Don't Stay Up Late Page 5

  “So you pick up Harry at four,” Brenda said. “You bring him home. You help him with his homework. Sometimes Alice piles it on, even though he’s only eight.”

  “Harry is a good student?” I asked.

  “He likes to work,” she answered. “He’s very curious about all kinds of things.” She chewed the gum for a while, studying me. “After homework, you give him dinner. Then entertain him for a while. He has an Xbox game he loves. He plays it for hours.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I said.

  “You put him to bed around eight. And wait till I get home at nine or ten.” She leaned close again and put a hand on my wrist. “Is that too many hours for you, Lisa?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t think so. I can do my homework after Harry goes to bed.”

  She nodded. “If you can take the job, I’ll pay you well. I’ll be honest. I’m really desperate to find someone good. I’ll pay you three hundred dollars a week.”

  Whoa! I thought maybe I hadn’t heard correctly. “Three hundred a week?” I repeated.

  She nodded.

  This will really help our money problems, I thought. We’ll be fine till Mom can go back to work. Finally, I’ve had some good luck.

  “Does this sound like something you’d like to do?” she asked. She tugged at a loose strand of her dark hair.

  “Definitely,” I said. I wanted to jump up and down for joy. I couldn’t wait to tell my mother the good news. “Definitely.”

  “Harry is quiet and very self-sufficient,” Brenda said. “He’ll let you do your homework. What year are you, Lisa?”

  “Junior,” I said.

  “Have you started to look at colleges?”

  I hesitated. “Well … my mom and I have had some bad luck. I think I’m going to have to work for at least a year before I can go away to school.”

  She nodded, her dark eyes locked on mine, studying me. “Well, I hope this job helps,” she said. “You’ll like Harry. He’s a little moody at times, but he’ll be very little trouble.”

  I gazed around the living room again. I still didn’t see a single clue that an eight-year-old boy lived here.

  “Can I meet Harry?” I said. “Is he home?”

  “He’s the kind of kid who needs his rest,” she said. “I try to put him to bed early.” She climbed to her feet. She adjusted the short skirt over her tights. “Come up to his room with me. I’ll introduce you.”

  I followed her to the stairway. The old wooden steps creaked and groaned under our shoes as we climbed to the second floor.

  Harry’s room was at the end of a long, dimly lit hall. The carpet was thin and torn in places. I heard the soft drip drip of water from a small bathroom as we passed it.

  Harry’s door was closed. We stopped at the door and Brenda knocked softly.

  No answer.

  She pushed the door open slowly. To my surprise, the room was totally dark. No light of any kind.

  “Harry, are you in here?” Brenda called softly. “Harry? Are you here?”

  16.

  Silence.

  Then a lamp flickered on, and I could see the boy sitting up in his bed, blinking in surprise.

  My first thought: He’s adorable.

  He was round-cheeked and blond, his hair tousled over his broad forehead. Squinting into the lamplight, I saw that he had big, blue eyes and a sweet angelic smile.

  He didn’t seem surprised to see a stranger in his room. Brenda led the way to the side of the bed. Despite the warm night, Harry wore flannel pajamas with Star Wars characters all over them.

  “Harry, this is Lisa,” Brenda said.

  “Were you asleep? Why were you sitting in the dark?” I blurted out.

  He brushed his hair off his forehead. “I like to make up movies in my mind,” he said. He had a funny, scratchy voice.

  “I like movies, too,” I said, eager to ingratiate myself.

  “Do you like scary movies?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I said. “I get too scared.”

  “Me too,” he said, pointing a finger at his chest. “I don’t like to be scared.”

  “Lisa is going to stay with you when I’m at work,” Brenda said, straightening his striped quilt. “Would you like that?”

  Harry’s eyes grew wide. “Will you sing my favorite song to me?” he asked me.

  I blinked. “Your favorite song? What is it?”

  He grinned. “Eensy Weensy Spider.”

  “Huh? But that’s a baby song!” I said.

  His smile faded. “Not if it’s about a real spider,” he said in his scratchy voice.

  Weird.

  I turned to Brenda. “What is he talking about?”

  “Harry likes to make jokes—don’t you, Harry?”

  “Not really,” he said.

  “So Lisa will pick you up at Alice’s and take care of you when I’m at work,” Brenda told him.

  Harry turned his blue eyes on me. “Can we stay up late? Can we?”

  Something about the desperate way he asked made me laugh.

  “Well? Can we?” He really wanted an answer.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “We’ll see.”

  He tossed his fists in the air as if he’d won a victory. “Yessss!”

  “Time to go to sleep,” Brenda said, smoothing her hand gently over his hair. “No more movies in your mind, okay? Just sleep.”

  “Okay.” He settled his head on the pillow. “G’night, Lisa.”

  “Goodnight,” I said. “See you soon, Harry.”

  We stepped back into the hall. Brenda closed the bedroom door behind us. “So you’ll take the job?” she asked softly.

  I nodded. “Yes. I can’t imagine anyone saying no to Harry. He’s a total angel.”

  I started to follow her to the stairway. But halfway down the hall, she turned and grabbed my wrist. “Listen,” she said in a whisper. “Don’t let Harry stay up late. Seriously. It’s very bad for him. Don’t ever let Harry stay up late.”

  17.

  Nate kissed me lightly. I pressed my lips against his, harder. I wrapped my hands behind his head and held him there and kissed him until we couldn’t breathe. I pulled my face back, my hands lingering in his hair.

  “Finish the story,” he said, nuzzling my cheek with his head.

  We were wrapped around each other, on the couch facing the fireplace in my living room.

  “So the mother told you not to let the kid stay up late,” Nate said.

  I nodded. “Yes. She said don’t ever let him. And I said, why not? Does he have some kind of condition?”

  “And what did she say?” Nate urged.

  “She said no, he doesn’t have a condition. He just needs more sleep than most kids. She said he gets very grouchy and he can’t focus if he doesn’t get eight hours sleep. Weird, right?”

  “Wish I could get eight hours sleep,” Nate said, sighing. “My brother is an early bird. He jumps on my bed to wake me up at six thirty in the morning for no reason.”

  “You should probably kill him,” I said.

  Nate laughed. He thinks I’m funny. He pulled me against him and we kissed some more. When the front doorbell rang, we both jumped up as if we’d been caught doing something wrong.

  I brushed back my hair and hurried to open the door. Saralynn and Isaac walked in. “Don’t talk to me. I’m in a really bad mood,” Isaac said.

  “Well, hello to you, too,” I said. “Did you come over to put us all in a bad mood?”

  “Definitely,” he said. “Why should I be the only one?”

  “He won’t shut up about his band,” Saralynn said. “I’ve begged him to stop talking about it. Begged and pleaded, but—”

  “Somebody put me out of my misery,” Isaac wailed. “No. Really. Shoot me now.” He plopped down on the couch beside Nate.

  “Isaac, what’s up?” Nate said.

  Isaac raised his fist and punched Nate really hard in the thigh. “Did that hurt?”

  Nate uttered a
cry and scooted to the other side of the couch. “Yeah, that hurt. Are you crazy?”

  “That’s the way my brain feels,” Isaac said.

  Nate rubbed his leg. “Since when did you get a brain?” he growled.

  “My band has a gig Saturday night,” Isaac said, ignoring Nate’s insult. “You know. At the Hothouse. An actual paying job. And guess what? We’re down to two members—me and the dopey kid from across the street who doesn’t know which end of the drumsticks to hold.”

  “That’s bad news,” Nate said. “Remind me not to go see you Saturday night.” Nate kept flashing Isaac angry looks. I wondered if he was thinking about Isaac kissing me in front of his garage.

  I knew Nate had seen us. But he still hadn’t said a word about it to me.

  Isaac growled again and turned away from the three of us. He buried his head in his hands and muttered curses to himself. He likes to be as overdramatic as he can.

  “Can we talk about something else?” Saralynn said. “How was your first day back at school, Lisa?”

  “Not bad,” I said. “Everyone was really nice. I was so happy to be back. I didn’t even mind Mr. Trevalian’s horrible jokes.”

  “He thinks he’s a riot,” Saralynn said. “He probably gets his jokes from kindergarten books. What did the apple say to the ground? I think I’m falling for you.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” Isaac muttered.

  “I hope Lisa didn’t go back to school too soon.” We all turned as my mom came walking into the room. She carried a tall blue vase of yellow tulips to the coffee table in her good arm. “I don’t want her to put extra pressure on herself. She needs to recover in good time.”

  “It was Dr. Shein’s idea, Mom,” I snapped. “I’m back at school, so stop fretting about it.”

  I found myself getting easily annoyed at my mother the past few days. She never used to be a worrier. She was always the calm, unemotional one in the family. But since the accident, she fretted about every little thing, and she was always totally negative and disturbing about anything that happened.

  I wanted to get better and go on with my life. I didn’t want to mope around and worry that I shouldn’t try things.

  Mom set the tulips down and fussed over them for a few seconds. “Did Lisa tell you about her job? It’s such good news for us. Especially since I can’t go back to the salon because of this.” She waved her cast in the air.

  “Lisa will be an awesome nanny,” Saralynn said. “That kid is lucky. He—”

  “But the job is on Fear Street,” Mom interrupted, shaking her head. “I’m just not sure about that.”

  “Stop it, Mom,” I said. “Stop trying to discourage me. It was Dr. Shein’s idea, remember? She thinks I can handle it. Let me give it a try. Besides, since when are you so superstitious?”

  Mom flinched. I could see that my question hurt her. But I didn’t care. I was starting a new part of my life, and I needed encouragement, not more doubt.

  Everyone went home a short while later. Isaac said he was going to beg his friends to come back to the band. Nate kissed me quickly and said he’d be glad to drive me to my new job the next day after school. Saralynn said to call later if I needed her.

  I went to my room to do some reading for English class. But before I could find the assignment, the phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number on the phone, but I answered it anyway. “Hello?”

  “Lisa? It’s Summer Lawson.”

  Summer Lawson? It took me a few seconds to remember her. A tall, copper-haired girl in my Government class, very pretty, with high cheekbones like a fashion model, always wears a lot of clanky plastic bracelets and beads and long dangling earrings. Has a lot of attitude and style.

  Summer Lawson. My mind whirred, trying to remember more. She was Nate’s girlfriend. Yes. Before me. What broke them up? I didn’t really know.

  “Hey, Summer,” I said. “What’s up?”

  There was a long silence. Then she replied. “Do you know you’re in major trouble?” Her voice was cold. Flat.

  “Excuse me?” I said. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Lisa,” she said, “do you have any clue about Nate?”

  “Huh? I-I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered.

  “You’ll find out,” she said.

  A loud click ended the conversation.

  18.

  After school the next day, I felt kind of shaky, tense about my new job. As I walked up the driveway to Brenda’s sister’s house, I saw Harry in the front window. The sunlight caught his blond hair and made him glow like an angel.

  This is going to be fun, I told myself.

  Alice’s house was small and square, painted white with dark green shutters at the windows. A racing bike leaned against the side wall. Spring flowers in large pots on both sides of the front stoop hadn’t yet opened their buds.

  Across the street, a boy kept throwing a tennis ball onto the slanted roof of his house, then catching it as it rolled off. I saw a red kite caught in the high limbs of a tree at the neighbors’ driveway.

  I stepped onto the front stoop and the front door swung open. Alice greeted me with a smile and waved me inside. She looked like an older version of Brenda. Her cheeks and forehead were lined. Her hair was cut short, streaks of gray with the black. She wore maroon sweats and carried a Harry Potter book in one hand.

  “Lisa, it’s so nice to meet you.” We shook hands. Her hand was warm and soft. “Brenda told me all about you. I understand you’ve already met Harry.”

  Harry ran up to me and tugged at my arm. “Can we stay up late tonight? Can we?”

  I laughed. Alice frowned and shook her head. “How about saying hello first, Harry?”

  “Hello,” Harry said. “Can we stay up late?”

  “No, you cannot,” Alice said firmly. “Don’t try to take advantage of Lisa because she’s new. Remember, Lisa is the boss. Can you remember that?”

  “Maybe,” Harry replied.

  Alice waved the book in front of her. “I’ve started to read him his first Harry Potter book. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you, Harry?”

  He nodded. “I like him because his name is Harry.”

  “That’s a good name,” I said. “Would you like me to borrow the book from Alice and read you a few chapters tonight?”

  “No,” he replied quickly. “I want to watch cartoons.”

  Alice rubbed a hand through his hair. “Don’t forget you have homework to do first.”

  “I already forgot,” Harry said. He laughed. He was making a joke. His blue eyes twinkled.

  “Go get your backpack,” Alice told him. “It’s in my bedroom.”

  When Harry left the room, she pulled me aside and spoke in a confidential tone. “He stayed up late last night. That’s very bad for him. He’s a beast when he doesn’t get his sleep. Be sure to get him to bed early.”

  “No problem,” I said. “He seems very sweet.”

  “He is,” Alice said, her eyes on the hallway, watching for Harry to return. “He’s a good student, too. He learns quickly, and he really likes to learn new things.”

  “That’s awesome,” I whispered back.

  Alice placed a hand on my shoulder. “Eight-year-olds can be a challenge, though, even if they’re as sweet as Harry. If you have any problems at all, just call me.” She reached into the pocket of her sweatpants and handed me a slip of paper with her phone number on it.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I don’t think you’ll have problems with him. But just in case…”

  I started to thank her again. But I stopped when I heard a shrill cry. A tiny voice. Was it coming from the basement?

  Startled, I listened hard. It sounded like a sob.

  “Mister Puffball—be quiet!” Alice shouted. She laughed and shook her head. “My cat is very good at letting me know when he’s hungry.”

  “Oh, wow,” I said. “It didn’t sound like a cat.”

  Alice laughed again. �
��Mister Puffball can communicate really well—especially at dinnertime.”

  I smiled. But the cry I heard didn’t sound at all like a cat. It sounded human.

  19.

  “Can I sit on your lap?”

  Harry had to be the sweetest, friendliest eight-year-old in the world. By the time he finished his mac and cheese dinner, he and I were already BFF’s. He was funny and smart. He whipped through his homework, about six pages of math problems.

  His big joke of the night: He’d tug at my hair and make a different sound effect each time. For some reason, he thought that was a riot. But when I tugged his hair and made an oink oink sound, he said it wasn’t funny at all.

  He kept begging me to stay up late. “Maybe some other night. Not tonight,” I answered. That seemed to satisfy him—until ten minutes later, when he’d ask me again.

  He sat on my lap, and we watched Kung Fu Panda 2 on Netflix. The cartoon made him laugh. A couple of times he leapt to the floor and did some crazy kung fu moves.

  When the movie ended, I glanced at the time. Nearly eight o’clock. “Bedtime,” I told him.

  “I have a panda upstairs,” he said. “In my closet. Maybe I could bring him down. We could do our own panda movie.”

  “Not tonight,” I insisted.

  “A short one?”

  “No. Not tonight. I see what you’re doing, Harry. You’re stalling. Come on. Let’s get you in your pajamas.”

  After that, he was no problem. We got him changed and tucked in. I said goodnight. He asked me to close his door, so I did.

  Downstairs, I washed the dinner dishes. Then I sat down on the living room couch to read my English assignment, a short story by an author I’d never heard of, Willa Cather. I’m not too interested in farm life, so the story was pretty boring.

  I was glad when my phone rang and it was Nate. “What’s up? How’s the kid?” he asked.

  “He’s awesome,” I said. “Maybe the most adorable kid in the world.”

  “Sweet. What did you give him for dinner? Frosted Flakes?”

  I laughed. “No way. I made him mac and cheese. Right out of the box. It’s his favorite. The kid is so easy, this job is a breeze.”