Room Service
Page 9
I sit down on the stool, which creaks quietly under my weight.
I can see myself in the gleaming surface of the piano. Big, scared eyes.
The keys are so clean and white that it’s like no one has ever played it before. I gently stroke them, my breath coming in starts.
If I don’t calm down, I’m going to put Linnea in danger. Linnea, who has nothing to do with this, but who has stayed in the lion’s den, for us.
I look up. Kate and Lucas look tense. Linnea is standing a few feet away from them.
Why aren’t they acting normally? You can see from miles away that something is wrong.
I play the first notes. They boom so loudly around the room that I pull my hands away in shock.
It’s as if the entire hotel is filled with my C chord.
The piano in the school music room is a joke compared to this thing. This piano is the real deal.
I look at my friends again. Kate gives me a forceful nod, so I have to go on playing.
I hit the C chord again, but this time I continue.
I play cautiously at first, but my fingers soon get used to the instrument. They become one with the keys, as if they’ve been friends for years.
A song begins to take shape under my fingers.
A song I played before.
For her.
I glance up. The balconies are empty, but I’m sure Claus is up there somewhere. He’ll be waiting for Linnea to come to him. Our sacrifice.
An elderly couple pauses in the lobby, by the piano. They smile at me and nod approvingly. The receptionist even steps out from behind her desk.
It gives me the courage to keep playing.
A group of Japanese tourists stops too, and one of them takes a photograph.
A family with young children lingers at the entrance.
It’s working!
I start singing. Without thinking about it, I sing the song for her. She used to love it. It was her favorite song of mine.
I sing as if my life depends on it. Or actually, Linnea’s.
More people come to stand around the piano.
I sing as if she’s standing behind me again, with her arms around me. Her warm breath on the back of my neck.
There are millions of musicians all over the world, but when I played, she looked at me as if I was the only one who could do this.
As if I was unique.
I play as if she’s here. I have goose bumps on my arms when I start the chorus. The tempo goes up a bit, and my fingers find it tricky to keep up with the rhythm, but I get there.
I play as if she’s lying under me on the bed. We used to spend hours just looking at each other and kissing.
When her dad called us for dinner, we often realized we’d missed lunch.
More people come and stand around me. The lobby is filling up and people are stopping to listen from the balconies too.
I see Kate standing in the audience. Linnea and Lucas have left.
Is this going to work?
Don’t go looking for me.
At that moment, I miss the key and play a wrong note.
He is playing for her.
I feel it as soon as he begins. It’s like a funeral speech, but a musical one.
He wasn’t able to say goodbye to her, so he’s doing it this way instead.
For a moment, I forget everything. I can only look at the boy in front of me.
“Linnea,” hisses Kate. “Go.”
I want to lash out at her, but I swallow the words. This is not the time. When all of this is over, I’m going to confront her about that nickname. Then I’ll tell her that she’s lost me. That I don’t want to be a replacement for Isolde anymore. I want a friend who’s honest, who wants me as I am. Not someone who’s using me to fill a gap.
I look at Fender, who’s still playing. It’s as if he’s somewhere else entirely again, but this time I don’t find it scary at all.
For the first time, I understand what Isolde must have seen in him.
His bun is messy, the sleeves of his denim jacket and shirt are rolled up sloppily, but he looks like an angel anyway.
The way he loved her could almost make you jealous.
I have to find Claus, for him.
Fender is the only one who hasn’t lied to me, who hasn’t used me. All that time he was himself with me: angry and broken.
Lucas nods at me and I leave. I slip through the group of tourists to the stairs.
I know Lucas is close behind me, but I don’t look back. Claus mustn’t suspect anything.
On the second floor, I see a couple by the balustrade, watching Fender. I hear them saying how beautiful the song is.
There’s a family with two young children, a businessman, a member of the hotel staff, and group of girlfriends in their forties.
Fender has half the hotel glued to his playing. A strange sense of pride comes over me.
I glance back. Lucas is hiding behind one of the plants. I can see a bit of his shirt.
He’s not being very subtle.
I peer around the entire second story, but I don’t see Claus anywhere.
Could he be waiting on another floor?
I flash Lucas a quick signal to stay here. I don’t want to run the risk of him being seen.
I take the stairs to the third story, but it’s completely empty. On the top story, there are more people. A little boy of about seven is hanging enthusiastically over the balustrade. His mom is holding him back, clinging to the tip of his hood.
No Claus.
Downstairs, Fender hits a wrong note. I realize that I’m holding my breath, but luckily he recovers quickly.
Where’s Claus? Why isn’t he keeping to the agreement?
I look at the big gold clock above the entrance. It’s five past eight now.
I lean over the balustrade and make eye contact with Lucas. I shake my head and he signals at me to come back.
Maybe this was a test to see if we would do as we were told. Or maybe Claus saw Lucas after all.
What will the next message from Room Service say?
I nod at Lucas and go back to the stairs. Then I walk along to Room 311 and pause for a moment.
As Fender’s music slowly dies away, I look at the gold numbers on the door.
Why did Claus choose that particular room? Sneaking me into a strange room was a huge risk, unless he knew no one was there at that point.
But how could he have known that?
I look at the little peephole in the wood. Every hotel room door has one.
The penny drops.
He could keep an eye on this room because he was in the room opposite!
At that moment, I feel a hand over my mouth and someone roughly pulls me backward.
Give him his due: Fender plays beautifully.
But I’m not going to be distracted.
I can see that he’s following her.
Do they really think they’ll get away with this?
They’re not following the rules of the game.
I go back to my room.
Even in here I can hear the music.
It’s time for a new plan.
If they don’t make a sacrifice, I’ll choose someone myself.
But who?
The music stops.
I walk to the door.
When I open it, to my amazement, I see Linnea standing there.
On her own.
As if she has come to offer herself up.
I grab her and pull her inside.
Finally the endgame has begun.
Let’s see if the new girl is worth saving.
As I walk back to Kate, everyone congratulates me on my playing. There’s applause from the balconies.
�
��Where’s Linnea?” I ask.
“You did brilliantly,” says Kate.
“Where is she?”
Lucas comes to stand with us. “It all went fine, but Claus wasn’t there.”
“Why aren’t you with her?” My eyes flash to the stairs.
“She’s coming,” says Lucas. “Calm down.”
I look up at the balconies, where the audience is slowly drifting away.
There’s no sign of Linnea.
“I played a wrong note,” I say.
Kate shakes her head. “No one noticed.”
“You’re making me nervous,” says Lucas. “Chill a bit.”
I look at the clock above the entrance. Ten past eight. Where is she?
My heart leaps when I see a blonde girl coming downstairs, but it’s not her.
The seconds tick away.
“Let’s go look in our room,” says Kate. “Maybe she went there.”
I was right. She doesn’t like the look of this either. I follow Lucas and Kate.
Linnea must be in the room. She has to be. I bet she’s sitting on the bed, her grin spreading across her face because she’s just outsmarted Claus. She’s probably found out his room number—the right one this time.
Maybe she’s already making a plan to surprise him.
It’s four against one. We have to win.
Kate opens the door. There’s no one on the bed, but in the corner there’s something big covered in a white sheet.
Kate puts her hands over her mouth. Lucas swears.
Linnea! That’s the first thought that shoots through my mind.
I hurry over and take one corner of the sheet between my thumb and index finger. With a feeling of dread, I give it a tug.
But it isn’t Linnea. It’s the bear. Claus has brought it back.
First its paws emerge and then its stomach. Finally I pull the sheet off the head, which leans lopsided against the wall.
Then I’m startled as something black rises to the ceiling—a helium balloon tied to the bear’s paw.
And that’s when I see the damage. There are rips in the bear’s head. Its white stuffing is bulging out. The biggest tear runs the entire width of its forehead.
It’s lost an eye.
There’s a card attached to the balloon, and I recognize Claus’s handwriting.
An eye for an eye.
“No…” Kate’s breath catches in her throat.
“Why?!” Lucas says, pounding the wall with his fist.
I look at the bear again, which looks back with one eye.
Claus has wounded the bear in exactly the same way she was injured last year.
An eye for an eye.
Claus has Linnea.
Too bad about the cute stuffed bear, though.
Where am I?
I feel nauseous.
There’s a stabbing pain in my head.
I reach up to touch it.
Bad idea.
I groan.
“You were out of it for a while there. I even had time to run a little errand while you were asleep.”
I recognize that voice, but who is it again?
“Here, drink up.”
I feel a glass with something cold in it on my lips.
Don’t drink it.
But I drink it anyway.
It’s hard to swallow.
My head is pounding.
I try to open my eyes, but the light hurts.
Where am I?
“There, that’s better.” That voice again. “Take your time.”
The name surfaces from somewhere inside my memory.
“Claus…”
“You got it,” he says.
I remember the hand on my mouth and being pulled backward. I was out in the hallway when it happened.
Slowly I open my eyes wider, and the room starts to come into focus. And then I see Claus’s face, less than two feet away from mine. There’s a faint smile on his lips.
I have to get away. Now.
Why won’t my arms work?
“Sorry.” Claus nods at the headboard. “I had to take precautions.”
I follow his gaze and see two ropes around my wrists. He’s tied me up.
“I’d rather not, but it’s for your own safety.”
Panic overwhelms me. I start tugging like crazy on the ropes. They cut painfully into my wrists.
“Hey, hey, calm down.” Claus tries to soothe me. “There’s no point in struggling. You’ll just hurt yourself.”
My eyes shoot around the room. There are papers and envelopes all over—and a stack of those silver domes. There’s some kind of plan hanging on the wall, but I can’t make out what the writing says. Photos of Kate, Fender, and Lucas.
Claus really is Room Service. The evidence floods over me.
He seemed so nice, so decent. How can he have played a double role without me suspecting anything?
This is like the lair of a serial killer.
Is he actually going to murder me?
I think about the glass of water.
Why did I drink it?
I tug the ropes again.
“Hey, no.” Claus puts a hand on my forehead and gently pushes me back onto the mattress. Under his hand I feel a blazing pain.
“You’re bleeding,” he says. “You have a head wound.”
A head wound? So that’s where the pain is coming from. What did he do to me?!
“Help!” My voice rasps and I cough. I have to shout louder. So loudly that the whole hotel can hear me.
I take a deep breath to try again, but then I feel Claus’s hand on my mouth.
“Don’t you dare.” Claus’s voice suddenly doesn’t sound calm or friendly anymore. “If you scream, I’ll have to hurt you again. And I don’t want to do that.”
I stare into his crazy eyes. Isolde must have been so afraid of him.
“So you’ll keep your mouth shut?” he asks.
I can hardly even nod.
Claus slowly takes his hand away. “Great. Then we can finally talk.”
Kate isn’t speaking. She’s lying on our bed, facing away from me. I know she’s crying, but I don’t have the energy to comfort her.
Lucas is slumped, defeated, in one of the chairs, staring into space.
We left the bear in the room next door, but it still feels like it’s here in front of me. The image is burnt into my memory.
An eye for an eye.
“Why did you leave her on her own?”
Lucas looks up. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop blaming me. It’s ridiculous.”
“Really?” I arrange the messages from Room Service on the bed.
I keep rereading them, but I don’t see any clues. Linnea could be anywhere.
“She trusted you. You said you’d protect her, and now she’s gone. That creep took her.”
“She wanted to do it on her own,” Lucas says defensively. “You know how stubborn she is.”
I think about it. Why didn’t Linnea scream when Claus took her? There are hundreds of people in this hotel. Someone would have helped her.
Was she distracted?
I think about the moment when Linnea came back in from the courtyard. She was different, was acting strangely.
“She wasn’t herself,” I say. “What happened between the two of you outside?”
Lucas’s face clouds over. “Here we go.”
“Just tell me!”
“We kissed. That’s all.”
Kissed? Lucas? And Linnea? I try to picture it, but I can’t.
“You don’t need to look so surprised. I like her.”
I can’t help but burst out laughing. “You?”
“Yes, me. What’s wrong with that? She’s nice. I know you can’t stand her, but…”
No one hates something for no reason.
Except you hating me, right?
“That’s not true,” I say quickly.
“Yes, it is, and she feels the same way about you.”
“Did she tell you that?”
Lucas nods. “Just this afternoon.”
I’m shocked, but I don’t really know why. It’s not news that Linnea and I don’t like each other, is it?
“She asked about Isolde too.”
I look up in surprise. “What did you say?”
“That you two were the perfect couple, that she was really chaotic and a bit of a worrier. That was about it.”
Spinner’s got this.
“Did you mention her nickname?”
Lucas nods. “Is that not allowed or something?”
“But why did Linnea call herself Spinner?” As soon as I say the words, it hits.
Kate sits up. The last of her mascara has left a light-gray trail on her cheeks.
“Did you call Linnea that?” I ask, feeling bewildered.
Kate shakes her head, but her cheeks say something different.
“That nickname was hers.” I stand up. “Is Linnea a replacement?”
I try to process it, but this is so…sick. I remember Kate’s smile on the very first day of school this year. Was Linnea allowed to join our gang because she and Isolde looked like each other?
Then something occurs to me.
“Did you tell her to wear her hair in a braid too?”
There’s silence. So it wasn’t a coincidence that they both had braids. Linnea doesn’t really look like her. Kate just made her that way.
I try to imagine how it must have felt for Linnea when Lucas told her about the nickname Spinner. It’s hardly surprising that she wasn’t herself. I’d lose it too if I found out I was a substitute for a dead friend.
“Y-you have gone completely insane,” I stammer.
“What do you care?” says Kate. “You hate Linnea anyway!”
Lucas and Kate are right. I did hate her.
But something’s changed. Maybe it happened when she fainted in my arms or when she lashed out at me.