by Kym Brunner
The guys waited outside for me while I returned Flip to the mews and washed up, and then the three of us went into the house. On the way in, I told them that this chipmunk incident needed to stay our little secret, as did my joining HALT. Oh, and going to the protest rally too. Looked like I had a virtual warehouse of secrets.
The guys sat on the kitchen stools while I tossed two bagel dogs into the microwave, opting to leave mine in the freezer, my appetite gone. All of these clandestine activities must have given me a bellyful of indigestion. While we waited for the food to cook, the door banged open and Lincoln strutted in with a girl I’d never seen before. She wore a ton of makeup, had bleached blond hair with dark roots, and a huge chest that even a pirate would envy. Her skimpy, low-cut shirt made sure everyone noticed her set of twins, which I’d bet ten bucks were adopted. Who was this bimbo, and more important, where was Lauren?
“Hey, guys, this is Zola. Zola, this is my little brother, Mercer, along with his two girlfriends, Charlie and Reed.”
I rolled my eyes at his introduction and forced a smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”
Zola giggled, waving. “Hi, Linky’s little brother and his friends.”
Linky? Was this chick for real? Charlie scrambled out of his chair to shake her hand. “I’m Charlie. You ever get sick of this dude,” he said, pointing at Lincoln, “I’m the man for you.”
Lincoln pushed Charlie’s shoulder. “Down, boy. Go take a cold shower.”
I stupidly hoped that Zola was one of Lauren’s friends, and that Lauren would be walking in the door any second. But then Lincoln grabbed Zola around the waist, pulling her close, and mumbled something in her ear. Guess not.
“Stop it, silly.” Zola giggled again, smacking his chest playfully. “Not in front of your brother and his friends.”
Shaking my head, I brought the bagel dogs and a few cans of pop to the kitchen island. Charlie and Reed pounced on those hot dogs the way I would have if I hadn’t been “fed up” with all of my lies. Guess Flip and I had more in common than either of us knew.
Lincoln slid a bag of popcorn into the microwave and faced us, leaning back against the counter. “What are you guys doing here? Why don’t you go scope out some hot babes like Zola?” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows twice, as if he had something in mind other than eating popcorn.
“Aw . . . thanks, sweetkins.” Zola smiled, squeezing Lincoln’s forearm.
Didn’t she see that he was treating her like a piece of raw meat? Why would she want to be with him?
“Mercer showed us Flip today,” Charlie explained, his mouth bulging with food. “And it was flippin’ cool.”
I picked up a pen off the table and started clicking it nervously. “Glad you liked him.”
“Me too,” Reed agreed. “I had no idea you could let him fly away and he would come back on his own like that.”
I swallowed a ball of worry, glancing toward Lincoln to see if he had heard.
“What do you mean ‘on his own’?” Lincoln managed to pry his eyes away from feasting on Zola’s bounty for a moment.
Lie again or brag my ass off? I decided I’d had enough deception for one day. “Uh, well I took him out for a training session, and guess what? I flew him free today.”
“You what?” Lincoln glared at me. “Did Dad say you could?”
I leaped off my bragging perch in a hurry, worried by his accusatory tone. “No, but Weasel said I could,” I lied. Looked like I was an expert at something, after all.
“Bull.” Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Weasel would never overstep his bounds. Only the sponsor makes decisions like that, you liar.”
Zola patted his arm. “Be nice, Linky.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, although I thought that “Linky” was an idiot for being attracted to this girl. Lauren was way prettier than Zola, and she didn’t giggle after every sentence. After spending only two minutes with Zola, I’d guess her IQ matched her bra size, a 40 Double Dumb.
“Whatever. Where is Dad, anyway?” Lincoln popped open the microwave door, handing Zola the popcorn bag.
“Shopping with Maddie.”
“What time are they coming home?” He grabbed two Cokes out of the fridge with one hand and placed his other on Zola’s back.
I was about to ask why he wanted to know so badly, but when I saw him heading for the basement, I was pretty sure I knew the answer. “How the heck should I know?”
Lincoln opened the basement door. “Catch you ladies later.”
As much as I loathed being a whiny tattletale, the thought of my brother ruining things with Lauren for some alone time with Zola irked me. “You’re not allowed to bring people downstairs when Mom and Dad aren’t home, you know.”
“Thanks for the news flash, Grandma,” Lincoln said. Right before he closed the door, he added, “And don’t bother us.”
As the door clicked shut, I heard Zola ask, “Your grandma’s here?”
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t think I can take much of Zola, Girl Genius, any longer.”
As we walked outside, Reed whistled. “That was quite a show. The craziest thing is, Zola looks a lot like Patty Piston, this month’s Garage Girl.”
“That’s why she looked so familiar!” Charlie shook his head. “Man, your bro is one lucky dude, Mercer.”
“You guys think being with Zola is lucky? She’s dumber than a rock. What’s so great about that?”
Charlie laughed. “Well, for one, she’d think Reed was the smartest guy she knew.”
Reed shoved Charlie hard, but playfully. “Shut up.”
“Besides, I wouldn’t be making out with her brains, anyway,” Charlie added.
“I guess . . .” I shrugged, feeling unsettled. Was it wrong to want a girl who was smart or funny, not just pretty? Why couldn’t I just go for the thrill of victory the way Lincoln did without overanalyzing things? I decided to drop it for now. “You guys want to take the paddleboat out?”
“Nah. I got to get going.” Reed lifted his helmet off his ATV.
“Me too,” Charlie agreed. “Dinner’s at six. Can’t miss that.”
“But you just ate a bagel dog,” I pointed out.
Charlie put his arm around my shoulder. “Mercer, Mercer, Mercer. I eat when it’s time to eat.” He hoisted himself onto his ATV with a grunt and looked at his watch. “You see, four o’clock was snack time; six o’clock, it’ll be dinner time. Got it?” He situated his butt cheeks on the seat and pulled his T-shirt down in back. “Thanks for the dog, though.”
“Same.” Reed cranked up his ATV.
After Charlie had started his bike, the two of them lowered the visors on their helmets and rode across my lawn—just as Dad’s pickup pulled into the driveway.
I stood on the blacktop, torn between running into the house to alert Lincoln and letting Dad walk in and catch my brother with his pants down, so to speak.
As much as I wanted to realign Dad’s image of Lincoln being the perfect son, I did the brotherly thing: I ran my butt off trying to get into the house before Dad.
FOURTEEN
I BURST INTO THE HOUSE AND SPRINTED TO THE BASEMENT DOOR. I whipped it open, yelling, “Lincoln! Dad’s home!”
I listened at the head of the stairs. Quiet whisperings and a flurry of footsteps meant that Lincoln had gotten the message. Moments later, Busybody Maddie arrived at the house, out of breath.
“Mercer, why’d you run into the house like that?”
“’Cause I felt like it,” I replied casually, breezing past her into the kitchen. Dad came in through the side door, arms loaded with groceries.
Lincoln and Zola tromped up the stairs, carrying their Cokes and the popcorn bag.
“Lincoln?” Dad spun around. “I thought you said you were working today.”
Lincoln shook his head. “Nope. My mistake.”
“Were you just downstairs?” Dad asked. No doubt he expected Lincoln to produce a hammer and nails that he had retrieved from
the workroom, thereby giving him a valid reason for being in the basement with a female guest.
“He was, Dad, I saw him,” Maddie said, her tattletale antennae erupting out of her head.
“Chill out a second, Maddie,” Lincoln said coolly. “Dad, this is Zola. Zola, this is Dad.”
“Hi, Dad.” Zola giggled, giving a little wave. Was she joking, or had she actually forgotten what her own dad looked like since she’d left her house this morning, and she thought this might be the guy?
Dad forced a smile. “Nice to meet you, Zola.”
Maddie’s mouth kicked into second gear. “Dad, I thought you said he couldn’t have girls downstairs in the family room. Zola’s a girl and she was downstairs.” Besides having a knack for pointing out the obvious, I realized that every single thought that went into Maddie’s brain instantly spewed out her mouth like liquid gray matter.
Lincoln chuckled and put his arm around Maddie. “Hey, Bratison, take it easy. Zola had to use the bathroom, and since Mercer over here stank up the main one, I offered her a nicer smelling bathroom to use downstairs, that’s all.”
My brother was smoother than freshly ironed pants. If Zola hadn’t known the truth, I would have been embarrassed. Still, Lincoln was a weasel for saying I stank up the bathroom. I’d get him for that later.
Dad nodded. “I see. Well, I’d better get back to unpacking the groceries, then.”
That was it? End of conversation? That was the equivalent of giving Lincoln the green light to have Woodley High’s all-female swim team downstairs next week. I hated that Lincoln could do anything he wanted and still make Dad happy, while all I had to do was sneeze when a red-tail was nearby to get reamed out.
I ran upstairs to play video games and avoid being asked to help put away the groceries. I had just picked up the controller when Maddie strolled into my room.
“Why does Lincoln—”
“Get out of my room. You didn’t knock.”
Maddie sighed. “But I just wanted—”
“Just nothing . . . knock.” I pointed to the door.
I waited for Maddie to go back out in the hall and knock. This was fun.
“Yes?” I asked pleasantly. “Who is it?”
“Mercer, you can see it’s me standing here. Can I come in?”
“Yes, Tattleson, you may enter. What do you wanteth?”
“Why is Zola here? Did Lincoln break up with Lauren?” She picked up my bottle of Intimidate cologne off my dresser and unscrewed the lid. Apparently she wasn’t intimidated enough to leave it alone. A strong piney scent wafted through the room, making me wonder whether Lucy would like it if I wore that stuff. I made a mental note to splash some on tomorrow.
She lifted the bottle to her nose and sniffed deeply.
“Don’t touch my stuff,” I ordered. “Or smell it either.”
Maddie set the bottle back on my dresser with a sigh and plopped down on my bed—uninvited, I might point out. “Did Lincoln bring her home just because she’s got big boobs?”
I had to laugh at that one. “Maybe.”
“Well, I hope when you date someone, it won’t be just because of that.”
“Hey, I’d be happy with any girl who liked me back.”
Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m not quite as upstanding as all that. Big boobs would be a bonus. Make that two bonuses. But I wouldn’t tell that to my little sister.
“And I know he didn’t go downstairs because it stank in the bathroom by the kitchen.” Maddie folded her arms across her chest. “Because I went in there and took a big whiff, and it smelled just fine.”
I faked a grimace. “You weirdo bathroom sniffer.”
She ignored me. “He went downstairs to make out with Zola, didn’t he?”
“You’re crazy.” I turned back to my game so as not to give anything away with my expression.
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my gosh! That’s why you ran in the house, isn’t it? To tell Lincoln that Dad and I were home?”
I got distracted by Maddie’s comments, and an army guy on the screen nailed me. I paused my game. “No, that’s not why, Miss Know-It-All. I was in a hurry to play Common Enemy. Which you just made me lose, by the way.”
“Come on, Mercer, tell me the truth. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” She bit her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows expectantly.
I laughed out loud. “Ha! You’d be downstairs so fast blabbing the news, you’d leave burn marks on the carpet.”
“That’s not true! I can keep a secret. Pleeease?”
The way she begged me made me think she meant it. I looked at her face, all sweet and innocent like her stinky little hamster, Peanut. “If I tell you, and you say something to Mom and Dad, I’ll never tell you anything again. Ever. I mean it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You think I’m such a baby.”
“You are a baby. You’re always tattling.”
Maddie’s eyes widened. “I only tattle on you because you’re so mean to me!”
“And I’m only mean to you because you tattle on me. Like this morning, when I left the cereal box open in the pantry, you told Mom about it.”
“But that’s because the cereal gets all stale when you do that!”
“So? Is stale cereal going to ruin your life? Just close the box and move on.”
Maddie grabbed the fringe from the edge of my blue bedspread and ran it through her fingers. “Okay, fine. I promise not to tell on you anymore if you promise not to be mean to me. Like not pulling my hair and not calling me Tattleson. I hate that.”
“Fine. No more tattling on me—no more Tattleson for you. Deal?” I held out my hand and she shook it.
“Deal,” she said, grinning. I hoped she’d forget to ask what she came in here for, since I’d so deviously detoured from talking about Lincoln’s field trip to the basement, but I must have underestimated Maddie’s thirst for gossip. If she had the ability to grow gills and swim in the stuff, she would.
“Soooo . . . tell me. What really happened with Lincoln?”
I hesitated a second before answering. “All I know is that he didn’t go down there because I stank up the bathroom.”
“I knew it!” She stood to leave, but caught sight of herself in the mirror. She picked up my brush, which was lying on the dresser, turned to see if I was watching, and wisely put it back. “Well, thanks for trusting me, Mercer. You’re a great brother—sometimes.”
That shocked me a little. Did she really think I was great, considering how I treated her?
An hour later, Dad called me down to dinner; everyone was already seated at the table. Mom was home from work, pouring a glass of wine. Lincoln was riding solo, so I figured Zola must have gotten tired and went home to take a nappy poo.
“Hi, Mercer,” Mom said, placing a napkin over her lap. “How was your concert?”
I almost said, “What concert?” when I remembered my first lie of the day—explaining why I was going to the mall. “Oh, it was all right.” I shrugged, slinking into my seat. “Nothing great.”
The delicious aroma of Italian food made my stomach growl and my mouth water. Dad dished out a big plate of fettuccini with marinara sauce, placing two nice-size meatballs on top before handing it to me.
“Look familiar, Lincoln?” I jabbed my elbow into his side.
“You know it, bro.” Lincoln elbowed me back.
The phone rang and Mom warned us to let the answering machine pick up. She tried to divert our attention away from the phone with talk about the weather, but it was useless. All of us stopped chewing, straining to hear who was calling.
It was Lauren. “Hey, Buddie family! I tried calling Linc’s cell, but it went right to voicemail. When I went to Home Depot today to see him, they said he called in sick. I just wanted to see how he’s feeling. Have him call me when you see him. Thanks!”
Dad stopped chewing. “I thought you said you didn’t have to work today.”
“Uh, well. I didn’t feel like it, so I called in
sick.” Lincoln sniffed, indifferent. “Big deal.”
“It is a big deal, Lincoln,” Dad argued, shaking his head. “Not so much about lying to your employer, but lying to me.”
“And calling in sick all the time is a big deal.” Mom put down her fork and wiped her mouth. “How would I keep a job if I didn’t go in whenever I didn’t feel like it?”
Lincoln let out a chuckle. “Good one, Mom. I mean, have you ever called in sick? Seems to me you’re always at work.”
“That’s not fair, Lincoln. I’m the director. People expect me to be there.” Mom took a sip of her wine. “I can’t call in sick without good reason.”
I grabbed a piece of garlic bread from the basket. “Well . . . you could probably stand to call in sick once in a while, though. I needed to look at your picture on the piano yesterday to remember what you looked like.”
Okay, so it was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. I did look at her picture to ask if I could borrow the five-dollar bill that was on her nightstand. For the record, she said yes.
“Ha-ha.” Mom smiled. “Have you forgotten that Dad and I are going away for our anniversary next weekend? And I’m taking that Monday off, so there.” She picked up her fork and twirled some noodles around it.
I had a vague recollection of Mom telling me about this anniversary trip a while back. I was glad they were going—it seemed rare that they went anywhere alone together.
Dad patted the table. “Oh! Which reminds me.” He looked at my brother. “I need you to work with Mercer next weekend. He can’t miss a day of practice. Not with this bird.”
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. “Really, Dad? For your information, Weasel had me fly him on the creance line yesterday, and today I flew him free.”
“You what? Who told you to do that?” He stared, mouth ajar, waiting for an answer.
“I did it on my own,” I replied quietly. “But it worked.”
“I knew it.” Lincoln sneered. “Liar.”
Dad took a deep breath as he raked a hand through his hair. “You were very lucky. Frankly, I’m shocked. Most birds need at least two weeks before they’re ready for that.”
