The Unofficial Zack Warren Fan Club

by J. C. Isabella

  This was exactly the type of thing a boy would do, lock the stepsister he hated in an attic and try to scare the crap out of her.

  Of course, he’d declared his un-hatred for me, kissed me, and carried me to bed.

  So I was out of reason why he would do this exactly.

  “Zack?” no answer. Come to think of it, he’d never played jokes on me before. Why would he start now?

  I grasped the knob with two hands. Twisting, jerking, I wrenched it with every ounce of strength in me.

  It was stuck.

  “Stay calm.” I said, trying to slow my racing heart. It was an old house, and stuff broke all the time in old houses. It was so not haunted.

  I heard footsteps outside in the hallway.

  “Zack is that you?”

  He barked.

  “Kirk!”

  He barked again.

  “Go get Zack. Be a good bloodhound and sniff him out.” I leaned back against the door. “Ugh, why couldn’t you be Lassie?”

  The minutes dragged on slowly. I closed my eyes wondering how long I would be stuck in the attic. The storm raged on, thunder rattled the widows, making the whole house vibrate. Kirk was still sniffing the door, and I heard him plop down on the other side of it.

  He knew I was in trouble.

  Unfortunately, he was the kind of dog that needed an incentive to help.

  Lighting flashed and the house rattled some more.

  The lights flickered.

  Oh, no.

  Panic clawed at my insides, I spun around and tried to kick the door.

  Nothing happened.

  There wasn’t a ghost. But the lights were threatening to go out. I’d be stuck in a dark attic, alone.

  “Help!” I screamed with everything I had, not playing around.

  “Chloe?” the sound of Zack’s sleepy voice was music to my ears.

  “In the attic.”

  He laughed. “Maybe I’ll let you hang there for a while.”

  “It’s not funny.” I snapped. Maybe he was mean enough to lock me in here…nah. “Please! It’s locked, or stuck. I’m not sure.”

  He shook the handle. “Is there a key?”

  “No, not in here.” I rested my forehead against the door and groaned. “All I did was close the door. It was closed before I came in here. How come it won’t open now?”

  “No clue.” He twisted the handle again. The knob moved, but it still wouldn’t open. “This looks old though, like it might be original to the house. Could be a mechanism broke…I don’t know.”

  “So what should we do?”

  “I was going to suggest removing the hinges. Do you see anything to help you do that?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Next idea.”

  “I guess I could kick it down.”

  “You can’t kick down the door!”

  “Sure I can.” He sounded so calm, as if door kicking was all in a days work.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t believe you. Flipping around in the street is one thing, but this is different.”

  “I could make toothpicks out of it.”

  “Then my mom would freak out.”

  “Nah, it’ll be fine.”

  But it wasn’t fine. At my instance, Zack took a screwdriver to the doorknob, and then tried to wedge something under it to pry it off. That only chipped the white paint.

  “Never go into business as a handyman.” I mumbled from my position on the floor. I knew it was going to be a while, so I might as well get comfortable.

  “My last option still stands.”

  I laughed. “Right, go ahead, kick down the door.”

  “Okay.”

  “No!” I jumped to my feet.

  “Then I guess you get to stay in there. I’ll be in bed, yell if you need me,” his voice sounded far away.

  “You’re leaving me to rot in the attic?”

  And then the lights went out, so I did what anyone else would do.

  I screamed.

  Screw looking like a weakling, no way in hell was he leaving me.

  “Cool it Baker.” He shouted. “You squeal like a girl.”

  “Earlier today you had your tongue shoved down my throat. I doubt you would have been so keen on kissing me if I had been anything but female!” I paced the room, resigning myself to the inevitable. He was going to taunt me, then leave me.

  “Oh, so you want to talk about that?”

  “No.”

  “You could slip out a the window onto the roof.”

  “Then what, get struck by lighting?”

  “I was joking.”

  “Har, har. How about a locksmith?” I closed my eyes, imagining myself in a sun-warmed field of daisies, bunnies hopping, birds chirping. The proverbial princess cartoon, no dark and no evil ghosts to spook me.

  “Hang on.” His footsteps tromped back down the stairs. Anything was better than having Zack go Rambo on the door, if he could even do it. I didn’t need him breaking an arm or a leg. He’d blame me for the rest of our lives.

  “They won’t come out in this weather.” He said, outside the door again.

  “Oh, god.” I opened my eyes and it was still black.

  “You okay?”

  “No. Nope, definitely not.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s personal.”

  He tried the door handle again, “I feel bad that you’re stuck in there, but I can’t sit out in the hallway all night.”

  I cringed. “You would leave me in here?”

  “What do you expect me to do, campout on the floor?”

  Thunder shook the entire house, a streak of lighting illuminating the room. “Do it.”

  “I don’t have a sleeping bag…but I guess I could drag a chair up here.”

  “Kick in the freaking door!”

  His chuckle floated through the wood, and I knew I was sunk. “You know, I figured out your secret, Baker.”

  “Impossible.”

  “You’re not scared of the dark, are you?”

  “I’m not in the mood for this.”

  “Hey, I’m just curious. I saw a nightlight in your room, plugged it in actually.”

  “When I get out of here I’m going to hurt you.” I growled.

  “If that’s that case, then I’ll pass on providing your rescue.”

  “Fine, I am afraid of the dark. Happy? Do you get some sort of sick pleasure knowing I’m on the verge of tears? If you do, go back to bed. I want nothing to do with you.”

  I heard the familiar crack of his knuckles and my mouth went dry.

  “Get back, Chloe, way back.”

  I found my way to the far side of the room and huddled in a corner, waiting to hear him howl in pain. That was one solid piece of wood.

  “Zack?” It was so quiet, for a second I thought he’d left me.

  Then the door slammed and rattled in its frame. Once, twice, and the third time it flew inward with a deafening crack.

  A flashlight lit the room.

  Zack strode in, smirking, chest puffed up. “I bet you thought I couldn’t do it.”

  “Uh, yeah.” A little voice inside me screamed, my hero, and I let out a loud sigh, feeling week in the knees.

  “Hey, you look funny.” He shined the light in my face.

  I shrugged, squinting at the brightness, “I hate the dark.”

  “Scared of the boogeyman?” he teased.

  “No,” I pushed past him. “And it’s not funny.”

  He cut me off and pulled me close for a hug. “I’m sorry.”

  I rested my head against his chest. “Thanks.”

  It was nice and warm, his arms making me feel so safe in the dark. He flicked off his flashlight to save the juice.

  I didn’t flinch in the blackness and I knew I was in big trouble.

  When I was little I went through the princess phase. I would sing to the squirrels in the backyard and wear sparkly dresses. I told my mom I wanted to be locked in a tower, have a talking broomstick and wait for prin
ce charming to slay the evil dragon and burn down the poison banana tree. We didn’t have apple trees in south Florida.

  Maybe being trapped in an attic somehow appeased the five year old in me.

  Zack kicking down the door was the prince killing a dragon and setting fire to the tree.

  Metaphorically, this seemed to be my best answer.

  Logically, I think I’m crazy.

  Chapter 25

  “We have a problem.” I said, taking a deep breath to memorize the cool, clean scent clinging to Zack’s shirt.

  “Another one?” His fingers drifted lazily up and down my spine, leaving tingles of pleasure.

  “Yeah, Kirk found a rat. He chased the rat out…and I shut the door because I was scared.”

  “Unintentionally locking yourself in the attic—smart Baker, real smart. Why didn’t you kill it?”

  “I don’t kill innocent animals, even if I don’t like them.”

  “Spiders, flies?”

  “Bugs are the exception, yes. But I still feel guilty.”

  He pulled me toward the door and lit our way with the flashlight. “If anyone asked me what I thought I’d be doing over the weekend, this wouldn’t be it.”

  “What did you think it’d be?”

  I felt him hesitate. “To be perfectly honest, I was thinking about going back to school.”

  “Ouch.”

  “And not because of this supposed hatred I you thought I had for you, Chloe.”

  “Then what is that you have for me?”

  “You’re different.”

  “Well that explains a whole lot.”

  “Really?”

  “No.”

  We stopped by his room to grab a bat, and found Kirk sniffing around. We shut him in the bathroom, since we knew the rat wasn’t in there. Once we were sure the rat wasn’t upstairs, we headed down.

  “You’re different because you make me think. You say something interesting, and I end up replaying it in my head for a week, wondering what you meant.” Zack said.

  “Is there anything particular I say?”

  “No, just stuff I find interesting. You are the only person I know who says things like, ‘holy crap on a cracker’.”

  “And you like that.”

  “Yes, I told you earlier. You don’t sugar coat things. And you have a sense of humor. There are so many girls I’ve gone out with, they look horrified if a hair is out of place. They worry about what everyone else is thinking about them.”

  “Ah, you must be referring to the bimbo’s like Regina.”

  “Exactly, and there you go again. Who says bimbo?”

  “Uh, I do. And I think about what people think about me.”

  “The difference is that I never would have known if you hadn’t told me. I think about the same things, but it’s bad when you have that deer in the headlights look and you’re walking through the halls with a paranoid expression.”

  “The spastic smilers, always the life of the party.” I said. “I’d hate to be there when the party ends.”

  “How do you come up with that stuff?” he lit our way down to the living room.

  “I have something called an overactive imagination. I’m thinking it could become an actual problem if it gets any worse.”

  “Chloe, I have to say I like your imagination.”

  “Aw, that’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.” I giggled, “I like your confidence…since were complementing each other.”

  “My confidence?”

  “You are cocky, I’m sure you know that. You face everything head-on. I don’t know if I’ve ever been as brave as that.” We stood in the center of the room and waited for signs of our furry houseguest.

  “I think you’re plenty brave. But I’m a guy, it’s different for us.”

  “I bet.” I slipped across the room to look behind the couch, now wielding a book light mom kept in the drawer of the side table. No rat there.

  “Is it cool if I’m the one squealing because I’m afraid of a little rat, and you’re the one trying to kill it?”

  “Uh, that’s just our personalities.” I said, peeking into the kitchen. No rat there either. “Would you be okay if the roles were reversed?”

  He dropped to his hands and knees and looked under a bookcase. “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Lets say it was some other couple…er, pair of people. The girl was killing the rat, and the guy was standing on top of the chair squealing.”

  “Is the dude gay?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Okay, that would be cool for them.”

  I paused. “Yeah?”

  “Sure, why not? Glad we cleared that up. It’s probably the strangest conversation I’ve had…maybe ever.”

  “Really?” I went back to the couch and lifted pillows, wondering if the rat was trying to find a place to hide.

  “Yup.”

  I lifted my mom’s tie-dye blanket off the couch and a pair of beady eyes gleamed up at me. The rat jumped onto the floor. I shrieked and darted around the coffee table.

  Zack went after him with the bat, chasing him toward the front of the house. I ran ahead and wrenched open the front door. The rat shot out into the rain. We slammed it shut.

  “Whew,” I threw the deadbolt.

  Zack propped the bat on his shoulder, and a smile filled his voice. “Quick thinking.”

  “I’m just glad you didn’t squish him.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t looking forward to cleaning that up.”

  We made our way back upstairs, and he gave me his flashlight, since the book light didn’t do much. He was being nice about the fact that I hated the dark.

  I went to my room and changed in to a tank top and cotton pants.

  I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom when Zack poked his head in. “Still up?”

  “Yeah,” I shut the water off. “Why?”

  “I’m too wound to sleep.”

  “So you’re going to bug me?”

  “Nah, just looking for something to do.”

  “I’ve got a deck of cards and a jar of change.” I said, remembering his comment. “How about poker?”

  “Sure, but I’m warning you. I really do suck.”

  I followed him back into his room and we sat across from each other on the bed. I proceeded to kick his but. He lost all of his pennies, plus five dollars in quarters, dimes and nickels.

  He threw the cards down. “Care to try Go Fish?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yep.” He wagged his eyebrows. “Lets make it interesting.”

  “How?”

  “Strip Go Fish.”

  I shook my head. “Dream on.”

  “Oh, believe me, I will. That image of you in your underwear is burned into my memory.”

  I could say the same about him in boxers. But I didn’t.

  After two games of Go Fish, we put away the cards. I made it halfway though the bathroom. Then the flashlight decided to die. I still had the book light. I kept it off to save battery and dove under the covers and listened to the thunder and lighting. It was loud and unsettling. My room felt too warm so I peeled off everything I was wearing, except my underwear.

  I started counting Kirk’s, sheep didn’t do anything for me, when I heard the floorboards creek.

  “Hey, Baker?”

  “What?” I turned on the book light to see Zack standing next to my bed in his boxers. He had no shame, or self-consciousness. I held the covers tight, hoping he couldn’t see me in the dark.

  “Scoot over.”

  I stared at him. “Huh?”

  “Just scoot.”

  “What are you doing?” I had a full size bed. There was room. Zack climbed in next to me, lying down on top of the covers.

  “You’re afraid of the dark and the flashlight went out.” He said, taking the book light from me and flicking it off. I grabbed it back and stuffed it under my pillow.

  “Which means what to you exactly?” I asked.
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  “Are you going to be able to sleep?”

  “Maybe.”

  He snorted.

  “Fine, probably not.”

  “Allow me to help by keeping you company.”

  I sighed. “You’re not good with the warm fuzzy stuff, are you?”