100 Cupboards (12 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Henry
heard the attic stairs before his doors creaked open. Henrietta's eyes were wide, and she was grinning. She whispered as loudly as possible.

“Henry, I've found it! I found how to open more cupboards. Oh, Blake's in here. I didn't know you liked Blake.”

Henry opened his mouth, but Henrietta didn't wait.

“I've found out everything!” She bounced up and down. “At least, I've found out something. I'll know more when I read more.”

“You read Grandfather's journal?” Henry asked.

“No. I found another one. It was under his pillow.”

“What?” Henry raised his eyebrows. “You went back into his bedroom? How?”

Henrietta smiled. “I used the key, of course. I came up and you were asleep and there wasn't any light in the mailbox, so I took the key and the journal.”

“What?” Henry asked. “Why would you do that?”

“Well, I knew you wouldn't let me if you were awake.” She laughed. “It's not like you had hidden them. They were in your sock drawer. That's the first place Anastasia always looks. Nobody hides things in a sock drawer unless they want them found.”

“Henrietta—”

“Oh, just listen to me.”

Henry stood up and put a finger to his lips.

“Fine,” Henrietta whispered. “But listen. The journals are all about the cupboards. It says there are five that don't lock. We've only opened three, and one of those was locked, so there are three more. And it says something about going through the cupboards. I knew we could go through, I just don't understand it yet.”

She dropped the old journal on Henry's bed and held open the new one. She pointed at a long list. “See? It has something to do with the compass locks. Each cupboard has a combination that you set on the compass locks, and then you go through.”

“But it doesn't shrink you.”

Henrietta laughed. “Well, it must, or the cupboard gets bigger. But let's open the other three before we try it. Oh!” She knelt on the bed to examine the cupboard wall. “The light's on in the mailbox.”

“Yeah.”

Henrietta looked at Henry. “Did you look through again?”

“No. Henrietta. Listen to me for a second.” Henry took a deep breath and described what had happened with the sick cat.

Henrietta cocked her head. “Are you sure you were awake?”

“Yes. I was dreaming, but when I woke up, both cats were on me.”

“That was very nice of Blake,” Henrietta said. “You know he doesn't like you.” She looked at the wall. “They can open doors from the other side? How?”

“Well, the black one just pushes on and off. It doesn't have a latch. I pushed the bed up against it.”

“How did you know the cat was sick?”

“It had big sores and bald spots.”

“Oh.” Henrietta wrinkled up her nose. “That's gross, Henry.”

“Yeah,” Henry said. “I think it was trying to get to my face, but I don't know.”

Henrietta shook her head. “Don't tell me any more. Just keep the bed against it, and don't open it again.”

Henry felt his ears getting hot. “What do you mean, don't open it again? You're the one who always wants to open it.”

“It just came open?” Henrietta asked. “You didn't open it first?”

Henry paused.

“Well, I did, and my knife was in it. I took it out and then closed the door.” He didn't mention the string and the bell ringing on the other side.

“See?” Henrietta said. “Whoever it is on the other side put your knife there to see if you opened it again. So just don't open it again. Now, let's try to find the other ones that open.”

Henry flopped back onto his bed, trying hard not to be irritated. “Don't you want to look in the post office first?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Henrietta bounced over to the little door while Henry got the key out of his dresser to open it for her. Henrietta watched for a long time, but the legs walked by only once.

“That's neat, but let's do the other ones now.” Henrietta looked over the wall, reading the numbers she had taped on each cupboard. “Numbers 24, 49, and 3 are the ones. Look, 24 and 49 are right here, close to each other, but 3 is all the way at the other end. I wish they were all in order. I wonder why they aren't.”

Henry was already examining the cupboard labeled “24.” Its name was “Cleave,” and its surface was a rough, darker wood. There was no latch anywhere and no keyhole.

“Does the book say how to open it?” Henry asked. “There's nothing on the door.”

“Try hitting it.”

Henry made a fist and thumped the door. Nothing happened. He felt around its edges. Small hinges were on the right side. At the top, his fingers found a groove. It still had loose plaster in it. He cleared it out with his fingertips, then pulled.

The door opened with a pop and a cloud of dust. The small cupboard looked empty, but the back was hidden in darkness.

“Nothing,” Henry said.

“Reach inside.”

Henry thought about saying something nasty. Instead, he stuck his hand in the cupboard and felt around.

“There's a back,” Henry said. “It doesn't go anywhere.”

“Push on it.” Henrietta stood up on the bed next to him and leaned in.

“You're breathing on me,” Henry said.

“Oh well.”

“It smells awful.”

“Oh well,” Henrietta said again.

Henry was straining against the back of the cupboard. He thought he felt it budge, so he bore down and pushed harder. The bed began sliding away from the wall.

Suddenly the back of the cupboard gave, and Henry smacked his face on the wall as his arm went all the way through. His fingers, in some other place, closed around a fistful of hair. The head that owned it jerked and yelled. Henry let go and jumped back.

Henrietta was sitting on the bed, shivering. “Henry! Shut it! Quick!”

Henry started to.

“No, the other one,” Henrietta said. “Over there. Something just reached through and grabbed me.” Henry looked back at the wall. Two cupboards were open—24 was the one he had just been reaching in, but 49, just above it and to the right, was also open.

“Oh my goodness,” Henry said, and he laughed.

“Why are you laughing? Shut it!” Henrietta stood up to do it herself. Henry reached back into number 24. His hand came out of 49 and grabbed at Henrietta's face. She stifled a scream and slammed the door on it. Henry yelped and fell back down on the bed, sucking his knuckles and laughing. Henrietta looked down at him with her fists on her hips.

“Why are you laughing?”

Henry answered with more half-stifled laughter.

“Was that your hand?” she asked. “It wasn't funny if it was.”

“Yeah, it was,” he said, and sat up grinning. “It was really funny. You should have seen your face.”

“I hope I hurt your hand.”

“Not bad.”

Henrietta turned back to the wall. “How does that work?”

“I guess the two cupboards are connected,” Henry said. “Anything that goes in one comes out the other.” Henry jumped back up. He forced his face into a serious expression before shoving his left arm into the cupboard as far as it would go. Most of his arm came out of the other cupboard. He reached over and began to feel his own face, then bugged his eyes at Henrietta. He spread his fingers and reached for her.

“It's coming,” he said.

“Stop it.”

“It's coming!” he said, and twiddled his fingers.

“Stop it!” she said, and slapped his hand. But she was smiling now. “That is really weird.”

“Let's do it with Blake,” Henry said.

“Don't be mean to the cat.”

“It's not mean. It'll just be funny.”

Blake had long since removed himself from the bed and was sitting by the door.

“C'mere, Blake,” Henry said. He hopped off the bed and scooped up the cat. “Do you want to do magic?” He held the cat up to the lower open cupboard.

“Don't make him if he doesn't want to.” But Blake didn't mind. The cupboard didn't seem at all unusual to him. He stepped in, and almost immediately his head emerged from the upper cupboard while his tail twisted and swung from the lower. He seemed to have found just the sort of spot that he enjoyed. He turned his head back and forth, then lay down and began licking his paw.

“He likes it,” Henrietta said.

“Of course he does, it's hilarious,” said Henry. “Where's the other one? Was it number 2?”

“It's 3, all the way at the other end, by the corner.”

The two of them left Blake contentedly halved and scrambled to door number 3. Its paper tag said “Mistra.” The door was smaller than most, and darker. It wasn't black, it just seemed dirty. Henry was wondering how he would clean it when Henrietta spat on it. She picked one of Henry's T-shirts up off the floor and began rubbing.

“You should take your laundry down, or Mom will come up to get it,” she said while she scrubbed.

“I take it down all the time,” Henry said. “And I bring it back up.”

Henrietta raised her eyebrows. “Sheets?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you taken your sheets down?”

Henry nodded. “Once.”

“Mom's doing sheets tomorrow. Oh, look.”

Henry already was. Silver inlay swirled around the edges of the door, then stretched toward the middle in what looked like branches. In the center was a half-dollar-sized circle.

“Do you have your knife?” Henrietta asked. “You got it out of the black cupboard, didn't you?”

“Yeah.”

Henrietta looked at him. “Where is it?”

“Why?” Henry asked.

“I need it.”

“What for?”

“Just give it to me.” Henrietta turned back to the door.

“Fine.” Henry crawled over the bed, found the knife on the floor, and brought it to Henrietta. She pushed the blade under the smooth metal circle in the door and it popped up. Underneath was a metal ring. She hooked a finger through it and pulled.

“It's a drawer,” she said. And it was. The drawer slid out, and they both scootched back. Henrietta pulled it all the way out, set it on the floor, and bent over to look in the hole. It was too dark, so she reached in and fished around with her hand. Her eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” Henry asked.

“I think it's warmer. I can't really feel anything else.”

“What's in the drawer?”

They looked together. There was an old and tattered cloth, some nearly-dust mouse droppings, small bones next to gray shards of what must have been skin, two dead beetles, and a fly.

“Well, that's a little boring,” she said. “What do we do now?”

“Go to sleep?” Henry asked.

“No. We have to try the compass locks.” She moved to the edge of the bed and spun one of the knobs before looking around for the journal. She picked up the one on the blanket and set it back down. “Did you put the other one somewhere?”

“No. You had it.”

“I know I had it, but did you take it?”

Henry snorted. “Why would I take it?”

“I don't know. Did you?”

“No.”

On the floor below them, something thumped. Both children froze.

“Oh no,” Henrietta whispered.

“What is it?”

“I think Dad's awake.”

“Maybe he's just going to the bathroom,” Henry said.

Henrietta looked at him and smiled nervously. “But I left Grandfather's room open.”

“What?”

“And the light on.”

“Why?”

“Because I was excited about the journal. I ran right up here.”

“Well, hurry up and go turn the light off and shut the door,” Henry said. “And if your dad catches you, then tell the truth.”

Henrietta jumped up and ran out of the room on her toes. Henry listened to her feet on the stairs, waiting for Frank's voice. There was more thumping, and Blake ran out of the room. Henry stood up and looked at the compass knobs. He fiddled with them, twisting each and trying to watch all of the doors at once to see if anything happened.

Nothing. The doors were still. The floor below him was still. No creaks, no voices, no sounds. No Henrietta. Henry waited. He waited until he knew it had been too long and then, suddenly, he worried.

He walked down the stairs as softly as he could. At the bottom, he listened but didn't hear anything, so he stepped onto the landing. Blake was gone, Grandfather's door was open, and the light was still on. Henry walked slowly across the landing, past the girls' room and Aunt Dotty and Uncle Frank's room and then the bathroom. He stepped over the mess in the floor and looked into Grandfather's room.

The door was only halfway open, so he could see just a slice of the space. He moved closer and peered around the door, an inch at a time. No one. Some of the books were on the floor. That could account for the thumping. And then, as he stepped all the way into the room, he saw something that he understood far better than he wished.