiped his face as if she could see through the phone that he’d been crying. Lucy was calling. If he answered the phone, he could talk to her. He wanted to talk to her so badly it hurt. Nobody was as nice as Lucy. She’s the one he wanted to live with, not these other people. She was the one who read to him. She was the one who bought him all those cool sharks. She’s the one who he wanted to tell his good news to—that he was so good at reading he was getting worksheets from a fourth-grade book, that he scored six points in basketball at recess yesterday, that Emma, the most popular girl in his class, had wanted to partner with him in the math quiz today because she wanted to know all about Lucy and how she’d gone to Clock Island.
Even if the Mattinglys were supernice, even if they lived in a castle, even if they lived on a boat or even Clock Island, he didn’t want to live with them. He wanted to live with Lucy in their two-bedroom apartment with sharks painted on the walls.
Because he knew that if Lucy promised to paint sharks on his walls, she would paint sharks on his walls.
Christopher reached out to pick up the phone, but at the last second before he touched it, Lucy’s name disappeared. The buzzing stopped.
He gave a little cry. Maybe Mrs. Bailey could call her back for him?
The phone lit up and started dancing on the table again.
Lucy Hart.
If he answered the call, he could hear her voice. He could tell her about his plan. He could ask to say hi to Master Mastermind. He could ask about the contest.
What if she won? Maybe that’s why she was calling?
Christopher wished the phone wouldn’t buzz like that—like a snake or a bee. Why hadn’t Mrs. Bailey set it to ring like a song? But he wasn’t going to be afraid.
“The only wishes ever granted,” Christopher whispered to himself, “are the wishes of brave children…”
He knew how to be brave. He knew how to do it, but he didn’t know if he could do it.
But the Mastermind had told him he could do it. And Christopher had promised he would try.
His hands were shaking. His heart was racing. The phone kept ringing.
But he was brave, he told himself.
The Mastermind himself said he was brave. Lucy said he was brave.
So he was going to be brave.
* * *
—
Lucy gasped at the sound of Christopher’s voice as he said hello. “Christopher? Is that you?” Tears streamed down her face. “I can’t believe you answered the phone.”
“I saw it was you, Lucy! I wanted to talk to you! That Mastermind taught me not to be afraid of the phone!”
“Sweetheart, I’m so proud of you. I’ve never been so proud—”
According to the timer Ms. Hyde was rapping her fingernails on, over three minutes had already slipped away. Tick-tock.
“Christopher, Christopher,” Lucy said. Her hands were shaking. “Listen. Could you do me a huge, huge favor? If you’re at home, could you run back to your room and get The Secret of Clock Island off your shelf, okay? We’re playing a game, and I need to know what’s written on page 129. Okay? Can you do that? Can you? Good. Just don’t hang up.”