Hard Hat (4 page)

“Really cool,” Stevie said.

“And somebody’s going to make it cool again,” said Ann, pointing to the pile of construction material in one corner of the front room. She and Peter started moving crates of floor tiles into a semicircle around the fireplace so that they could sit on them.

“Are we allowed to be in here?” Stevie asked. She looked around at the other kids for an answer, but nobody spoke—an answer in itself.

Peter looked at his watch. “It’s getting kind of late now,” he said. “Maybe we should meet back here another time?”

“To tell ghost stories?” Stevie suggested.

“Exactly!” Liza agreed.

“Do you know any?” Regina asked her.

“Not very many,” Stevie said humbly. “But the ones I know are really, really scary. Probably too scary for this group. I mean, I just wouldn’t want—”

“Yeah, right!” said Peter. “Just try us!”

“I will,” Stevie said.

The kids all made a plan to meet back there the next afternoon.

“Three o’clock sharp,” Regina said.

Everyone agreed.

Quickly, without disturbing anything else, the group exited the same way Stevie had come in, through the greenhouse door, and dispersed to their own homes. By the time Stevie was teetering along the brick wall that led to Regina’s backyard, she felt completely at ease. She was really getting to love New York—and it was a part of New York she’d never known existed.

At dinner that night Mrs. Lake spoke excitedly about the business meeting she’d had. The legal talk was totally over Stevie’s head, but she understood that her mother was pleased with the way things were going, and that was good news because it meant they’d be staying with Regina and her mother for at least the rest of the week.

“And what were you two up to?” Mrs. Lake asked.

“This is the coolest place, Mom,” Stevie said, matching her mother’s excitement about New York with her own. “There are really neat kids around here and Regina knows them all. We were playing in the backyards.”

“You go onto other people’s property?” Mrs. Lake asked.

“It’s like it’s everyone’s,” Stevie said.

“The neighbors understand,” said Mrs. Evans. “As long as the kids don’t do any damage.”

“We’re careful,” said Regina.

“Most of the time,” Mrs. Evans said.

“Well, we never go through Mr. Simon’s yard anymore,” said Regina.

“Tomato plants,” said Mrs. Evans by way of explanation.

“There are lots of places to play cool games,” said Stevie. “We even—”

“We were playing hide-and-seek,” Regina cut in.

Stevie realized that Regina had thought she was going to say something about going into the house with the greenhouse. She never would have done that.

“Just what I was going to say,” said Stevie. “We were hiding behind some vines and nobody could see us at all.”

“For a while,” said Regina.

“You didn’t bother anyone, did you?” Mrs. Evans asked.

“Nobody at all,” said Regina.

“I heard the poodle barking,” said Mrs. Evans.

“He always does that. It was nothing. Really, nothing.”

Mrs. Evans looked up at Stevie’s mother. “Catherine, I’m a little worried that Regina may not be the best influence.…”

Stevie stifled a giggle. Her mother came to the rescue with a smile. “Don’t worry, Elisa,” she said. “And please don’t be misled by Stevie’s angelic face. When it comes to bad influences—”

“Mom, can we go to a museum tomorrow?” Regina interrupted. She apparently knew when a conversation was taking an undesirable turn. Stevie was relieved on her own behalf, though she was secretly flattered that her mother had described her as having an angelic face. She’d already been feeling good that Regina had had confidence that Stevie could find the group when they were hiding in the house, and now her mother thought she was an angel, or at least looked like one. That was two compliments in one day!

“Which museum?” Mrs. Evans asked.

“Natural history?” Regina suggested.

“Oh, the dinosaurs!” Stevie said. “Let’s do it.”

“I won’t have time to take you,” said Mrs. Lake.

“And I’m sure Elisa won’t, either.”

“It’s not a problem, Catherine,” said Regina’s mother. “The museum is an easy bus ride, and I know Regina can get there by herself. I think the girls would enjoy the adventure. Wouldn’t you?”

“Definitely,” Stevie agreed.

“And you’ll be careful?” Stevie’s mother asked.

“Aren’t I always?” Stevie asked. Then she thought better of it. “Maybe you shouldn’t answer that!”

Mrs. Lake laughed. “You’re not always careful,” she said. “But you always seem to manage to come out on top. Somehow.”

“Well, that’s good enough, isn’t it?” Stevie asked.

Her mother didn’t answer.

O
NE OF THE
things Stevie thought was really great about New York was how she and Regina could just go someplace on a bus. No car, no parents, no brothers—just go! Taking the bus across town in New York City was no bigger deal for Regina than biking to a friend’s house in Willow Creek was for Stevie. Here she was in one of the biggest cities in the world and she and Regina were on their own. Naturally they had to call Regina’s mother when they got to the museum, and they had to promise about sixteen times that they’d be careful.

The museum was full of people. They were mostly families with kids, but there were also kids with groups
and kids with friends. It was soon clear to Stevie that Regina had spent a lot of time visiting that museum and knew her way around very well. They saw the dinosaurs, all right. They also saw rooms full of African and then Asian animals. Stevie’s favorite exhibit was the herd of stuffed elephants. In one corner of her mind, she knew somebody had hunted those elephants and killed them. That fact made her sad, but the group of them was so real that it almost felt as if she were in the middle of the African plains. While she hated the idea of all those animals being killed, she told herself that it had happened a long time ago and that at least their deaths hadn’t been wasted. She, along with millions of other kids and adults, had the privilege of seeing them as if they were still alive.

“Okay, I’m ready to go,” said Regina.

“Back on the bus?” Stevie asked.

“Nah, let’s walk.”

“Across the park?” Stevie asked. “Your mom’ll kill us, and if she doesn’t, mine will.”

“It’s broad daylight,” Regina reminded Stevie. “And it’s a nice day. Besides, you told me that you and your friends rode horses in the park by yourselves. If you can ride a horse there, you shouldn’t be worried about walking there.”

Stevie wasn’t so sure about that. She always felt safer on a horse than on foot. But she also agreed with Regina that the park was probably pretty safe in the bright sunshine.

It turned out to be perfectly safe. The two girls walked past playgrounds, softball fields, chess players, picnickers, and, Stevie thought, about a thousand dogs. They walked past the bridle path onto an adjoining footpath.

“There! That’s the place. I remember it exactly!” Stevie said.

“What place?” asked Regina.

“The place where Skye Ransom fell off his horse,” Stevie explained.

Regina walked over to the spot Stevie indicated. She crouched down and ran her open hand over the patch of grass. “You mean I’m touching the grass that Skye Ransom’s rear was on?” she asked. Her voice dripped with skepticism. Stevie knew Regina didn’t believe it had really happened, but it had and there seemed to be nothing she could do to convince Regina of that, so she played along with her.

“Actually, it was more like his chin was there. His knees were here.…” Stevie smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “And his butt was there.
X
marks the spot.”

“Oooooh!” Regina teased. She stood up. “Come on, let’s get some ice cream.”

Stevie was relieved that the subject was closed. The way Regina said it told her that she still didn’t believe her but wasn’t going to call her a liar. More important, they were still friends.

“My treat,” Stevie said. “Well, Mom’s treat.” She took out the money her mother had given her that morning.

An hour later the girls were back at Regina’s house, telling Mrs. Evans about all the things they’d seen at the museum. Regina made a point of saying that both bus trips had been totally uneventful. Mrs. Evans seemed pleased with the report. Stevie thought it hadn’t been necessary to add the part about
both
bus trips. She herself was more than capable of leaving out extraneous information that would not necessarily make her mother happy, but she wasn’t awfully good at an out-and-out lie. Still, they’d had no problems walking back. Maybe Regina knew what she was doing.

“C’mon,” said Regina. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Why?”

“We were supposed to meet everybody at three o’clock. Remember?”

Stevie had almost forgotten. She looked at her watch. It was already quarter after three.

She ran up to Regina’s room, which overlooked the garden, and stowed the bag of postcards and the realistic rubber snake she’d bought just in case she ever had a good use for it (she’d had her brother Michael in mind) and met Regina in the backyard five minutes later. Five minutes after that they were scrunching across the rubble and broken glass in the greenhouse to get into the boarded-up brownstone.

“Hello?” Regina called from the old dining room on the ground floor.

There was no answer at first. The two girls went over to the staircase, thinking their friends would have gone back up to the parlor floor, where they’d been the day before, but they weren’t there.

“I bet they’re downstairs,” Regina said, signaling Stevie to follow her.

At the back of the staircase was a little door that had been left open a crack. Regina pulled the door back farther and peered inside.

“Quick! Get down here!” a voice whispered from the darkness.

Regina didn’t waste any time. She slid through the door and Stevie followed right after her.

It wasn’t completely dark. A dim light shone from a single bulb in the middle of the basement ceiling. Peter, Liza, Ann, and Gordon were all huddled under it, sitting on boxes that looked as if they’d spent the last century down there.

Peter had his finger to his lips, indicating that Stevie and Regina should be quiet. Stevie couldn’t imagine why, but the look of terror on Gordon’s face told her that there was a reason.

“Someone’s upstairs,” Ann whispered, barely audible.

Stevie sat down on the box next to Liza and listened. Someone
was
upstairs. She and Regina must have come into the back of the house just after someone else had come into the front. They could hear footsteps on the front steps leading up to the house’s main entrance on the parlor floor. There was the click of a key turning in the lock.

“Must be the guy who’s working on the house,” Peter said.

“It’s about the first time he’s been here in months,” said Ann.

“Could be the end of our fun,” Peter observed.

“Are they going to find us?” Gordon asked.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Peter said. He put his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. It was a small gesture, but a sweet and protective one. Stevie realized she liked Peter. Not that it was going to make any difference if they all got caught and spent the rest of their young lives in a detention center.

“Aren’t we trespassing?” Stevie whispered.

“Her parents are both lawyers,” Regina explained.

Liza giggled. Stevie didn’t.

The footsteps were now definitely in the house. There seemed to be a couple of people up there. Judging by the weight of the steps, Stevie figured they were men. That made sense. Most construction workers were men.

“Hey, Frank! Look at this. Some stuff’s been moved around.”

Stevie felt a chill on the back of her neck. The boxes upstairs.

“Kids!” another voice exclaimed.

“How’d they get in here?”

“Must’ve broken their way in. We’ll find out where.”

Nobody in the basement moved for the next ten
minutes. They heard the two men tromp around the house. They heard them bringing some things in. Everything went straight up to the parlor floor.

Sitting there in the dim light, Stevie looked around her. The basement seemed small compared to the basement in her own house. Also, it hadn’t been built with any other use in mind than to house a furnace and water heater. The ceiling was high, but no attempt had been made to make it a pleasant place to be. There was a small open area where they were sitting—and then Stevie noticed something that seemed completely out of place, because it was totally new and very clean. It was a closet of sorts, built into one corner of the cellar.

Stevie’s eyes rested on the odd plywood closet. It was as high as the ceiling and perhaps eight feet long and six feet wide. Odder than the fact that it was there at all, though, was the door, which was latched not with one or two but with three padlocks.

She pointed at it and made a face. Regina looked where she was pointing and shrugged.

“Who knows?” she mused.

Stevie knew that construction materials could be expensive—her mother had certainly complained enough about the cost when the Lakes had redone
their kitchen the previous year—but nothing that they used was so expensive it had to be locked up.