Free The Sixty-Eight Rooms by Marianne Malone

felt more disappointed in her whole life.
    “It’s not working!” She almost couldn’t get the words out. She handed him the key as if she never wanted to see it again.
    “Did you feel anything at all?”
    “I think so. I mean, the key warmed up in my hand like before and I felt that breeze. But that’s it. It just stopped!”
    “Here, try it again. Maybe you need to concentrate orsomething.” He handed her the key. The same thing happened. It was as if it were only working on half power, like when a flashlight’s battery is dying and the bulb slowly fades out.
    Just then the door buzzer sounded. Someone was coming up in the elevator. Jack grabbed the key, stashed it in the box and shoved the box back under the couch. After a minute someone knocked and his mother headed toward the door. She looked through the peephole and sighed before opening the door.
    “Hello, Lydia. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
    “Hello, Frank. I guess I was expecting you.” Frank Murphy was their landlord. Jack got up and stood in the doorway of his room.
    “We’ve really got to do something about this problem you’re having,” Mr. Murphy said.
    “Yes, Frank, I’m aware of the problem. I need another month. I have a show coming up soon and I’m sure I’ll have the money for you then. And I have some paintings almost finished.” Mr. Murphy had been an artist himself but had given it up; he’d bought this building a long time ago and rented the floors out to artists. Usually he was pretty nice.
    “I can give you one more month, but then … To be fair, I want to tell you I’ve had offers for triple what you’re paying and I have to think about paying my bills. You know how it is.” Ruthie thought he sounded like he was feeling a little guilty.
    After he left, Lydia sighed again and looked at Jack. “Don’t worry, Jack, okay? It’s going to turn out fine,” she said. Ruthie thought the look in her eyes said something else.
    It was very quiet in the loft for several long minutes. Ruthie was unsure what to say—or if she should even say anything at all. In the past ten minutes her world had turned upside down: the key did not work as expected and Jack’s situation had taken a turn for the worse. But then the buzzer sounded again, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
    “That must be my dad,” Ruthie said, trying to put a normal tone in her voice. “I still have to get my stuff together.”
    “Jack, go bring him up so he doesn’t have to wait in the cold,” Lydia suggested. Ruthie gathered her books and folders and put them in her backpack. She was just about finished by the time Jack and her dad came in. After the hellos and how-are-yous, another near disaster occurred that threatened the entire plan.
    “I was sorry to hear about Helen’s professor,” Lydia offered. “Please give her my condolences, Dan.”
    “Thank you, Lydia. I will. And thank you for helping out,” Ruthie’s dad said. She could tell he was about to open his mouth again and say something more specific about the weekend.
    “Jack!” Ruthie nearly shouted at him, even though he was right next to her. The two adults looked at her,surprised. “Did we do all the math? It’s due tomorrow, remember?” Ruthie was putting on a performance of a girl in a panic. “Dad, we have to go now! And I still have an hour’s worth of reading tonight.
I am so stressed!
”
    “Yeah, that’s right!” Jack said, playing along. “Ms. Biddle really piled it on tonight.”
    “I’ll say! C’mon, Dad,” she said, pulling him onto the waiting elevator. Jack hopped in and closed the door fast.
    As they rode down, Ruthie looked at Jack, wondering what he was thinking. They both knew Jack’s mom had more important worries on her mind tonight and wouldn’t give another thought to what Ruthie’s dad had just said. But it had been a close call.
    Ruthie felt overwhelmed. Her panic act had not been difficult to call up—although it had nothing at all to do with