answer the door. I open it, bracing myself for the rage of the guy who lives next door. Instead, I find Haze, Pete, and Shelby standing in front of me.
I start to smile, feeling relieved it's just them, but then I see their anxious faces and I stop.
LAUGH TRACK :
Uh-oh!
"Hey, guys, what's up?"
Shelby pushes me back into the house and the three of them come inside and close the door.
"Bad news, Jason. It's bad news," Pete says.
CRAZY GLUE :
Major uh-oh!
"What? What's happened?" I stare at the three of them. They look upset and even frightened, like our school has been bombed or maybe there's been a shooting.
"Guys, come on—what's goin' on?"
Shelby glances up the stairs where my dad's still playing, and then the other two do the same thing.
"Let's get out of the hallway," Pete says. "Let's talk in the living room, okay?"
"What? What is it? I don't like this," I say as Shelby and Haze push me back toward the living room. "Stop it, guys! Just tell me. What?"
CRAZY GLUE :
Don't panic.
"That violin your dad's got? He stole it," Shelby says.
"What? No, he didn't. What do you mean? How do you know?"
"Dude, we heard it on the news on the way to school," Haze says. "It's all over the news, man."
"They said a guy's violin was taken from the Kennedy Center yesterday," Pete adds, looking pained and almost green in the face with having to tell me.
Shelby nods. "Yeah, it belongs to a guy from the Walden String Quartet. They're performing at the center."
"It's a way-expensive violin, man," Haze says. "Like worth millions. Dude said he always kept the violin with him. He had it backstage. He left it there for five minutes and it was gone. It's a Strasselburg or something—made in the sixteen hundreds, so like whoa, it's way old."
Pete elbows Haze's arm. "It's a Stradivarius, bozo, not a Strasselburg."
"Ouch, I didn't know." Haze winces and rubs his arm.
"Anyway," Shelby says, bugging her eyes out at the two of them, then looking at me, "the police think one of the guys who cleans up around there might have taken it, because they found out he has a criminal record, and this guy, the one who owns the violin, is making a big stink, saying he's going to sue the center and everybody. He was asking the news people, like they had something to do with it, how they could let a guy with a criminal record clean the building."
Shelby stops talking and the three of them wait for me to say something. I blink several times and try to figure out what to say.
CRAZY GLUE :
How about "oops"!
"It sounds like this stagehand guy did it, then," I say. "It's not the same violin. My dad brought his violin over from Greece. I—I saw the box—his Greece box open on the bed."
CRAZY GLUE :
That's right, grab at anything you can.
FBG WITH A MUSTACHE :
You know the truth.
"No, I don't."
Haze, Pete, and Shelby look at one another and then at me. "'No, you don't,' what?" Pete asks, while at the same time Haze says, "Huh?" and Shelby just gives me her "you jerk" look.
CRAZY GLUE :
Yep. You said it out loud.
AUNT BEE :
Oh dear!
"Oh, uh, I was just thinking out loud, kind of—I—uh, I mean I don't know really if it's his, I guess—really." I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth so hard I think it might burst through to my nasal cavity.
CRAZY GLUE :
T-M-I, goob.
"I really doubt it's his," Pete says.
Haze adds, "They held a big press conference on TV and everything, and they said it's got that Stradi—Stradi—whatever, label inside the violin and three cherubs on the tailpiece, just like the ones on your dad's violin, right?"
Pete shakes his head and makes this sorrowful face. "I'm sorry, Jason."
It reminds me of the doctor's face when I came to see my mom the day she died. He said the same thing. I was too late. She had died in the night while Dad and I were at home sleeping.
FBG WITH A MUSTACHE :
Maybe that's why you don't sleep well anymore. The guilt.
I feel sick. Really sick, like I might throw up. The floor beneath me tilts
I start to smile, feeling relieved it's just them, but then I see their anxious faces and I stop.
LAUGH TRACK :
Uh-oh!
"Hey, guys, what's up?"
Shelby pushes me back into the house and the three of them come inside and close the door.
"Bad news, Jason. It's bad news," Pete says.
CRAZY GLUE :
Major uh-oh!
"What? What's happened?" I stare at the three of them. They look upset and even frightened, like our school has been bombed or maybe there's been a shooting.
"Guys, come on—what's goin' on?"
Shelby glances up the stairs where my dad's still playing, and then the other two do the same thing.
"Let's get out of the hallway," Pete says. "Let's talk in the living room, okay?"
"What? What is it? I don't like this," I say as Shelby and Haze push me back toward the living room. "Stop it, guys! Just tell me. What?"
CRAZY GLUE :
Don't panic.
"That violin your dad's got? He stole it," Shelby says.
"What? No, he didn't. What do you mean? How do you know?"
"Dude, we heard it on the news on the way to school," Haze says. "It's all over the news, man."
"They said a guy's violin was taken from the Kennedy Center yesterday," Pete adds, looking pained and almost green in the face with having to tell me.
Shelby nods. "Yeah, it belongs to a guy from the Walden String Quartet. They're performing at the center."
"It's a way-expensive violin, man," Haze says. "Like worth millions. Dude said he always kept the violin with him. He had it backstage. He left it there for five minutes and it was gone. It's a Strasselburg or something—made in the sixteen hundreds, so like whoa, it's way old."
Pete elbows Haze's arm. "It's a Stradivarius, bozo, not a Strasselburg."
"Ouch, I didn't know." Haze winces and rubs his arm.
"Anyway," Shelby says, bugging her eyes out at the two of them, then looking at me, "the police think one of the guys who cleans up around there might have taken it, because they found out he has a criminal record, and this guy, the one who owns the violin, is making a big stink, saying he's going to sue the center and everybody. He was asking the news people, like they had something to do with it, how they could let a guy with a criminal record clean the building."
Shelby stops talking and the three of them wait for me to say something. I blink several times and try to figure out what to say.
CRAZY GLUE :
How about "oops"!
"It sounds like this stagehand guy did it, then," I say. "It's not the same violin. My dad brought his violin over from Greece. I—I saw the box—his Greece box open on the bed."
CRAZY GLUE :
That's right, grab at anything you can.
FBG WITH A MUSTACHE :
You know the truth.
"No, I don't."
Haze, Pete, and Shelby look at one another and then at me. "'No, you don't,' what?" Pete asks, while at the same time Haze says, "Huh?" and Shelby just gives me her "you jerk" look.
CRAZY GLUE :
Yep. You said it out loud.
AUNT BEE :
Oh dear!
"Oh, uh, I was just thinking out loud, kind of—I—uh, I mean I don't know really if it's his, I guess—really." I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth so hard I think it might burst through to my nasal cavity.
CRAZY GLUE :
T-M-I, goob.
"I really doubt it's his," Pete says.
Haze adds, "They held a big press conference on TV and everything, and they said it's got that Stradi—Stradi—whatever, label inside the violin and three cherubs on the tailpiece, just like the ones on your dad's violin, right?"
Pete shakes his head and makes this sorrowful face. "I'm sorry, Jason."
It reminds me of the doctor's face when I came to see my mom the day she died. He said the same thing. I was too late. She had died in the night while Dad and I were at home sleeping.
FBG WITH A MUSTACHE :
Maybe that's why you don't sleep well anymore. The guilt.
I feel sick. Really sick, like I might throw up. The floor beneath me tilts
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