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the truth circle

By PAT SCHMATZ

CAROLRHODA BOOKS, INC.

Copyright © 2007 Pat Schmatz
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8225-7268-8

Chapter One

The feeling reached into Rith's dreamless sleep, where he was slouching around in the never-changing mud of boredom and hopelessness. It yanked him into the gray-dark bedroom and left him lying jittery awake, shifting his wide-open eyes without moving his head. It paced around the edge of his bed, invisible but tangible. It slithered under the sheets and Rith's skin broke out in goose bumps.

He panicked and flipped to his side, groping for the light. His hand hit a glass of water that sloshed and clattered on the nightstand, then thumped on the carpet. He found the lamp and grabbed the stem with one hand, hitting the switch with the other. With a click and a flash, light entered the room and the feeling left.

Nothing and nobody, just his stupid imagination.

Rith got up and searched the room, mocking himself the whole time. What do you think, there's a monster in the closet? Maybe a wizard on a broomstick outside the window? A python under your bed? He picked up the water glass and used yesterday's sock to wipe water off the nightstand. Most of it was already soaking into the thick blue carpet. He pressed his ear against the closed bedroom door, listening for sounds in the hall that he knew wouldn't be there.

He got back in bed and turned off the light, lying in the darkness. The streetlight wavered through the plaid curtains and glanced off the blank computer screen on his desk. The TV on top of the dresser hulked in the deepest shadows of the corner.

Rith kicked the covers away. His stepfather, Walt, kept the house way too hot.

"Babies in the house," he'd say. "Gotta keep things cozy."

He and Mom and the babies were a long way away, down on the first floor. The nursery where Ben and Emma slept was next to the huge master bedroom. That bedroom, with its attached bathroom and walk-in closet, was bigger than the whole house where Rith had lived with his mom B.W. Before Walt.

If something really did sneak into Rith's window in the night and attack him, no one would know. They wouldn't hear a thing. Mom would come looking for him when he didn't show up at breakfast and find him spattered all over the room, maggots crawling around in whatever was left of him. Or maybe he'd disappear without a trace. They'd come in and find his window left open, cold air rushing in. Walt would be outraged that something had dared break into his castle and touch one of his subjects without permission. Mom might be sad for a week or two, but then she'd say, "Can't we forget about the past and focus on the good things we have now?" And then she'd live happily ever after.

The next morning, Rith lifted his heavy eyelids to watch the sky lighten. First everything was gray, and then a lighter gray, then the sun began to shine its feeble rays across the winter sky. The branches on the trees were long naked tentacles, reaching up in search of warmth.

The posters on the walls slowly came clear-Harry Potter, Eragon, and Redwall. Fantasy stuff, dragons and broomsticks and mouse warriors. Water ran somewhere in the house but no other sounds reached Rith. On nonschool days, he put off an appearance on the ground floor as long as possible.

"Rit!" Emma's voice floated up from the living room below.

She sang his name, making a rhythm of it as she crawled up the stairs. Rith put on a pair of sweats and a tee shirt and opened the door. Emma's voice paused on the landing, then continued. Her curly head poked around the corner.

Her eyes widened when she saw him and she laughed out loud. She ran over and threw her sturdy little blonde self at his legs, making him put his hand against the wall to keep from falling over.

"Hi, Emma," he said.

She squealed and let loose with an unintelligible stream of sounds. Emma bubbled noise every minute she was awake. She didn't care if Rith glared at her, closed doors on her, or pretended she didn't exist. He got almost as much air time as "Daddy Daddy Daddy."

The only way to get rid of her was to go downstairs with her.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go find some food."

She clutched a handful of loose material behind Rith's left knee and followed him down the hall. When Rith reached the top of the stairs, they stretched out before him, wide and covered with thick, soft no-color carpeting.

Rith picked Emma up and put her under his arm like a football. He carried her down the stairs, her head bobbing and her feet flopping behind. At the bottom he set her down and followed the slap of her bare feet across the big, square ceramic tiles into the sunny kitchen.

"Rit," she announced to her parents, beaming as if she had discovered gold on the second floor.

"Good morning, hon," said Rith's mother. She sat at the table with Baby Ben, who lounged in her lap like a fat little prince, sucking away on his bottle.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked.

"Fine," said Rith, rummaging through the cupboard for the Frosted Flakes.

"Hey Sugar," boomed Walt, taking Emma up on his lap. "How's your big brother this morning?"

Rith poured the Frosted Flakes into a bowl, pulled the milk out of the refrigerator and splashed it on, and started to head upstairs.

"Rith," said Walt. "Did you forget something?"

He stopped and rolled his eyes at the wall in front of him. He sighed, backtracked, rolled up the lining of the cereal box and returned it to the cupboard, and put the milk back in the refrigerator. Then, without looking at anyone, he picked up his bowl and headed back to his room.

Upstairs, Rith sat at his desk and ate his cereal, looking out the window. Not much to see on an icy gray morning. Big houses like their house, sitting around the circular end of the street. All the driveways neatly snow-blown, all the SUVs shut up in their garages. He looked down at the snow just outside the window, pressing his face against the cold glass. To his left, the back yard stretched out into an open field between their house and the next identical cul-de-sac. He searched for footprints or paw prints or maybe a secret symbol drawn in the snow. Some sign that the feeling he'd had in the night was more than a wild wishful hope for a break from reality.

There was nothing. Nothing and nobody. Just another stupid Sunday morning.

Chapter Two

Two hours later, Rith waited by the coat rack because that was better than standing in the church doorway with Walt and Mom and the babies, shaking the hands of everyone as they walked in. Helping ladies off with their coats was painful but not unbearable.

"Hey." Someone tapped Rith on the shoulder.

He turned to face a pudgy kid a little taller than him with red hair and lots of freckles.

"I'm Toby."

"Hi. I'm Rith."

"What?" asked Toby, like everyone did.

"Rith. Short for Orithian."

"Rrrrrrrrith," Toby growled. "Cool name. Not like Toby. Toby sounds like an overweight beagle. Why couldn't they have named me Brutus or Spike, like a pit or a rott?"

"Hi Rith," called Mrs. Hughes, shrugging out of her long wool coat. "So nice to see you, and how's that darling little sister of yours?"

"She's fine," said Rith, although all Mrs. Hughes had to do was turn around and see for herself. He took her coat and put it on a hanger.

"So you're the coat man here?" asked Toby as Mrs. Hughes walked away. "How'd you get that job?"

"Greeter family," said Rith, pointing toward the entrance with his head. "It's either shake hands or hang coats. I hang coats. Want to help?"

"Sure thing," said Toby, glancing over at the Kurths. "Where'd you get that name, anyway?" he asked. "O-rith-i-an."

"Family name, from my dad."

"Sounds like you oughta be pals with Eragon. You read that?"

"Yeah, great book," said Rith, taking another coat.

Toby stepped in and helped Mrs. Johanson, who was so teeny-tiny that her coat probably weighed more than she did. The flurry of people grew and for a few minutes, both boys took and hung coats as fast as they could. Then the crowd started to thin, and Toby followed Rith to the rack with a last jacket.

"So this church business," he said. "I'm new here. Are there, like, assigned pews or something? Or do you just sit wherever?"

"Wherever," said Rith. "Your parents here?"

"Nope. They were bad so I left them home." Toby grinned. "Can I sit with you?"

"If you want," said Rith. "I have to sit with them though." He jerked his head again toward the doorway. Mom and Walt were just leaving their post to take the babies down to the nursery.

"Mom, this is Toby," called Rith. "He's going to sit with us, okay?"

"Sure, that's fine." Mom smiled. "You boys go ahead and sit down while we get the kids settled. We'll be right in."

"Wow, your dad must be half giant," said Toby, as Mom and Walt went downstairs.

"Not my dad," said Rith as they headed into the church sanctuary. "That's just Walt."

The ushers handed them church bulletins and Rith led the way down the center aisle to the usual pew.

"Do you come every week?" Toby whispered as Rith pulled his sermon notes from his back pocket.

Rith nodded, unfolding the paper and printing his name at the top: Orithian Haley. He started filling it in, copying the Bible references for the day from the church bulletin. Toby reached over and tapped Rith's last name.

"Very comet-ish," he whispered. "What's that you're writing?"

"For confirmation class," said Rith. "Gotta turn it in after church."

Mom and Walt slid into the pew just as the organ started. Walt leaned over and gave Rith the eye, and then glanced at Toby. Just in case Rith was planning on having fun for once, but that was a wasted worry. Toby did everything Rith did, watching him for cues of when to sit and stand. He followed along in the bulletin, listened to the service, and flipped through the hymnal ahead of time to get on the right page. He even sang along on the hymns, which Rith refused to do.

After the benediction, Toby turned to Rith and said, "So do you go to Franklin?"

"Yup, eighth grade," said Rith.

"Me too," said Toby. "I'm new this year. We just moved last summer. I'm in the Spanish immersion program up on the third floor, so I'm not in regular classes. I'll look for you in the hall though."

"Okay," said Rith. "Slide out that way or we'll be stuck here forever."

Rith looked back over his shoulder as he and Toby slid out to the side aisle. Mom was talking to a couple of other women. He caught her eye and pointed at Toby. She nodded and went back to talking. Toby followed Rith as he dropped off his sermon notes in the envelope by the door. They slipped around the pastor-greeting traffic jam and into the foyer.

"I gotta get outside," said Toby. "My dad'll be waiting. He'll be afraid I got kidnapped and brainwashed in here."

"Really?" asked Rith. "Why?"

"He says church is-" Toby stood up straight and deepened his voice-"shot through with hypocrisy. So I better get out there and show him I'm okay. See you."

Toby grabbed his jacket and trotted down the steps, turning back to wave. Rith helped some of the older people find coats and get them on. Everyone chitchatted and milled around on their way out. The front door opened and closed, letting in puffs of icy air. Once most everyone was gone, Rith pulled his jacket off the hanger and went down the few steps to the door, leaning his forehead against the window. The sun was trying to break through but the clouds wouldn't give up. They smeared a wispy film over it, muting the light and heat.

Mom and Walt were taking an awfully long time to collect the kids. Between the bundling-up and shoe-tying and carseat-fastening and greeting and coat-hanging, they spent half the day coming to and going from church. Wasted time-except for meeting Toby. Church was the last place he'd expected to find a kid who'd read Eragon, much less one who appreciated the cometness of his name.

B.W., Mom had wanted to go to some churches just for fun. See if they'd be nice to the heathens, she'd said. But her whole heathen thing dropped pretty fast once she met Walt. Rith said the prayers and dropped money in the offering plate but he was still a heathen. If it was good enough for his dad, it was good enough for him.

"Rith."

Her hand on his shoulder.

"Nice that you made a friend here. Will he be in confirmation class, too?"

Rith shrugged, looking out in the direction where Toby had disappeared.

"Come and help me bring the kids upstairs. Walt stopped off to talk with Pastor."

He didn't really mean to shake his head no again-his head did the shaking all by itself. Her hand dropped away. He didn't need to see her face to know the look on it. He was the only thing that ever made her unhappy anymore.

"Please, Rith. Don't be like that."

The words were like a thick heavy rope knotting around his neck, cutting off the last breath of the good feeling he'd gotten from Toby. Just like the clouds moving over the sun. He shoved his hands in his pockets, turned, and trudged with her down the stairs toward the nursery.

Chapter Three

Monday night something thumped on the stairs, jerking Rith awake. He stared into the darkness, listening. He barely breathed, just a little air in and out through his mouth.

Thump! Again, like something soft landing on a hard floor. Rith's heart crashed around inside his chest. Not nothing this time, not making it up. Something was really out there. Slowly, slowly, he eased the covers off his legs, swinging around to a sitting position. Then he moved his weight onto his feet and tiptoed to the closed door, gripping at the carpet with his toes. He stopped after each step to listen, and his pulse pounded through his body.

Open the door? Or no? Don't do it, he heard the horror-movie audience whisper. No, don't open the door, don't do it!

He put his hand on the doorknob and soundlessly turned it, pulled the door toward him, and eased the knob back again. The hallway stretched out before him. Two doors on the left, stairs to the right, and the reading nook that nobody used at the end. Moonlight came in through the reading nook's skylight, streaming over the gliding rocker and bookshelves to create a tangle of shadows on the floor.

Rith eased his way down the hall, the plush carpet giving beneath his bare feet. He stopped at the first door. That was Emma's room, filled with frills and dolls and a four-poster bed that she would sleep in when she was old enough. He put his ear up to the cool wood of the closed door to listen. Nothing. He stepped ahead to the bathroom and glanced in. The night light over the sink cast its glow around the toilet, and the shower stall was dark and still.

Rith crossed to the right side of the hallway and flattened himself tight against the wall, edging closer to the stairs. Then he took a deep breath and spun around the corner to stand full and center at the top-and he stumbled backwards, almost falling against the opposite wall.

They were the wrong stairs.

Instead of the wide, carpeted steps that went to the landing and then turned, a narrow wooden spiral staircase with a wooden railing wound its way down into darkness. No landing, just coils. He shook his head and blinked hard. He reached up and tugged on a pinch of hair. It hurt. He was definitely awake.

Rith moved forward a step and rose up on his toes, trying to see the bottom. He got down on his hands and knees and inched his hand across the carpet. Maybe there was a membrane between this and that. Maybe if he put his hand through, he'd be pulled in. He paused, his hand just on the edge of the carpet. Then he stretched.

He touched wood, ran the tip of his finger back and forth. It was smooth and cool. He scooted forward, the carpet rough against his bare knees as he moved. He put his palm on the step, rapped his knuckles on it. Plenty solid. He lay flat on his stomach and looked down.

A deep shadow flicked and dipped below, so fleeting that it might have been a trick of his eyes. Or maybe something moving down there. Rith sat back on his heels. What if he turned on a light? Not the overhead, just the one above the bathroom sink. That would open up the darkness a bit and he could see what was what.

He edged back toward the bathroom, keeping an eye on the stairs until he couldn't see them around the corner anymore. Then he reached in and flipped the switch, spilling light into the hallway. Two steps and he could see-carpet. All carpet. The wooden staircase was gone.

He quick-stepped to the top of the stairs. Carpet. All carpet.

Rith got down on his hands and knees at the top of the stairs, rubbing his hand across the second one down. Not wood. Maybe if he turned the light off again ...? He returned to the bathroom, reached in to flip the switch, and rushed back to the top of the stairs.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from the truth circleby PAT SCHMATZ Copyright © 2007 by Pat Schmatz. Excerpted by permission.
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