by Ailsa Wild
‘Is it?’ Not-John-Smith asks. ‘I saw it on a TV show and I thought it was a good fake name.’
I’m a little bit angry. ‘You lied! We brought you so much food and you lied to us.’ I glare at him and Jessie. I’m annoyed that Jessie figured it out so quickly and I didn’t.
‘I bet you didn’t even steal a tram either,’ I say.
‘Yeah!’ Vee chimes in.
I’m just saying it because I want to make him feel bad, but his eyes go wide and I realise that was a lie too.
‘You didn’t steal a tram,’ I say. ‘You totally lied to us!’
He’s biting his lip. ‘I saw a story about it on the news. A boy did it and I wished it was me.’
I can tell Jessie feels sorry for him. ‘It’s part of the job of runaways to lie,’ Jessie says. ‘They have to hide the real story to protect themselves. I bet the real story’s even worse, isn’t it?’
Not-John-Smith is looking teary and trying not to. Worse than stealing a tram and hiding from the police?
‘What’s your name then, Not-John?’ I ask.
‘If I tell you, you’ll google me,’ Not-John says.
Jessie grins and I realise she’s probably going to google him anyway.
‘Not-John is a good name,’ I say.
Vee pulls the jelly snakes from on top of Baby. Baby makes his cutest noise and stays asleep.
‘Why is there a baby?’ Not-John asks.
‘We stole him from a tram driver,’ Vee replies and we all giggle.
There’s something about the sound of the jelly-snakes wrapper opening that makes me feel happy inside. We slide down to sitting on the floor, with the pram in between. Jessie passes the jelly snakes across the wheels to each of us.
‘It’s because of my dad,’ Not-John says, biting the head off a green snake. ‘We had a fight …’
He looks angry and sad at the same time and his face nearly reminds me of something, but I’m not sure what.
‘I want him to know I’m serious,’ Not-John says. He looks serious.
‘But you can’t stay here forever,’ Jessie says.
‘Why not?’ asks Not-John. ‘I’ve got a bathroom.’ He waves vaguely in the direction of the public toilet. ‘Squishy Taylor feeds me. What’s the problem?’
I imagine Not-John growing up, shaving in the green toilet and going to work every morning by climbing out the grate. I suddenly think of something. ‘How did you even know to come here?’ I ask. ‘How did you know about the vent and the storeroom?’
Not-John looks down at his feet.
Jessie’s mouth twitches. ‘Did you run away from home to your own basement?’ she asks.
Not-John doesn’t say anything.
‘You totally did!’ Jessie says, sounding pleased with herself.
Baby rolls over and the pram squeaks.
I have a tingling feeling of dread and excitement. I bet I know who Not-John’s dad is. I bet his dad is Mr Hinkenbushel.
Baby starts to cry.
‘Your dad,’ I start to say. ‘Is he –’
Baby’s wails get louder.
‘Come on, Squishy,’ Jessie says.
‘But, Not-John’s dad –’
‘Squishy, we have to get out of here. The next person in the car park is going to hear screaming and wonder who’s chained up in the storeroom.’
I stare at Jessie. She’s right. And she’s made me think of something.
‘OK,’ I say and let her pull us out.
‘There’s absolutely, one hundred per cent no way his dad is Mr Hinkenbushel,’ Jessie says. ‘That would mean there’s been a kid living next door to us and we didn’t notice. For years. No way.’
We are pushing Baby down to the playground because it’s not time for his nap to finish yet. He likes the feel of his pram wheels rolling and he’s already closed his eyes again.
‘But what if,’ I say excitedly, ‘what if that’s exactly why he ran away? What if Mr Hinkenbushel keeps him chained up in the cupboard?’
Vee looks nervous but Jessie snorts. ‘He’s got a schoolbag. And sunburn.’
‘But Mr Hinkenbushel is so mean. That’s exactly what he would do. It’s probably why he’s even meaner this week. Because his prisoner got away. And maybe it’s not sunburn, it’s a skin disease.’
Vee giggles and even I realise that’s a bit silly.
‘Well, whether he is or not, we still have to do revenge on him,’ I say.
Jessie nods. ‘He still hates us, and he shouted at Mum.’
At the playground, Vee and I shove the pram over to the monkey bars. Jessie sees another kid from school who’s sitting in the corner-cubby with an iPad and joins her.
I show Vee my new monkey-bar moves. There’s one really cool trick, where I swing upside-down from my knees and brush the pram with my hair. It’s hard, because if you get it wrong, you either don’t touch the pram or you bash your face on it.
Vee’s impressed. ‘You should do some bunk-bed tricks with me,’ she says.
‘OK,’ I say, a bit surprised because of how much she hated me doing the same bunk-bed acrobatics before.
Baby wakes up screaming and we have to run to get him home. Well, not run exactly, because we aren’t allowed to run with Baby when we’re next to the road. We just walk really, really fast. Kind of jog-walk.
As we get closer to home, we pass a massive dog out for a walk. I see the owner clutching a swinging plastic bag with a squoogy-looking weight in the bottom of it. And I have the best Hinkenbushel Revenge Club idea ever.
‘Wait a sec,’ I say to the others, as we pull up at our front door.
I trail the big dog and its owner until they reach the bin at the corner. As I suspected, the squoogy plastic bag is placed in the bin and the owner keeps walking.
I loiter beside the bin until the traffic lights change and the big dog crosses the road. Then I snatch the bag from the bin and run back to where Jessie and Vee are waiting for me. I wave the bag like a trophy. ‘It’s for the HRC!’ I yell.
Vee and Jessie whoop and laugh.
When we get in the lift, the familiar scowly man is there too. Somehow, he’s even more scowly than before. He looks at us and the pram, and the look in his eyes makes me wonder if he’s not angry, he’s sad. The others are glancing sideways at my bag and trying not to laugh, so they don’t notice his face. He gets out on the fifth floor and as the doors close, the twins collapse with laughter.
Vee is clinging to the pram, flopping over the side, and Baby grabs her hair so when she stands it makes him sit up. Then we laugh even harder and nearly forget to leave the lift.
But as soon as we do, I shush them. Mr Hinkenbushel’s door is closed. Now’s the time, before he comes home.
I crouch by Mr Hinkenbushel’s doormat and tip the contents of the bag onto it.
‘This is for you, Alice,’ I whisper.
Wow. That was a big dog. Everything that dog did was big. I stare at the mound on Mr Hinkenbushel’s doormat and then hurriedly stand up and back away. Disgusting. We pile into our place, giggling.
The HRC has made its first move.
I roll from the top bunk …
Grab the rail with one hand …
Swing and kick my feet out horizontal – and then land, standing, on the desk.
I have to steady myself against the wall, but Vee claps anyway from the top bunk. ‘Awesome!’ she says.
The whole bunk is still creaking and the telescope is rattling on its feet.
‘Can you show me the next bit?’ I ask, jumping down to the floor.
Vee follows me to the desk, but she doesn’t stop there. She grabs the top of the wardrobe, commando-rolls across it only inches from the ceiling, and then kicks off the wall, returning to lying down flat on her bunk. The bed shakes wildly and I clap.
Jessie looks up from where she’s reading the iPad on her bunk. ‘There are no boys reported missing for this area in the last week,’ she says. ‘At least none who are Not-John’s age.’
/> That stops Vee and I in our tracks.
‘It must be Mr Hinkenbushel,’ I say. ‘He can’t report it, because then they’ll know he’s been keeping prisoners.’
Jessie looks doubtful, but I’m starting to wonder if I might be right.
‘I wonder if he’s trodden in it yet,’ Vee says and we all shriek with laughter. Vee does a Quick-Drop to the floor and then a Kicking-Two-Jump-Scramble back to her bunk. The wardrobe booms hard against the wall and a moment later, Alice appears in the doorway.
‘Enough!’ she says. ‘I take you rock-climbing so I don’t have to suffer this. Can’t you do something very quiet for an hour? Like build a website? Sonja’s boy builds websites and he doesn’t make noises from one hour to the next.’
We spend the hours before dinner making an HRC website on the iPad. Jessie drives the iPad while Vee and I help by listing Mr Hinkenbushel’s crimes and all the ways we’re going to get him back.
While Jessie is doing the complicated bits, Vee and I take it in turns to look through the telescope at the boring people in the offices across the road. When the website is pretty much finished, we make a YouTube clip of us ‘declaring vengeance’, as Jessie puts it. It’s awesome.
‘Dinner!’ Dad calls. We tumble into the kitchen. ‘It’s roll-your-own rice-paper rolls.’
The table is covered with lots of bowls of things cut up small. I pile my first roll with pork and satay. Yum. I add a little bit of carrot when Alice does an eat-your-vegetables face at me. There’s too much pork and the whole thing falls apart, but I don’t care.
I pick bits up with my fingers and smear them around the sauce on my plate. Alice seems to have got over being shouted at yesterday, and dinnertime is back to normal. Except that in the old normal, Jessie and Vee weren’t this nice to me.
‘Is it Saturday-night movie night?’ I ask.
Jessie is halfway through a neat roll. ‘Can we download something new, pleeeease?’ she asks.
‘Ba-ba-ba,’ says Baby, slamming a plate of cucumber sticks to the floor. We all laugh, including Baby, and I jump down to pick them up.
‘Ten-second rule!’ I shout as I gather the cucumber pieces together. It’s not until I stand up again that I see there’s something white sitting at the door. ‘Hey, what’s that?’
‘What’s what?’ asks Dad.
‘It’s a piece of paper,’ I say, going over to the door. ‘That’s weird.’ We don’t get paper under our door. Letters come to the letterbox downstairs in the foyer.
‘Give it here,’ Dad says, reaching for it, but not before I get a glimpse of the picture. It’s Not-John, with ‘MISSING’ written in big letters across the top.
My heart slams into double-speed. I try to see over Dad’s shoulder, but my eyes are jumping around, trying to read everything at once and not getting anything at all.
‘There’s a boy missing from the building,’ Dad says.
Alice gasps and grabs her mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a grown-up look so scared.
‘Apparently he left a note, and he’s been texting his dad pretending he’s at his grandmother’s.’ Dad looks up at Alice. ‘Sounds more like a runaway than a kidnapping.’
Alice’s hand drops away from her mouth. She looks a bit relieved, but not much.
Dad keeps reading. Jessie and Vee and I can’t help staring at each other.
‘The note is from the boy’s father, who only realised his son was missing when he talked to the grandmother …’ Dad checks the clock, ‘… an hour ago. But he’s been gone for three days.’
‘Three days.’ Alice looks like she’s going to cry. She grips Vee’s hand, who’s sitting next to her.
‘He wants to know if anyone has seen his son.’ Dad puts the note on the table.
None of us feel like eating.
‘The poor man. He must be so terrified,’ Alice says, pushing back her chair and taking the note. ‘I’m going round to visit him right away.’
As soon as she opens the door, the whole apartment begins to smell of dog poo.
‘We have to tell them,’ Jessie hisses. We’re stacking the dishwasher and putting uneaten food in the fridge. Dad is in the other room talking on the phone. Baby is sitting on the floor between us, dribbling chewed cucumber. The kitchen stinks and I’m seriously regretting our first HRC revenge attack.
‘We can’t keep Not-John a secret anymore,’ Jessie whispers.
‘But we promised!’ I say. I remember staring into Not-John’s eyes and swearing not to tell.
Vee looks torn. A promise is a promise. ‘But if the dad is half as terrified as Alice –’ she starts.
‘But what if we’re right? What if his dad is Mr Hinkenbushel? What if we need to protect him from his dad?’ I say. I know I might be wrong. But I might also be right. ‘We can’t deliver him into the hands of his enemy.’
‘Squishy, this is serious! Stop being stupid,’ Jessie says in her most horrible grown-up tone.
I was serious. It just came out a bit dramatic. I glare at her. ‘I’m not being stupid! You’re being a know-it-all goodie-goodie.’
Jessie comes over towards me but accidentally kicks Baby in the shoulder. Baby falls over onto one fat cheek and starts wailing.
‘Look what you just did to my brother!’ I say, and step forward to pick him up.
‘Your brother? Your brother? He’s our brother!’ Vee says, teaming up with Jessie. Don’t know why I’m surprised.
We all bend down, racing to pick him up first.
Bang! All three of our foreheads smash into each other. ‘Ouch!’ we all shout.
Jessie picks up Baby and stands shoulder to shoulder with Vee. They glare at me with matching twin-glares.
‘Fine!’ I yell. ‘Have him! I don’t even care. I don’t even want him. Not if I have to live with stupid evil twinsies. And your stupid mum. I don’t want any of you.’
My guts lurch, like something awful just happened. I wish I was in Geneva. I wish Mum never went to Geneva. I wish I could take back what I said and still be friends with Jessie and Vee. But I can’t. I just said something really mean.
‘What’s going on, you lot?’ Dad comes over, holding the phone away from his ear. ‘Good grief, what’s that smell?’
Vee is still clutching her forehead. ‘It’s doggie-do,’ she says. ‘Squishy left it on Mr Hinkenbushel’s doormat and now it’s everywhere.’
‘You did what?!’
Baby struggles in Jessie’s arms, crying. Dad is staring at me in horror. I am staring at Vee, feeling huge waves of betrayal roll over me. Also, my head is pounding where it got smashed.
‘It was revenge!’ I half-sob, half-shout. ‘I did it because of how he yelled at your mum! You guys thought it was funny,’ I plead, glancing at Jessie and Vee. Jessie still looks furious, but Vee is white. She looks like I feel.
‘Dad …?’ But I don’t know what to say next. Which is weird.
Dad looks at me for a long moment. I think I see a kind of understanding in his eyes. There’s a tinny voice coming out of his phone and finally he puts it to his ear. ‘Sorry, mate, I’m going to have to call you back.’
‘There’s something else as well,’ Jessie starts in her know-it-all voice. She’s going to tell about Not-John.
‘Not now, Jessie,’ Dad says, taking Baby.
‘But –’ Jessie starts.
‘Not –’ Dad says.
‘It’s about –’ Jessie tries again.
‘Jessie, this is not the time.’
I’ve never heard Dad use that tone with anyone except me. It shocks me. It’s like being in a parallel universe where I actually have a sister.
‘Right now, I need to talk with Sita. Alone.’ Dad only calls me Sita when things are really serious. He turns and walks into his and Alice’s room.
I stare at Jessie, feeling sick. Vee told on me and I said something horrible. And now Jessie wants to tell on Not-John. I’m thinking of Not-John’s white face. He said whatever was waiting for him was worse than
jail. We can’t break the promise we made him.
‘Please, please don’t tell yet,’ I whisper. ‘We promised.’ I look at Vee, remembering the promise, and she looks undecided. But Jessie is stony. I try to bargain. ‘Give me one hour. If it’s not sorted out in an hour, I’ll tell them myself.’
‘Sita!’ Dad calls in the kind of voice you can’t ignore.
‘Please …?’ I beg.
Vee turns to Jessie. She’s asking Jessie to wait too, with her eyes.
‘Half an hour,’ Jessie says grimly.
I spin and run in to Dad.
He says all the things. About how it was bad for Mr Hinkenbushel to shout at Alice, but that didn’t mean it was OK to put dog poo on his doormat. About how he knows I must want to do funny things to make Jessie and Vee like me. About how he’s glad I like Alice enough to want to protect her, but that she’s quite capable of protecting herself.
‘You know, Squisho, those two aren’t just stepsisters.’
I can hear the ‘bonus sisters’ talk coming and I bite my lip and nod, thinking about how I just said Alice was stupid and that I didn’t want Baby. I hate being told off when people are actually serious. Both Mum and Dad are a bit proud when I’m a rebel – I can hear the laugh of it in their voices. But Dad doesn’t think anything is funny right now. And he won’t stop talking. Every minute he keeps going is a minute less for me to get to Not-John and warn him to run away, or convince him to turn himself in.
‘Are we clear?’ Dad says finally.
I nod.
‘Look at me, Sita,’ he says. I look up into his eyes. ‘I love you,’ he says and pulls me into a hug.
‘Dad?’ I start, my mouth in his shoulder.
‘Yeah, Squisho …?’
‘Can I run down and grab my silver jumper? I think I left it in the car.’
‘Um. Sure.’ He sounds a bit surprised, but lets me go.
I dash out into the kitchen. ‘I’m going down to grab my silver jumper out of the car,’ I say to Jessie and Vee, doing quote fingers, hoping they’ll understand what I mean. I bolt out into the stinking corridor. The clock is ticking.
