Wendalynn was jolted awake by a strange rustling noise downstairs. She slowly rose from the warm thickness of sleep, rubbing her eyes.

"Wusthat?" she said tiredly, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, and finally landing on a small, hunched shadow she was pretty sure wasn't part of her settee.

Unable to decide whether it was just a pile of laundry or something more climactic, she flicked on her frilly bedside lamp.

A boy was there, crouching, his eyes squeezed shut, perfectly still. A scream froze in Wendalynn's throat.

The boy seemed to realize she could see him, and sprang up, by her bedside with his hand clamped over her mouth in a flash.

"Shh," he said quietly. "Don't yell. Please."

Her eyes grew wide and terrified. She and Father had talked about what to do in this situation. You... er... oh yeah!

"OW!" The boy whisper-yelled, swinging his and around and rubbing where Wendalynn had bit it. She wasted no time; opening her mouth, she-

Was smothered again, this time by a pillow.

"Hear me out," the boy said. Wendalynn's eyes narrowed. He would feed her some sappy story so that she would feel bad for him and let him go, maybe even let him rob the house. Not Wendalynn, though. She was smarter than that. Nothing he could say would convince her.

"I left something here. And I need it. Now. Please. Just let me find it." He said quickly. She was mildly surprised. Where was the tearjerker? The long pity party?

However, she knew that what he was looking for was obviously her mother's diamonds. Or her father's money. Or even Wendalynn herself.

"Tell me what it is." The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. She wanted to slap herself. She fell for it! She really, actually fell for, the dunce she is!

The boy paused, thinking hard. "I can't tell you. But, I'll show it to you once I find it. That is, if you don't press charges."

Despite herself, Wendalynn was tempted. Something else about him was nagging the back of her mind though.

"You have to take me with you." She said plainly. "And my brothers, too, please. Wherever you're going."

The boy seemed startled. "W-what? Take you to... no. I couldn't." he said, the shock showing in his voice.

"Well then..." she said, reaching for the button that called for her father by her bed.

"Wait!" he said hurriedly, just as she had thought he would. "Why? Why would to leave such a perfect, cushy life?"

Wendalynn thought. "Much too dull," she said finally. "My life needs some desperate spicing up."

The boy seemed angry. "WHAT?" he whisper-yelled. "WHy leave it? It's wonderful! It's- oh, never mind. Sure. Just let me go." He said, giving up. Wendalynn nodded.

"Go on ahead," she whispered back. "i'll get John and Michael."

Seeming to be having some serious 'this-is-a-bad-idea' thoughts, the boy went downstairs, almost silently. You could only hear the faintest whisper of cloth-on-cloth.

Wenalynn left the room, almost as quietly.

~~

"No. I changed my mind." he said stubbornly.

"You promised." Wendalynn contradicted, just as stubborn.

"Yeah, well, I've gone back on that." He replied firmly. She stood her ground.

"You haven't got a choice." She said knowingly. "You have to. You're completely at my mercy. You hate it, but you are."

"I hate logic," he muttered, finally jutting his hand out so she could see the slightly dirty piece of paper below.

It was a photograph, a perfect family scene. A mother, a father, a baby, standing in front of a big brick house, all sunny and happy. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting.

The dad had the boy's shockingly blue eyes, the mom his beach-blonde hair. It was obvious those were his parents.

"Oh," she said. "So that's-"

"Let's go." he said stiffly. They had proceeded down the hall only a few steps when he turned around, frustrated.

"Can you be ANY louder?" He whispered harshly. "You're like a pack of water buffaloes! Your parents will wake up for sure!"

John perked up indignantly. "I am NOT loud!" he said. "For your information, my karate teacher called me perfectly stealthy last-"

"Well, you're not." He interjected.

"How can we be quieter?" Michael inquired quietly. "I'm on my very tippy-toes."

The boy pondered for a moment. "Step lightly, like you're walking on very, very thin ice." he said. "Take deep breaths, as quietly as you can, so that you can hold your breath for a while. But don't pant. Just breath smoothly and evenly, like you're asleep. But, most importantly, you have to really believe that you're quiet. If you're nervous, you'll shake, so you might knock something over. And, you'll breath harder. Pretend like you're invisible."

After adjusting themselves for a few moments, they set off down the hall. It was just as silent as he had been on his trip downstairs; he was a good teacher.

Tiptoeing through the house was quite the adventure; it was eerie to feel this rebellious as they silently made their way through the dark, eerie house. Squares of moonlight shone on them, which they avoided from some unspoken agreement. The hall was eerily quiet; it had always been full of sound. People talking, listening to music, taking showers, etc. Now all they got was the occasional rustle as someone turned over in their sleep or a snore.

The lobby was vacant. This irritated Wendalynn; the had been anticipating having to make some creative excuse, or having some kind of dramatic getaway. Instead, they just went through the door.

When they opened the door to the street, the chill hit them like a brick wall and all sound was back again. Michael curled up to Wendalynn, afraid of all the lights and sounds of the city. She was afraid too. Why hadn't she thought to ask where they were going?

All worried, but still they made their silent way to some unknown destination.