SHAKESPEARE’ SECRET (18 page)

Hero stiffened with irritation. She hadn't expected this from him. “I know. We don't look anything alike.” She rolled up the bag of chocolate chips and shoved it back into the cupboard.

Danny looked annoyed. “That's not what I mean. What I mean is, Triss sort of, well, she
lets
people like her. She lets people make friends with her. You walk around looking like you expect everybody to pick on you. And then they kind of do.”

“Thanks, Danny. That makes me feel a lot better.”

“No, I'm just saying—”

“I get it, okay? Stop acting like a guidance counselor.” Hero pushed him ahead of her into the dining room. She suddenly wanted him to go home. But she knew she needed help with the lights.

Danny shot her a glance. “Listen, Netherfield . . . just forget it,” he said.

“I will,” Hero answered, frowning. “Let's start looking. My mom and dad said they'd be back by midnight.”

The dining room was dark. Hero slid the light switch, and the chandelier glowed brightly.

Danny scrutinized it. “Can't be in there,” he decided. “There's no place to put it.”

“No,” Hero agreed. “But the other ones are different.”

She led him into the tiny study, which was awash in yellow light. In the middle of the ceiling was a round glass fixture etched with a floral pattern. Danny reached up to unscrew it, then jumped back with a yelp. “Ow! It's hot! Turn off the light.”

Hero flipped the switch, and they stood uncertainly in the dark.

“Now I can't see anything,” Danny complained.

“I'll put the hall light on.”

After a few minutes, Danny began to unscrew the
knob again, touching it gingerly. Slowly he lowered the glass bowl and looked inside.

“Oh my God,” he said in a hushed voice.

“You found it?” Hero gasped.

“No, but there's a dead bug in here.” He laughed at her, overturning the bowl and tapping the bug onto the carpet.

“Stop fooling around,” Hero snapped.

“Hey, you're a little uptight.”

“Well, geez, Danny. It's the Murphy diamond! This isn't a joke.”

“I know. But the thing I can't figure out is, do you really think Murphy'd hide it inside a light? I mean, people change their lightbulbs. Anybody could have found it by now.”

Hero sighed. “There was nobody living here most of last year. Don't you think it's the kind of place the police wouldn't look?”

“Yeah, sure. Because the police would say, 'People change their lightbulbs all the time, that'd be a dumb hiding place.'”

Hero scowled at him, turning away. “Finding place,” she said absently.

Danny looked at her, fitting the light fixture back into place. “Why do you call it that?”

“I don't. Mrs. Roth said her daughter used to call it that, when they played hide-and-seek.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Danny said. “I always called it that too. But I thought my mom and I were the only ones.”

Hero shrugged. “Maybe it's a Maryland thing.”

She stood in the doorway, surveying the rooms that opened into the front hall. “The hall light's different. It kind of looks like a lantern. It can't be inside that. And there's not a ceiling light in the living room. So that leaves the bathroom down here, and then the upstairs lights.”

They crowded into the bathroom. Hero boosted herself onto the sink, the porcelain cold on her palms. Danny flipped down the toilet lid with a clunk and climbed on top of it. He carefully unscrewed the fixture, lowering it with one hand. Hero waited.

“Nope,” he said, screwing it back in place.

Discouraged, they headed upstairs. They went from room to room, standing unsteadily in the middle of the beds to reach the light fixtures. Each time, one of them would unscrew the brass knob and lower the bowl, and they would both peer hopefully inside, to find nothing but dust and the occasional dead insect, its papery wings stuck to the glass.

Beatrice's room was last. Hero clambered onto the mattress, her feet sinking into the soft cotton of the bedspread. As she turned the knob, Danny hopped up next to her. He began to bounce lightly, shaking the whole bed.

“Cut it out,” Hero complained, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, come on, Netherfield,” he said, bouncing harder. Hero giggled, trying to keep her balance. Then, suddenly, she lost her grip on the brass knob. It dropped to the bed and the glass bowl slid heavily after it. Hero and Danny both grabbed at it frantically, but they only succeeded in knocking it with a crash to the floor.

“Uh oh,” said Danny.

Hero covered her face with her hands. “Did it break?” she asked, afraid to look.

“Pretty much.”

Hero leaned over the edge of the bed. The fixture lay in pieces next to Beatrice's nightstand, its beautiful leafy vines broken into jagged chunks.

“Oh no.”

“Sorry.” Danny crouched down and gathered the pieces in his hand. “Maybe we can glue it.”

Hero moaned. “This is a disaster. What am I going to tell Triss? And what about my parents?”

“Tell them you were trying to change the lightbulb.”

“Like they will ever in a million years believe that!”

“Well, what else are you going to say? You can't tell them about the diamond. Look, let's try to glue it. Maybe nobody'll even notice.”

“Danny, it's broken in five pieces! I think they'll notice.”

“Listen, if you have a better idea, let me know. But it's almost eleven, and you said your parents would be back before midnight.”

“It's eleven o'clock? You have to get out of here!” Hero snatched the glass fragments and slid them gingerly under Beatrice's bed. “Just go. I'll figure something out.”

She rushed Danny down the stairs ahead of her, hurrying through the kitchen.

Danny stopped at the back door.

“So what do you think? It's not in the house, I guess.”

Hero glanced around her, at the shadow-filled hall, the glowing doorway of the dining room, the bright yellow glare from the bathroom.

“I don't know,” she said. “Maybe you're right. Mr. Murphy wouldn't put the diamond someplace where it could be found by just anybody.”

“No,” Danny agreed. He swung open the door, and the cool night air flooded the kitchen, fresh and sharp
and smelling faintly of flowers. Across the driveway, Hero could barely make out the dark lines of Mrs. Roth's fence. She shivered.

“All right, go on,” she said quickly. “Before my parents get back. I have to turn off the lights now and make sure they don't look in the bedroom.”

But Danny didn't answer. He was standing on the porch, staring at something.

“You have one of those lights out here, too,” he said. Hero saw that he was looking at the porch light, its chiseled glass bowl densely covered with roses.

“Yeah, but we don't know where the switch is,” Hero said. “This switch in the kitchen is just for the lights on the side.” She flipped it, and the floodlights on either side of the porch sent bold arcs of light across the driveway.

“You don't know where the switch is?” Danny repeated.

“No,” Hero said slowly. “So we never turn it on.” She stared at the light. “Remember what it said on the card?
Do not go gentle into that good night.”

They looked at each other. Hero swallowed hard. “You should go,” she said faintly, but it didn't sound convincing even to her.

“Do it,” Danny said.

“I can't reach it.”

“I'll help you.” Before she could protest, Danny boosted her onto the porch railing. He held her legs as she stood. Hero stretched toward the light, reaching for the knob at its base. Her hands were shaking. She felt the warmth of Danny's shoulder pressing against her legs as she unscrewed it. Carefully, breathlessly, she lowered the glass bowl. She thought she heard something rattle.

“Is it there?” Danny's voice was soft and urgent.

“I don't know, I can't see. Help me down.”

Danny steadied her as she crouched down on the railing, the glass cupped in her hands. Together they leaned over the bowl. There, in the bottom, caught in the pale band of light from the kitchen doorway, was something hard and clear and flashing, despite the dust that had settled thickly around it.

“Oh-” said Hero.

“Wow,” said Danny.

They knew in an instant that they were looking at the Murphy diamond.

Hero thought she might faint. She grabbed Danny's arm to steady herself.

“Is that it? Is that really it?” she whispered.

“Pick it up,” Danny said softly.

Hero jumped down from the porch rail, clutching the glass, and lifted the diamond from the bowl. It was a little bigger than a quarter, but full of angles. It felt heavy and smooth in her hand, almost silky. She rubbed it gently on her shirt, then held it in the light of the doorway. It sparkled, each edge glinting tiny rays of golden light.

“It's beautiful,” Hero breathed.

Danny took it from her. His fingers closed tightly around it, his hand dropping to his side.

“What are you doing?” Hero asked.

“I should go,” he said. “Your parents will be home soon.”

“But the diamond—” Hero protested.

“It's better if I take it with me.” His voice was low, insistent. “What if your parents find it? Or Triss? They'll make us give it back. They don't know about everything else.”

“But your father. Don't you think—”

“I'll take care of it. Leave it to me.” There was something in Danny's eyes that Hero had not seen before, a softness, a kind of pleading.

She hesitated. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “But, Danny ... be careful.”

“I will,” he promised. He slid the diamond into his jeans pocket, then took the glass from Hero.

“Screw the cover back on, quick,” he ordered, helping her back onto the railing. As she finished twisting the knob, Hero saw headlights at the end of the driveway.

“Go, Danny. Hurry!” she cried, hopping down. He ran down the porch steps and sprinted along the driveway into the shadowy darkness of the front yard. Hero went quickly into the house, slamming the kitchen door behind her. She rushed from room to room, frantically turning off lights. In Beatrice's
room, she stopped in despair, staring at the naked bulb that blazed with neon intensity in the middle of the ceiling. How was she ever going to explain this?

Downstairs, she heard the door open and the muffled sounds of her parents entering, keys scattering on the table, her mother's purse dropping with a thud.

“Hero? Where are you?” Her father's voice echoed up the stairs. “It's dark in here.”

She heard her mother in the hall. “I didn't expect you to take my warning about the electricity bill so seriously.”

Hero took a deep breath. “I'm upstairs,” she called.

She flipped off Beatrice's light and went downstairs. Her father sat at the kitchen table, loosening his tie, while her mother filled the teakettle.

“How was the party?” Hero asked.

“Nice.” “Long.” Her parents answered simultaneously, then laughed.

“We wanted to leave an hour ago,” her mother said. “Did everything go okay here?”

Hero tried to sound casual. “Fine. Danny came over for a while.”

“What?” Her mother and father both turned to her.

“Not for very long,” she said quickly.

Her parents exchanged glances. “Hero.” Her
mother's voice was sharp. “Did his parents know he was at our house, without any adults?”

“Oh, Mom,” Hero said. “We were just hanging out.”

Her father looked at her. “Ah yes, the ubiquitous 'hanging out.' What does that mean, exactly?”

“You know, hanging around.”

“Well, that certainly clarifies the matter.”

Her mother's lips narrowed to a thin line. She poured the steaming water into two mugs. She didn't say anything.

Hero waited in the doorway, trying to calm her jittery nerves, thinking about the diamond, and Danny, and everything else that had happened. “Sorry,” she said, meaning it.

Her mother studied her for a minute. “Look, Hero,” she said finally. “We trust you. I hope you won't do anything to make us change our minds about that.”

“I won't,” Hero promised. She felt vaguely guilty, but at the same time, flattered.

“Tea?” her mother asked.

“No, I'm going to bed. I'm kind of tired.” Hero kissed them quickly and left the room, before they could ask more questions. At least Beatrice wouldn't be back till tomorrow morning. That gave her time to think up an excuse about the light.

In her own room, she slipped out of her jeans and shirt and pulled on her nightshirt, tugging the elastic band out of her hair. She sat on the edge of her bed in the dark, thinking about the diamond. It seemed like a dream now, almost unbelievable to her that they'd found it. Danny was right, she decided. It would be safer with him. She thought of its sharp angles, its cool heft in her palm. What would Mrs. Roth say?