I received my first e-mail from my dad that night, exactly as Honey Lady predicted.
Hey, buddy,
Sure miss you. Don’t worry about us. We’re doing great—working hard. We’ll have this money mess cleared up before you know it. Leave it all to Mom and me. You just concentrate on your schoolwork and the job they’re having you do. And don’t forget about having fun! Don’t worry about spending money on things you want or need while you’re in there. Mom and I have everything covered.
See you soon!
Dad
It didn’t make me feel connected to him or the outside world at all. In fact, it made me annoyed. He sounded like he was in league with Honey Lady, encouraging me to spend money. A weird thing for him to say when we were supposed to be watching our account. Was Dad as clueless about money as Mom? If so, then my family was really in trouble.
For four days I played the part of a carefree teen king having a great ol’ time living on the top floor, where imagination—and certainly not money—was the only thing holding us back.
Today was the day Jeffery had been dreaming of. He finally talked Coop and me into promising to come out of the gym and into the pool for some jousting. Although we’d been pumped over the idea when we first came up with it, the excitement had worn off for Coop and me, and we’d sort of forgotten about it. That wasn’t the case with Jeffery. The minute work was over, he headed straight for the water. I was starting to get into the idea again. It could be fun. I was ready to take him on.
Okay, so I wasn’t completely ready. I had to change into my swimming trunks, and my floating island still sat folded up in a box. Twenty minutes later, with Coop’s help, I finished pumping it.
“For two brilliant top-floor dudes we sure are stupid,” said Coop after we tipped the inflated island on its side. It stood four inches taller than my bedroom door. “Way to go, fool.”
“Here, hold it up.” I jumped and grabbed the top of the island, letting my weight squeeze it down. “Push!”
My body swung forward, and the three of us—me, Coop, and the island—popped through the door. Getting the island out of the hall wasn’t a breeze either. How had Jeffery done it? He’d probably been smart enough to inflate his island in the pool room. He kept it there all the time. I’d do the same with this one, once I managed to get it in.
“That puked,” Coop said after we bent and squeezed the island into the cubicle room. One of the big, sturdy office chairs we all used blocked our path to the pool room. It was probably Isaac’s, but it had gotten pushed out of his cubicle and now sat in front of Reginald’s glass box. Coop eyed the chair. “I think I’m due for a nice, long rest.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right. As if you could ever hold still for more than ten seconds.”
I expected him to keep the joke going by plopping into the chair, spinning around once or twice, and then jumping up and declaring himself rested. I’m sure that’s what he intended to do, except he stumbled over something on his way to the chair—his feet, a paper clip, who knew what—and flew forward, his hands straight out to break his fall. His palms hit the backrest, and since the chair was on wheels, the two of them kept right on going, the chair tipping backward as Coop’s weight leaned into it.
“Coop!” I stared in shock at the sight of Coop and the chair heading straight for the wall of Reginald’s cubicle, and then I clamped my eyes shut and winced as the smooth glass shattered into a thousand pieces. I didn’t dare look for several long seconds.
“Augh! I’m dead. I’m bleeding!”
Coop’s voice jolted me into action. Leaving the island propped against the wall, I sprang to the cubicle. He’d lucked out big-time. The chair had taken the brunt of the blow, smashing into the glass before any part of Coop’s body hit it.
“You’re not dead.” Roughly shoving the dangling blinds aside, I pulled him up by one arm, stepping carefully with my bare feet to avoid the sharp chunks of glass lying all around us.
“My eye! I’m bleeding. Bro, I cut my eye out!”
I led him out of the cubicle. “Your eye is fine. Here. Sit down.” I picked a few pieces of glass out of his shaggy hair and tossed them back by the other pieces. “Looks like you have a few cuts. Nothing serious.”
“Easy for you to say.” He flopped backward onto the floor, and lay with both hands on his head. I think he was more shaken up than hurt. I know I was shaken up. Someone else probably was too. I turned back to the cubicle.
“Reginald? Are you okay in there?” Bits of glass tumbled off the chair as I pulled it out of the broken wall. One entire panel had completely shattered, and the blinds now hung by a thread. When I touched them, they fell off, and I tossed them aside. Cautiously—watching every foot placement—I stepped through the opening and into the cubicle. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to . . .”
My words died in my throat. My entire body shivered, and not because I was only wearing swimming trunks. A massive guy stood inside the glass cubicle. He was old, probably seventeen. His breath came out fast and hard, and he stared at the broken glass covering the floor with a tight, twisted expression.
“Um . . . where’s Reginald?” I asked.
The big guy’s eyes snapped to my face at my last word. It couldn’t be. Could it?
“Reginald?” He took one step toward me and then hesitated and stopped before his next one. Behind him, the three huge computer monitors laid out across his desk were covered with numbers and code way more complicated than anything I’d ever seen. I noticed he didn’t have blinds on his side walls. Giant whiteboards stretched the entire length and width of both of them, each covered with multicolored numbers forming mathematical equations too complicated for even me—a certified math geek—to guess what he was trying to work out. How could this football jock of a guy be the reclusive ultranerd Reginald? I remembered the computer file. “Brock?”
His eyes lit up with a spark of recognition.
“You’re Brock Reginald,” I said.
“It’s not . . . a good . . . idea . . . to let . . . them see . . . me.”
“Are you feeling all right, Brock?” I took a couple of steps toward him.
“Stay by . . . myself.”
“Sorry about this mess. It was an accident.” One more step.
“Don’t let . . . them see . . . me.”
“It’s okay, Brock. We want to be your friends. Right, Coop?” I took three faster steps as Coop moaned and raised one hand straight up in the air, waving his pointer finger in agreement.
“You see . . . me!”
“Do you like Brock or Reg—” The last word and my breath were suddenly, violently cut off. The back of my head slammed into the hard surface of one of the whiteboards, and I had the odd thought that at least he hadn’t shoved me through another glass panel. Giant, strong fingers clamped tight around my neck.
I tried to call out, but without any air, no words came. I jabbed at the choking hands. My wimpy fingers against those rock-hard sausages were like gnats bumping against the side of an elephant. Spots of blackness faded in and out in front of my eyes. My lungs cramped, shooting pain through my entire chest cavity.
Some part of me was aware of Coop yelling and whaling on Reginald, but he was only a fly against that elephant. The black spots took over completely.
And then . . . air. I sucked it in with huge, thirsty gulps. I was crumpled on the ground now, on all fours and not caring that my hands and knees were pressing against bits of broken glass. When I could think about something other than the joys of oxygen inside my lungs, I realized that Coop was sitting next to me. A gorilla guard had hold of Brock Reginald by the shoulders.
I lifted one arm, pointing. “He . . . tried to . . .” I had to stop to breathe.
“I know, man. He was killing you. He’d have done it too, if the guard dude hadn’t pulled him off.”
“He should . . . jail.”
“Yeah, I don’t like the idea of a crazy killer living with us either. Freak-out, isn’t it, that old Reg
inald ends up looking like that.”
Blond Gorilla Guard had Reginald settled in his chair, back in front of his computers.
“Calm down. Sit still,” the guard told him.
“Hey, guard dude, Matt man here and I think this guy should be hauled off to jail. Or to the loony bin, at least.”
“You two. Go to your rooms. Medical personnel will be up shortly to examine you.”
“What about . . .” I climbed partway to my feet but had to take a break with my upper body leaning over on my thighs. “What about him?”
“He’ll be fine. He just needs to get back to his work.”
“No way, man. You can’t just leave him loose on the top floor.”
“Yeah, that’s like letting a lion roam around.” I brushed away the glass sticking to my hands and knees. Somehow I’d lucked out and hadn’t gotten shredded. “How do we know he won’t attack us again?”
“He won’t because I said he won’t!” The guard advanced on us a few steps. Coop and I scurried out of the cubicle like rats. “The two of you stay away from him; don’t come near his cubicle. Then he won’t touch you again. Got it?”
“Got it.” I cowered behind Coop. One attack a day was plenty.
Coop nudged me toward the door to the bedroom hallway. “This is so skewed, bro.” Turning, and walking backward, he pointed a cocky finger at the gorilla guard. “You’re a total brain-fry, man. Total. This whole workhouse is fried!”
“Get going to your rooms! It’s okay, Reginald, settle down. You’re fine now. Here, you need to look at your computer screen. Look right there. That’s right. Keep watching while I clean this up.”
Some man—I don’t know whether he was a doctor or not—came into my room and gave me the once-over. Besides some bruising and a few cuts I hadn’t noticed before, I checked out fine. By the time Coop and I retrieved our floating island, Reginald was tucked tight back in his cubicle—the broken panel replaced by a tall sheet of plywood.
“HE’S A PSYCH CASE.” COOP’S VOICE boomed throughout the wide-open spaces of the pool room. I dodged an attempted blow from Jeffery’s padded paddle and bent and strained my legs to keep my balance. “That’s why they keep him shut away by himself. Any time he sees another human being, the dude tries to kill him.”
“He didn’t try to kill the guard.” I twisted my head around to aim my voice toward Coop, who sat on the end of the diving board, dangling his feet in midair and waiting to play the winner.
Pow. I got in a good hit on Jeffery’s upper arm. He made a low squeaking noise and then let out a banshee wail as he swung wildly in my general direction. Poor little guy. He didn’t have a chance, especially since he was forced to take his glasses off so they wouldn’t get broken. I jabbed him in the middle, not putting anywhere near my full strength into it.
“The guard’s got him trained—slips him raw steaks every night, just to get on his good side.”
“Whatever.” I braced against a hit to my hip and realized bracing was better than dodging for keeping my balance. “It’s just—all those muscles. Doesn’t he look exactly like the typical dumb jock? The guys we used to run away from in gym but ridicule in math and science.”
“Totally. That dude could be the high school football team all by himself.”
“He could bench-press the entire football team.” Lifting my paddle, I blocked an attack from Jeffery. “Bench-press. Hey, Coop! I just figured it out. Those sounds we heard coming from Reginald’s room. He’s lifting weights in there.”
“Could be, my brilliant top-floor bro. You two going to pussyfoot all day? When are you going to get serious about battling it out?”
Good question. I couldn’t bring myself to smack Jeffery off his floating island, but I also couldn’t let him knock me off.
The bang-boing sound behind me let me know that Coop had stood up on the diving board and was getting ready to jump.
“Double backflip this time, suckers. Watch and drool.”
“Forget it, loser.” I twisted the top half of my body around to watch, twirling my paddle over my head like it was a baton on steroids. “Don’t even try.”
He came down hard and two-footed on the end of the diving board, then instantly sprang into the air, throwing his arms up and tucking into a sort of ball. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough air. He didn’t even finish one flip, and it was sloppy and too close to the board. Way too close. With a crack that made me clench my teeth, the back of Coop’s head smacked against the end of the diving board. My paddle slipped through my fingers, conking me on the head as it fell to my feet. The next second a big ball of vinyl-covered padding swung straight into the side of my face. It wasn’t a hard hit, but I hadn’t expected it, and it was enough to knock me off balance. As my arms flailed through the air, trying to grab on to anything to steady myself, my feet got tangled in my own paddle.
“Oh, wow, sorry.” I heard Jeffery’s voice before the water closed over me. I was only under a second or two. He was next to me, in the water, when I surfaced. “Sorry,” he said again. “It was too late to stop the momentum of my swing when Coop hit the board. Hurry!”
Hurry?
Coop! I couldn’t see him.
Even though he had a head start on me, I beat Jeffery to the deep end of the pool. I found Coop hanging from the silver ladder by one arm. His eyes were closed, and his whole face was scrunched up tight.
“Coop? Can you hear me?”
“Dude. Ow.”
“Come on, you gotta get out of the pool.”
Jeffery scrambled up the steps, and with me pushing from below, we heaved and pulled Coop onto dry ground. He sat still for a long while, his head resting on his knees and both hands deep in his shaggy hair.
“Can you walk yet?” My hands hovered near the back of his shoulders, unsure what they should do.
“Headache. Never had one like this before.”
“We could help you to your bed,” I said. “Maybe we should call that medical person to come back up and check you out again.”
“Man, I’ve lived here for three months and never laid eyes on the dude. Now I’m seeing him twice in one week.”
“Twice in one day,” I corrected.
He peeked one eye open at me, smiling that goofy smile of his. “Bro, you’re going to have to reboot me. We’ve got a system-wide hard-drive crash here. You’re going to have to reprogram my brain.”
Jeffery laughed so hard you’d think he’d never heard anything so funny in his entire life.
Something about what Coop said struck me wrong. It didn’t sound funny to me at all.
• • •
It took a while for Jeffery and me to get Coop into his room. We bailed out of there fast when the medical man came in. Jeffery went back to the pool to practice his jousting moves. I changed and wandered into the rec room. One conk on the head was my daily limit.
I sat in a video rocker chair and stared up at the massive TV screen stretching across the wall in front of me. It didn’t matter that I could barely hear the words coming from the set because of all the racket Kia and Isaac were making in the corner with their new pinball machine.
Someone sat down in the recliner close to me. I didn’t blink.
“Is the remote broken?” a soft voice asked after a few minutes.
I glanced down at the black rectangle sitting in my hand, then back at the big screen. “I don’t think so.”
“Then why are you watching this?” she asked, so quietly I almost couldn’t make out her words.
The images on the screen came into focus, revealing one of those stupid, half-hour-long infomercials that pretend to be real TV shows. A ditzy lady and an older man practically did backflips over a kitchen gizmo they claimed would change the world.
“Do you care?” the girl asked. I looked over and realized it was Paige.
“What?” I asked. She’d spoken so softly—and I’d been paying so little attention—her words hadn’t registered.
“If I change the channe
l. Do you care?”
“No.” I rocked way back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. Ten-second snatches of conversations filtered to my ears as Paige flipped through the channels. After a few minutes the remote landed on my stomach.
“There’s nothing good on,” she said. “You can have it back.”
I raised my arm high enough to aim the remote and click off the TV. Paige didn’t move—I could tell even without looking at her. Why was she just sitting there?
She started tapping her fingers against the armrests of the recliner. It was made of leather, so the sound came out loud and sharp.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. It drowned out the dings and bells from Kia and Isaac at the pinball machine in the corner. Tap-tap-tap. Burrowing into my brain. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
I sprang out of the chair.
“Will you knock it off?” I said, glaring down at her.
“Oh.” She slid her hands into her lap and lowered her head. “Sorry. I’m just . . . bored.”
“Go find your little buddy, Madeline. I’m sure she has a new outfit for you to squeal over.” I sank back into the video rocker chair and, once again, stared at the ceiling.
“She’s . . . doing something,” she said.
“Watch a movie. Play video games. Go swimming. There’s a ton of things you could do.”
“I’ve done them all before. Watched them all. Played them all.”
“Go do whatever it is Madeline is doing.” Having her sit, doing nothing, so close to me put a serious kink in the nothingness I was trying to achieve.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Sure you can. She’ll let you. She doesn’t have anyone else to hang out with.”
Paige made a gasping hiccup sound that made me look at her. Tears filled her eyes, then started dribbling out, one by one. Great. I let my head roll back. I’m a jerk. I made her cry. What had I said? Did she think I meant that Madeline only hung out with her because, now that Neela was gone, she really didn’t have another choice? Or maybe Madeline really wouldn’t let her hang out with her right now. That was probably it. They were having a fight. Girls did that all the time. I’ve seen it with Lauren. Best friends who can’t spend five seconds apart get mad and decide they hate each other. It lasts for a day, a year, or an hour. Then they’re back connected at the hip again. Don’t ask me to understand.
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