Faintly, Ellie could make out Brad’s voice, wheedling, badgering. Finally David muttered, “Of course I’m gonna let her out, dumb-ass. Soon as I finish this level.”
For the first time since she’d been getting locked in the closet, Ellie pushed herself backwards, into the swallowing blackness. On her bottom, still holding onto the lamp.
When the door finally opened, Ellie had to slam her eyes shut against the sudden explosion of light. She wriggled back a little more, behind the dangling coats, the carpet muffling any sound she might’ve made.
“Where is she?” Brad.
A pause.
“Holy crap, I told you she wasn’t in here anymore.”
“Shut up.”
Silence then, only silence and darkness back there in the depths, despite the light from the door. Ellie had gotten herself in pretty deep. The closet was even bigger than she’d imagined.
“Told you,” Brad said again.
“Shut up, of course she’s in here,” David said. “She can’t get out, I locked the door.”
“Yeah?” Brad said. There was that funny sound in his voice again. “Well, don’t let it lock on us.”
Ellie’s eyes had adjusted by now, and she could make out David, twisting around, feeling for the knob on the outside of the closet door. She could hear the tiny click the lock made as it turned from down to horizontal.
“There,” he said. “Now it can’t lock.”
But Brad took a step backwards into the room anyway.
“You better go in,” he said. “If she really can’t have gotten out, she’s gotta be in there.”
“Ding, ding, ding,” David muttered. “We got ourselves an Einstein.”
Ellie bought herself another inch of space.
“Ellie.” David’s voice was as rough as a strap. “Get out here.”
She cringed in the darkness. She held onto the lamp like she used to hold onto her mother’s skirt.
“Go on,” Brad said again. He sounded very far away. “You scared?”
“Who’s the one standing out there?” David replied. And then he entered the closet.
Ellie lifted the lamp into the air. She was surprised at how heavy it was.
“Ellie,” David said, louder than she’d ever heard him. “You better get out here or you’re not gonna like what happens.”
Ellie forced herself not to say a word, not to let out a single cry.
“It’ll be worse than the closet, that’s for sure.”
Fear sliced through her, and after that everything happened very fast. David walked a few more paces in, close enough for Ellie to hear the rasp of his jeans, to smell his breath, sour from whatever he’d been eating. She’d had nothing to eat since lunchtime at school.
He bumped against something — a carton that had once held an appliance — and ducked to shove it out of his way.
Ellie brought the lamp back, up over her shoulder, sure that David would detect the motion and grab it out of her hands.
But he didn’t seem to see a thing.
“Okay, that’s it,” David said. “If you’re really not in here, I’m going out. Brad and I’ll go over to his house. And Ellie?”
A pause, while Ellie fought not to jump up, tell David she was right here, fall on top of him, and give him the lamp.
“Mom’s not coming home tonight.” And he started to turn.
Ellie brought the lamp down with a hysterical screech. She didn’t know where on David’s body the lamp hit him, she only knew that it did. She could feel the solid weight of metal slamming against something, making the lamp vibrate so hard she felt it in her teeth.
And she heard David — who seldom raised his voice above a whisper, not even when their dad had walked out for the last time, telling David it was all his fault — scream.
Ellie raced out of the closet, stepping on some part of her brother so that she almost tripped, then righting herself and pushing past Brad, who was still standing by the couch, staring stupidly in her direction.
She ran up to her room and contemplated hiding in her closet. She did get down under her bed for a minute or two. But no one came upstairs, and Ellie crawled out. For a while she just stood there, listening for noises down below, but not hearing much.
It was getting dark; it must be late. This really had been the longest time ever. David had kept her locked up until almost dinner. Their mom was going to be mad that the meal wasn’t on the table, wasn’t even near to being prepared.
Finally the front door opened and closed; then there was quiet again.
“Elizabeth!” her mother called.
Ellie went downstairs, heart thudding.
Their mother was crouched before David, who was sitting on a kitchen chair, cradling his arm. Their mom’s gaze flew up to Ellie.
“I have to go back to the hospital,” she said, an unsteady stitch in her voice. “I’m taking David over.”
Ellie waited to be accused.
“You’d better get your coat,” their mother went on.
“Why?” Ellie asked. She didn’t dare look at her brother.
“Well, you can’t stay alone,” their mom said, still squatting on the floor. David’s long legs were splayed out around her.
“No,” Ellie replied, finally meeting David’s gaze. “I mean, why? What happened?”
She looked out at the living room. It had been cleaned up. The closet door was shut.
“Your brother was wrestling,” their mother said, standing up. “With Brad after school.” She gave a short, hard jerk of her head. “I think he broke his arm.”
David was as silent as ever while the doctor poked and prodded his arm, positioned it for X-rays, then set it. There were no chairs in the tiny, curtained-off space, so Ellie had to sit on the waxy tile floor, staring at a streak that might’ve been blood.
“Now will you learn?” their mother said as she helped David off the bed. “You’re supposed to be watching your sister anyway. No roughhousing.” She glanced back at the doctor and gave him a smile that flushed her cheeks. “Thanks, Ron.”
The next day after school, Ellie waited for David to exact his revenge. But he never came near her. It was hard for him to write — the arm Ellie had broken was his right one — and he seemed to labor over his homework, muffling grunts of frustration, bright green cast lying uselessly in his lap.
Ellie took it upon herself to prepare dinner. That was usually David’s job — he often did it while she was in the closet; she’d strain to hear the noises that meant at least one of these seconds, minutes, hours, their mother would be returning home — but she could make macaroni and cheese from a box. She could tear up lettuce.
There was still time left before their mother was due back, and Ellie wanted to stay far away from David. Eventually he’d finish struggling with his homework, or else give it a herky-jerky, left-handed throw aside. Then there’d be nothing left for him to do.
She trudged upstairs.
It was getting dark. The light in David’s room was off, but across the strip of lawn, Brad’s had been turned on. Ellie wondered why he hadn’t come over today. She turned and looked back over her shoulder, making sure David wasn’t on his way up to play spy with his best friend. But all was quiet downstairs.
Ellie took a step into David’s room.
His blanket was in a twist, hanging off the bed. The clothes he’d tried on earlier — two shirts whose sleeves he couldn’t get over his cast — lay on the floor. Some new games were scattered about too. Ellie began to step over them. But when her foot came down on one, Ellie stepped a little harder, listening for the crack.
Still quiet downstairs. No one was behind her.
She’d traveled all the way across the room by now.
She ducked down like David did, peeking through the window.
It was as clear as watching a movie on their dad’s HDTV. Ellie had only been there once — and David never at all — but she had been amazed at how new and shiny their dad’s apartment was. It was as if he’d stripped off the old, gray life he’d shared here with Ellie and David and their mom. Like a papery, outgrown skin.