He’s taken pity on a couple of old geezers and decided to spend some of his summer vacation with us.”
“Hi,” Sammy mumbled. And then, seeming embarrassed, he looked down at something in his lap: a handheld GameZMaster IV.
“I’m Ronan,” I told them all, “and my friend’s name is Greta.” I didn’t think it was polite to point out that summer vacation hadn’t begun ye t — m aybe Sammy had a different setup where he went to school.
Izzy reappeared with a smartphone. “There you go, honey,” she told Greta. “You feel free to call whoever you want. We have a good plan, so it shouldn’t cost us nothing.”
Greta stared at the phone, smiled tightly, and said, “We’re not getting a signal.”
“Tell you what,” Izzy said, “we only just got here, and there’s not so much to see that we’d be missing anything if we gave you two a lift somewheres. What say we pack up and head toward Baltimore? Once we find a signal, you can call your dad.”
“We couldn’t trouble yo u — ” Greta began, but Henry cut her off.
“It’s no trouble at all to help two souls in need. Besides, we want to set a good example for Sammy here.” The boy rolled his eyes. “Let me put up the chairs, and we’ll be on the road before you can say Benedict Arnold.”
Ten minutes later, we were packed into the RV and rolling out of the lot. Henry had wedged himself into a huge caramel-colored leather swivel chair behind the steering wheel and kept chattering nonstop about the motor home’s HD video monitors that acted like rearview and side-view mirrors. Behind him in the kitchen, Izzy was tying on an apron, and farther back, toward the middle of the motor home, Greta and I were sitting with Sammy in a fake leather dining booth. He ignored us, jabbing away at the buttons on his GameZMaster IV.
The clock above the fridge said it was nearly 10 p.m. “What a crazy day,” I said to Greta. I felt relaxed for the first time since my mom had come to get me at school.
Greta slouched back against the bench. “Seriously. But we’re safe now.”
Beside us, Sammy clucked his tongue.
Weird kid , I thought.
The RV was kind of nice. It had everythin g — o ven, fake fireplace, even a stacked washer/dryer, and through a door at the back was a bedroom with a full-size bed. It was like a house on wheels, if you wanted to live in the sort of place that had wall-to-wall carpeting and carpet on the walls, too. Everything looked spotless and brand-new. “You guys really keep this thing clean,” I said.
“It even smells new,” Greta said. “Did you all just buy it?”
“Sort of.” Izzy smiled and turned to us, a loaf of bread in her hands. “Have you had dinner yet? Why don’t I make you kids some sandwiches?” She pulled open one drawer after another until she finally found a butter knife.
“Thanks,” Greta said. “A sandwich would be great.” And then she launched into some story about a magnet school in Baltimore: “We’re both students there. I’m in the sciences but Ronan’s more of a drama geek.”
I tucked my hands in my jeans and shrugged like I was shy, because I didn’t have any idea what to sa y — I didn’t know the first thing about the drama club. I felt something hard and round in my pocket.
The purple glass disk. I’d totally forgotten to give it to Dawkins. I fished it out and turned it over a few times. It was pretty, just a few inches around and collared with a twisted strand of tarnished silver. My mom had written that it was valuabl e — w hy? Sammy watched me while his fingers moved over his GameZMaster IV. I held it to my eye and looked at him.
He stared straight back. “Nice monocle .”
“Thanks,” I said. What a bratty kid. “Good game?” Closing my uncovered eye, I cast my gaze around the RV. Everything looked the same, just a lot more violet.
“It’s supercool,” Sammy said. “You should give it a try.”
I aimed the lens toward the front of the motor home. “I
“Hi,” Sammy mumbled. And then, seeming embarrassed, he looked down at something in his lap: a handheld GameZMaster IV.
“I’m Ronan,” I told them all, “and my friend’s name is Greta.” I didn’t think it was polite to point out that summer vacation hadn’t begun ye t — m aybe Sammy had a different setup where he went to school.
Izzy reappeared with a smartphone. “There you go, honey,” she told Greta. “You feel free to call whoever you want. We have a good plan, so it shouldn’t cost us nothing.”
Greta stared at the phone, smiled tightly, and said, “We’re not getting a signal.”
“Tell you what,” Izzy said, “we only just got here, and there’s not so much to see that we’d be missing anything if we gave you two a lift somewheres. What say we pack up and head toward Baltimore? Once we find a signal, you can call your dad.”
“We couldn’t trouble yo u — ” Greta began, but Henry cut her off.
“It’s no trouble at all to help two souls in need. Besides, we want to set a good example for Sammy here.” The boy rolled his eyes. “Let me put up the chairs, and we’ll be on the road before you can say Benedict Arnold.”
Ten minutes later, we were packed into the RV and rolling out of the lot. Henry had wedged himself into a huge caramel-colored leather swivel chair behind the steering wheel and kept chattering nonstop about the motor home’s HD video monitors that acted like rearview and side-view mirrors. Behind him in the kitchen, Izzy was tying on an apron, and farther back, toward the middle of the motor home, Greta and I were sitting with Sammy in a fake leather dining booth. He ignored us, jabbing away at the buttons on his GameZMaster IV.
The clock above the fridge said it was nearly 10 p.m. “What a crazy day,” I said to Greta. I felt relaxed for the first time since my mom had come to get me at school.
Greta slouched back against the bench. “Seriously. But we’re safe now.”
Beside us, Sammy clucked his tongue.
Weird kid , I thought.
The RV was kind of nice. It had everythin g — o ven, fake fireplace, even a stacked washer/dryer, and through a door at the back was a bedroom with a full-size bed. It was like a house on wheels, if you wanted to live in the sort of place that had wall-to-wall carpeting and carpet on the walls, too. Everything looked spotless and brand-new. “You guys really keep this thing clean,” I said.
“It even smells new,” Greta said. “Did you all just buy it?”
“Sort of.” Izzy smiled and turned to us, a loaf of bread in her hands. “Have you had dinner yet? Why don’t I make you kids some sandwiches?” She pulled open one drawer after another until she finally found a butter knife.
“Thanks,” Greta said. “A sandwich would be great.” And then she launched into some story about a magnet school in Baltimore: “We’re both students there. I’m in the sciences but Ronan’s more of a drama geek.”
I tucked my hands in my jeans and shrugged like I was shy, because I didn’t have any idea what to sa y — I didn’t know the first thing about the drama club. I felt something hard and round in my pocket.
The purple glass disk. I’d totally forgotten to give it to Dawkins. I fished it out and turned it over a few times. It was pretty, just a few inches around and collared with a twisted strand of tarnished silver. My mom had written that it was valuabl e — w hy? Sammy watched me while his fingers moved over his GameZMaster IV. I held it to my eye and looked at him.
He stared straight back. “Nice monocle .”
“Thanks,” I said. What a bratty kid. “Good game?” Closing my uncovered eye, I cast my gaze around the RV. Everything looked the same, just a lot more violet.
“It’s supercool,” Sammy said. “You should give it a try.”
I aimed the lens toward the front of the motor home. “I
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