Perspective of  Victor

¨Vacuum our rooms, Victor,¨ my mother calls to me. ¨I’m heading out.”
I get the vacuum and go to her room. A small notebook falls out of her purse as she hurries by, not noticing it. The cover of the book reads, Secret Notebook. Hmmm. Suspicions rise inside of me. Another secret.
Over the weeks, my parents had secret meetings, phone calls, and letters. They would not let me stay up after nine o’clock, when they would go and do their secret stuff.
Now, here is a secret notebook. I go to the bedroom window and open the book.
With the journal facing the window to capture the afternoon light, I read the very last entry of the journal. It reads:

We will return Victor if they give us $100,000.
Soon, we will be rich. Victor’s parents, after 11 years, still want him back. If his parents decide not to pay, we’re going to make him a thief and give us all the money that he gets. We are training him.

____________________________________

Perspective of Fred

I am starting to become suspicious. My dad would never let me into his room. He’s hiding something from me. This time, while my mom’s out shopping - as she told me - and my dad showering, curiosity overcame me.
Quietly, I step inside my dad’s room. It’s the very first time I set foot in his room. The master bedroom is enormous with big windows, ones which overlook the forest, another looking directly at Victor’s parents’ houses at Victor’s mom’s room. Directly in front of the window, beside the luxurious bed is a desk. On the desk is an Apple MacBook, papers, pencils and pens, and a journal. The cover of the journal reads, Secret Journal. The very last entry was dated just yesterday.

A team with Victor
We’re going to force the kidnapped kids to get their hands around gold
Green Gold. (Money)
I will train him, the one I kidnapped.

I choke on the idea that my “father” had captured me to obtain money. A chill goes down my spine from knowing the reason why my “father” kept so many secrets from me. If I ever get caught stealing, the names of my parents that I tell the police are probably going to be fake names. My “parents” would not have any trouble getting caught. They’ll be the one collecting the money.
I glance through the window into Victor’s mom’s room. There I see Victor, his back facing me, reading a small book, his arms shaking. The book looks exactly like my father’s.
I grab the binoculars off the desk, and read with difficulty off the tiny words in the very-similar-to-my-dad’s book.
No. A chill, even colder than the first one went through my whole body. It can’t be. I think I am having a bad dream.

_____________________________________

Perspective of Victor

I am super scared, but also relieved. This book explains what’s happening.
A rock hits the window. I turn, surprised when I and see Fred in his father’s room, where he is forbidden to go. He had opened the window facing me and gestures to me to open mine as well.
I open the window and start talking. “Fred, I was kid--”
“I already know,” he says urgently, throwing a crumpled paper ball at me. “Read it.” Then he runs out the room.
I picke up the crumpled paper ball and unfold it. Inside is a note written with Fred’s hastily and sloppily written handwriting.
Fred’s note to me:

-5+2
NRFQXT
PNISFUUJI
emte em
reverse ta edistuo
0+3.5 mourn

A coded message. It takes me about ten minutes, but I figure it out. -5 and +2 were telling me to change the letters of line 1 and 2 forwards or backwards in the alphabet.

IM ALSO
KIDNAPPED
meet me
outside at
3:30 morning

_________________________

I can not fall asleep. If I did, I’d probably have nightmares and would miss my escape. I lay in my bed thinking of all my mysteries. No wonder I look nothing like my so-called “parents”. Look, everyone in my “family” has blues eyes while I have brown eyes. If you look closely at all the pictures without flash, all my “relatives” have blue eyes. That’s not the only thing. For all these years in the past, I had wondered why I had different noses, ears, mouths, etc.
Another suspicion is that my parents had taught me to be quiet all the time. I’d gotten very good at it. The only thing I haven’t mastered was opening a creaky door. My parents made our front door very creaky so I can be trained.
It’s finally time for me to go downstairs. I go to the front door. And open it. It creaked. It’s so loud, it can wake up the whole neighborhood, especially my father, who’s an extremely light sleeper. I can hear him coming down.

Fred hears the creak and runs to the front of the house.
“What was that?!” Fred shout-whispers at me. His eyes are wide with fear and anger. They are almost glowing with redness in the darkness of the night. “You have the size of an elephant, but your brain is smaller than an ant’s! The door is louder than if you jumped out the window and landed on a drum!”
I had never seen Fred so mad at me before.
We hear my father’s footsteps approaching.
Neither of us have time to say anything else. We hop on our bikes and pedal hard and fast. Not fast enough. My father sees me, glares at me, then pulls out his phone as he gets into the car.
We turn right and hear the engine starting. Fred turns into a dark alley. We hide behind a building.
“We can’t stay together,” he pants. “I’m sure he called the police telling them about to two kids on bikes.”
I know what means. I stare at him. “I don’t think I can survive without you, Fred.”
“You’ll survive. Be a victor, Victor. And don’t do dumb stuff and get a bigger brain. Maybe we’ll meet again.” Fred rides away.

________________________________

Perspective of Fred

Are you crazy? I say to myself as I ride with my backpack on my back, filled with food, water, and money. Letting Victor escape by himself to nowhere was not a good idea, although we would be caught very easily by the police. He has no…..
I forgot to give him food, water, and money! I ride right back to the alley. A car was parked there. Victor was gone. My heart sinks. That car was Victor’s dad’s car. I have no choice by to ride on.
I ride fast towards the city.
And forget to stay in the shadow.
A siren.

_________________________________

Perspective of Victor

I don’t know what to do or where to go. Fred had forgotten to give me any food or money. I start to head out the alley, hearing crickets from the woods behind me. I also hear a train that would go through the woods, to Chicago. It isn’t going through the forest yet, but it is close.
Floodlights turn right into this narrow alley. The car’s driver presses down his brakes, braking hard, avoiding a collision. The car comes to a sudden stop and I recognized both the car and the driver.
I drop my bike and sprint straight for the forest.
My “father” gets out of his car even quicker.
I dodge around trees and jump over rocks. I make sharp turns, but my father’s footsteps were right behind me. And gaining.
I run right to the railroad tracks right when the train is passing by. I’m stuck.
“Nowhere to run, boy,” my “father” snarls triumphantly.
He was right. Except…
I jump and grasp a rung of a ladder on the train and hung on to dear life. I’m outta here.
I look back and see and “father’s” face red, visible even in the darkness. He lets out a roar of outrage as powerful as a lion.
Hey, Fred, my brain grew. I’m a victor, going to Chicago.

___________________________________________

Perspective of Fred

I ride the fastest I’ve ever ridden in my life. I was even passing some cars. No, I can’t get caught now.
I go right into the dark city. There are no pedestrians or bike riders on the streets, which is both a good and bad thing. It’s a good thing because I don’t have to dodge anyone. It’s a bad thing because I can’t blend in. Only few cars wheel through this mildly illuminated street, between the old brick buildings. Then I turn right. To my dismay, this street had no cars at all. The police car’s tires squeal. I make a left turn, pass the fancy city hall, then sharply right again on the next street, the wind blowing past me. Hopefully, the police lost me just a bit. I go directly to the busy bus station. I brake my bike so hard, I almost did a front flip. I ditch my bike and head straight for the closest bus. I had no time to apologize to the people I bumped and crashed into. I need to get to the bus.
“Right on time,” said the driver. “We’re just about to leave.”
I fumble for my money, my heart beating rapidly. I scramble on the stairs up onto the bus and find a seat away from the window.
That was close. I can imagine what would have happened if I had been caught.
I don’t even know where I’m going. I look at the front, at the electronic sign. The sign reads DESTINATION: CHICAGO, ILLINOIS. Good. It’s not too close and not too far from here.
The bus heads out out the station. I see the policeman, standing at the bike.
You won’t find me. I’ll be in Chicago.
Hopefully Victor will survive. I also hope that I’ll see him again.