The Stranger Next Door Read online

  “Oh, honey, no,” Mother said. “Not the dog’s name.”

  “Rocky,” Clifford repeated. “You can name me anything you want, but I’m going by Rocky. It will be my nickname.”

  “He can use a nickname if he wants,” Mr. Valdez said.

  “But Rocky was our dog,” Mother protested.

  “This way we’ll never forget her,” Clifford said.

  “Be glad the dog wasn’t called Fluffy,” Mr. Valdez said.

  Blake chuckled.

  Clifford refused to laugh’. How could they make jokes at a time like this?

  “Do you want to know your middle name?” asked Mr. Valdez, looking at Clifford in the rearview mirror.

  Clifford glared back at him.

  Mr. Valdez answered his own question. “It’s Michael,” he said. “Gerald Michael Morris.”

  Clifford did not answer.

  “I’ll have the new documents for all of you late next week,” Mr. Valdez said.

  “What documents?” Clifford asked.

  “New birth certificates, driver’s licenses for your parents, a marriage certificate—all of the things you’ll need for identification when you get to your new home.”

  “What about Social Security cards?” Mother asked.

  “We need to get the birth certificates first. Then you’ll apply for new Social Security numbers.”

  Clifford’s parents nodded as if that were perfectly logical, but none of it made sense to Clifford.

  He leaned his head against the seat and decided to save his questions until they reached their destination.

  He closed his eyes, inhaled the new-car smell, and practiced saying his new name to himself: Rocky Morris.

  He crossed his arms and pressed his lips together. Rocky Morris, juvenile delinquent. Rocky Morris, troublemaker.

  If I have to change my name, he thought, I’ll change my personality, too. I’ll teach them to keep secrets and make me give my dog away.

  I’ll become Rocky Morris, bad kid.

  3

  Alex! Are you awake?”

  Alex forced his eyes open. Benjie stood beside the bed, with his red jacket on over his pajamas and his blue Seattle Mariners baseball cap on his head. The binoculars that he used when he pretended to be a spy dangled around his neck.

  Pete, who had been curled up beside Alex, stood and stretched, watching Benjie warily. For once, Benjie wasn’t shouting, but Pete didn’t trust him. He waited, ready to leap down and hide under the bed if Benjie got loud.

  “Hi, Petey,” Benjie said.

  “What time is it?” Alex reached for his small alarm clock, blinked, and looked at the dial. “It’s only six-thirty,” he said, “and this is Saturday. No school. Go back to bed.” He replaced the clock on the table.

  “Get up,” Benjie said. “The new neighbors might be here any minute, and we don’t want to miss seeing them.”

  “They’re going to live next door,” Alex replied. “We’ll have plenty of chances to see them at a more reasonable hour.”

  “You’ll miss all the fun if you don’t get up,” Benjie said.

  “I doubt it,” Alex muttered.

  “I’m going to ride my scooter while I watch for the moving van.”

  “You had better get dressed before you go outside. Mom will have a fit if you go out in your pajamas.” Alex rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

  Benjie left.

  Pete climbed on Alex’s chest, lay down with his front paws on Alex’s shoulders, and butted his head under Alex’s chin. He loved the way Alex’s chest moved slowly up and down as he breathed; it made Pete feel like a tiny kitten, snuggled with his mother. Purring happily, he kneaded his front claws in and out, digging into Alex’s pajamas.

  “Ouch!” Alex said. He pushed Pete off his chest.

  Pete licked his shoulder for a minute, pretending it had been his idea to get off Alex. Then he jumped to the floor and went into the kitchen for breakfast.

  * * *

  “Ready, Rocky?” Blake stood with the motel-room door open.

  Rocky closed his suitcase, which contained some new clothes, a new radio, and his new toothbrush.

  “Ready,” he said.

  He was getting used to being called Rocky, although inside he still felt like Clifford.

  He lifted the suitcase off the bed, then rolled it to the door. He was glad to leave. Two weeks in a motel was about thirteen days too many, especially when he had spent so much of the time memorizing details of his newly created “past” so that he could answer questions if he needed to.

  The only good part had been the fact that his parents allowed him to watch daytime television, which they normally forbade. Even that had turned out to be boring.

  As usual, Mr. Valdez was waiting in the car. He had driven Rocky and his parents everywhere they had gone for the last two weeks: to a shopping mall to get clothes, to a grocery store to choose some snacks, and, twice, to different motels. Now he was driving them for the last time: to the Orange County airport, to catch a flight to Seattle.

  Rocky had grown to like Mr. Valdez and was sorry that they wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

  As they drove to the airport, Rocky said, “I wonder what school I’ll go to in Seattle.”

  “You won’t be living in the city,” Mr. Valdez said. “The house is in a new development called Valley View Estates. The houses aren’t fancy, but the lots are large, with many trees. It’s near Hilltop, an old mining town about thirty miles southeast of Seattle. You’ll attend Hilltop School.”

  “We’ve never had a brand-new house before,” Rocky’s mom said.

  I’ve never had a brand-new name before, either, Rocky thought. He hoped his future classmates wouldn’t pry too much into his past. He understood now why it was imperative that nobody know who his family really was or where they had come from. He still didn’t like leaving his dog and his friends and his school—but he did understand why it was necessary.

  Rocky had already decided to keep to himself at his new school. He didn’t want to answer a bunch of questions. He didn’t want to worry that he’d slip and say something that would give away his family’s secret.

  He didn’t want to make new friends because there was always the chance that his family would have to pull up stakes again and leave suddenly. It was better not to have friends, he thought, than to walk out on them without any explanation, the way he had walked out on Nathan.

  Mr. Valdez stayed with them until it was time to board the airplane.

  Three hours later, Rocky followed his parents off the plane into SeaTac International Airport. As they entered the terminal, a man approached them. “Mr. Morris?” he said.

  “Yes,” Blake replied.

  “I’m Gus Franklin. I’ll be driving you to your home.” The two men shook hands, then Blake said, “This is my wife, Ginny, and my son, Rocky.”

  Rocky shook hands, too. He wondered if his family was going to have a driver forever.

  While they waited for their luggage, Mr. Franklin said, “Your furniture was delivered this morning. We’ll get you a car tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Alex poured maple syrup on his pancakes. He had just put the first forkful in his mouth when Benjie galloped through the front door, letting it bang shut behind him.

  “They’re millionaires!” Benjie yelled as he raced into the kitchen.

  Pete ran from the kitchen to the family room, then jumped on top of the piano. From there he could still hear and see what was going on.

  “Keep your voice down,” Mrs. Kendrill said, “and take your shoes off. You’re tracking mud across the floor.”

  Benjie removed his shoes. “The new neighbors are millionaires,” he said.

  “How do you know?” Alex said. “Have you met them?”

  “No, they aren’t here yet. But a big truck from a furniture store came and unloaded a whole bunch of new furniture: beds and a sofa and tables and some chairs and a television set.”

  “Are
you certain it was new?” Mr. Kendrill said. “Maybe you saw a moving van.”

  “It said MASON’S FINE FURNITURE on the side,” Benjie said, “and the sofa and chairs were still wrapped in plastic. So were the lamp shades.”

  “How nice to have new furniture in their new house,” Mrs. Kendrill said as she looked at the scuffed tables and worn couch in the family room.

  “If these folks were wealthy,” Mr. Kendrill said, “they would more likely have bought a custom-built home, not one here in Valley View.”

  “Then another truck came,” Benjie said, “and brought a new washer and dryer. And then—”

  “I hope you stayed out of the way,” Mrs. Kendrill said.

  “I rode my scooter and watched. I asked the men from the furniture store who the neighbors are, but they didn’t know. Neither did the men from the appliance store.”

  “Just because they have new furniture doesn’t make them millionaires,” Alex said.

  “I bet they’ll have a new car, too.”

  “You mustn’t jump to conclusions,” Mr. Kendrill said. “Their financial status is none of our business, anyway, so don’t go asking them how much money they have.”

  Benjie looked offended. “I know better than to ask how much money they have,” he said.

  “Have some pancakes, Benjie,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “I was just going to call you.”

  “Is it okay if I sit on the front steps while I eat?” Benjie asked. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

  “Heaven forbid,” Mr. Kendrill said.

  “Maybe the quintuplets will all have fancy mountain bikes, and they’ll let me ride them sometimes,” Benjie said as he got a plate of pancakes. “Maybe they’re so rich they’ll all go to Florida for their vacation and invite me to go along.”

  “What quintuplets?” Mrs. Kendrill said.

  “The boys who are moving in next door,” Benjie said. “Five of them, all my age.” Then he carried his breakfast outside and sat on the front porch to eat.

  “I hope that’s another of his fantasies,” Mr. Kendrill said.

  “It is,” Alex said.

  “Good. I wouldn’t want to have to move when we’re barely settled.”

  Pete looked at his calm family, quietly enjoying breakfast, and decided it was time for a cat fit. He leaped to the top of the sofa, ran from one end to the other, jumped to the floor, raced into the kitchen, then hopped on top of the refrigerator. He reached a paw over the top and pushed at the magnets that held family pictures, a grocery list, and Benjie’s artwork. Two of the magnets fell to the floor; the pictures they had held fluttered after them.

  Pete jumped down. He batted one of the magnets across the floor, ran after it, pounced on it, rolled around while he kicked at it with his hind feet, then batted it some more until it went under the sofa.

  “My toy is gone!” Pete shrieked. “I can’t reach my toy!” He jumped to the small end table beside the sofa.

  “I don’t know what gets into that cat,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Sometimes he goes completely loony.”

  “Maybe he’s lonesome,” Mr. Kendrill said. “Maybe we should get another cat so he has someone to play with.”

  Pete stopped rubbing his face against the lamp shade. “Share my food?” Pete said. “Share my litter pan? Let another cat sit on Alex’s lap? No! If you bring another cat in here, the fur will fly. The new cat will never have a minute’s peace, and neither will you.”

  “I’m not sure we need two cats,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Pete is more than I can handle.”

  Alex said, “I’ll take Pete outside as soon as I finish eating. That will settle him down.” He helped himself to another pancake. He hoped Benjie was wrong about the new neighbors being millionaires. So much new furniture did sound as if they had money to spare, and that thought made Alex uneasy.

  If it weren’t for Duke, Alex wouldn’t care if the neighbors were wealthy or not, but he knew Duke would care. He didn’t understand why Duke was so against people who had money. Was it jealousy? Why did Duke assume Alex’s family was well-off? Was it just an excuse to act mean?

  Although Alex hoped for a neighbor boy his age, he didn’t want the boy to be rich. He could just imagine how Duke and his buddies would react if they found out that the new boy was wealthy.

  They would never quit picking on him—or me, Alex thought. Life at school would be totally miserable.

  4

  Time to come in, Benjie,” Mrs. Kendrill called. “But they aren’t here yet.”

  “It’s getting dark. They probably aren’t coming until tomorrow.”

  “Mr. Woolsey said they were coming Saturday.”

  “Maybe he meant next week, or something might have delayed them. Put your scooter in the garage; it’s supposed to rain tonight. Then come in and get undressed; your bath is ready.”

  Benjie trudged into the house. He took off his shoes but carried his binoculars with him into the bathroom.

  Alex, who was watching a movie with Pete on his lap, felt sorry for his brother. Benjie had spent the entire day either riding his scooter past the neighbors’ house or sitting on the front porch looking up the street through his binoculars, hoping to catch the first glimpse of the new family.

  Half an hour later, just as Alex’s movie got to the most exciting part, Benjie ran into the living room and yelled, “They’re here!”

  Pete, startled out of his dream of catching a mouse, dug his back claws into Alex’s thighs and shoved off.

  “Ouch!” Alex said. “Benjie, for crying out loud, quit scaring Pete.” He hit the PAUSE button on the remote control, then rubbed his legs.

  “They just pulled into their driveway,” Benjie said, “and I was right.”

  Alex gaped at his brother. “They have quintuplets?” he asked.

  “They have a new car, a big fancy one.”

  “Benjie,” Mrs. Kendrill said, “I told you not to spy on the neighbors. If you can’t mind, we’ll have to take your binoculars away from you.”

  “I didn’t spy,” Benjie protested. “I saw lights through the trees, and I looked to see who it was, that’s all.”

  “Are there any kids?” Alex asked.

  “Do they have a cat?” Pete asked.

  “I only saw one boy,” Benjie said. “He’s about your size, Alex.” He slumped onto the couch and ate some of Alex’s popcorn. Then he brightened. “Maybe the rest of the boys are coming tomorrow because they wouldn’t all fit in one car.”

  “Do they have a cat?” Pete said, louder this time.

  “Alex,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Pete is hungry.”

  Alex went to the kitchen to get the cat food.

  Pete did not follow him. Instead, he went upstairs to Alex’s bedroom and hopped on the sill of the window that faced the new neighbors’ house. Benjie’s bedroom faced that direction, too, but Pete was too smart to take a chance of getting trapped in Benjie’s room.

  He peered through the window at an unhappy-looking boy who was carrying a suitcase up the front steps. Pete saw no cat or dog or any other animal.

  * * *

  Alex waited until Sunday afternoon before going next door to meet the new boy. He would have preferred to go by himself, but Benjie insisted on going, too.

  Alex carried a warm cinnamon-walnut coffee cake that his mother had baked as a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.

  “Tell them to come over if they need anything,” she said as she gave the coffee cake to Alex. “I’ll give them a couple of days to get settled before I go over to introduce myself.”

  The woman answered the door. She was about the same age as Alex’s mom, but there were dark circles under her eyes, as if she had not slept well or was recovering from a serious illness.

  “We’re your neighbors,” Benjie blurted, the minute the door opened. “Mom made you a coffee cake.”

  “I’m Alex Kendrill,” Alex said, “and this is my brother, Benjie.”

  The woman smiled. “I’m Ginny Morris,” she said. “It�
�s nice of you boys to come over.”

  “We want to meet your kids,” Benjie said.

  “Rocky and his dad went to the hardware store,” Mrs. Morris said.

  “What about the quintuplets?” Benjie said. “Where are they?”

  “Quintuplets?”

  “Benjie hoped you would have five boys, all his age,” Alex explained.

  Mrs. Morris looked both astonished and amused. “Good heavens, no,” she said. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “No quintuplets?” Benjie said.

  “I’m afraid not. We have just one son, Rocky, who’s twelve.”

  “I’m twelve and a half,” Alex said. “When he gets home, tell him if he wants to come over I can show him where the school bus stops. Maybe he’d like to shoot baskets or something.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Mrs. Morris said. “Please thank your mother for the coffee cake and tell her I’ll invite her over as soon as we’re settled.”

  Half an hour later, Alex saw a car turn into the Morrises’ driveway. A man and a boy, presumably Mr. Morris and Rocky, went into the house. Alex waited, expecting the doorbell to ring any minute, but it never did.

  The next morning Alex went to the bus stop early, hoping for a chance to talk to Rocky for a few minutes before the bus came.

  Just as the bus appeared in the distance, the Morrises’ car went past with Rocky in the backseat. Alex wondered if Rocky’s parents planned to drive him to school every day or if they just had to go with him this first time, to get him registered.

  Class had already started when Rocky entered and handed the sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Bolen, a piece of paper. She smiled, spoke to him quietly a moment, and then said, “Class, this is Gerald Morris. He’s just moved here from . . .”

  She looked expectantly at the new boy, but he did not tell her where he was from. Instead he said, “Call me Rocky.”

  “Where did you live before you came here?” Mrs. Bolen asked.

  “Down south.”

  Duke snickered.

  Alex looked curiously at Rocky. When you live near Seattle, the entire rest of the United States except Alaska and Hawaii is either “back east” or “down south.” It was almost as if the new boy didn’t want anyone to know where he was from.