“Other people are catching on. Those two jets won’t stay available forever. You need to win one.”
Roman shook his head. “Whether or not I use my own money, I’m not supposed to go to Arcadeland again.”
“That’s why I came,” Marisa said. “I knew you’d think twice before coming back. I get that you’re not supposed to, but you have to do it. Trust me. It’s worth the risk.”
Roman heard the floor creak out in the hall. Chills raced through him. Marisa shot him a worried look. “Go,” he whispered urgently.
“Come to the arcade Saturday morning,” she whispered back, lunging toward the window. “Use any excuse. Just come.”
Marisa dove out the window as the handle of his bedroom door turned softly. Facing the door, Roman winced. There was no time to get back in bed. Not that it would matter. The crash of Marisa slamming onto the roof would give them away.
Except he heard no crash. Not even a creak. Switching off his flashlight, Roman rolled it across the carpeted floor toward his dresser. The door eased open. His dad peeked in. Roman didn’t move, like a wild animal trying to blend with its surroundings. The dark offered some cover, but light from the hall spilled across his empty bed. After a brief pause, the door opened wider.
“Roman?” Dad asked.
“I’m here,” Roman said weakly.
His dad stepped into the room, admitting more light as the door opened all the way. “Why’s your window open?”
“I was hot,” Roman invented desperately, trying to act calm. Although it seemed physically impossible, somehow Marisa had still made no noise. “I was bored.”
His dad crossed to the window and looked out. Roman’s stomach clenched with worry. How would his dad react when he saw Marisa out there?
But his dad turned away from the window as if he had seen nothing. “You weren’t thinking of climbing out there?”
“What? No way! I’m grounded. Besides, there’s no way down.” There really wasn’t. Not without a ladder. Had Marisa brought a ladder?
“Climbing onto roofs in the dark is a good way to break your neck.”
“I know. I was just stir-crazy. I wanted some air.”
His dad nodded. “All right. I guess I can understand that. You’re supposed to be in bed, you know, but at least your light was off.”
“I wasn’t reading or anything,” Roman said. “Just restless.”
“I get why you’re restless. I’m sure this has felt like a long week. Still, a punishment is no good unless it gets enforced. Hang in there.”
“I will,” Roman said. He walked over to shut the window. Glancing out as casually as possible, he caught no glimpse of Marisa. After closing the window, Roman returned to his bed.
Roman’s dad walked to the door. “Get some sleep.”
“I will. Good night.”
“Night.”
The door closed, leaving the room dark aside from the soft light coming from the face of Roman’s digital clock and the diffused light seeping through the window. Roman waited quietly, letting the minutes pass.
How had Marisa escaped? How had she done it so quietly? He could only imagine that she had dived off the roof. Which meant that Marisa might currently be sprawled on his driveway with a broken neck.
If she had been willing to climb to his window in the middle of the night, the jet club must really be cool. Chris had insisted that earning the stamp was worth it, and apparently Risa agreed. Roman gripped his covers tightly. Risa had even offered to give him money so he could keep earning tickets.
So far Roman had spent all of his personal savings earning prize tickets—more than four hundred dollars. The money had come from the little safe on his dresser, the one with the words PRIVATE FUND printed across the back. The money belonged to him, but, except for minor purchases, he was only supposed to spend it with permission. For more than a week before he was grounded, Roman had turned twenties into tokens until he had nothing left. When his parents had caught him, Arcadeland had been forbidden, and his week as an inmate had begun.
Could he really go back there? Chris had promised that the jet stamp would change his life, and Risa was backing him up.
The house remained quiet. After retrieving his flashlight, Roman crept to the window and opened it. He stepped out onto the roof, the shingles creaking noisily. Again he wondered how Marisa had stayed so silent.
Clicking on the flashlight, he scanned the empty driveway, finding no paralyzed bodies. “Marisa?” he whispered loudly. “Risa? You out there?”