Midnight on Strange Street, page 19
Lola listened, nodding occasionally.
“But now? I don’t know. He seems like he might actually be sorry. Part of me wants to forgive him, but the other part…it can’t.”
The lawn sprinkler carried on: chuh-chuh-chatter-chatter-chuh.
Avery released a shaky sigh. “I never told you this, Lols. I never told any of you guys. But back in California, things weren’t so great. I got in trouble because of my powers. I didn’t know what they were then. I lost my friend, and my dad? He wasn’t there for me.”
Avery shut her eyes, and Lola felt a familiar kind of nudge. Images appeared in her mind, but they weren’t of her own making. Avery was sharing a memory with her. Lola watched as yellow bathroom tiles shattered, giving way to a violent spray of water. Then she saw a principal’s severe countenance, along with the face of a man she now knew to be Avery’s father. Hurt and disappointment—both Avery’s—welled within her.
Then the memories faded, and Lola said, “Vee, I’m so, so sorry.”
“I guess I never told you all because…I don’t know, you might think I was a freak. If you knew my friend had left me, maybe you’d leave, too.”
Lola squeezed Avery’s freckled hand. “You think I’d do that? Avery, you’re my best friend.”
Avery looked up, dumbstruck. “What about Bastian?”
Lola crinkled her nose. “Well, he’s my twin. That’s different. But best friends are the people you choose. And I’m not un-choosing you.”
Avery shook her head. “I thought you were still mad at me. About last night. What I said about Nando.”
“I was mad,” Lola admitted. “I was scared, too. I still am. I don’t like all this stuff about the silver suits, and then the note on Cedar House…Something doesn’t feel right.”
“I don’t think Nando’s a bad person,” Avery said, with feeling.
“I know,” Lola replied.
“I’m just scared, like you. It’s hard to not be suspicious.”
Lola studied her knees. “It hurt, though. What you said about him. I’m not blinded because he’s my brother. I know who Nando is. I know he’d never do anything that would hurt me or Bastian.”
Avery nodded. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t right for me to say that. And maybe I’m suspicious, but I do trust you.”
“I forgive you,” Lola said, feeling an instant rush of relief. “Who knows how I’d feel about Nando if he wasn’t family. Top secret government stuff is always suspicious.”
Avery sighed again, but this time the heavy murk had cleared from her eyes. “Good,” she whispered, resting her head on Lola’s shoulder.
The girls sat in yellow light, the sun winking out rays onto rooftops and tall cedar trees.
“Anyway,” Avery said after a while, “it’ll all be over tonight.”
“Thank goodness.”
Avery smiled against Lola’s arm. “You sound relieved.”
“I’m nervous,” Lola said, in a small voice.
“About tethering?”
Lola frowned, thinking. “Not about that, actually. I was at first, but…it kind of feels nice to have a job all to myself. One that I’m good at.”
“Really good at,” Avery said. “You’re the reason we’re going to win, Lols.”
Lola blushed, her heart quickening. “It’s teamwork. We’re all the reason why.”
“But you most of all,” Avery insisted, and before Lola could argue further she added, “I get it, though. Wanting it all to be over with. I mean, I like racing a lot, but…it can be stressful. Especially when Dani gets into one of her moods.”
“She just wants us to win,” said Lola. “I like that about her: Dani goes after what she wants. She doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Especially from Mitchell Jensen.”
“Especially him.” Lola laughed. “But…” She paused, turning thoughtful. “I do want us to win. Not to show the Grackles who’s boss, or to get the money, though. I want to win because it’d make all of you happy. That’s all I want: for us to be happy.”
A memory prickled in Lola’s mind of Nando at the dinner table, his voice raised, and of angry looks on her parents’ faces. She closed her eyes, shutting the images out. Why couldn’t everyone around her be happy for one moment? No war zones and gunfire on TV, no fights in her family, no silver suits lurking close by, no confrontations with Mitchell and his Grackles.
Maybe that was impossible, but Lola was still going to hope.
“My dad’s coming to the race tonight,” Avery said. “I don’t even know if I want him there.”
“Well,” said Lola, “we’ll be there, too. If you want us to chase him away, then that’s what we’ll do.”
Avery laughed, sitting up straight but leaving behind the scent of her coconut sunscreen on Lola’s shoulder.
“Like you could ever chase someone away, Lola Gil,” she said, getting to her feet.
Lola stood, too, the sudden movement sending her rose crown askance. She righted it, then shrugged. “I could try.” Squeezing Avery’s hand, she asked, “Feeling any better?”
“A little. But still confused.”
Me too, Lola replied. About aliens, and our powers, and everything.
Avery started for the door but then stopped.
“Did you know,” she said, “your thoughts—they’re different from the others’. It’s hard to describe, but they feel…like a color.”
Lola grinned, her stomach fluttering happily. “They feel like a color?”
Avery’s cheeks pinked. “Guess that sounds stupid.”
“No. It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”
From inside the house, Radar barked in agreement.
Today was the day, and the man in the navy suit started it off with a strong cup of coffee. By this time the next morning, the terms of the contract would be fulfilled, and he would go down in history as a discoverer. A peacemaker. The man who brought an end to the worst war the world had ever seen. He would make his family line proud.
The man’s digipad chimed, and the screen informed him of an incoming video call from the department.
When the man pressed the accept button, the woman with the high ponytail appeared on the screen.
“Ira,” the man said, brightening into a smile. “Good morning.”
Ira nodded at the greeting, then said, “How is everything on your end? I know you don’t need the reminder, but it’s policy to inform you that our contract expires at—”
“Yes, I know,” the man interrupted. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going according to plan.”
“Then you still intend to apprehend the glowhosts tonight?”
“We do,” said the man. “We’re using every resource available to us. We’ve even brought on that reporter—someone to chronicle the process. Everything will be done in the proper way.”
“Very well. I look forward to your next call.”
The digipad screen went dark, and the man in the navy suit drained the last of his coffee. He set down the mug with a forceful clank. Then he looked out his window, at the dawn-kissed horizon of Callaway, Texas. This great town had sprung out of nothing, a wasteland turned to a bustling center of commerce. Over the decades, it had changed and expanded, and now it stood on the edge of yet another transformation—one in which he would play a part.
Tonight, at the race called Glow in the Park, everything would change.
The man rose from his chair and picked up his green briefcase. Then he set out to do the day’s work.
On the first day of summer, meteorologists predicted clear skies for Callaway, with temperatures taking an unusual dip, down to the low seventies. It was the perfect weather for Glow in the Park. For the Sardines’ sweet victory.
Dani thought about victory while choking down her morning power smoothie. She thought about it while reading the same sentence of an article in Glowboard Monthly over and over again. She thought about it as she fixed her own dinner, alone in the kitchen, opening a can of tomato soup and pouring it into a pot on the stove, all without using her hands. While the soup was simmering, she noticed the note her parents had left on the digipad:
Work party, be home late. Bedtime at ten o’clock.
Typical. Her parents had left for a party and completely forgotten about the race. The race they’d made a deal about. Not that Dani wanted her parents to come. If the Sardines didn’t win first place—which wouldn’t happen—she couldn’t stomach seeing her mom and dad’s triumph.
After eating, Dani went through her pregame exercises. She ran in place for three minutes and did twenty-five jumping jacks. She breathed in and out, facing herself in the mirror.
“You’ve got this, Danielle Hirsch,” she told her reflection. “It’s race day, and nothing’s going to bring you down.”
Then she grabbed her glowboard and headed outside.
It was still daylight, just after dinnertime. Registration at Glow in the Park began at seven thirty, which gave the Sardines a half hour to skate out to Hazard Hill. Bastian and Lola were sitting on their front lawn, Lola adding to a clover chain that she’d draped around Bastian’s neck. Avery was at her front door, arguing with someone: Radar.
“I can’t take you!” she was saying, shooing his nose back inside. “There’s no one to watch out for you, bud.”
Radar barked loudly, then whined, and Dani wondered, not for the first time, if that dog really could be one of them. Dani thought of the message Bastian had relayed last night, direct from the aliens: The five of us have to be together.
“Hey,” Dani said, jogging up to Avery. She held out a hand for Radar to happily lick. He barked some more, as though entreating Dani to reason with Avery. He really did seem to know what was going on.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gil are coming,” Dani said. “I bet they could bring Radar along.”
“Huh,” said Avery. “Should I ask?”
Dani wondered if Avery was thinking the same thing, about Radar being one of them. A tele-whatever. A true Sardine.
“Wouldn’t hurt,” she said.
“Ask what?” Lola was skipping up to them, Bastian trailing behind, attempting to rid himself of the cumbersome clover chain.
“Would your parents bring Radar to the race, you think?” asked Dani.
“Sure!” Lola’s eyes brightened at the suggestion. “They love Radar. Don’t they, boy? They love you!”
Lola knelt and patted down Radar, who was bursting with energy, jumping and wiggling his tail in anticipation. Together, the team walked him over to the Gils’ house.
Nando’s car was gone from the driveway, as it had been for nearly three weeks now. All the twins had shared with Dani was that he was still in town but no longer staying with their family. She had noticed, though, that the usually chipper Mr. Gil had developed a perpetually creased brow. He greeted the Sardines at the garage door, where Lola explained the situation and her father said that of course, he and Mrs. Gil would be happy to bring Radar to the race.
The Gils always offered to drive the team to Hazard Hill, but that would take the fun out of the pre-race. It was tradition for the Sardines to skate to races together, swishing in with style, glowstreams trailing behind them. That was how winning teams behaved, Dani insisted, and the others never argued with her. She was pretty sure they all liked the grand entrance, too.
So the Sardines left a barking Radar with Mr. Gil and set out for the street. There, they kicked on their boards and mounted.
“Give me one more good race,” Dani whispered to her board, flipping the switch.
This time, it turned on without a hitch, as though it knew what tonight meant to her.
The road stretched out before the four friends.
Forget Mitchell Jensen and his note.
Forget the silver suits and their unknown mission.
Forget columns of blue light that spoke of an unknown alien world.
Tonight was about the race.
“All right, Sardines,” said Dani, clicking her helmet into place. “Let’s win this thing.”
Hazard Hill was bustling with people: fans, family, officials, and racers all gathered for the big event. At the base of the hill, past the finish line, vendors had set up tents, selling hot dogs, hamburgers, and fresh lemonade. Farther up, fans had gathered along the official racing track, edging as close as they could to the neon spectator lines. But the main attraction for the Sardines, once they’d arrived, was the registration table set up beneath the hill’s abandoned gate. There, the organizers of the Junior Glowboard League were signing in teams and handing out glow sticks to all participants. Lola had taken several small sticks and connectors and was threading them through her crown braid. Bastian cracked the stick in his own hand, revealing a bright magenta, and shoved it into his back pocket. He couldn’t believe pointless glow sticks like this were the extent of the fun before real glow had been discovered.
But why do you like Component G so much? Bastian thought, strapping on his slider gloves. Because it’s weird and unexplainable…like you?
Quick as he could, Bastian shook the question from his head. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about his powers or the light beings. It wasn’t the time to consider that, last night, when he’d tried to send the aliens his memory, they hadn’t heard. That maybe his memory plan to save the world was all wrong.
No, now was the time to focus. Now was the time to win.
Draft train was the first event of the night, beginning before sunset, at eight fifteen. Dani retrieved a schedule from the sign-in desk, which she held up for all the Sardines to see. Once again, their team had been assigned the very last racing spot, so they stayed at the base of the hill awhile longer, wedged into the crowd that had gathered behind the spectator lines.
Even as the first of the racers flew past, Bastian’s eyes strayed from the track. Nando had said he couldn’t attend the race, but Bastian still found himself searching the faces of the crowd. Instead, he caught sight of his parents, newly arrived, walking past the food vendors. A leashed Radar trotted by Mrs. Gil’s side, tail wagging. When the Gils saw Bastian, they shot excited waves and then raised a sign above their heads. SARDINES! was written in giant pink bubble letters on poster board.
Bastian’s cheeks burned in embarrassment.
Lola was grinning. She blew her parents a kiss.
“So much for competition,” snorted Dani, still focused on the track. “Two twenty-five? And they’re ninth-graders! Skate more like kindergarteners.”
That caught Bastian’s attention again. A racing time of 2:25? From a high school team all the way from Dallas? That was a very good sign.
The Sardines continued to watch draft trains swish by. Every five minutes, a new team raced, but none were even close to competition. The Sardines’ newest race time still had the best beat by a full five seconds. Bastian noticed, as they watched, that Avery kept looking around.
“Vee,” he said eventually, “who’re you looking for?”
“Huh?” Avery turned to him, startled. “Uh, no one.”
But he watched as, silently, Lola reached out and squeezed Avery’s hand—a single, silent pulse.
Then the Grackles were up. Bastian was surprised that Mitchell hadn’t found them beforehand, to throw some more taunts their way. Not that Bastian wanted him to. He could do without Mitchell Jensen for a whole race day. For his whole life, actually.
You don’t play by their rules. You make your own. Nando’s advice echoed in Bastian’s head. That’s what Bastian would do: He would do what he was great at and skate his heart out. That’s how he would prove Mitchell wrong.
“They’re off!” shouted the finish line official, listening to the race report through his earpiece.
The crowd at the base of Hazard Hill waited. All they could hear was the distant cheering from those who had stationed themselves farther up the track, at the starting line. Two minutes passed like this, with the occasional update from the game official—“They’re skating strong!” or “The players continue in formation!”
Then there was a burst of sound and sight. The Grackles rounded the corner, Zander leading the pack, elbows tucked in, helmet forward, in perfect form. Beside Bastian, Dani stared at her digiwatch, speaking under her breath. In a flash, the Grackles crossed the line, and the crowd around them erupted into cheers.
This is it, thought Bastian. The time we have to beat. It can’t be more than—
“Race time!” the game official shouted through his bullhorn, and in that moment, the world seemed to lose its sound. Bastian waited, hands clenched at his side.
“Looks like we’ve got a new all-time record, folks!” the official bellowed. “Grackles take the lead with two eleven!”
The crowd went wild.
Bastian felt all his breath wither and die in the back of his throat.
2:11. No. That wasn’t possible.
Someone rammed into his shoulder, hard. It was Dani. She was pushing against bodies, slipping away into the crowd.
“Hey!” Bastian called after her. He looked to Lola and Avery, who were wide-eyed and openmouthed.
Without another word, the three of them followed after Dani, pushing past sharp elbows and sweaty bodies, making their way up Hazard Hill’s walking path. The crowd thinned out the farther up they went—the farther away they got from the finish line—until there was no crowd left at all. No one ever watched races from this part of the track. For spectators, the beginning and ending were the interesting parts of a race, not the middle.
With no crowd in the way, Bastian caught sight of Dani running uphill.
“Dani!” he shouted after her. “Hey, slow down, would you?”
Dani groaned loudly but whipped around, waiting for the others to catch up.
“I don’t get it,” she spat, once the others reached her. “Two eleven can’t be right. We were going to set an all-time record. Nobody’s come close to two twelve before. No one. How could the Grackles have gotten that fast, that quick?”
