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She lowered herself to a kitchen chair and looked very thoughtful and unhappy.
"My father said he bought the New York show tickets. We'll be going to the city on Saturday and staying overnight, so you'll have lots of freedom here. Just be very, very careful not to leave any clues or be seen outside."
She nodded, and then she looked up, smiling. "I have a great idea."
"What?"
"Come on," she said, rising and reaching for my hand. She tugged me along and led me back up the stairs to my room. We had spent so much time in my room together that she knew as much about my things as I did. She opened the closet, knelt down, and took out my tape recorder. It was very small and ran on batteries.
"What are we going to do with that?"
She tried it, and it didn't work.
"Oh, no. The batteries are dead."
"So?"
"Do you have any others?"
"Maybe in the pantry. Why?"
"Let's get them first, and I'll show you," she said.
We returned to the kitchen and went into the pantry, where I did find two unused batteries. After she installed them and tested the tape recorder, she sat at the kitchen table.
"Okay, I'm going to record something on here. You're going to put this in your suitcase, and when you are able to get away for a few minutes in New York, you're going to go to a pay phone and call my mother collect, using my name Then you'll play what I record now and immediately hang up."
"Why?"
"She'll tell the police I called, and they'll be able to find out I called from New York City when they check with the phone company. That's why I want you to call her collect. They'll stop looking for me here."
"What if I can't get away? I've never been by myself in New York City."
"You've got to get away. You've got to do this. It's too good an opportunity for us, Zipporah. Be creative. Tell them you're going to the magazine store or something. Don't fail," she warned. Then she gestured for me to be quiet.
She sat forward, her expression slowly turning angrier, and angrier as if she could work herself up into any mood she wanted just like a good actress. Finally, she pressed the record button.
"Hi, Darlene," she began. "Don't say anything. Just listen. I guess you never expected to hear from me again or so soon, but I just wanted you to know I was all right and you didn't have to risk a wrinkle by worrying about me, not that you would. I'm not coming back to Sandburg. I'm off to see the big wide world. You know I hated that place and living in that house with that man. Everything that's happened is more your fault than mine, so when you sit down to write your confessions, be sure to include it. I can't say any more. I have a train to catch at Grand Central. Have a good new life without me."
She let the tape keep running without saying anything, clicked it off, rewound it, and played it back.
"Perfect," she said, clicking it off again. "You just put the receiver close to the little speaker, and be sure to hang up before it goes off, so she doesn't know it's a tape recording, okay?"
"I don't know if I can do that."
"Yes, you do!" she cried, her eyes wide. "You know you can do it, Zipporah. Don't act thick now. It's too good an opportunity for us. Well? We can't lose this chance. It means a great deal to me, to us."
"Okay, okay," I said.
She handed it to me gingerly.
"Let's go hide it in your suitcase now, so you don't forget it, and be sure you pad around it well, so it doesn't get broken or anything stupid, okay?"
"Yes," I said, and headed back upstairs. She followed to be sure I did everything she had suggested.
"Now," she said when I was finished, "let's have a game of Parcheesi. I need some fun."
We played until we were both hungry, and I made the pizza. While we ate, we talked about our plans, thinking of ways to ensure that Karen's living up in the attic would remain undetected by my family.
