Eleanor brought her mother into the kitchen and said, “First, you need to cook up some pizza rolls.”
“What? Now you’re hungry? I thought you were going to show me the phone—”
“It’s in the attic.”
“Yeah …”
“Brendan’s in the attic,” said Eleanor.
Mrs Walker made a face, knowing this was underhanded. Still, within five minutes, the pizza-roll smell was wafting through the house and Eleanor was pulling her mother out of the kitchen as Brendan ran down towards it.
“I’ve been going to the attic when Bren’s not around,” Eleanor admitted as they went up the back staircase.
“Nell! It’s his room! Why would you do that?”
“To pretend—” started Eleanor, but she was cut off as they heard Brendan chanting: “Pizza rolls! Pizza rolls! Pizza rolls!”
“What do you pretend when you’re up there?” asked Mrs Walker.
“That the house is a big ship,” Eleanor said, “and the attic’s the captain’s quarters, and I’m the captain. Or that it’s the starship Enterprise and I’m Spock. Brendan does this thing where he hangs the rope in a certain way to try and catch if people go in there, but I know how to put it back so I don’t get caught.”
“Nell,” Mrs Walker said admonishingly, “it’s important to use your imagination, but it’s equally important to respect other people’s space.”
Eleanor nodded. She couldn’t admit the real reason she played in the attic: to look out the window and remember how it felt when she first saw the forest outside Kristoff House. Back on their adventure. When everything was so exciting. And when the Walkers were working together, facing challenges, being close – not lying to one another.
They reached the attic steps. Eleanor explained to her mom: “Okay, so sometimes, besides playing in the attic, I play in the dumbwaiter.” She pointed to the square metal door in the wall.
“That’s awful!” said Mrs Walker. “I mean, if the thing broke, you would—”
“Break my neck?”
“What on earth are you going to tell me next? That you’re joining a gang?”
“Relax, Mom. I’m just explaining how I saw Dad go into the attic.”
“Oh.”
“Friday after school, I was playing in the dumbwaiter, and I saw him go in. Like, secretly.”
Eleanor led her mom up the stairs.
There were two big piles of magazines in Brendan’s attic – Sports Illustrated and Game Informer – and one continuous snaking pile of dirty clothes that led to a hamper, which curiously held no clothes. Posters on the wall had started to peel off and been reattached with gum. A plate of blue-tinged grilled-cheese crusts rested on top of a goldfish bowl where Brendan’s goldfish, Turbo, refused to die.
“Dad was only in here for a minute,” Eleanor explained, “but after he left, I came up to see what he was doing. He left that bottom drawer open. Just a crack. When I looked inside … I found the phone. It was tucked under Brendan’s old dinosaur pajamas, which he would never wear.”
Mrs Walker went to Brendan’s bureau and opened the drawer. Nestled under the bright green pajamas was an iPhone.
Mrs Walker picked it up. The phone was locked. She tried to unlock it with Dr Walker’s birthday: 0404. That didn’t work. She tried her own birthday, 1208, and sighed.
“What?” Eleanor asked.
“No matter what I find on here,” said Mrs Walker, “I know he’s still thinking of me.”
Mrs Walker went to Recent Calls, but all the outgoing calls were made to just one number.
“415-555-1438,” Mrs Walker read.
“What’s that, Mom?”
“We’re about to find out.”
“No, wait, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“We should get out of here! What if Brendan comes back? Or Dad?”
“It’s already ringing, Nell.”
“Then at least let me listen!”
Mrs Walker knelt and held the phone so her daughter could hear it. A voice answered, “Doc?”
It was a man’s voice, thick and gruff, like the voice of someone with two raw slabs of bacon wrapped around his vocal cords.
“Doc? You there? Whadda you got? Niners are three over this week, Warriors are—”
“Who is this, a sports bookie?” Mrs Walker asked.
Click. The call was over.
“Who was that?” Eleanor said.
“Some coward,” her mom said, calling the same number again.
This time, the man answered on the first ring. “Listen up—”
“No, you listen! I’m Jacob Walker’s wife, Bellamy Walker, and I demand to know—”
“I’m guessing you ain’t got picks for the doc?”
“No! And what you’re doing is completely illegal—”
“Hey. Mrs Walker. Don’t judge. I just do business with your husband. You got a problem with that, you take it up with him. And tell the doc if he wants in on this week’s games, he better call back. And one final thing—”
The man spat a very nasty curse word at Mrs Walker.
Click.
Mrs Walker looked stunned. Eleanor looked at the floor. “Are we in trouble?”
“Not at all,” her mom said. “Mommy’s going to handle everything.”
“We should go, I think I hear Bren.”
Mrs Walker stuffed the secret phone back in the bureau, and the two of them climbed out of the attic. Eleanor placed the rope back into the same position that Brendan had left it in. On the back stairs, Eleanor stopped and turned to her mom. “See, I was telling the truth!”
“You were.”
“And this will help our family, right?”
“Yes. Sure. Of course.”
“And do you realise, Mom? We just went on a little adventure?”
“Sure, honey. An adventure. Dad is spending all our money on sports bets. Big adventure.” Suddenly Mrs Walker had tears in her eyes.
“I don’t understand when I lost this family,” she said. “Do you? Did you see when it happened?”
Eleanor shook her head sadly. All she could do was hug her mother.