In the House with Mouse! Page 5

  “Of course they are, Angie—’cuz he didn’t have any in the movie!” I respond.

  Exasperated with my pesty sister, I go back to trying to figure out my horoscope. “Watch out for sheep wearing wolves’ clothing. …” Suddenly I get alarmed. Maybe they’re talking about Eddie Lizard! I wonder if that means I should forget about him….

  “What does the horoscope say—that you like him, and should just admit it?” Angie says, smirking and biting into her sandwich.

  “Why don’t you read it and find out?” I say, pushing the newspaper in front of her. I swear, if I had a can of Daddy’s SWAT insect spray, I’d spray it right at her, and watch her squirm like a cockroach before it turns over on its back and croaks.

  BAM! All of a sudden, we hear a loud crashing noise from upstairs. Angie jumps up from the table.

  “What if it’s a burglar?” I hiss at her, getting paranoid.

  We know Daddy isn’t home, so what else could that noise be? No wonder the lights were on!

  “Let’s go see if Mr. and Mrs. Elliot are home,” Angie says, getting scared, too. Mr. and Mrs. Elliot are our neighbors. We live in a duplex apartment, and there are only a few other people who live in our brownstone building. We run to the front door, and Angie whispers, “Let’s leave it open, just in case the burglar wants to run away!”

  “No—that’s stupid. We should lock him inside,” I say.

  “We can’t lock the door from the inside—if we close it, he can still get out!” Angie hisses back at me in a hushed voice.

  “Let’s just go,” I say, realizing she’s right, this time. We run out the door, and head for the stairs in the hallway. Angie runs so fast, she almost trips me from behind, making me annoyed at her all over again.

  I hope Mrs. Elliot is home! I don’t smell that familiar odor of gingerbread cookies wafting into the hallway. Mrs. Elliot runs her own “cookie book” company, Delilah’s Dish and Tell. She writes romance novels that come with a package of cookies, so you can eat and read at the same time. We usually see Mr. or Mrs. Elliot carting boxes up and down the stairs, and moving stuff into vans outside. Of course, when we need them the most, we don’t see them.

  I knock on the door impatiently, hoping somebody answers. “Come on, come on!” I mutter under my breath.

  Finally, the door is opened by their housekeeper, Esmeralda, who hardly speaks any English. “Is Mrs. Elliot home?” I ask quickly.

  “No home,” Esmeralda responds, smiling. Now I wish Chanel were here, so she could speak Spanish to Esmeralda, and tell her how scared we are that there is a burglar in our apartment!

  “Esmeralda, can you help us? Somebody broke into our apartment,” I blurt out, knowing full well she’s probably not going to understand one word of my mumbo jumbo. Sure enough, Esmeralda gives me a blank look, and opens her brown eyes wider.

  “Come, please,” I beg her, motioning for her to come downstairs with us. But she seems unsure of what to do.

  “You want I come?” she asks, pointing downstairs.

  “Sí!” Angie blurts out.

  All the way downstairs, Esmeralda is blabbing at us in Spanish, and we are blabbing at her in English, and neither one of us understands the other.

  My heart almost jumps out of my chest when we get to our apartment door and find it open. I fall back into Esmeralda, and I can see that I’ve scared her now.

  Angie grabs my arm, almost causing me to jump out of my skin. “I left the door open, remember?” she whispers.

  Now the three of us are scared to go inside the apartment. All of a sudden, my skin feels itchy and crawly, like I have lice, so I start scratching all over.

  Angie opens the door all the way, and the two of us tiptoe into the foyer, standing still to see if we hear any more noise. Esmeralda is still standing on the welcome mat outside the door. I grab her hand and pull her inside. Ill bet now she understands exactly what we want her to do!

  As I begin to climb the narrow, winding stairs to the upper floor of our duplex, something tells me to turn around and look at the Bogo Mogo Hexagone Warrior Mask. “Angie!” I hiss, pointing to the ugly creation that has made my life miserable. ”The markings have turned redder! Haven’t they?”

  “I guess,” Angie says, sticking her face right next to the mask. “Yeah, they have!”

  We begin our climb, and I try for the life of me to remember what High Priestess Abala Shaballa said…. When the markings on the mask turn brighter, it will be time for Hexagone to rule the world again. … I think that’s what she said, but I’m still not sure what that means.

  The three of us climb the narrow, winding stairs to the upper floor. Maybe Abala’s idea of redecorating meant getting Daddy out of the apartment and taking our furniture! Everybody tells us people get robbed in New York a lot.

  I peer back down the stairway and look over the living room. Well, everything downstairs seems to still be there—unless she’s got some kooks coming back later to get the living room furniture.

  I can feel my heart pounding as we walk into my room and look around. Then we walk into the bathroom—and lastly, into Daddy’s room.

  “It’s Daddy!” Angie shrieks when she sees him lying in the bed. She goes running up the bed to shake him—and steps on something that makes a cracking sound. The lamp from his nightstand is shattered on the floor! Daddy must’ve knocked it over, reaching for something.

  “The phone is off the hook,” I add, picking up the receiver and putting it back into its cradle.

  Esmeralda lets out a shriek and points to the floor, babbling in Spanish. I can’t see what she’s pointing at, but I’m concerned about Daddy. I sit on the bed and call his name, but he doesn’t answer. “Daddy, can you hear me?”

  I get so scared that I shake him, until he lets out a moan.

  “What’s wrong, Daddy?” I ask, getting hysterical.

  “Is that you, Mattie?” Daddy asks, rubbing his eyes and waking out of his unconsciousness. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  Mattie? “Who’s Mattie?” I repeat out loud.

  Daddy doesn’t answer, because he isn’t really conscious. I’ve never heard him mention that name before. And what does he mean by “I never meant to hurt you”?

  “Daddy, what’s wrong?” Angie asks, getting hysterical too.

  “Lord, my stomach hurts, my head hurts,” Daddy moans, holding his head.

  “We should get him to a hospital,” Angie shrieks.

  Esmeralda grabs my arm, still babbling in Spanish. She is trying to show me something on the mantel. I notice there are all sorts of strange things there….

  “Someone has burned the black and red candles and left them sitting there,” I call out to Angie. Daddy doesn’t burn candles, so I know it couldn’t be him—especially not without putting them on a plate or something first, so the melted wax doesn’t mess up the wood.

  Esmeralda picks something up from the mantel and presses it into my hand. “What is this thing?” I ask, looking at it puzzled. “It looks like a gingerbread man made out of muslin or something.”

  Esmeralda presses another one into my hand, and gets real excited, babbling away.

  “We should call Chanel and see what Esmeralda is trying to tell us!” Angie says, taking the gingerbread people out of my hands and dropping them back on the mantel.

  I figure Chanel is still eating lunch at Atomic Wings with Dorinda and the lovebirds—Galleria and Eddie Lizard—so I try her cell phone. Dialing the number, which I know by heart, I can hear my own heart pounding.

  “Hola!” Chanel says, answering the phone chirpily.

  “Hello, Chanel. Are you with Galleria?”

  “Sí, mamacita. Eddie is going to take us to see his father’s hoodoo altar!” she says excitedly.

  “Chanel, something is wrong with Daddy—and Esmeralda, the housekeeper next door, is here with us, and she doesn’t speak English. She’s trying to tell us something. Could you translate for us?” The words tumble out of my mouth like an avalanche
.

  “Well, you could at least say, ’Hello, mamacita,’” Chanel responds.

  “This is no time for joking, Chuchie! Could you please talk to Esmeralda?”

  “Okay, put her on.”

  I hand the receiver to Esmeralda, and wait with bated breath while the two of them talk in Spanish. Esmeralda hands the phone back to me, and Chanel isn’t so chirpy anymore.

  “You’ve got to get your father out of there—he’s been hexed!” Chanel says, worried. “Esmeralda says the place is jinxed by a bruja—a witch, and not a good one either. Someone has placed your father under some kind of spell, and those are voodoo dolls on the mantel!”

  I hear someone mumbling in the background to Chanel, and she says, “Wait a minute, Aqua!”

  I hold on while Chanel talks with someone—probably loverboy Lizard. My hands are freezing, because I’m so scared for Daddy. I knew that High Priestess Abala Shaballa was up to no good! We have to get Daddy to a hospital!

  “Please, Chanel, hurry up.” I peer up at Esmeralda and give her a look, like, “I understand.” Her eyes are pleading with me.

  “Eddie says don’t take your father to a hospital!” Chanel says. “He needs to be looked at by a hoodoo practitioner!” I hear Eddie in the background, still talking to her.

  “We are calling 911 as soon we hang up, so an ambulance can take Daddy to a hospital, Chanel,” I say firmly. Eddie Lizard may have Galleria and Chanel under a spell with all his hoodoo talk, but he doesn’t fool me. “We can’t just leave Daddy lying here like this.”

  “No, no—the doctors can’t help!” Chanel says excitedly.

  “And I guess Eddie Lizard can?” I shoot back, annoyed.

  “No, hell call his father to come over and look at him,” Chanel says.

  “Daddy’s going to the hospital, and that’s that,” I huff back.

  Suddenly, Eddie Lizard gets on the phone. “Listen, um, Aqua—”

  “Aquanette,” I repeat, annoyed that he can’t even remember my name properly.

  “Yes, Aquanette—even if you do take your father to the hospital, don’t touch anything in your house. Let my father come over and see what’s going on.”

  “Well, okay—we’ll call you as soon as we get back. Bye,” I say, anxious to get off the phone.

  “Excuse me, Aquanette—but how are you going to call without my father’s phone number?”

  “Oh. Right—give it to me,” I say, embarrassed. I scribble it down on a pad. Then I hang up the phone, and pick it up again to dial 911.

  “I don’t care what Eddie Lizard says,” I hiss to Angie. “Daddy is going to the hospital.”

  “No hospital!” Esmeralda says, placing my palm in hers. I wonder why she’s hopping on the same hoodoo bandwagon….

  “No, no—he’s going, and that’s final!” I say, determined. Nobody is gonna tell me what to do with my daddy “And if that ‘pecan nut’ Abala Shaballa Cuckoo comes around here again, I’m going to hit her over her head with her own broomstick!”

  Chapter

  6

  It seems like we’ve been waiting for a thousand years in the emergency room at St. Luke’s Hospital for someone to come and tell us what’s wrong with Daddy. The ambulance workers put him on a stretcher, and he seemed delirious the whole way over, sweating and mumbling.

  We’d never ridden in the back of an ambulance before—and if we never do again, it will be too soon. I couldn’t help crying, and neither could Angie. We weren’t worried about scaring Daddy, because he didn’t even seem to know we were there with him. He just kept mumbling strange things, and calling out to that strange woman—“Mattie, is that you? I won’t leave you.”

  “We’d better call Ma later,” Angie says, as if she’s thinking out loud.

  “Suit yourself,” I mumble back. “I wonder if she knows who Mattie is… .”

  “Probably,” Angie says, shrugging her shoulders.

  By now, I have a pretty good idea’ of who Mattie must be—some woman Daddy knows from his past. Angie is clutching my hand as we wait in the emergency room, which is scary in itself. As a matter of fact, we feel like we’re in a bad version of Fright of the Living Dead.

  I mean, you have to see these people in the emergency room to believe it! The man in the chair next to us, for example, is wearing a bloody ace bandage around his head, like it’s an accessory or something. He keeps jumping up out of his chair and prancing back and forth, as if he’s giving a fashion show.

  The lady sitting across from us has eyebrows so thick, they look like a unibrow across her forehead. But that’s not the worst part—she keeps belching so loud that no one will sit next to her—not even her husband! Yes, ma’am, he is sitting a few seats away with a newspaper covering his face—I guess because he’s embarrassed, or else he’s very interested in the articles he’s reading.

  He can’t be more embarrassed than we are, because Angie and I won’t even look up—just in case we accidentally meet the glances of the Unibrow Belcher or Mr. Bloody Ace Bandage.

  See, it’s hard to be inconspicuous when you’re twins—everyone thinks they can just talk to you out of the blue. People always ask the same question, too—as if their eyes are on vacation. “Are you two identical twins?” Usually we don’t mind, but right now, I guess I’m not too happy about being a twin—or sitting here in this awful emergency room.

  As if hearing me thinking to myself, the Unibrow lady lets out a loud belch. I act like I don’t hear a thing. Just another day sitting in a crazy emergency room. Yes, ma’am. I just keep staring at my sneakers, like I’m gonna discover gold any second now.

  “Some people should stop makin’ so much noise,” says an older woman in a blue house-dress with a purple sweater over it, with a big ol’ cast on her left arm.

  “I think we should call Galleria and Chanel, and tell them what’s going on,” Angie suggests calmly

  “You call them,” I respond.

  “Gimme a quarter,” Angie mumbles under her breath. I pretend like I don’t hear her.

  “Come on, Aqua, gimme a quarter!”

  I hand my pesty sister a quarter, and watch as she heads to the phone booth to call Galleria and Chanel. I don’t know why Angie is bothering. What’s Galleria gonna do about about this mess with Daddy—write a song? It’s not like she can help or anything.

  I get so tired of sitting there waiting that I pull out the newspaper and read my horoscope again: The unconditional love for which you yearn cannot he bought at any price… . Watch out for sheep wearing wolves’ clothing. …

  I still can’t figure out what the first part means, but now I think I understand the second part. All along, I’ve known that High Priestess Abala Shaballa wasn’t exactly Glinda the Good Witch, popping into our lives out of nowhere in her magical bubble. (Actually, Daddy met her at the annual African American Expo at the Jacob Javits Convention Center downtown.) Angie and I have always felt that Abala Shaballa is not what she appears to be!

  Please, God, let Daddy be okay! I pray silently. Suddenly, I get scared that Daddy won’t wake up—in more ways than one. What if he thinks we’re making up this stuff about Abala? What if he thinks his illness doesn’t have anything to do with her and all those hocus-pocus brews she’s been making him drink?

  Suddenly, I get a chill down my spine. What if his illness doesn’t have anything to do with High Priestess Abala? After all, Esmeralda is Mrs. Elliot’s housekeeper—not the Wizard of Oz. How would she know about all that stuff in Daddy’s bedroom?

  Just then, Angie comes back and plops back into the chair beside me. “Galleria, Chanel, and Eddie want to come over to our house and look at the stuff in Daddy’s bedroom,” she whispers. “They want to bring Eddie’s father, too—Doktor Lizard.”

  “Well, I don’t know if we should be inviting company over to our apartment without Daddy’s permission,” I shoot back.

  Angie gives me a look, like, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I don’t believe in all this
mess anyway,” I continue.

  Now my sister throws me that look again, and rolls her neck at the same time, which really gets on my nerves.

  “Well, never mind what J believe in—let’s just hear what the doctor has to say,” I say, holding my ground. Right now, I don’t feel like a Cheetah Girl at all—just a stubborn mule digging its heels in for the long haul.

  “Well, I told them we’re gonna call them back. I knew you would get mad if they met us at the hospital,” Angie says, sucking her teeth.

  “Why would you want them coming to the hospital?” I ask her. My sister just doesn’t use her head sometimes, I could swear she’s the one with a crush on Eddie Lizard. “I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry to have some snake doctor nosing around our house!”

  “He’s not a snake doctor, he’s a hoodoo practitioner!” Angie says, like Miss Smarty Britches.

  Luckily, just then a nurse attendant comes out of one of the examining rooms and motions to us. We jump up, following the nurse into a little waiting room.

  “Your father is resting. The doctor will be in to see you shortly,” she says, smiling. I try to read whatever I can into the nurse’s smile, but she just leaves us sitting there. It seems like a thousand more hours before a tall doctor wearing glasses comes in to talk to us, “Is there a Mrs. Walker?”

  “No—um, yes, sir, but our mother lives in Houston,” I say, suddenly feeling embarrassed that Daddy is lying in some room and Ma isn’t here with us.

  “Okay, well, your father is going to be fine,” the doctor continues. “He’s quite dehydrated, and his blood pressure is low, but after a series of tests, we can’t find any medical reason to detain him further. We’ll release him in the morning, after we run a few more tests.”

  “There isn’t anything wrong with him?” I ask, surprised. How can that be? I just knew the doctor was going to tell us something horrible. I feel the sweat breaking out on my forehead.

  “Like I said—he’s severely dehydrated, but we can’t detect any other underlying medical conditions. His vitals are all relatively stable,” the doctor says, poker-faced.