Case File 13 #3 by J. Scott Savage Page A

out.”
    Dad threw his hands in the air. “Why am I the last one to hear these things?” He sighed and turned to go back up the stairs. “Let me get my keys. I sure hope we’re not going anywhere fancy. The last thing I want to do is dress up and put on cologne.”
    Nick looked at his mom. “Is he losing it?”
    She pressed her lips together. “He’s been under a lot of stress.”
    Nick guessed that was true. But he also had a feeling he might not be getting his allowance increase.
    The next morning, things seemed to be more or less back to normal. Nick’s dad wasn’t manically happy or inexplicably depressed. Carter Junior still hadn’t turned up, but Nick was starting to think that might be for the best.
    â€œIt would have been tough smuggling him up to the mountains on a bus without our parents finding out. He’s probably somewhere in the woods right now,” Nick said as the boys rode their bikes to school, “hanging out with his homunculus buddies, drinking Mountain Dew they stole from people camping nearby, and doing amazing celebrity impressions.”
    Carter smiled sadly. “I guess. I just miss him reading comic books with me and eating my candy.”
    Angelo skidded his bike to a halt, and Nick had to make a sharp left turn to keep from running into him. “Is that Old Man Dashner?”
    â€œHuh?” Nick turned to see a gray-haired man jogging down the street. Runners weren’t unusual in Pleasant Hill. Every morning the boys passed five or six joggers on their way to school. But as far as he could remember, Old Man Dashner had never been one of them. In fact, the only time Nick ever saw Mr. Dashner leave his house was when he got the mail or chased off kids crossing his lawn. But the jogging wasn’t even the weirdest part.
    Carter burst into surprised laughter. “What’s he wearing?”
    For as long as Nick had known him, Old Man Dashner’s clothing had consisted of khaki pants pulled up halfway to his chest, faded plaid shirts buttoned to the neck, and floppy brown slippers. His idea of a fashion statement was putting on a corduroy jacket when it got cold.
    But now he was running down the middle of the street in what looked like a pink one-piece women’s swimsuit, plaid golf pants rolled up at the ankles, and a Viking helmet, complete with horns.
    â€œHello, boys!” Dashner shouted as he trotted past. “Nothing like a morning run to get the old ticker in tick-tock shape.”
    â€œDid he just make a joke?” Carter asked.
    â€œDid he actually talk to us without using the words trespassing , police , or nuisance ?” Nick said.
    Angelo reached for his monster notebook, then seemed to change his mind. “It hasto be some kind of episode. Maybe we should call the police to get him some help.”
    â€œNot me,” Carter said, pedaling his bike away. “Dashner already hates me enough for that time I accidentally knocked out his mailbox with my electric scooter.”
    Nick scratched his head. “Maybe it’s some kind of really, really late midlife crisis. If I was stuck in that house all by myself, I’d probably go Froot Loops too.” He shook his head and watched the old man jog away. “It doesn’t get any weirder than that.”
    After the excitement of the last few days, it was a relief when the boys got to school and discovered Ms. Schoepf was out sick, leaving them with a substitute teacher.
    â€œMaybe she’s one of those subs who’ll let us watch movies all day,” Carter said.
    Angelo pulled his books out of his backpack. “What would be the point of that? We can watch movies at home. School is for learning.”
    Carter patted him sadly on the shoulder. “Sometimes I wonder why we are even friends. I can only assume it’s so I can keep you from withering away into nothing but a giant brain.”
    Nick didn’t care one way or