Home Alone (5 page)

"Anyone see us?" Harry asked as they sped away down the street.

"I didn't see anyone in the windows," said Marv. "I thought you said they were gone."

"We both watched them leave this morning, birdbrain," Harry snapped.

"Then who was that?" Marv asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "I didn't see anyone. I swear I don't get it. I
know
they all left."

"And I know I ain't going near that house again," Marv said.

"Cool it." Harry ran his fingers over his hair. "I'm gonna figure this thing out and then we are going back. That's the best house on the block."

As soon as the plane reached the gate, Kate ran into the terminal and headed for the telephones. The other McCallisters were right behind her.

"I'm going to try our house," Kate yelled. "Peter, you call the Murphys. If they're home they can run over and get Kev. Kids, go get change. Start calling everyone you know."

Kate pulled her address book out of her bag and tossed it to Leslie. "You and Frank call anyone who lives on our street. If we're lucky, someone will still be home."

They took up a whole bank of phones. As Kate dialed her home phone number she felt reassured.
One
of them had to get through.

A moment later she heard a recording that her phone was out of order. Darn! Kate thought. She had a vague recollection of the man from Commonwealth Power and Light saying something that morning about the phones.

Next Kate tried the local police.

"Oak Park police department," the switchboard operator answered.

Kate waved excitedly at Peter. Then she tried to explain to the operator that she and her family were in Paris, but they'd forgotten Kevin.

"So you want to report a missing child?" the operator asked.

"No," Kate said. "He's not missing. He's at home. We left on an overseas flight and we had eleven kids. Somehow we overlooked him."

"Then the child is not missing," the operator said.

"Listen," Kate said, feeling her frustration growing. "I just need someone to go to my house and see if my child is all right."

"And tell him we're coming home for him," Peter added.

"Right," said Kate. "We're coming home."

"I better connect you with family crisis intervention," said the operator.

"Wait," Kate yelled, "it's not a family crisis!"

But it was too late; the operator put her on hold. Kate turned to Peter.

"Somehow I'm going to make them understand what's going on," she said. "You should go to the ticket counter. Book the first flight home."

"For all of us?" Peter asked.

"There's no sense in taking the kids," Kate said. "You stay here with them. I'll go get Kevin and bring him back."

Peter frowned. Kate gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Just hold Christmas for us, okay?"

Peter nodded and hurried toward the ticket counter. Meanwhile a new voice from the Oak Park police station came on the phone.

"Family crisis intervention. Sergeant Balzak speaking."

"Hi," Kate said. "Look, I'm calling from Paris—"

"Paris?" Sergeant Balzak repeated. "That doesn't sound like it's in our district."

"It isn't," Kate said. "But my little boy is. You see, he's home alone—"

"Has the child been involved in a violent altercation with a drunken or mentally ill family member?" Sergeant Balzak asked.

"No," Kate said. "Let me—"

"Has the child been involved in a household accident?"

"God, I hope not," said Kate. "I—"

"Has the child swallowed poison or an object that has become lodged in his throat?" asked Balzak.

"NO!" Kate screamed. "He's just home alone! I just want you to send someone over to the house! Just to check on him!"

"Hold your horses, lady," Balzak said. "All you want is someone to go over to your house and check on your son?"

"YES!" screamed Kate.

"Hold on while I transfer you to the police department," Balzak said.

"But I've already—" Before Kate could say anything more, she was put on hold again. She felt like throwing the receiver against the wall, but that wouldn't help get Kevin. Meanwhile the kids, Leslie, and Frank started drifting toward her.

"Any luck?" Kate asked hopefully as she waited for the Oak Park police again.

"None," said Heather. The other kids either shook their heads or shrugged.

"Just a bunch of answering machines," squeaked Aunt Leslie.

"Okay, listen," Kate said, handing the phone to her. "I've got the Oak Park police department on the line. Don't get off until they promise to send someone to the house to check on Kevin. I'm going to see if Peter's had any luck with the planes."

Kate ran to the ticket area. Peter was leaning on the counter, talking to a ticket agent. He didn't look happy.

"Any luck?" Kate asked.

"Tonight's flights to Chicago are all booked," Peter said. "With standby lists a mile long."

"Let's try another city," Kate said.

"I already did. Detroit, New York, I tried everything."

"What about a private jet?" Kate asked.

"I checked," Peter said. "None available. The first flight I could get you on leaves Monday night."

"Monday?" Kate gasped. "That's two days from now."

"It's the best I could do."

"But that's not good enough," Kate said. Peter sighed. "Look, honey, we've done all we can here. The kids are exhausted. We're tired. Let's go to my brother Rob's house. We can call the police again from there."

"No," Kate replied very firmly. "I have a young child at home alone. We punished him last night. He may even be thinking we left him home on purpose. I'm not leaving here unless it's on an airplane."

"Honey, please," Peter begged.

"Don't, Peter," Kate said. "The only place I'm going is back home. I'll put myself on standby for every flight back to the States and just wait until a seat opens up. You take everybody to Rob's. I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

"You sure?" Peter asked.

"Absolutely," said Kate.

Peter smiled slightly. "You're a good mother."

Kate tried to smile back. "I'm trying."

Kevin wandered into the study. He knew what was about to happen. He was about to spend his first night ever alone. He'd just finished going through the house, making sure the doors were locked and every possible light was on.

"Don't be scared," he whispered. "Dad always says there's nothing to be scared of."

He turned on the TV. A football game was about to begin. The players on the sidelines were walking back and forth pumping their fists, getting themselves up for the game.

Kevin clenched his fists and started walking back and forth. "I won't be afraid," he chanted. "I won't be afraid . . . I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of anything. Not even the dark."

Kevin stopped and looked at the front door.

He felt really pumped up now. He pushed open the door and went out into the dark.

"I'm not afraid of anyone," he whispered.

"I'm not afraid of
anything
," he said a little louder.

Then he ran down to the end of the driveway and shouted, "I'm not afraid of anyone!"

"That's good," someone said.

Kevin's jaw fell open. Old man Marley came out of the shadows carrying a snow shovel.

"AAAhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Kevin screamed and bolted for the house. He slammed the front door closed, locked it, ran upstairs and dove into his mother's bed. He pulled a pillow over his head and trembled.

Moments later an Oak Park police car rolled down the street. The two officers inside had just received a call from the station to check out the McCallister house and see if anyone was home. Something about the family being in Paris and missing a kid. The cops pulled into the driveway and got out. They went to the door and knocked.

Upstairs, Kevin pulled another pillow over his head and held his breath.

The cop knocked again.

"Go away, Marley," Kevin whispered. "
Please go away!
"

The cops looked in the windows.

"There's nobody home," one of the cops said. "The place looks secure."

"What about the lights?" asked his partner.

"Timers. All the houses around here have 'em."

"So what do we do?" his partner asked.

The first cop shrugged. "Call the station. Tell the McCallisters to count their kids again."

Paris was gaily lit for the holidays. The trees along the Champs Élysées were strung with colored lights and the Arc de Triomphe was bathed in spotlights. But in Rob McCallister's apartment on the Rue de les Fairds, all was not cheery.

Inside, Uncle Frank, Rod, Megan and Linnie sat on the couch and watched TV just like they did at home. Buzz was looking at French magazines and Peter was on the phone to the states, still trying to find someone in Oak Park to check on Kevin.

"Hey, kids," Uncle Frank said. "In honor of our first lunch in France, I'm gonna do a snail burp."

He let out a tiny, high-pitched burp. Megan groaned and wandered over to Buzz.

"This is so pointless," she complained.

"What?" asked Buzz. He liked these French magazines. Sometimes the models didn't wear a lot of clothes.

"We're sitting here rotting in an apartment," Megan moped. "Kevin's home. Mom's at the airport. . . ."

"So?" Buzz asked.

"You don't think it's weird?" asked Megan.

"No."

"You're not worried about Kevin at all?" Megan asked.

Buzz shrugged. "Why should I?"

"He's home alone," said Megan.

"And he deserves it," said Buzz.

"He acted like a jerk once too many times and it finally caught up to him."

"But he's so little and helpless," Megan said. "Think about it. He must be flipping out."

"Yeah," Buzz said with a nasty grin. "He's probably doing a stage-ten brain fry-down right now. But he asked for it."

Megan was shocked. "You're really cruel, you know that?"

"Why?" Buzz asked. "Because I think the little trout can use a couple of days in the real world?"

"You're not at all worried something might happen to him?" Megan asked.

"No." Buzz shook his head and held up three fingers. "For three reasons. A, I'm not that lucky. Two, we have smoke detectors. D, we live on the single most boring street in the United States of America where nothing even remotely dangerous is ever . . . did ever . . . and will ever happen. Period."

Megan knew Buzz was probably right, but she was still worried. She walked over to her father, who'd just hung up the phone. "Any luck?" she asked.

Peter shook his head. "I've spoken to more answering machines in the last four hours than I have in the last four years."

"Is there anyone left to call?" Megan asked.

"Yeah, a few," Peter said. "But I'm gonna try later. Right now all I'm doing is striking out."

Kevin walked proudly toward the village of Oak Park. He had just done several very adult things and was quite pleased with himself.

To start with, Kevin had spent the whole night at home alone. He'd even managed to sleep for awhile.

Then this morning, for the first time in his life he'd taken a shower all by himself, and washed every part of his body with actual soap, including all the major crevices . . . like those between his toes,
and
his belly button, which he had never washed before. He was surprised to find that he sort of enjoyed it.

He had also washed his hair with adult-formula shampoo and used a cream rinse for that just-washed shine.

The only thing he hadn't done was brush his teeth, mostly because he couldn't find his toothbrush. But that was why he was doing another incredibly grown-up thing today—he was walking to town, by himself, to buy a toothbrush.

Kevin passed the church and Santa's Village, where Santa sat in a hut and his elf brought in all the kids to see him. He reached into his pocket and felt money he'd taken from the tin box on top of Buzz's shelf. In the process he'd accidentally knocked down a book, which hit Axl's terrarium and broke it. Axl the tarantula had escaped, but Kevin planned to find him later. As for the money, Kevin didn't think Buzz would mind, wherever he was.

The only scary part about going out alone was walking down his street, past all the bushes and hedges. Old man Marley could've been hiding behind any of them. But Kevin had done it and now he was entering the village of Oak Park with its ice-skating pond and quaint two-story brick buildings. And he was no longer worried about old man Marley.

Kevin passed the post office and the butcher and the candy store. It was getting close to lunchtime and he was feeling a little hungry. He knew that with the money in his pocket he could have bought a ton of candy, but he was being grown-up. And that meant buying a toothbrush instead.

If I keep this up, Kevin thought, I'll almost qualify to be a teenager.

Ding-a-ling
! A little bell rang as Kevin stepped into the drugstore. He wandered past shelves filled with Shampoo and deodorants and Dr. Scholl's foot stuff until he found the toothbrush rack. Kevin had never realized how many different sizes, shapes and colors of toothbrushes there were. He could only assume that people must've brushed their teeth a lot. Maybe even once a week.

Kevin picked a red brush with white-and-blue bristles and took it to the counter. An old lady with a painted face stared down at him. She was a little scary-looking, but he could deal with her.

"How may I help you?" she asked.

"Is this toothbrush approved by the American Dental Association?" Kevin asked. The old lady held the toothbrush close to her face and tried to read the tiny print on the side of the package.

Ding-a-ling
! Someone else entered the drugstore, but neither Kevin nor the old lady bothered to look. They were too busy trying to figure out whether the toothbrush was approved or not.