"I am serious. Steve recognized me in the middle of a scene, was overcome with surprise-or maybe karma-and ended up pushing Maid Marion into a fishpond. Then the snake got loose and frightened the horse, and there was a lot of screaming-mostly by the director but also some by the cast members-and so Steve told these security guards to put me in his trailer, and that's where I am. I think he's going to call the police after he's finished reshooting the scene."

"The police?" Madison's voice came out in nearly a whisper. "Have you called your parents?"

Steve had jeans in his drawers, but I knew none of them would fit me. After all, he was over six feet tall. Maybe I could find some sweatpants.

"I'm going to switch clothes, climb out of the window, and take one of the horses. Then I'll ride to town and find you."

There was a long pause. "Are you crazy?"

I took off my wimple and flung it on the bed. "Don't ask me that question. You might not like the answer."

Madison let out an aggravated breath. "Annika, you couldn't navigate your way through Burbank with MapQuest and a van. You'd never make it on a horse."

I flung open one of Steve's drawers with too much force, and it nearly came all the way out of the dresser. "It's better than staying here and waiting for the police to pick me up. What have I got to lose?"

"Movement in a lot of your body if the horse throws you. Just start walking toward Burbank, and I'll pick you up with the van."

I opened the last drawer. I had to find something. I pulled out a pair of Bermuda shorts. They would have to do. "I'll call when I get past the front guard. Don't park anywhere too close to the studio. You can't let them see you."

I hung up the phone, unzipped my nun's outfit, and stepped out of it. Then I slipped on the T-shirt and pulled Steve's shorts on. They slid off my hips. I looked around for something to use as a belt. In his closet, I found an a.s.sortment of shoes. I took the laces out of one of them, wound it through two of the belt loops, and pulled them tightly together. Lastly I put my cell phone and Jeremy's picture into the pocket in Steve's shorts. I didn't bother checking the window in Steve's bedroom to see if it opened. Even if it did, it would lead to the front where the security guard stood.

Holding the nun's uniform, I stepped back into the living room. How was I going to get rid of Mr. Blasingame so I could get out of the window?

I walked over and stood in front of him. "Um, I'd like to go over some more lines. If it's too noisy for you in here, though, you can go back to the bedroom to work. It'sreally quiet back there."

"Here's the thing," he said as though we'd been in the middle of a completely different conversation. "I don't know what to do with Maid Marion. It's always the same story. She gets captured, and Robin rescues her. I just can't write that one more time."

"Oh." I looked at the costume in my hands and then the throw pillows on the couch. The security guard hadn't turned around to check on me for some time, but I couldn't count on him to keep ignoring me. While I talked, I stuffed the wimple onto a pillow. "Well, could you write something completely different, like, say, fling Maid Marion into a fishpond?"

"What good would that do?" Mr. Blasingame looked up from his computer, but didn't seem to think it odd that I was turning a pillow into a proxy nun.

I shrugged. "It would give me, as a viewer, a lot of satisfaction to see her sitting in the middle of a fishpond."

The corners of Mr. Blasingame's lips tilted up, and he leaned back into his couch. "It might give me some satisfaction too, but I doubt I could stretch that out to a forty-four-minute plot line."

"Could you kill her off?"

"She's got a contract, but . . ." He leaned forward, typing again. "Maybe we think she's died but really she's got amnesia-" Almost immediately he put his finger on the delete b.u.t.ton. "No. They couldn't cure amnesia in the Middle Ages. I'd write myself into a corner. What else have you got?"

I stuck the pillow between the back of the couch and the top cushion so it looked like my head was resting on the couch. "You could make her go insane. Maybe she could feel like Death was talking to her."

"No, too creepy. She'd lose all audience appeal."

I ignored the implications of that comment and laid my habit on the couch. From outside the trailer it would hopefully look like I was sitting there.

Mr. Blasingame typed for another minute, then stopped. "There needs to be something else. Something bigger."

I walked over to the emergency exit window, pulled the blinds all the way up, and looked out as though checking the weather. "She could die, end up in the underworld, and Robin Hood has to save her. He He could probably figure out a way to do it." could probably figure out a way to do it."

Mr. Blasingame looked up from his keyboard so intently, I was positive he would ask me what I was doing. Instead he said, "That's already been done before."

"When?"

"Hercules. Disney. Every kid in the viewing audience has seen that movie. Shakespeare I could steal from, but not Disney." Disney. Every kid in the viewing audience has seen that movie. Shakespeare I could steal from, but not Disney."

"Hercules had an advantage the rest of us don't," I said and couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "Hewas immortal. My brother and I are stuck down there with nothing but a flock of crows to help us."

Mr. Blasingame didn't answer, just went back to his typing with a thoughtful look. It struck me that even my bizarre statement didn't faze him. Perhaps I wasn't going crazy after all. Perhaps I was just becoming a writer.

The clock read 2:28. I couldn't waste more time on trying to get Mr. Blasingame to move.

I undid the latch to the window on one side and then the next. I eased the pane sideways so it wouldn't crash to the ground. I had been prepared with an explanation of why I dressed the pillows in my nun costume-I needed someone to read my lines to-and I could perhaps say I'd taken the window out because I wanted fresh air, but I had no reasonable justification for crawling out of the trailer. I had to hope he didn't notice. Once I had the window out, I gently lowered it onto the trailer floor. Against the carpet, it didn't make a sound.

I took one last look at Mr. Blasingame to make sure he was still engrossed in his work, then as quietly as I could, I heaved myself out of the window. I landed on the ground with a thump. I didn't wait to see if he noticed my departure and was about to look out the window to see what I was doing.

The trailers were lined up next to each other, not touching but close enough to make a good screen from everything on the front side. Now I just had to stay behind them until I could make a run for it. I hurried toward the front end of Steve's trailer, trying to be as quiet as possible. I listened for the voice of the security guard.

I didn't hear it, but I did hear shouting come from inside of the trailer. Steve's voice. He'd come back.

Chapter 10

I peered around the edge of the Winnebago. The s.p.a.ce between the trailers was clear right now, but I could hear footsteps thundering out of Steve's door and his voice shouting, "She can't be far. Drop to the ground and look for her feet."

Which meant in a moment they would see how very close I was. I did the only thing I could think of. I ran to the next trailer's back end, jumped on the fender, and shimmied up the ladder. Once I had reached the top of the trailer, I lay on my stomach, hoping no one would think to look up.

The warmth of the sun-baked roof pressed into my arms, legs, and face, along with tiny pieces of debris that bit into my skin. I lay there, willing myself to be one with the Winnebago.

I didn't dare lift my head to look, but voices rang out below me. Crew-cut said, "I don't see anything. How long ago did Jim say she'd left?"

"A couple minutes," Steve said. "She couldn't have just disappeared."

"I'll call the other guards. We'll fan out and find her." A set of footsteps jogged away.

I listened for the sound of Steve's voice or his footsteps. I didn't hear anything, perhaps because the sound of my breath, coming in frantic spurts, was so loud.

Then I heard footsteps on the roof. I looked up and saw Steve, still dressed as Robin Hood, standing on the top of his trailer. He walked slowly over to the gap separating us. I got to my hands and knees, unsure which direction to go or what to do. I felt like a sprinter waiting for the gun to go off, only I didn't know which way to run.

He put his hands on his hips. "I thought you said you wanted to talk to me for two minutes."

"And I thought you said you were turning me over to the police."

"I still might. How did you get past the front guard and onto the set?"

I got to my feet and wiped the debris off my hands. "Look, I can't go to jail right now. I won't tell you anything unless you promise not to call the police."

He regarded me without worry. "You're stuck on the top of a trailer. I don't think you're in a position to bargain."/I I took a step away from him, then another. "In the time it takes you to go back to your ladder, climb down, walk over here, and climb up this ladder, I'll be gone."

He tilted his chin down. "The trailers aren't that far apart. What makes you think I won't jump over?"

"Because you're the kind of guy who needs a stunt double."

He sent me an arrogant smile, then backed up in order to give himself a running start. I already stood a ways back from my edge, which gave me a second to weigh my options. Could I make the jump? He had the advantage of being taller and stronger.

He ran toward my trailer, I ran toward his. We both leapt. What I lacked in ability I made up for in determination. We pa.s.sed each other in the air, then landed with two loud thunks.

He turned around and stared at me. "I can't believe you did that."

"You didn't leave me a lot of choices, did you?"

His lips pressed together in resolve. It wasn't just the costume-a Robin Hood glint pa.s.sed through his eyes. I knew he didn't like being bested by a fraudulent extra. He took another run toward my trailer. I ran toward his. But it was one of those moments when being able to read people pays off. I knew he wouldn't complete the jump. He planned on stopping at the edge and watching me leap to his trailer.

I stopped at my edge too. The two of us stared at each other, only feet away.

He smiled at me, surprise and respect mingling in his expression. Then he backed up. "You know the problem with playing Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

I backed up too, matching his rate. "What?"

"Eventually you guess wrong."

He ran toward my trailer. I ran toward his. This time, I knew, we were both going over. He made jumping trailers look easy, but it wasn't. I pumped my arms hard and pushed my legs to go faster. The pounding noise of our feet momentarily paused as we glided past each other in the air.

I landed on the trailer and breathlessly turned to face him. "Actually, I never lose Rock, Paper, Scissors."

He took a few deep breaths, and his gaze ran up and down me, taking me completely in for the first time. "Hey-you're wearing my clothes."

"Yeah, sorry about that. The nun's outfit was a bit conspicuous."

With aggravation in his voice he said, "You can't steal that. That's my lucky poker shirt."

I glanced down at it. "Well, I don't think it's working. I'm not having a lot of luck so far."

He shook his head and laughed. I'd seen him do this on every episode of Teen Robin Hood Teen Robin Hood, but it still mesmerized me. I couldn't do anything but stare back at him.

I heard footsteps from down below and looked to see Crew-cut hurrying toward the trailer. "There she is!" he yelled.

"Yeah, I noticed," Steve called back, "but don't climb up. She's half cat and doesn't realize she hasn't got nine lives."

The security guard stopped below me and, still panting, spoke into his earpiece.

"You don't have a choice anymore," Steve said calmly. "You'll have to come down."

"Are you going to turn me over to the police?"

"Maybe. Why so much concern? Do you already have a record?"

"No. I have a brother with cancer who's going into surgery on Friday morning." The words came out in a rush, and my voice broke. "I can't make my parents drive four hours to come bail me out of jail."

Steve's features momentarily softened, and he looked at me closer. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

He swore under his breath, and his eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn't place. "Climb down and meet me in my trailer. I won't turn you over to the police."

When I got to the front of Steve's trailer, both he and Crew-cut were waiting for me. The Polynesian guard walked quickly across the lot toward us. Perhaps they thought I'd run for it.

Steve held out one hand, making a sweeping motion toward the trailer door. "Ladies first."

I walked up the stairs without speaking to him, went inside, and sat sullenly on the couch. If he wasn't going to turn me over to the police, I didn't know why he didn't let me go and be done with it. I was probably in for a huge lecture, and frankly I didn't want to hear which laws I'd violated or how horrible I was to come here when I'd just been trying to help my brother.

If Steve had been straightforward with me at the basketball game, all of this could have been avoided. I would have learned last night that he didn't have a drop of compa.s.sionate blood in his body, and I could have been on my way home by now. Home to face failure.

Steve and the security guards walked into the trailer. Mr. Blasingame stood by the window, leaning out of it and peering up at the sky. "What was all that noise on the roof?"

Steve took off his hat and threw it onto a couch. "That was the sound of my teenage fan club and me leaping from trailer to trailer."

"I'm not your fan," I said.

"That's not what you said last night."

"And as I remember, you saw through that pretty quickly."

Mr. Blasingame pointed a finger at Steve in accusation. "You leapt across the trailers? Dean would kill you if he knew. The insurance people would kill you. Do you realize we're only halfway through shooting the season? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Steve turned to me. "That, by the way, is why I have a stunt double."

Mr. Blasingame looked at me and waved a hand in my direction. "And what is going on with this girl, anyway? Since when did you start using your trailer as a brig, and when did I become a jailer?"

"I never said you were supposed to be a jailer." Steve crossed his arms and gave me a sharp look. "I only said a normal person would have questioned why someone would create a decoy nun and then crawl out the window."

Mr. Blasingame picked up his laptop from the couch and tucked it under his elbow. "Well, I'm not a normal person; I'm a writer." He walked over to me, shook my hand, and nodded approvingly. "You know, you've given me the perfect idea for next episode. Maid Marion escapes on her own and runs away-only she doesn't realize it's Robin Hood she's running away from. It's going to be gold."

With that, he walked out of the trailer whistling. We all watched him go. "He's right," the Polynesian guard said. "He's not normal."

Steve sat down on the couch in front of me. The guards stood on either side of the door, like they were still on duty, which I suppose they were.

"Okay," Steve said, leaning forward. "First off, who are you?"

"You promise you won't turn me over to the police?"

"I promise."

I relaxed a little into the couch cushions. "My name is Annika Truman."