The Bridge to Never Land by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

ready.”
    “Ready how?”
    “I’m working on that part.”
    Aidan rolled his eyes and was about to say something when there was another tap on the door.
    “Let’s go, kids!” said Tom.
    “Coming,” said Sarah. She rose and picked up the golden box.
    “What’re you going to do with that?” whispered Aidan.
    “Hide it,” said Sarah, looking around the room. Her eyes fell on the cabinet that held the television. She went to it and pulled the TV out and sideways a few inches, making an opening just big enough for the box. She slid it into the cabinet and pushed the TV back into place.
    “C’mon, kids!” said Tom.
    “Okay, okay!” said Sarah, opening the door. She and Aidan followed Tom and Natalie down the hallway to the elevators, passing a man in a hotel uniform and overcoat carrying a room-service tray. As they boarded an elevator, Tom was enthusiastically discussing the day’s sightseeing options; Aidan and Sarah were silent.
    “What’s wrong with you two?” Natalie asked.
    “Nothing,” said Sarah. “Tired, I guess.”
    “Me too,” yawned Aidan.
    “Really?” said Natalie. “You two went to bed plenty early last night.”
    “I had trouble sleeping,” said Sarah. “Bad dreams.”
    “Me too,” said Aidan. “Terrible dreams.”
    Natalie shook her head. “You kids have hyperactive imaginations,” she said. “You’re in London, on vacation, with your parents, in a nice hotel. What on earth is there to be afraid of?”
    Aidan and Sarah looked at each other, but said nothing.
    “I blame video games,” said Tom.
    “Right,” said Aidan. “Video games.”

CHAPTER 11
A COIL OF BLACK
    T HE ELEVATOR DOORS OPENED on the fourth floor. An older couple joined the Coopers as a waiter pushed a linen-covered room-service cart past in the corridor. As the doors shut, the old man looked down at his arm and scratched off a large scab, which drifted to the elevator floor.
    “Did you see that?” Aidan asked Sarah.
    “Aidan!” said Natalie, horrified, looking between Aidan and the man.
    “Not that, Mom!” said Aidan. He cupped his hand and whispered in Sarah’s ear, “That room-service waiter who just went by—he wasn’t wearing a coat.”
    “So?” said Sarah.
    “The guy carrying the tray on our floor had a big coat on. He was a doorman, not a waiter!”
    Sarah frowned.
    “He was heading toward our room,” said Aidan.
    The old man reached toward another scab; his wife
slapped his wrist.
    “Mom,” said Sarah, pretending to search through her backpack, “do you have a hairbrush?”
    “No,” said Natalie. “You know I never carry one.”
    “Can I go back to the room and get one, please?”
    “You can make it through breakfast without worrying about your hair,” Tom said testily.
    “Please, Mom?” Woman to woman. It usually worked.
    “I don’t see any harm,” Natalie said. “Just hurry up, please.”
    The elevator doors opened; they had reached the lobby.
    “I’ll go with her and make sure she doesn’t drag it out,” Aidan said.
    “Keep her moving,” Tom said, as he and Natalie followed the old couple out of the elevator. “I’m starving.”
    Aidan punched the button for the fifth floor. As the doors closed, he said, “What do we do if he’s in our room?”
    “We make him leave,” said Sarah. “We can’t let him get the box.” She drummed her fingers on the elevator door. “Come on,” she muttered.
    The elevator reached the fifth floor. They ran down the hall. There was a room-service tray on the carpet outside their room. The door was shut.
    Aidan snatched a butter knife off the tray.
    “As if you’re going to use that,” said Sarah.
    “He doesn’t know that.”
    Sarah removed the room card from her backpack, slipped it quietly into the slot, took a deep breath, and withdrew it. The door light turned green. She pulled down the handle and pushed the door open.
    The doorman was bent over, searching a lower drawer in a dresser. He stood and turned toward them.