Hello everybody!

Here is my latest chapter. It is shorter than my previous ones, but I think it is a nice length and might what I will be aiming for in the future.

Enjoy!

Chapter 24

I was not punished.

Harry and Marvin never found out how close I had come to spilling our family secret to a stranger. They bought my story and believed I had only wanted to play with Zeus. I was so convincing I almost came to believe it myself. For my good behaviour, I was rewarded with ice cream and cookies while Harry and Marvin talked in another room. I should've been relieved or gloating internally for getting away with it, but I wasn't.

I couldn't relax, not with Harry and Marvin so agitated. They hadn't yelled or threatened; they hadn't even locked me in the basement, but their stress was contagious. And stressed, they were, though they denied it, insisting everything was fine.

Just fine!

Harry and Marvin wouldn't tell me why Mylène had slapped Marvin either. I wasn't sure how to feel about it. It's not as if Marvin hadn't suffered at my hand, so I couldn't judge Mylène. I also had a feeling that dropping an iron on Marvin's head had probably been more painful than a slap. What I couldn't picture was Mylène resorting to violence. She was so small! What could've possessed her to do that? When I asked Marvin, all he had to say was an unhelpful:

"Bitches be crazy, kid. Forget about it."

So I did try to forget. I told myself there was nothing to worry about; Mylène had dropped by while Harry and Marvin were away? Big deal! All the screaming in the driveway? Nothing to do with me. She was Marvin's ex-girlfriend and they had had a fight. It happened. It had nothing to do with me.

Right?

I waited, thinking this tension would go away, but it didn't. What's more, Harry and Marvin started whispering again, abruptly interrupting themselves the moment I would walk in the room. They would break the awkward silence that followed by distracting me with questions or vague remarks about the weather that didn't fool me. Under normal circumstances, in another household, their attitude might've been funny. Coming from Harry and Marvin, it was suspicious, to say the least.

I hadn't seen that behaviour in nearly a year, but I hadn't forgotten it. I had changed a lot in a year, but I was still a resourceful kid. If I wanted answers, I had my ways. It wasn't that hard. The trick was to stop asking questions. Questions made Harry and Marvin secretive. Not asking any and pretending I hadn't noticed their strange attitude blinded Harry and Marvin, making it easier to sneak up on them. I couldn't hear full conversations, just snippets here and there, but it was enough to paint a worrisome picture.

"She called again. Left a message." I overheard Harry tell Marvin one evening after I had gone to the bathroom.

I knew he meant Mylène. After that scene in the driveway, Harry and Marvin never called Mylène by her name anymore. She became known as "she" or "her".

"What does she want?

– Do I speak French?" Harry reminded him. "You tell me."

Mylène had called plenty of times in the past, but this was different. After her row with Marvin, her calls became more frequent. And it wasn't to apologize or beg him to take her back. She was asking questions. About me.

That made me angry.

How dare she meddle? Didn't she know how difficult she was making life for me? Harry and Marvin wouldn't take me out for walks anymore. No more drives over the weekend either. I was barely allowed in the backyard and I knew it was her fault. Harry and Marvin had even discussed boarding the basement windows! How I wish Mylène had never come by the house! Harry had been right; she was bad news.

I was harsh on our neighbour. I couldn't see back then that Mylène meant well and that she was acting out of concern for me. She had no idea how all her questions were leaving me in a vulnerable position. How could she have known? She suspected Harry and Marvin of negligence, not of kidnapping. So she kept calling.

Harry and Marvin did their best to downplay the situation but I heard things, sometimes when I wasn't even trying. I once, overheard Marvin talking through the air vent in the basement as I was doing laundry:

"I keep telling her it was just a onetime thing. The kid was too upset over his dead mom and all to go to school... I thought it was a good excuse.

– Did she buy it?

– I… don't know. She's still pissed." Marvin sounded desperate.

After that exchange, Harry called Charlie. He didn't call from the living room, but locked himself in his bedroom. That's how I knew this was serious. As for Marvin, he took out their maps and spread them on the kitchen table, taking notes, making lists. I didn't comment and took out a puzzle to work next to him. I couldn't read the map upside down, but I had no trouble with his list. On top of it was hair dye. I knew what was coming. I wasn't ready to admit it to myself, but I had a feeling I wouldn't be calling Canada home much longer.

A few days later, Marvin returned from the store so agitated he forgot the groceries in the car as he rushed inside to find Harry. I didn't lift my eyes from the television and even turned up the volume. I waited until they were deep in conversation before tiptoeing to the kitchen, careful to remain out of sight.

"School. She's asking about school." Marvin stressed.

"What! Why?

– I don't know. What if she checks whether he's registered?

– Fuck, you think she'd go that far?

– I don't know! Her English sucks, but she's so nosy… Would school give out that information? I mean, she is a nurse, but…

– Call her back, Marv. You have to call her back.

– And say what?

– I don't know; just buy us some time."

That evening, boxes reappeared. Most of them were taken to their bedrooms, but a few rested in a corner of the living room. Again, I pretended not to be fazed by this as I played with my Gameboy. The following morning, I woke up to find Harry building more boxes in the basement common room.

"Hey kid, I've got a job for you.

– Job?" I replied, eyeing the boxes.

"It's spring. Time to clean up the place."

I wondered if Harry knew Marvin had used that excuse the last time we had packed the house. Nevertheless, he continued:

"Go through your clothes and toys. Everything you don't use, you put in the box. Got that?"

After Harry and Marvin had left for work, I took out the world map Harry had given me. I found the state of Illinois and the province of Ontario. On the map, they didn't look that far apart. I wondered where we would go next. Further north? I looked at the few and far between names of towns on the map. They didn't mean anything to me. Perhaps this time we'd go west and end up in Alaska. I hadn't seen any bears in this town; perhaps I would have more luck in Alaska, I reflected to cheer myself up, but my heart wasn't into it.

Life around here wasn't so bad and the prospect of moving wasn't thrilling. I wouldn't have minded staying a little longer if it weren't for Mylène. It was stable, familiar, safe; I didn't want to be uprooted again. I'm sure Harry and Marvin never meant to stay in Canada forever, but I don't think they expected to move so soon.

I looked back to Illinois with longing.

Maybe we would go home.

I almost got my hopes up, until I remembered Sid. For all I knew, Sid was still there, waiting. There was no going back.

Not yet.

I put the map away and sorted my possessions. Going through the toys was easy, puzzles I had done dozens of times, books I'd never read, the faded Etch A Sketch all ended up in the box along with dried out Play-Doh. I had less success with clothes. It's hard for a nine-year-old to tell when a shirt doesn't fit anymore, so Harry had to go through them a second time, but he appeared satisfied with my efforts. The boxes disappeared. Others replaced them.

In the garage, Marvin packed their tools. The seedlings I had watched grow for weeks were thrown away. They sold furniture. The living room upstairs was emptied, save for boxes that were piled all over the floor. Harry cleaned out the freezer and pantry and spent a lot of time on the phone. As usual, Marvin sat me down for a hair dye session before packing the kitchen. For a while, we used the same three plates, bowls, cutlery and glasses as the rest was packed away. I expected us to leave any day, but it took another surprise visit from Mylène for Harry and Marvin's paranoia to kick-in.

She came early in the morning, around breakfast. I rarely saw Marvin get angry, but when he saw her car in the driveway, he was livid. He didn't wait for her to come knocking at the door and stormed outside. What a way to start the day, I remember thinking.

Pretending everything was fine wasn't easy. I make it sound as if I weathered this storm perfectly calm, perfectly Zen, but in truth, I was terrified. I could feel my life slipping out of my control once again. Harry and Marvin were impatient; they would snap at me for no reason, making me fearful. My nightmares returned. I had trouble sleeping. I felt tired or queasy most of the time and had to force myself to eat. I couldn't wait for all this to be over, one way or the other.

That morning, I somehow managed to chew on my cereal while listening closely to what was happening outside. Like Harry, I was waiting to hear what fresh hell Marvin's ex-girlfriend had unleashed upon us.

Mylène did not disappoint.

Marvin's conversation with his ex-girlfriend remained civil, meaning that there wasn't too much shouting. I thought this must be a good sign, until Marvin came back inside and I heard him curse, followed by a loud thud, which I would later find out was the sound of Marvin shoving his fist through the drywall. A painful cry and more curses ensued.

I could no longer pretend to be deaf and blind and looked to Harry with worry.

"Downstairs, kid." He ordered.

I abandoned my bowl of cereal and retreated to the basement. Harry was so preoccupied he didn't even care that I didn't take my cereal bowl to the sink. He also might not have trusted me, as he closed the basement door behind me. I waited a few seconds before creeping up the stairs and pressing my ear to the door. At first, I didn't hear much, just angry muttering. There was, however, no mistaking Harry's angry spat:

"That bitch! She can go fuck herself, cause that ain't happening."

I wondered what Mylène could've done to upset Harry when Marvin shed some light on the matter:

"She said it was either the kid talked with her or…

– Or what?"

I couldn't see him, but Harry's tone was enough for me to break in cold sweats. Threatening Harry was never a good strategy. Whether she understood English or not, I doubt Mylène would've had the courage to threaten Harry to his face.

I almost didn't catch Marvin's short and bitter reply:

"with CPS."

That was it, that was the end. Those three little letters did it. We had overstayed our welcome in this town.

We left that very day.

You'd be surprised by how quickly a house can be packed when you set your heart to it. Marvin called to rent a cargo trailer in town and left to pick it up almost immediately. Harry returned to the basement, handing me a bag:

"Pack your stuff. Start with your clothes. I'll bring a box for your toys."

I couldn't understand the reason for all the fuss. I had no idea what CPS was and had no way of finding out. That acronym wasn't as common as FBI or CIA. It's practically never mentioned in thrillers, action movies, or the news. Like foster care, Child Protection Services wasn't a part of my everyday vocabulary or reality. All I knew was that it didn't sound like the police, which scared me. What if CPS sold children to bad people?

So I packed my bag, while Harry unmade my bed, throwing the sheets my way. No time to wash them. He then took his power tools and wasted no time in disassembling my bed. As I watched him work, I didn't feel like pretending anymore. It was ridiculous. I knew what was going on and Harry knew that I knew. So why keep up the charade?

"We're leaving." I remarked.

– You picked up on that, didn't ya?" Harry didn't deny. "Hold the headboard, so it doesn't fall."

I complied, happily surprised to hear Harry being truthful.

"So, where are we going?

– Never mind that."

There were limits to Harry's truthfulness. The last time we had moved, they had also kept our destination a secret and I wondered if the renewed secrecy meant they had a nasty surprise in store.

"Are we going up north again?

– Christ, no. Small town folks are the worse. We're done with small towns. We're done with this goddamn country."

Harry had probably not meant to clue me in on our destination, but remembering my world map, I knew being done with Canada could only mean one thing: we were going back to the States. It was as if a heavy weight had lifted. I found myself breathing more easily. I didn't want to move, but considering I didn't have a say in the matter, returning to the states was the best outcomes I could've hoped for.

We were going home.

Marvin came back with the cargo trailer around noon and they wasted no time packing. To my annoyance, Harry and Marvin locked me in the basement while they worked. They didn't say it, but I knew they wanted to prevent me from running away like the last time. Their lack of faith was disheartening. Couldn't they see this wasn't like the last time? I wasn't upset or running scared. Besides, we were going home. Why would I run?

Since I was unwilling to bring up the events of the previous year, I held my tongue. I was determined to behave and show Harry and Marvin how I had grown. I was filled with good intentions, the best intentions, but as time passed, I became bored and restless, a dangerous combination.

They had left me my Gameboy, but I had gone through Mario Land so often it didn't offer much distraction. And I needed a distraction bad. I eventually put the Gameboy aside to pace the basement. I was filled with such conflicted emotions I didn't know what to think anymore. I was eager to leave before Mylène came back. What if she brought CPS with her? Would they take me away? What if they didn't speak English, like her? I was, however, equally anxious over our move. How long would we be on the road this time? What about our new house? Would it have a basement or a storage room? I dreaded being locked in the dark for hours again. I was sure we were past storage room, but how could I be sure?

I was also haunted by a deep sense of insecurity. Last year, we had run away from Sid, now we were running away from Mylène; how many times we would do this? Would we ever be safe? I looked around myself. I was sick to death of this basement, but I would strangely miss it too. Over the past months, I had made it home. And now we were leaving, taking all traces of our lives here with us. Erased, as if we'd never been here.

I suddenly stopped pacing the floor. A sly smile crept across my face. Erased? It didn't have to be that way. Upon our previous move, I had left a trace of myself behind. A message hidden away in a closet. And what was to stop me from doing it again? It could be fun. Harry and Marvin were so busy, they'd never know. And before I knew it, I set out to mark my passage in this house.

I reopened my box of toys in search of my coloured pencil case, before surveying the basement. Unlike last time, when I had been fuelled by fear and urgency, I was in a mischievous mood. It was like pulling a prank on my unsuspecting captors.

Where to write my message? Last time, I had had little choice but to select the closet. I now had a whole basement to graffiti! I rejected my bedroom as too obvious. There was no closet in the basement, but that didn't matter. There was the gas fireplace. It was a freestanding model and stood in a corner on ceramics tiles, which left some space between the wall and the fireplace. Perfect!

After making sure Harry and Marvin were busy upstairs, I knelt next to the fireplace to write my message. It was considerably shorter than my previous one had been:

Kevin McCallister was here.

May 1992

I then walked around to make sure my message wasn't visible from various points in the room.

I didn't stop to wonder why I didn't leave more information. It would've been easy to add Harry and Marvin's name, state they had kidnapped me, and plead for help, but I didn't. Unlike a year earlier, I didn't even include my parents' name and phone number. My message wasn't a desperate plight. It had turned into a game. It almost felt like designing a treasure hunt. Deep down, I knew this was no game. I was playing with fire and I knew it. Had Harry or Marvin caught me, there would've been hell to pay, but I somehow managed to convince myself this was innocent child play.

I also didn't second-guess the use of my real last name. Although I would dutifully say Kevin Merchants was my name every time Harry or Marvin would ask, I didn't even think about using it when writing my message. It wasn't out of defiance, it simply didn't come naturally. I was, however, too busy congratulating myself over my cleverness to reflect on any of this.

When Harry and Marvin turned their attention to the basement, they found me sitting nice and quiet on my box of toys, playing with my Gameboy. Nothing could've raised their suspicion. Neither of them, not even Harry, took a final look around as they packed what was left in the basement.

They were quickly done and then it was time to leave. I was sent to the bathroom and when I came out, Marvin was waiting with a tube of mascara. This time, I didn't raise hell or even sigh. It was to be expected. Marvin would apply some to my eyebrow and eyelashes every time we would leave the house. It was a condition for going out. And since I wanted to spend time outside, I had learned to wear mascara.

I could feel Harry watching me throughout the process, ready to intervene should I make trouble. As much as I wanted to stay positive, Harry's seriousness made me nervous. It reminded me that the man who had used his belt on me was never far below the surface. I suddenly regretted my latest prank and avoided making eye contact with him, afraid my guilt would betray me.

I followed Marvin to the car without a backward glance as Harry locked up the house. Freed from his glare, I regained some of my excitement. I would be riding with Marvin and I expected us to have a good time. It would be like our weekend drives, which is why I was surprised when Marvin led me to the back seat. I always rode shotgun with Marvin. I didn't understand, but went along, hopping in. Although there were a few bags in the back with me, it was less crammed than the last time we had moved. I also had a pillow and a paper bag full of leftover fruits for the road. With my Gameboy, colouring books and pencils, and Rubik cube, this would be a more pleasant trip for sure.

That was until I saw Marvin take out the handcuffs. Somehow, I had forgotten about those. I froze on the spot, my excitement evaporating.

"No!"

I hadn't meant to shout. I had wanted to stand firm, but lost my nerves as Marvin made a grab for my wrists.

"Come on, kid. We don't have time for this!"

Marvin wasn't his usual playful self. He sounded frustrated and was in no mood to humour me. After a day of running around, looking over his shoulder should his ex-girlfriend reappear, I suppose he must've been tired, but I didn't see it that way.

"But I've been good!" I protested, pushing his hand away. "What did I do? I didn't do anything!"

I didn't understand why I was being punished like this, especially by Marvin. My younger self was outraged by the unfairness of it all.

"You didn't do anything, ok?" Marvin sighed impatiently. "Just give me your hands so me we can leave!"

I moved as far as possible from him, shaking my head. I couldn't spend another road trip handcuffed and unable to move. It had been a year, but I remembered how uncomfortable it had been.

"Kid, don't make me call Harry over." Marvin threatened.

As if he had overheard his partner, Harry called from the van:

"Marv, what's the hold up? You need a hand or something?

– We're fine, Harry. The kid just needs new batteries for his Gameboy." Marvin lied, leading me to believe he didn't really want Harry to handle the situation. "Listen, kid; Give me your hands and I'll buy you ice cream." he bargained.

I didn't want to do this, but Marvin left me no choice. I played the only card left up my sleeve:

"Please… Abba."

If this didn't do it, nothing would. The name had the desired effect on Marvin. His impatient scowl was replaced with something akin to guilt. I made myself hold his gaze and I saw his internal dilemma pulling him from one side to the other. To tip the scale in my favour, I pleaded:

"They hurt."

I held my breath. Marvin looked over at Harry, either out of shame or cowardice, and I worried he might call his partner to his rescue. After a few agonizing seconds, Marvin finally muttered, as if he feared Harry might overhear him:

"Do not make me regret this."

I repressed a smile of triumph as Marvin put the handcuffs away. He made sure to engage the child lock on both doors, but I didn't mind. This was a small, but important victory. I wouldn't have been as lucky had I been riding with Harry.

And off we were, back on the road once more.

I watched the house and the lake disappear. I felt more resigned than sad to know we would never return. We took a detour around the lake to get to the highway, probably to avoid driving in front of Mylène's house further down the road.

Poor Mylène. I often wondered how long it had taken her to realize we had skipped town. She must've felt like such a fool when she found out we had left with no forwarding number or address! Did it make her realize there was something wrong with our family? Did she alert the authorities or decided it was none of her business and forgot all about us? Either way, I never heard from her again.

If anything, Harry and Marvin covered their tracks well.

Marvin would date other women, but Mylène is the only one who ever came close enough to ask question about me. He wouldn't make that mistake twice.

Over the years, I've had plenty of time to reflect on the reasons why Mylène had not called Child Protective Services as she threatened to do. I'll never have a straight answer, but I suspect she was not the harpy Marvin made her out to be. I think she threatened instead of acted because she felt sorry for Marvin. Although she had slapped him, I believe Mylène wanted to give Marvin, the widower and struggling single father, a chance. But Marvin was in no position to play by her rules.

So we disappeared. Disappearing was the surest way to solve our problem. It would be Harry and Marvin's quick and easy answer on more than one occasion, although there would be no more talk of Child Protective Services.

We were on our way to a new life.

A fresh start.

And although I didn't know it at the time, Harry and Marvin were on their way back to their old habits.

And they would drag me down with them.

AN:

Now I know what you're thinking: All those notes Kevin is leaving behind had better lead to something! And I promise it will! The payoff should be pretty explosive. I got it all figured out don't you worry!

I know you are also waiting for the moment Harry and Marvin will begin training Kevin and it is coming! To give you an idea, they will begin taking him along for burglaries after he turns 10, though they don't know it yet. We are almost there! Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed the story so far

That's all for now! Take care!