“Hey,” Lindsay said. “How’s it going?”
Mark shrugged. “Sorry about yesterday,” he told her. “I feel like a total geek for freaking out that way.”
“They’re really strict, huh?”
“You can’t imagine,” Mark said. His face changed, and he looked happy. “You look really nice today.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
“No, I don’t,” he said. “Don’t have any clothes that fit me here.”
“I hate everything I brought,” Lindsay said.
“How’s your vacation so far?” Mark asked.
“It’s okay. I met some kids yesterday. They’re cool, I guess.”
“If I could get out of here, I’d make sure you had a good trip.”
“Oh really?” Lindsay said a bit too loudly. She got her voice under control and said “What would we do?”
“I don’t know. I’d teach you how to surf. You said you wanted to learn. Then we could find a nice place for dinner, and after that walk on the beach for a couple of hours. We could build a fire and talk and stuff.”
“That sounds great,” she said.
“Yeah. Right now, anything sounds great to me as long as it doesn’t involve Doug, Jack, or this damn room.”
“Why don’t you come out here?” she asked. “Maybe we could talk out back. You’d totally make it inside before they found out.”
Mark looked at her like she had just sprouted a snout. His eyebrows scrunched and his head turned to the side like a curious dog.
“Can’t,” he said. “It’s like, the window. But maybe you could come in?”
Before she knew it, she was climbing over the sill. Once her shoulders were well into the room, Mark grabbed her gently and pulled her the rest of the way. She glided over his desk and felt how strong he was.
“There,” he said. “That’s better.”
The first thing that struck Lindsay about Mark’s room was how stark it seemed. Outside she’d noticed the lack of wall decorations and the minimal furnishings, but standing in the room made her feel the emptiness of the place. It could have been the tidiness. The pile of clothes she’d noticed yesterday against the closet door was gone, leaving the floor spotless. Mark’s bed was made, blankets smoothed down tight and flawless. The desk by the window, a simple wooden top with narrow legs, looked brand-new, as if it had never been used. No papers littered the surface. No scratches marred the wood. To her left was an open door, leading to a bathroom, and against the same wall as the window was the piano she’d noticed before.
“Do you play?” Lindsay asked.
“Sure,” Mark said. He crossed to the piano and lifted the cover off the keys. He hit a key with his index finger and the note chimed crisply. “Well, I used to. I haven’t felt much like it lately.” He sat down on the bench. “Any requests?”
“I don’t know much piano music,” Lindsay admitted, feeling foolish.
“Hmm.” Mark stared at the keyboard for a moment, and then his fingers came down on the keys.
The music that followed was classical, Lindsay knew, but she didn’t know the piece or the composer. Still, to her it sounded amazing. Each note and chord meshed together in a beautiful weave of sound. But it also sounded kind of sad.
Mark stopped after a couple of minutes and said “Chopin.”
“What?”
“The piece is by Chopin.”
He returned his attention to the piano and started banging out a high tempo piece that sounded like old-time rock and roll. This only kept his attention for a minute though. “And that was Jerry Lee Lewis.”
“You play really well.”
“Thanks.” The compliment seemed to brighten Mark up a lot. He played a few more snippets, identifying each artist when he finished. “The Beatles.” “Elton John.” “Linkin Park.”
The only song Lindsay knew was the last one. She liked it a lot, and though she didn’t know the others, she liked them, too, but probably only because Mark had chosen to play them.
And there she stood, in Mark’s room. Alone with him. Her thoughts raced and collided, leaving her without anything to say. She supposed she could comment on the room or something. It wasn’t so bad. It felt a little chilly to her, but it was okay. Still, it was no place to spend your summer.
“You’re shaking,” Mark said, rising from the piano bench.
“Too much AC,” she replied, hugging herself.
“Do you want another shirt or something? Doug and Jack keep the place like a refrigerator most of the time. I guess I’m just used to it now.”
“No, I’m fine,” Lindsay assured him.
“Do you want to sit down?” Mark asked, indicating the desk chair behind her. “You might be warmer if you stay by the window.”
“Thanks.”
“I’d offer you something to drink, but I think Doug or Jack might notice.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lindsay said.
Then they fell silent. Lindsay sat in the desk chair, found it comfortable. Mark stood in the middle of the room, looking a little shy and uncertain. She could have just looked at him for an hour, but it was totally weird not saying anything. It made her tremble more.
“I like your room.”
“Thank you. It’d be okay if I could get out of it every now and then.”
“Well, they can’t keep you locked up forever. How long are you grounded?”
“Forever,” he said with a smile. “It’s really complicated. And they’re going to be back soon.”
Lindsay watched the sad expression leak over Mark’s face. She again wondered if his guardians hit him, and the thought made her chest hurt.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I mean, they aren’t hurting you, are they? Because that’s totally illegal.”
“You can’t get involved,” Mark said sharply. “It’s not what you think.”
“It just seems so unfair.”
“Look, Lindsay,” Mark said, turning his head a bit as if looking for spies in his nearly empty room. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone else? I’m serious. You can’t tell anyone. Not your friends or your parents or anyone!”
Thrilled that he was going to share a secret with her, Lindsay leaned closer. She put her hands on her knees and nodded her head.
“I swear.”
Again Mark looked around his room. “I can’t explain it all, because there’s not enough time. But you know how sometimes the government will take people who know things and hide them, move them to another part of the country, change their names?”
“Sure,” Lindsay said. She saw it all the time on television.
“Well, it’s like that,” Mark said. “But it’s not just that. I think something’s wrong. I’m not supposed to be a prisoner. I mean, they never made it sound that way before, but I can’t get out of this house. The doors are locked, and they’ve got alarms. They’ve got this stuff they put on the windows and doors, and if I touch them it leaves a mark. That’s why you have to open the window for me. The worst part is, I couldn’t leave if I wanted to. Because even though these guys are bad, there are a lot worse things out there looking for me. So I can’t go to the cops or call my friends, because if anyone finds me, I’m toast.”
“I don’t believe this,” Lindsay said.
It was just an expression. She totally believed it. If Mark were a liar with strict parents, he could climb through the window and run away. He had to seriously believe he was in danger, or he wouldn’t just stay inside taking their abuse.
“What happened?” she asked.
“It has to do with my father,” Mark said. “You might say he’s involved with the underworld. Anyway, he got me involved in some things that are totally out of my control.”
On the trip out to her uncle’s house, Lindsay had felt like a prisoner, kidnapped by her parents and dragged away from her life. Now she saw how silly that was. Mark was a prisoner, a real one.