“Dad!” yelled Eddie.
Dad turned and waved.
See you later, alligator.
Eddie lost his breath. Did I imagine that?
Alessa, Britzky, and Eddie joined a crowd of people, hundreds of them in gray pajamas, all screaming and waving their arms like rag dolls. Britzky thought they looked like crazy people. They are crazy people, he thought. Or maybe that’s just what the government wants us to believe.
The three of them pushed the patients toward a door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. There was an open trapdoor in the floor. There was a metal ladder.
“I can’t do that,” said Alessa.
“You have to,” said Britzky. He poked Eddie, who seemed numb. Still thinking about his dad, Britzky thought. “You pitch, I’ll catch.”
Britzky clambered down the ladder and held up his arms. Eddie shoved Alessa through the trapdoor. She yelled and squirmed, but Britzky caught her on the ladder and helped her to the dirt floor of the tunnel. She isn’t that heavy, he thought.
They crouched and ran through the tunnel, surrounded by patients shoving and screaming and bouncing off the dirt walls. Some of them fell. Other patients stepped over them and on them. It was hot and hard to breathe. Clumps of dirt dropped from the ceiling. Alessa stumbled and Eddie staggered like a zombie, but Britzky held on to them both and pushed them along. He felt strong and proud, taking care of his friends.
The tunnel ended at another ladder. Patients were piled up at the bottom of the ladder. Britzky shoved them aside and boosted Eddie up the ladder, then Alessa. Eddie pulled while Britzky pushed from below.
They came up outside the chainlink fence. The patients here were milling around, unsure of where to go. A guard was backing away from the crowd of gray pajamas, yelling into a hand-held radio.
Britzky looked up in time to see the tall thin man waving down at them as the elevator rose into the spaceship. Dr. Traum and Merlyn were smiling. The elevator disappeared through the opening. A door slid shut.
There was a deafening noise as the spaceship began to move. There was a crash, a cracking, and then an avalanche of stones as the ship bumped into one of the towers and knocked it over.
“Look out!” yelled Alessa.
A white van was speeding toward them.
There was no place to run. The chainlink fence was opening, and guards swarmed out to herd the patients back into the building.
Suddenly, a honking horn cut through the noise. A black Cadillac roared out of the asylum parking lot.
Patients and guards scattered as the black Cadillac cut in front of the white van and came to a screeching stop next to them. Britzky saw that same small pale face peeking over the steering wheel.
Tom stuck his head out the window. “Get in!”
He opened the back door, and they piled in.
SIXTY-TWO
SOMEWHERE IN NEW JERSEY
1957
RONNIE felt big and powerful, as if he were the car. Harmless little mouse. You think so?
He could just see over the steering wheel, and his toes could barely touch the brake and the accelerator. Good thing it was one of the new automatic-transmission cars, where you didn’t need to shift gears.
The four kids were hugging and hollering in the back seat.
“Uh-oh,” said Tom. “The white van.”
It was coming right at them.
Ronnie wrenched the wheel. The van and the Cadillac scraped as they passed. I’ve got to go faster. But when he pushed down on the accelerator with his toe, his head slipped below the level of the steering wheel and he couldn’t see out the windshield. He hated to ask for help, but . . .
“Eddie, do the pedals.”
Eddie somersaulted onto the front seat and then crawled down under the steering wheel, his left hand on the brake pedal, his right hand on the gas. “Got ’em.”
“Hit the gas!”
The car shot ahead, and the three kids in the rear fell back screaming.
But the white van grew larger in the rearview mirror.
“It’s gaining on us,” said Britzky.
“More gas!” shouted Ronnie.
“The pedal’s all the way down,” said Eddie, his voice muffled.
They were on a highway. In the distance, Ronnie could see the skyscrapers of the city on the other side of a river. “Where are we?”
Alessa found a map in a door pocket. “Somewhere in New Jersey, but this map’s no good. It’s from 1957.”
“Duh,” said Tom. “This is 1957.”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” said Britzky.
“It’s okay,” said Alessa. “It’s Tom. He can’t help it.”
“And I’m right,” said Tom.
Up ahead, there were construction signs. The highway narrowed to one lane. Right in front of them, a cement truck rumbled along. Behind them, the white van filled the rearview mirror.
“More gas!” yelled Ronnie. “I’ve got to pass this truck before the lane ends.”
“Pedal’s on the floor,” said Eddie.
Tom said, “Pull up behind the truck.”
“I’ll get stuck there,” said Ronnie.
“Just do it!”
“The van’s right on our tail,” said Britzky. “The driver’s pointing at us.”
“That’s Earl,” said Tom. “He’s out for payback. It’s clouding his mind.”
“How do you know?” said Alessa.
“I know,” said Tom.
The van tapped their rear bumper. Earl was waving at them to pull over.
Yeah, right, thought Ronnie.
Earl bumped them harder. Ronnie struggled to hold on to the steering wheel.
Tom said, “Okay, Ronnie, just as soon as it’s one lane, make a hard left straight into the construction barrier.”
“You sure?” said Alessa.
“It’s got to be a complete surprise,” said Tom. “Wait until the van gets ready to hit us again.”
Ronnie cackled. “I saw this in a movie.”
“I got it from a video game,” said Tom. “Get up, Eddie, and hold on to something. Everybody hold on. Now!”
The van roared up behind them. Ronnie wrenched the wheel left. Eddie uncurled himself from the floor just as the Cadillac’s grille smashed into the orange and white wooden construction fence. The fence split apart.
“Look out!” yelled Britzky as the Cadillac headed off the road into a construction shed.
Ronnie slid down to hit the brake. Eddie grabbed the steering wheel and wrenched the Cadillac back onto the single lane, in front of the cement truck.
Behind them, the white van hit the cement truck and spun out of control. It skidded over the guardrail and tumbled down a hill. They heard a crash.
“Keep going!” yelled Tom.
“We should stop and help,” said Eddie.
“Are you nuts?”
“Pull him out before it blows up!” said Eddie.
“Hit the gas!” yelled Tom. “Let’s get out of here.”
There was an explosion—fire and smoke.
“This is wrong,” said Eddie.
“He’s an alien,” said Britzky. “He’ll survive.”
Ronnie pulled himself up and kneeled on the driver’s seat. “Somebody take the pedals.”
Britzky climbed over the seat and went down under the wheel, one hand on each pedal.
In the rearview mirror, Ronnie watched Eddie flop over into the back and curl into a ball against one of the doors. He looked terrible, eyes red, mouth open. Ronnie felt bad for him. Sometimes Eddie was just too good for his own good.
SIXTY-THREE
SOMEWHERE IN NEW JERSEY
1957
Maybe we killed him.
He was going to kill us.
“Are you guys sending messages to each other?” said Alessa. She was squeezed between us. “I can feel airwaves.”
“Twin talk,” I said. “Eddie feels bad about waxing Earl.”
“Forget it,” said Britzky from
under the steering wheel. “We probably need to drive a stake through his heart.”
“That’s for a vampire,” said Alessa.
I leaned back. I couldn’t believe we hadn’t been pulled over by the police. Speeding, crashing through a construction site, a twelve-year-old driver who can’t reach the pedals. Don’t they have cops in 1957?
“I know how to get home from here,” said Eddie. “I watched Grandpa. We went to football games in Union County.”
“We went to concerts,” I said.
“Different grandpas?” asked Alessa.
“Different planets,” I said.
Eddie was staring out the window.
“You’re thinking about Dad, aren’t you?” I said.
“If you guys want to talk privately, that’s okay,” said Alessa.
We both said “Thanks” at the same time. She smiled. She’s really not that fat.
I saw him for one second, Tommy. I imagined he said, “See you later, alligator.”
He probably did. If we can talk in our heads, so can he.
You think so?
Sure, Eddie. We played a violin duet, and he didn’t even have a violin.
Did you get to talk to him?
He said to tell you how proud he was about Tech Off! Day.
He knew?
He said he’d been waiting for us to join him to fight global warming and starvation and war. He talked about a revolution of kids saving the planets.
I must have been talking out loud because Alessa said, “I could get behind that,” and from under the wheel Britzky said, “Sign me up.”
“Me, too,” said Ronnie. “What’s going to happen to your dad?”
“He said that they’ll take him to their planet. But that he’ll escape and come back here.”
“He can do that,” said Alessa. “He’s a monitor, right?”
Eddie said, “He quit.”
“Do you guys have special powers?” asked Britzky.
“He said we’ll find out when it’s time,” I said.
Eddie leaned back and closed his eyes. “You really think we’ll ever see him again?”
“Bet on it, bro,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
Eddie was crying. Alessa put an arm around him, and then she started crying. I let the tears go, too.
SIXTY-FOUR
NEARMONT, N.J.
1957
NEARMONT in 1957 looked both the same and different to Alessa. There were fewer houses and more farms. Downtown was pretty much the same, although there was a miniature golf course where the IGA would be, and the Verizon store was a crafts shop. There were fields where the high school and the nursing home would eventually go.
“Take a left here,” said Eddie. “Second driveway.”
When Ronnie turned into the driveway, a dog came racing out.
“Buddy!” screamed Eddie, jumping out of the car.
The dog leaped into Eddie’s arms. They rolled around on the lawn, kissing each other.
“Eeeeuw,” said Alessa.
“That dog tried to bite me,” said Tom.
“I wonder why,” said Alessa.
Ronnie climbed out of the car and ran to Eddie and Buddy, who stopped licking Eddie’s face long enough to give Ronnie a lick.
“What’s going on?” said Britzky, climbing up from under the steering wheel. He was red and sweaty.
“You were terrific, Todd,” said Alessa.
“Well, um, just doing my job.” He looked happy. “What happens now?”
An old guy came out of the house. Tom and Eddie ran to him. Ronnie, too.
“Must be Grandpa,” said Alessa.
“Whose?” said Britzky.
“Both of them, if they’re twins,” said Alessa. She smiled at Britzky’s scrunched face. “I don’t get it a hundred percent, either.”
Grandpa came over to shake their hands. “You kids did great.”
“We’re the seventh grade version of the Justice League of America,” said Britzky. He grinned when Alessa punched his arm.
“After my time,” said Grandpa. He looked at his wristwatch. “Say your goodbyes. I’ve got to get you back home.”
“Group hug,” said Alessa. She was crying again.
Eddie and Tom put their foreheads together. Ronnie and Britzky shook hands. Britzky said, “You should be a Nascar driver, dude.”
“If you do my pedals, Big Daddy.”
Alessa felt sad as Grandpa herded them all back into the car. They were quiet on the drive to the field where the nursing home would someday stand. Tom, Alessa, and Britzky stood near a tree while Grandpa adjusted the dials of a small black box.
“It’s not over,” he said. “We’ll all meet again.”
He pressed a button.
SIXTY-FIVE
NEARMONT, N.J.
1957
THE team cheered when the old football coach showed up at practice. No one had liked Dr. Traum. One of the linemen said, “He was like a creepy alien from outer space.”
Everybody laughed except Eddie.
The old school psychologist came back, too. He sent for Eddie. “These unexplained absences,” he said. “Anything wrong?”
Eddie wanted to ask the guy about his unexplained absences. How had Dr. Traum managed to take over? Some kind of alien mind control? But he just shook his head, which was a mistake. The headache came back. “I’m fine.”
“Glad to hear that, Eddie. The team needs you.”
Eddie stayed busy, with the team and being boy leader of the school drive to collect canned goods for starving children. Another girl took over Merlyn’s job as girl leader. Merlyn didn’t come back to school.
The last few days sometimes seemed like a fantasy story. Had they really happened? It could have been a dream from getting my bell rung, Eddie thought. Sometimes he wondered if he wanted it to be a dream. He hated the thought of Dad being a prisoner on another planet. He felt guilty about killing Earl, even though he was an evil guy.
But if it was a dream, he would never see Tom and Dad again.
And if it was a dream, what was Dr. Traum’s black Cadillac doing in the garage? Grandpa kept the garage door locked, and he even painted over the little windows on the overhead sliding door so no one could see the car. Someday, Grandpa said, the car would come in handy, but until then it had to be a secret.
Eddie stopped thinking it had all been a dream when two FBI agents showed up at school to ask him how he knew about Sputnik. Was he getting messages from the Russians? It took him a few minutes to figure out it must have been a Tom thing. Eddie wanted to say, That wasn’t me—it was my brother from another planet. But he figured you don’t crack wise to G-men. After a while, the school psychologist and the football coach convinced the agents that it must have been something the weird Dr. Traum had cooked up.
Ronnie was nervous. “Do you think we’ll ever see Tom and your dad again?”
“Better believe it. Why are you so jumpy?”
Ronnie looked around to be sure no one could hear. “I keep seeing Earl’s face through windows, even at school. Like he’s a ghost haunting me for killing him.”
When Eddie told Grandpa about that, Grandpa invited Ronnie to live with them. Eddie was surprised when Ronnie hemmed and hawed. He wasn’t sure about moving in. Eddie wondered if the little guy wanted to be free, but it turned out he wanted his privacy. When Grandpa said he could sleep in the finished basement and use the bathroom and shower down there, Ronnie looked very happy.
“Remember,” said Grandpa. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. Earl’s not dead. The monitors sent him to watch us. They think we’ll try to rescue John.”
“We will,” said Eddie and Ronnie together.
Grandpa smiled. “You bet your life.”
SIXTY-SIX
NEARMONT, N.J.
2011
I WAS Mr. Tech Off! It felt bogus to be famous for something that Eddie had done. Everybody thought it was such a great idea. Mrs. Rupp calle
d it a “teachable moment,” which meant that she talked about it until it was boring. And then we didn’t talk about it anymore.
But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Dad had liked it. It was part of the revolution he talked about. My job was to carry on what Eddie started, and both of us had to carry on what Dad started. And to think about what else we could do to save the planets, to be real rebels.
I tried to talk to Dad the way I talked to Eddie, but I never tuned in his voice. Maybe Homeplace was too far away. Maybe the other aliens had blocked transmission. Sometimes when I played my half of the Riverdance duet, I thought I heard his half. But that could be imagination.
Alessa, Britzky, and I talked all the time about what had happened. That never got boring. Britzky kept reminding us that Dr. Traum had called us the seventh grade version of the Justice League of America. Dr. Traum had been sarcastic, Alessa said, but Britzky loved the idea. He even laughed when I said he could be the superhero Bratman.
“Lessi can be Wonder Woman, and you and Eddie can take turns being Superman.”
“What about Ronnie?” said Alessa.
“Robin,” said Britzky.
“Who’s that?” asked Alessa.
“Batman used to have a sidekick, a kid named Robin.”
“What happened to him?” asked Alessa.
“Child labor laws,” I said.
Mom and the Lump never asked about the time I was gone. I think they know more than they let on, but I don’t want to talk about any of it with them. I know Mom would have liked to hear about Dad, but I was still angry at her for not telling me about my birth mom. Alessa says I’ve got to just get over it. I guess I will.
The Lump was almost back to being his usual jerk self. Almost. Sometimes I caught him looking at me with a little smile on his ugly face. Britzky thought that if the Lump really did work for the government, he was part of the alien program. I’ll keep an eye on him. I still have his private number but I haven’t hacked into it yet. Meanwhile, we have that truce he wanted.
The Twinning Project Page 14
