Will You Be My Friend? (8 page)

But it also explained why the door to each of these offices was divided in half, like the door to a horse stall in a barn. The bottom half was closed and had a small shelf that formed its top board. The top half of each door was open so that a person could speak with the school administrators inside, and even pass along papers, without actually walking into the office.

Beth dropped to her knees, making sure she stayed below the opening above the bottom door, and crawled as quickly as she could down the hall, hugging the wall, remaining invisible to the people in the offices.

One by one she passed offices containing the most powerful people in the school—the school she didn't even go to. Just as she reached the door to the administrative assistant's office, she heard the knob on the bottom section of the door start to turn.

Beth froze mid-crawl.

“I'll bring these forms over to Ms. Dawkins,” said a voice right above Beth.

The door started to open. She'd be discovered, and worse, her mom would find out what she had done. She held her breath.

“Later, Ralph,” called another voice from inside the office. “She doesn't need them until next week, and we've got to finish compiling these test results.”

“Okay,” said Ralph.

The door closed.

Beth let her breath out slowly, silently, and then crawled the last few yards down the hall. Reaching the last door, she looked up and read the sign again.
STUDENT RECORDS
. She was there. She had made it.

Standing up slowly, Beth discovered that of all the doors along this hallway, this was the one that was fully closed, both top and bottom. She grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly.

The knob turned, the latch popped, and the door swung inward. Beth Picard slipped into the student records room, closing the door silently behind her.

The first thing that struck Beth about the records room was the fact that the door had been unlocked. It worked out great for her, but why was it that anyone could just walk right in? The room had to contain detailed personal information about every student who had ever gone to Glenside. You'd think they would want to keep that info from falling into unauthorized hands.

Like hers.

The second thing that struck her about the room was how dark and crowded it was. It had the appearance of someone's closet in one of those TV shows about hoarders. The only light in the room was a thin band of sunlight that sliced through an otherwise filthy window and a strip of fluorescent light that crept in under the door.

Old oak file cabinets lined every wall, with another row of file cabinets running down the center of the narrow room. Beth wondered if there was enough space to fully open any of the drawers.

The room had a musty smell that reminded Beth of the used bookstore her mother enjoyed going to. Piles of green hanging folders and manila files were stacked on top of each cabinet. Cobwebs hung between the sides of the cabinets and the walls. A thick layer of dust seemed to cover everything as if it had been intentionally sprayed on like a coat of paint.

What a mess!
Beth thought.
How can anyone find anything here? How will
I
find anything here?

She glanced around, wondering where to begin. As with each step in this mission, she had no plan in place for what she would do when she reached it.

Somehow, through sheer luck it seemed, she had so far made it to the school, discovered a way in, slipped past the people working there, and found the door to the room she needed unlocked.

But now what? Where to start?

“Okay, first I need to find a light,” Beth muttered softly to herself.

Searching for a light switch on the walls would be a waste of time, since she'd first have to search for the walls. Every available inch of wall space was covered by a cabinet or a shelf of some kind.

Miraculously Beth soon spotted a lamp. It was a classic table lamp with a brass base, a metal pull chain, and a green glass shade. She'd seen lamps like this in old movies. She pictured a grizzled old clerk sitting at a beat-up oak desk, counting coins by the dim glow of his green-shaded lamp.

Beth yanked the lamp's chain and the bulb sprang to life, casting a rectangular pool of light onto the low shelf on which it sat.

I guess I found my desk,
she thought.

Beth tilted the lamp so that its light shone on the handwritten labels on the front of each file cabinet drawer. They were organized by months and years, though “organized” might be too strong a word to describe what she was looking at.

She scanned the various dates.

Let's see, Alice is in eighth grade now, and she said that Lizzie was in her grade. I'll start with the records three years ago and work my way forward.

Beth aimed the lamp's light at a lower drawer on a file cabinet. She grabbed a handful of files and opened the first one on the shelf near the lamp. Flipping through a stack of forms, each of which had a student's photo stapled to it, Beth waded through a sea of unfamiliar faces.

When she completed one folder, she moved on to the next one. As she finished each drawer, she opened the next and pulled out another stack of files, month by month, year by year.

Coming to the end of the third cabinet, Beth squeezed into the corner of the room to reach the next drawer in the chronological order she was following. Looking up, she realized that this drawer was the top one in a file cabinet resting on a platform. It was too tall for her to reach.

She stood on her tippy-toes and strained her shoulder trying to stretch her hand up to the drawer's handle, but she just could not reach. And even if she could manage to get the drawer open, how would she get the files out?

Standing in the corner next to this cabinet was a ladder.
Is there even room enough in here to open this thing?
Beth wondered. There was only one way to find out.

Slowly and quietly Beth slipped the ladder from its resting place. Pulling the two hinged sections apart, she managed to pry it open. The legs on each side rested against the base of a file cabinet.

I just hope I can wriggle myself up and still be able to open that top drawer.

As Beth took her first step onto the ladder, she heard voices coming from the hallway just outside the door. She froze in place, on the bottom step, standing on one foot.

“This is the old student records room, huh?” said a woman with a young-sounding voice.

“Not so old,” replied a man with a gruff voice. “It took this school a while to join the twenty-first century. Believe it or not, we only started keeping student records on computer this year.”

“So what did you do before that?” asked the woman, sounding totally surprised. “Keep records on, like, paper?”

“Yup. Want to see? The door should be unlocked. Harold Wasser has been digitizing all the records in here so that we can eventually empty this room.”

From her one-footed perch on the bottom step of the ladder Beth saw the doorknob turn and the door open slightly inward.

Fear coursed through her veins.

That's it. I'm finished,
Beth thought.
My life is over. The school will have me arrested. My mom . . . I don't even want to think about my mom.

“No time now,” said the woman. “Got a meeting. Maybe later.”

“Okay,” said the man.

The door closed with a thud—the most beautiful sound Beth had ever heard.

When she heard the two sets of footsteps fade away, she stepped down off the ladder to compose herself, and also to give her aching left leg a rest.

Well that explains why the door was unlocked and why all these file folders are stacked on top of the cabinet
, she thought in her relief.
Someone is taking all these paper records and scanning them into a computer.

Beth started back up the ladder but then paused suddenly.

Which means that Harold Wasser could come in at any second to grab another handful of files!

Beth scrambled up with a new sense of urgency. She had to find what she needed and get out of there as soon as possible. Time was most definitely not her friend.

Reaching the highest step of the ladder, Beth slowly eased the drawer open and pulled out a fistful of folders. Placing them on top of the cabinet, she flipped through, page by page, searching for the face she knew all too well even by the dimmest of light.

About halfway through the first folder, Beth heard a noise. She paused. Glancing down, she saw a hand shoving the one tiny window in the room open. A face flashed in front of the window but vanished before Beth had a chance to process it.

Scrambling down the ladder, fretting the lost time in her search, Beth squeezed between two file cabinets and pressed herself against the window. She stuck her head out and caught a glimpse of a tall figure disappearing around a corner.

Elizabeth?
Beth wondered at the retreating head of short, black hair.

Beth was confused, but she didn't have time to think much about what was going on. She would certainly get caught if she waited any longer. Not to mention that she needed to get home before her mom arrived.

She was halfway back up the ladder when she glimpsed more movement outside the window.

What now?
she thought.

She climbed back down and peered out the window. Nothing, but then all of a sudden something popped up and grabbed her hand. Beth jumped back a bit before she noticed that it was only a curious black cat, on its hind legs, peering into the room. Beth reached out to pet the cat, but it hissed, then turned and bolted.

Beth wished she had more time to figure out what was going on, but she was in full-on panic mode now. She scrambled up the ladder and resumed her search. Finishing one folder, she riffled through the next, then another, then a fourth.

Last one, and then I have to get out of here,
she thought.

Beth flipped open the green folder and there it was. After all the effort, all the nervousness, she saw it. Her own face stared up at her from the page. And there was the name:

Lizzie Maxwell.

Beth scanned the page with eager eyes. According to her file, Lizzie Maxwell lived a few blocks from the school, but that was about all there was to know about her in the records. Someone had scribbled a note on the page that she had stopped attending school in the middle of last year, a few weeks before Beth and her mom had moved to their new house.

Beth could review the page later. Right now she had to get out of there and return home. She stuck the page about Lizzie Maxwell back in the folder and tucked the folder under her arm.

I'll show these pages to Mom,
she thought as she got ready to descend the ladder.
She'll finally have to tell me the truth. Is Lizzie my sister? My twin? Were we given up for adoption to two separate families when we were born? Mom got me and someone with the last name Maxwell got her? I have to know. I have to find—

The ladder suddenly started shaking.

Whaa?

Beth glanced down and saw a tall young woman with dark hair. Her hand was on the ladder.

“Elizabeth? Why are you shaking the ladder? What are y—”

The door to the records room flew open, and a short man carrying a stack of file folders burst into the room.

“What on earth are you doing here?” the man shouted.

Beth was so startled she lost her balance, tumbled from the ladder, and crashed to the floor.

Beth looked up and saw the man bending over her, losing control of the files in his hands. File pages fluttered through the air, landing on top of Beth just before everything went black.

Beep—beep—beep . . .

Beth awoke to a repetitive beeping sound.

Beep—beep—beep . . .

Forcing her eyes open, Beth saw that she was still sprawled out on the floor of the student records room. The file papers that had covered her were gone. So was the man who had burst into the room. She was alone again.