The Hidden Door by Liz Botts Page B

the door shut.
    I shrug and fasten my seatbelt. Justin pulls away from the curb only to stomp on the brakes seconds later as a pint-sized Spiderman darts across our path. His mother chases after him, scooping him up then shouts, ’Sorry!’ in our general direction.
    If I had been driving, that moment would have been filled with fuming and some choice swear words. Not so with Justin. He stays as cool as can be giving a half smile and waving to the woman as she hauls the kid across the street.
    â€œCome on, you have to be excited, Daph,” Justin says, pulling out of my street then heading to the university. “You’ve always loved a good mystery.”
    My sideways glance rewards me with his twinkling green eyes and the little crinkles around his eyes when he smiles. My insides quiver. I can’t help it. He always elicits this reaction in me. Frustrated, I fidget with the zipper on my backpack, giving it all my attention. Justin’s favorite joke since we became friends was how I had to love mysteries because my name is Daphne like the character on Scooby Doo. For a long time I tried living up to that joke— just because it made Justin so happy. Not that I look anything like the red haired, curvy mystery hunter. My stick straight brown hair and penchant towards baggy hoodies don’t exactly elicit a va-va-voom response.
    I exhale sharply. “I guess. I’m only going because Riva annoyed me into it.”
    Justin laughs— a big joyous sound that actually fills the whole car, threatening to swallow me whole. I inhale his laugh hoping that some of his joy will be contagious and infect me. I don’t mean to sound so sour, but…I just can’t help but get gloomy when I am around Justin. Things could have been so different.
    Parking his car in a faculty lot, Justin reaches into his glove compartment and pulls out his dad’s parking tag. “I see you’ve been stealing your dad’s stuff again,” I say.
    With a wink, Justin hangs the tag on the rearview mirror and says, “You have no idea.”
    I have to admit, his comment intrigues me. Annoyance bubbles up in my chest so I open the car door fast. I am supposed to be over him , not that I had a reason to get over him in the first place. S till, as I hike my backpack up onto my shoulders I can’t help but sneak another glance at him. He has gotten out the car and leans against the door. Following his gaze, I see that he is staring at The Hun, a gothic style castle that dominates the campus landscape.
    â€œThat’s where the Hidden Door is,” Justin says, his voice pitched low so that only I can hear him. “I know it.”
    â€œIt can’t be,” I argue. “We’ve searched there already.”
    Justin’s green eyes flash as his gaze swings towards me. I can’t look away. We stare at each other mutely, and in that moment I am sure he is remembering our last fruitless search of The Hun more than a year ago. My stomach twists as we continue our staring contest. Just the memory of sitting in that dark stairwell… his lips gently meeting mine…my heart wrenches with a familiar pai n. I force myself to look away.
    The dark edifice of the castle looms overhead. I see the space left vacant by the gargoyle of the Hidden Door legend. Instantly I feel the old spark of curiosity light within me. I can’t remember a time when the mystery surrounding the gargoyle didn’t fascinate me to the edge of obsession. The way some parents tell their kids fairy tales at bedtime, mine told me the Legend of the Hidden Door.
    â€œI don’t think we knew what we were looking for,” Justin says slamming the car door shut. “Let’s go.”
    Tears flood my eyes. I blink them away. The gruffness in Justin’s voice catches me off guard. Is he mad at me? The ridiculousness of that thought almost makes me laugh out loud. He has no right to be angry with me. I’m