Midnight on Strange Street, page 10
An idea came to Lola. It was something she had never done before. An investigation.
Think ABCs. She formed the thought, her hint, and pushed it out to Nando.
Nando watched as Bastian formed the D and O. Suddenly, he pointed and cried, “Got it! A sailboat, right?”
Lola sighed. Nando couldn’t hear her thoughts. Of course, she’d already suspected that. No one could hear her thoughts but the Sardines.
And the aliens.
But Lola didn’t want to think about that right now.
Bastian hopped off his board, groaning. “Nooo. Not even close, man!”
“I’m out of practice.” Nando laughed. “Give me a break, huh?”
The front door opened, and Mrs. Gil appeared.
“Okay, you goofballs.” She swatted Nando’s shoulder. “Everyone in, it’s time to eat.”
Bastian groaned again, but came running to the house, his board in hand.
“Tell me,” Nando called after him.
Bastian shook his head—smug, but also a little annoyed, Lola thought.
“Nope,” he said. “You still gotta figure it out.”
For the first night in months, the fifth chair at the dinner table was filled. Nando’s work hadn’t let him come home for Thanksgiving or even Christmas, and Lola had started to fear that he might never get a break. But now here he was, and Lola was all smiles as she passed around a plate of asparagus, a platter of fish, and a pitcher full of pink lemonade.
“How was work, dear?” asked Mrs. Gil.
Nando looked up sharply at the question, and Lola was reminded of the almost angry way he’d answered a question like that on the night he’d arrived. Today, he had been gone all morning and most of the afternoon, and he hadn’t said a thing about what he was doing in Callaway.
Lola held her breath, but Mrs. Gil spoke again.
“Diego,” she said, turning to her husband. “How was work?”
“Hm?” Mr. Gil swallowed a bite of salmon and said, “Oh, you know the museum. Office politics, kids tapping the glass. The usual.”
“Mhm.” Mrs. Gil nodded halfheartedly, still eyeing her eldest son. “Nando, dear, how is Ira? She must be missing you back in DC.”
Nando gave his mother a look. “Really smooth,” he said. “She’s fine. Actually, she’s in town.”
Mrs. Gil’s eyes got big. “What? And you didn’t bother to tell us. She must come over for dinner. We want to meet her in person!”
Nando picked at his food. “She’s not just my girlfriend, Mom. She’s a colleague, and we’re here on business. If there’s time…”
“There has to be time!” Mrs. Gil insisted.
“Nando,” Bastian cut in. “Will you still be here in two weeks?”
Nando, clearly relieved by Bastian’s intervention, said, “I really don’t know, Bash. This project of ours, it’s a day-to-day thing.”
“Well, if you are, we’ve got this race. It’s called Glow in the Park.”
“It’s really something, Nando,” said Mr. Gil. “Your mother and I attended last year. Oh…what’s the tagline? It was catchy. Mar, what was it?”
“‘The fastest night of the year,’” recited Mrs. Gil, who still looked peeved about the dropped topic of Nando’s girlfriend.
“You know,” piped Bastian, “because it’s the shortest night of the year? But also a race.”
“Now that I guessed,” said Nando, winking.
“I hope there aren’t any sirens this year,” Bastian said. “Last time, they went off in the middle of single speeds, and everyone had to run home. The teams that won didn’t even get their trophies until a week later. No awards ceremony or anything. And of course there wasn’t really a bomb. Just another false alarm.”
“That’s the price of war,” Nando said. “A small price, considering.”
Lola frowned at her brother’s tone. It seemed stiffer somehow, and brittle on its edges. Then her father spoke in a voice Lola knew wasn’t good.
“No child should pay the price of war,” Mr. Gil said. “No child should be afraid.”
Nando cut aggressively into his salmon. “But they are, whether a war’s going on or not. Kids will always be afraid, Dad. If it weren’t a bomb, it’d be the bogeyman.”
“So they’ve thoroughly converted you, then.” Mr. Gil threw his napkin on the table, though he clearly wasn’t through with his meal.
“Not over dinner,” Mrs. Gil said, looking warningly between her husband and son.
Lola set down her knife and fork. Memories swept into her head of the weeks before Nando’s departure, the nights she’d woken up to shouting from downstairs, the sullen dinner table glares, and the way her parents had cried so long and hard at the airport. How could she have forgotten all of that?
“Disagreement isn’t disrespect,” Nando said, his words more brittle than ever. “We can have different thoughts on the war effort. I don’t mind. You shouldn’t, either.”
“And I suppose they taught you all that at the academy,” said Mr. Gil. “How to condescend to your parents. I suppose that’s why you’re ashamed to even use our name.”
“I told you,” Nando said, “the name change was for security purposes. It’s standard.”
“Standard,” Mr. Gil scoffed. “Be honest, Fernando: You’re embarrassed of where you come from.”
“I’m not having this conversation.”
“Because you’re afraid of the facts.”
“Because you’re cowards!” Nando pushed away from the table, rising to his feet.
No, no, thought Lola, desperate. It isn’t supposed to go this way.
“You live in your pretty suburban world,” Nando continued in a raised voice, “where you have the luxury of preaching nonintervention. Where those sirens are only a precaution, not a threat of real danger. You don’t live in the battlegrounds, the coastal cities. You’re not affected. But I’ve seen it firsthand. I know what we’re dealing with.”
“You know nothing.” Mr. Gil had not raised but lowered his voice. It came out like thunder. “And you presume to lecture your mother and father under their roof?”
Lola wished she could sink from her chair right into the floorboards. She didn’t want to be here, to hear any of this.
“Right,” Nando said. “I really thought we could move past this. But if that’s how things are going to be…My work provides free accommodation. I’ll take advantage of that. It’s what I should have done to begin with.”
Nando walked off from the table, shoulders held high. Lola sat still, listening, as he ran up the stairs and into his room. She could picture him there, throwing open his green briefcase, packing away his things, himself.
For a moment, everything had been so perfect.
“You’re just going to let him leave?” Bastian burst out at the quiet table.
Mrs. Gil shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Your brother is an adult, Sebastian. He’s free to do what he wants.”
“I knew you’d do this!” Bastian shouted, pushing out his chair.
Then he, too, ran from the room.
Lola looked at her plate, feeling suddenly tired.
“Can I be excused?” she asked. “I can’t eat anymore.”
Her parents exchanged a sad, helpless kind of glance.
“Okay,” her mother sighed.
Lola got up, taking her plate to the sink, where she scraped the few remaining peas into the garbage disposal. At her back, she heard a slight, stirring sound—like a page being turned. She frowned, setting the dish down and looking toward the noise.
Lola gasped.
The windows were shut. There was no breeze in the kitchen, not even from an air-conditioning vent. And yet, clear as day, the folded creatures atop the refrigerator—Lola’s folded creatures—were moving.
Lola stood still, skin prickling, mind alert, as she watched her paper flowers and birds rearrange themselves, unfolding and refolding, forming new creases and, eventually, new shapes. She opened her mouth, transfixed, as she began to recognize these forms. She knew, somehow, that a purple tulip—now turned to the figure of a girl—represented her, and a deep green canary had taken the triangular shape of a mountain—though not a mountain, exactly. Smaller. A hill.
Lola watched as the purple paper girl climbed to the hill’s top and slid down, on a thin, rose-colored rectangle. A glowboard.
A fizzy sort of sound filled Lola’s head. There was static, heavy at first, then fading as a voice became distinct. It spoke clear and melodically, like a wind chime.
We’ve seen where you gather. We will meet you there. At the appointed time, when…and…rescue…
The static returned, gobbling up the remaining words. Lola couldn’t make them out, no matter how hard she pressed her hands to her ears.
“What appointed time?” she cried. “When?”
“Lola?”
Lola started, looking away from the refrigerator.
Mrs. Gil stood on the kitchen’s threshold, a stack of dirty dishes in her hands. “Mija,” she said. “What’s the matter?”
Lola looked again to the top of the refrigerator, where the folded papers had been playing out their story. Nothing was amiss. The papers had resumed their former shapes—only pretty flowers and birds, arranged in a line, perfectly motionless.
“I—I—” Lola shook her head. “Um, nothing.”
The concern hadn’t left Mrs. Gil’s face. “All right,” she said slowly. “Just leave your dish there, dear. I’ll take care of things tonight.”
Lola nodded. “O-okay.”
Then, without another word, she skirted around her mother and dashed from the kitchen. All the while, a growing conviction burned within her blue-flamed chest:
Hazard Hill.
The aliens planned to meet them on Hazard Hill.
When Lola reached the top of the stairs, she heard her brothers’ voices. Tiptoeing, she made her way to end of the hall and pushed open Nando’s cracked bedroom door. Nando and Bastian were sitting cross-legged on the floor. On the bed lay Nando’s open briefcase, as though he had stopped mid-pack. Lola took a step back, wondering if she was intruding on something private. But when Nando saw her, he motioned for her to join them. Relieved, she stepped inside the room.
“Don’t leave,” she pleaded, taking a seat. “Things will be better in the morning. You can talk to Mom and Dad and work everything out.”
“Lola,” said Nando, shaking his head, “this isn’t a work-outable thing.”
“Sure it is,” she insisted. “Everything can be worked out. If—”
“No, Lola. Not this. They don’t approve of my work. They don’t approve of me. I can see it all over their faces.”
“But we approve!” Lola said, casting Bastian a frantic glance. “Stay for us.”
Nando took Lola’s hand and squeezed it at the knuckles. “Just because I won’t be here doesn’t mean I won’t be around. We can meet up while I’m in town. The Frozen Spoon is still open, isn’t it?”
Lola nodded and mumbled, “That’s not the same.”
“Did you really mean what you said?” Bastian asked Nando. “That stuff about the war. You think we should be fighting?”
Nando ran a hand through his messy black hair. “I think,” he said, “we have to fight. It’s awful, but it’s an awful necessity. If we could find a way around it, any other solution…I would take that in a second. I would.”
There was a faraway look on Nando’s face. If only, thought Lola, he could share the connection that she and Bastian had. Lola looked away, trying to ward off tears. That was when she spotted the folder resting on Nando’s bed. It was open, a single sheet of paper visible. She squinted, making out the letters DGE, written in a large, bold font.
“Nando,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”
Nando caught her gaze. In an instant, he was on his feet, grabbing the folder and slamming it shut. “It’s—That’s—” There was a wild look in his eyes.
“It’s confidential, Lols,” Bastian muttered. “How many times does he have to tell you?”
“But,” said Lola, “we’re your family. I get not telling Mom and Dad, but who would Bastian and I tell about your work? We don’t know any enemy spies.”
Nando dropped the folder into the open briefcase on the bed. “It’s protocol,” he said, gruffly. “These secrets aren’t like other secrets. They’re the government’s.”
He turned to face them, and Lola could see that wild glimmer still in his eyes. “You wouldn’t want to make a traitor of me, would you?”
On instinct, Lola thought of Zander Poxleitner, and of Mitchell and his Grackles. She grimaced. “No, of course not.”
At that moment, the briefcase, which must have been sitting too close to the bed’s edge, toppled over, sending papers and clothes tumbling out. Nando shouted, and Bastian hurried to his side, beginning to gather the scattered items.
“No, no!” cried Nando, waving him off. “Don’t look. It’s got to be—Both of you, stay away!”
“I’m just trying to—” Bastian began, but Nando cut him off with a bellowing “NO.”
Bastian shrank away, and Lola got to her feet, joining Bastian where he stood. Together, they watched their brother collect the fallen papers.
DGE, Lola thought. What did those three letters mean?
Nando threw papers into folders, tossing them into the briefcase, along with socks and shirts. When he’d recovered everything, he clasped the case up tight.
“I’m…sorry,” he said, turning to face them. “I’m sorry, Bash, Lols. This is why I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come in the first place. That was a mistake.”
Lola knew Nando didn’t mean to hurt her, but his words stung all the same. She was still smarting from the pain as she hugged him goodbye, and as she and Bastian watched him descend the stairs, then slip quietly out the front door and into the night, without a word to their parents.
Only after the door had slammed shut did Bastian unclench a fist, revealing to Lola the crumpled paper hidden there.
Dani was awake when the plinks began.
Plink against her window. Then, moments later, another plink. Finally Dani threw off her duvet and crawled out of bed.
Lola stood beneath her window, a pile of mulch flakes in hand. Dani opened the window just as Lola tossed up a piece, which pelted Dani soundly on the cheek.
“Oops!” Lola whispered, dropping the flakes and covering her mouth. Her daisy crown seemed to droop in embarrassment.
Really, Lola. Dani formed the thought and pushed it down. We share thoughts now, remember?
I know, Lola replied. But I wasn’t sure if my thoughts could wake you up.
Dani began to protest, but stopped herself when she saw the urgent expression on Lola’s moon-drenched face. “Coming,” Dani whispered instead, climbing out the window and carefully making her way down the back-porch trellis.
She followed Lola through the sliding fence board, crossing through Avery’s backyard and into the Gils’.
Bastian and Avery were already in Cedar House, Radar curled up between their beanbags, his eyelids drooping. As Dani and Lola stepped inside, he raised his head and let out a welcoming woof.
“Hey, boy,” Dani said, absently rubbing his head. She took a seat. “What’s this about?”
The twins shared a look. Then Bastian cleared his throat and held out a single sheet of paper. It was wrinkled and bent, as though it had been through a good wadding-up and smoothing-out. Dani took the paper and held it between herself and Avery so they could both read its contents in the beam of the clubhouse flashlight.
DGE Departmental Memo
Concerning the contract with Gloworks, Inc.,
for use of facilities and delivery of new resource.
Negotiations proceeding as planned.
Deadline for contractual agreement June 20.
Dani frowned over the words. She read them again, even after Avery had crossed her arms and said, “Uh-huh.” Something about this memo made Dani feel uncomfortable. Alarmed.
“What’s DGE?” she finally asked, handing the paper back to Bastian.
“No clue,” he said. “But whatever it is, I think they’re the people Nando is working for. And it looks like they’re making some kind of deal with Gloworks.”
“With Mr. Jensen,” said Avery, looking ill. “Gross.”
“It does explain why they’re in Callaway, though,” Bastian said.
“But why?” asked Dani. “Why would the government want to make a deal with a glowboard factory?”
Bastian shrugged. “Probably not so the head of the FBI gets a new pair of sliders.”
“Maybe,” Avery said slowly, “they’ve come up with a new use for glow.”
“How?” said Dani. “Glow is glow. They did all those experiments when it was discovered, for weapons and big machines, and those didn’t work, no matter how much of it they used.”
“But maybe it’s different now,” said Avery. “You read that about a ‘new resource.’ Maybe the government’s got some top secret ingredient that will change everything. They’ve got something Gloworks needs, and Gloworks has something they need.”
“Yeah, but what?” Bastian recrumpled the paper, tossing it to the ground. “What’s Nando doing here? Why is he here now?”
“The silver suits,” Dani whispered.
“What?” asked Bastian.
She looked up. “I didn’t tell you all. So much weird stuff has happened, I forgot. But yesterday, after the cafeteria…you know…I skated out to the school to see what was going on. When I got there, there were these people in silver suits with glow detectors. And these other guys—I think they were with the government. It wasn’t just firefighters and police. They were other people. And they were looking for something.”
Lola picked up the memo, smoothed it out, and began to fold it into neat creases. After a few moments, she held up a newly formed creation—a graceful swan—and looked at the others with widened eyes. “Aren’t you all thinking it? What if this has to do with…us? Those silver suits didn’t show up until I—”
