The Inn Between Read online

  “Boarding pass?” she asked.

  Mr. Mirabelli looked confused.

  “Now, now, Sharon,” said Persephone. “Stop teasing.” She turned toward Quinn. “Sharon likes to pretend the elevator is an airplane.”

  Quinn looked at Sharon and smiled awkwardly. It was odd, though Quinn supposed it must be pretty boring to ride an elevator all day long. Airplanes were definitely more exciting.

  Persephone pushed Mr. Mirabelli into the cage and closed the gate. He watched Quinn, his eyes glassy and yellowing, as the elevator thrummed its way upward.

  As soon as the elevator disappeared, the lobby door burst open and a tall, unshaven man staggered inside. He wore a black ball cap with a yellow rim and a penguin logo on it. The wavy black hair that poked out beneath the cap was matted. He seemed breathless and distraught, searching the space as though not quite sure where he was. Then his gaze settled on Quinn. He stared at her long and hard, like he somehow recognized her. His bloodshot eyes sent shivers skittering up Quinn’s spine.

  She took a step backward and spun on her heels, hurrying into the corridor to catch up to Kara. Behind her, Quinn could hear Persephone’s chirpy voice echoing through the lobby.

  “Welcome to Inn Between. We’ve been expecting you.”

  6

  THE BELL RINGS.

  Quinn and Kara are caught in the rushing river of bodies streaming into the halls. The air is ripe with the aroma of half-eaten lunches, woolly jackets, and sweaty sneakers. Lockers clang open and shut.

  Quinn beams. Her green eyes twinkle. “Did you see that goal?”

  “The ball grazed the side of my head!”

  She pats Kara on the shoulder. “Great reflexes!”

  “I don’t know why you insist on picking me first,” sighs Kara. “You could choose someone good like Tyler or Jackson.”

  “I’ve told you a thousand times,” says Quinn. “You are good. You just need to stay focused on the game. Quit cloud-watching.”

  “I wasn’t cloud-watching,” scoffs Kara. She raises her chin indignantly. “I was studying the atmosphere. I think it might snow tomorrow.”

  Quinn rolls her eyes, though the idea of snow excites her. The slopes might open early this year. She can’t wait to hit the hills. Of course her parents have taken away her first month of skiing because of those two failed science tests.

  She rips off her jacket. Her thumb zips over her lock and she opens the door. Her locker is pickled with junk. A math textbook, a crumpled piece of paper, and a banana fall out. She picks them up and shoves them back inside, using her jacket to keep more stuff from escaping. “What do we have this afternoon?”

  Kara hangs her jacket on a hook. She checks herself in the pink-magnet-framed mirror on the inside of her locker door. She smooths her already impossibly smooth hair, then consults the timetable she’s attached below the mirror with three tulip-shaped magnets.

  “Science. And then Spanish.” Her books are stacked in a neat pile on the top shelf. She withdraws two textbooks and her binder. “Our assignment’s due.”

  The air catches in Quinn’s throat. She stares at Kara, her eyes saucer-wide.

  “You did your Spanish assignment, right?” says Kara.

  Quinn gulps. “I-I meant to … but…”

  Kara’s shoulders drop. She tilts her head and exhales.

  Quinn can feel the heat rising into her cheeks. Her mind races like a mouse in a maze. She yanks her binder out of her locker and rips out a blank piece of paper. “Quick!” she says. “Gimme yours.”

  “What?” Kara takes a step back. “No way.”

  “Come on,” pleads Quinn. “There’s no time. Give me your paper. I’ll change a few words. Señora Márquez will never know.”

  Kara shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. I reminded you every day last week. I even told you I’d help. I’m not giving you my assignment. That’s not fair.”

  Quinn can already picture Señora Márquez as she tells the teacher her assignment is not done. The woman’s face will sag with that drippy look of disappointment. She’ll shake her head slowly. Then walk away. Like Quinn is a lost cause.

  Then Quinn sees her parents. Her mother, the dentist. Her father, the lawyer. They are not disappointed—they are angry. They don’t understand. Quinn must be brilliant. Just like they are. Just like Emma is. It’s genetic, right? The teachers have it all wrong. Quinn’s parents insist there is no learning disability. Quinn is just lazy. That’s all. She’s not trying hard enough. She should work harder. They’ve already taken away a whole month of skiing. Now they’ll take away the entire season. Quinn will have to spend Sundays with Aunt Deirdre and her stinky pet chinchillas, while the rest of the family hits the slopes.

  A watery skin covers Quinn’s eyes. “Please,” she whispers.

  Kara’s lips are sewn tight. She is frowning hard. Quinn can tell she doesn’t want to bail her out—not this time. But as they stare at each other Kara softens. She opens her binder and takes out her assignment.

  The crowd is thinning. Most of the kids are in class. There’s no time to copy here. Quinn will take the paper to science class. She sits near the back anyway. No one will notice her copying. It will be okay.

  Emma is skipping to her third-grade class. She stops in front of Quinn. “What are you guys doing?” she asks cheerfully.

  Quinn snatches the paper from Kara. “Nothing.”

  Kara glares at Quinn, then turns toward Emma. “Hey, Em.” She shuts her locker and heads toward science class.

  Quinn tucks the assignment into her binder and hurries after Kara. She glances over her shoulder. She’s left Emma standing alone in the hallway.

  7

  THE HALLWAY STRETCHED ON AND ON. It turned a corner, went up a short flight of steps, turned another corner, and continued.

  Paintings lined the walls. Portraits and landscapes in dark, crackly oils. Most details were lost in the dim light of the cast-iron sconces topped with bronze candles and bulbs shaped like flames. Quinn hurried to catch up to Kara, who waited for her.

  “Where were you?” said Kara.

  “The old man stopped me—the one reading the paper.”

  “The guy in pajamas? What did he want?”

  “I dunno,” said Quinn. “I think he’s a bit nutty.” She paused and then added, “And then there was this other guy—”

  “This place is really beautiful,” interrupted Kara. “Like a big old mansion in the middle of the desert.”

  Quinn glanced down the empty hallway. “Yeah. I guess. I hope the rooms aren’t old and moldy.”

  “Let’s find out,” said Kara. She grabbed Quinn’s wrist and pulled. When Quinn winced, she let go. “Sorry. I forgot.”

  Quinn blew across the wound. It was red and raw, but it was beginning to scab. “It’s fine. Tomorrow it’ll be good as new.”

  Their room was perfect. Larger and lovelier than Quinn could have imagined. Two beds with crisp white sheets and puffy rose-colored quilts stood off to the side. The antique headboards were fancier than ones she’d seen in other hotels. So were the dressers and the desk. Thick velvet drapes hung heavy and straight, framing a large window. On one wall was a tapestry with a forest scene embroidered on it. A unicorn sat peacefully in a clearing in the woods. She used to love unicorns when she was little. She secretly still loved them—though she wouldn’t dare tell anyone other than Kara.

  Quinn turned on the old TV that was perched on one of the dressers. It exploded into a mass of black dots that fizzed and fought their way around a blue-white screen, like a great bug-battle. Quinn decided the TV was as old as the rest of the building. An antique that belonged in the secondhand store where Mrs. Cawston loved to shop.

  “No TV?” Kara plunged backward into the feathery softness of the duvet. “I’m going to miss Math Wars.”

  Quinn rolled her eyes and then flopped down beside Kara.

  “You watch too much TV as is,” said her mother. “Besides, we have to go to sleep. We’ll be leaving early in
the morning—which reminds me…”

  Mrs. Cawston walked to the desk. The vintage phone resembled the one Quinn had seen in the lobby on Persephone’s counter. She picked up the receiver and dialed zero. “An outside line, please.”

  She said something that didn’t sound too encouraging, and then requested a wake-up call. She hung up and looked at Quinn and Kara with a curious expression.

  “No outside lines,” she said. “The phones are for internal use only. No wonder they didn’t need a credit card. Not like we can run up long-distance charges to Mogadishu.”

  Quinn chuckled. Then she thought of her parents. “Mom and Dad will be worried.”

  Mrs. Cawston patted Quinn’s shoulder. “Remember, they’re not expecting a call tonight. I’ll charge my phone in the morning. We’ll call them once we’re on the road—just as soon as I get a signal.” She smiled reassuringly.

  Quinn nodded. Mrs. Cawston had warned her parents the drive might take two days. Plus, her parents were supposed to be spending the time alone together. The therapist had said it was a good idea. For them. And for Quinn. It was the only reason they’d agreed to let Quinn go. They weren’t supposed to worry about her. And she wasn’t supposed to worry about them. That was the deal. Quinn sighed. She wasn’t holding up her end of the bargain.

  “I love this place,” said Josh, bursting through the adjoining doors between the hotel rooms. He threw himself face-first onto the bed beside Quinn and Kara. He flipped over, stared at the unicorn tapestry, and frowned. “Our room’s way cooler.”

  Kara and Quinn walked through the open doors that now formed an archway between the two rooms. Josh was right—his room was very different. It had two queen beds as well, but the decor was modern, like the room had recently been renovated. The wallpaper had stars, moons, and planets. And there were two huge framed pictures of distant galaxies that looked like they were taken by the Hubble Space Telescope.

  Quinn sat down on the edge of a bed. The quilt was navy corduroy—soft but not silky.

  “Time for room service,” said Josh, swaggering in through the adjoining doors.

  “All you think about is food,” said Kara.

  “Pretty much.” He grinned.

  Kara rolled her eyes. Quinn shook her head.

  Josh dialed seven just as Persephone had instructed. He ordered a large pepperoni pizza—which happened to be available. Kara and Quinn asked if they had any sort of pie. Josh checked and said they had apple, blueberry, custard, and Key lime. Kara ordered apple. Quinn chose Key lime.

  Room service came almost immediately—another employee in a similar uniform. Quinn wondered how they had had time to prepare the pizza. It was like it had been ready before they even ordered.

  Josh didn’t waste any time wondering. He ate like a half-starved hyena. Mr. and Mrs. Cawston each had a slice, claiming it was the best pizza they’d ever had. Quinn’s pie was delicious. The graham crust was sweet, with a hint of coconut, and the lime was tart—exactly the way she liked it.

  “Too bad we don’t have bathing suits,” said Kara. “The sign said there’s a pool.”

  “And a sauna,” said Josh.

  “It’s late,” said Mr. Cawston. “If we want to get an early start we should hit the hay.” Instinctively Quinn searched the room for a clock, but there wasn’t one.

  “You know, Spence,” said Mrs. Cawston, resting her hand on his arm and glancing around the room, “this place is so lovely. It reminds me of the vacations we used to do, before the kids.”

  Kara looked at Quinn and winced.

  “Like that time after college when we drove along the coast in that beat-up Gremlin,” she continued. “We stayed in all those little places, like the Happy Landing Inn in Carmel, and that musty old Mariners Inn in Cambria.”

  Mr. Cawston had the same faraway look in his eyes. “Remember how we heard that huge thunk and then realized we’d lost the transmission? We couldn’t stop driving or we’d never get the car started again.” He laughed.

  “Yes. Well, I was thinking…”

  “You want to stay awhile?” he said. “Hang out for a day or two and then drive on?”

  “Why not?” said Mrs. Cawston. “We’re in no rush. You don’t start work for another week. Once we get settled and you start in at the new office we won’t be able to get away. Life’s about the journey, remember?”

  “Can we, Dad?” asked Kara. “Please?”

  “Yeah,” said Josh. “This place is awesome.”

  Everyone looked at Quinn.

  “Well,” said Mrs. Cawston. “What do you think?”

  Quinn smiled. “Sure. So long as we let Mom and Dad know.” Kara swung her arm around Quinn and they bounced backward onto the bed.

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Cawston. “We’ll call them in the morning. I’ll charge my phone and we’ll make sure we get a signal.” Then she turned toward Mr. Cawston. “We’ll stay a night. Maybe two. We can go for hikes in the desert, get a close look at those Joshua trees—they’re blooming, you know.”

  “I’d love to see a blooming Josh!” Kara laughed.

  “Very funny. Hey, maybe we’ll see some snakes and lizards!” said Josh.

  “Or aliens,” said Kara.

  Quinn smiled. Snakes and aliens. Perfect.

  “I’ll check with the front desk,” said Mr. Cawston. “Make sure the rooms are available.” He slipped into the hallway.

  “Okay, guys. It’s been a long day,” said Mrs. Cawston, clapping her hands. “Time for bed. Let’s go, girls.”

  Surprisingly, Josh didn’t put up much of a fight. He was already heading toward the bathroom when the three left the room.

  Kara and Quinn weren’t tired. They protested, but since Kara’s mother would be sleeping in the bed beside them, they didn’t have much choice but to do as she said and get washed up and ready for bed.

  Quinn got into her flannel shorts and favorite baseball jersey. She slipped beneath the quilt just as Kara’s mom said, “Lights out.”

  For a while she and Kara talked in the secret language Kara had developed for use during dark sleepovers. If Quinn traced a heart on Kara’s shoulder it meant Who do you like? Kara would spell the boy’s name with her finger on the palm of Quinn’s hand. If Kara touched Quinn’s hand to her foot and pretended to squash it, it meant What’s bugging you? Quinn would spell out her answer on Kara’s hand.

  That night Kara touched Quinn’s hand to her head. This meant What are you thinking?

  Quinn put her finger to Kara’s palm and wrote one letter—E.

  Kara squeezed Quinn’s hand. She held it until she fell asleep.

  Quinn twisted and turned beneath the covers for the longest time. Finally, she drifted off. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep when something dragged her from her dreams.

  She opened her eyes but there was little difference—the room was spider-black. She never used to be afraid of the dark, but now she slept with the hall light on and her bedroom door wide open. Occasionally her mother would forget and turn out the light while Quinn was asleep. If she awoke in darkness, beads of cold sweat would skitter over her body. She’d lie frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe, until gray morning light pressed its way in through the blinds.

  Here, with Kara beside her, the darkness was bearable. Quinn searched for the time but then remembered there was no clock in the room. A hollow shuddering blew past the window. She sat up and listened. It came back again and again.

  Quinn slunk out of bed and walked to the window. She pulled back the heavy drapes. Darkness stretched like a gloved hand over the landscape. Only the tiniest sliver of moon lit a jagged horizon that seemed a million miles away. She breathed deeply. Bluebells. She could swear she smelled bluebells. She twisted a lock of hair between her fingers.

  As Quinn rested her cheek on the cool glass, the wind swooped in and pressed against the pane. Beyond the whoosh and hiss, she heard something else. Not a hum this time, but a low, distant wail.

  Quinn listen
ed sharply. There was something familiar about the pitch—the alternating sobs and silence. Was it possible? Could it be? Questions circled themselves, knotting inside Quinn’s mind. She listened again, but then suddenly the crying stopped.

  Quinn took a deep breath. She was doing it again. She was imagining things. It was just a coyote. Or a bobcat.

  Quinn shut the drapes and slipped back beneath the covers. She closed her eyes and lay there for the longest time until her thoughts began to melt and drift away.

  The next morning, she awoke to the shrill buzzing of the telephone. It rang three times and then stopped. Their wake-up call. Mrs. Cawston had forgotten to cancel it.

  The room swam in soupy darkness. Quinn sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. She yawned and stretched. Kara was still sound asleep.

  The bed beside them was empty. Kara’s mother was gone. The covers lay flopped over the pillow in a tangled mess. Quinn nearly looked away, but then a tiny dark speck caught her attention. It was the size of a pinhead, but it seemed to be growing.

  She swung her legs around the side of the bed and stood. She was sore and wobbly, like she was using her legs for the first time in decades.

  She moved toward the opposite bed. The spot on the duvet had already grown to the size of a quarter and it was getting larger and darker by the second.

  Slowly, carefully, Quinn reached out a trembling hand. She grasped the corner of the pink duvet and peeled back the covers. She gasped.

  On the pillow, where Kara’s mother had been lying, was a pool of blood.

  8

  QUINN SPRANG BACK. Her heart pulsed in her throat. Blood drummed in her ears. She dove for Kara.

  Kara made a soft sound, like a cooing dove. She rolled over and continued to doze. Quinn shook her hard. “Wake up, Kara. Wake up!”

  Kara raised her head. She looked at Quinn through puckered eyes and yawned like she’d been asleep for centuries. “Huh? Whaa?”

  “There!” Quinn yelled. “Look!”

  Kara sat up drowsily. She looked around. “Where? What?”