Midnight on Strange Street, page 3
Bastian figured that Nando’s job had something to do with the war. Judging by the news reports and his parents’ constant whispers about a “standoff,” the Global War was getting bad. Really bad. Bastian had never felt too scared, living in Callaway. There were bomb sirens some days, but it wasn’t constant, like Avery said it had been in LA, and like it was in all the big cities. Nando, though—he was in one of those big cities. He was in the most important city of all. Bastian worried about his brother. A lot.
At the end of every call on the digipad, Mrs. Gil asked Nando about his girlfriend, Ira. It was only a matter of time, said Mrs. Gil, before Nando married that girl; it was imperative that he give them fair warning so Mrs. Gil could book their tickets to Madrid, where she had grown up, and introduce Nando’s fiancée to the family.
Luckily, Bastian’s only obligation was to eat dinner, and so he took a seat at the table, placing a napkin in his lap. His mother was in the kitchen, pulling the casserole out of the oven and shouting something to her husband in Spanish. Most of these pre-dinner conversations ended as they did now, with Mr. Gil raising his hands and saying, “Vale, vale, tienes razón.”
“You guys,” sighed Bastian, “you know we don’t like when you do that.”
He looked to Lola, who nodded in agreement. In cases like these, Bastian was the designated twin spokesperson.
“So much attitude!” said Mrs. Gil, bringing the casserole to the table.
“It wouldn’t make you so mad,” added Mr. Gil, “if you and your sister had chosen to study the language.”
Mr. Gil always called Spanish “the language.”
“French sounds nicer,” Bastian said, still the twin spokesperson. “Plus, there are all those irregular verbs in Spanish.”
Mr. Gil burst into laughter. “Do you hear that, Mar? Irregular verbs. Sebastian, where do you get these ideas?”
Bastian shrugged, placing a cherry tomato in the center of his salad.
“Your last day of seventh grade tomorrow,” said Mrs. Gil, settling into her chair. “I can’t believe it. Teenagers, already! Before you know it, you’ll be leaving us for college.”
“In five years,” said Bastian. “That’s not soon at all.”
“It may not seem soon, but you’ll see: Five years is a blink. You’re simply growing up too quickly. And Nando gone off on his own.…”
Though Mrs. Gil sounded perfectly upbeat, her eyes shimmered in the dining room light. Bastian wasn’t the only one who worried about his brother.
Lola touched her mother’s hand, smiling gently. “We’re not that grown-up.”
“One thing’s for sure,” said Mr. Gil. “You won’t be doing any growing up without food.”
With that, he slopped a big serving of casserole onto his plate. The family talked more about the end of school and the egg drop experiment the twins had recently conducted in science class. No one brought up yesterday’s race, but the memory flashed in Bastian’s head again: Now, Bastian!
Was it possible? Could Dani really speak in his head, the way Lola always had? And if that was possible, what else could Dani do? Could she also have…powers? Powers like his?
“Bastian.”
“Huh!” Bastian started from his thoughts.
Everyone at the table was looking at him. His mother seemed both amused and a little concerned. “I was saying that the folks who moved into the Poxleitner house are selling the place again. And why don’t I see Zander around these days? You two are still friends, aren’t you?”
“Uh,” said Bastian. “No. He hangs out with Mitchell now.”
Mrs. Gil’s face tightened. “Carl Jensen’s son? That bully?”
“Yeah.”
“Zander bullies you, too?”
“No,” said Bastian, wishing this dinner were over. “I mean, he’s not right-out mean, exactly. He just hangs with Mitchell’s crowd and…well, he doesn’t say anything when Mitchell is mean.”
“I see,” said Mrs. Gil, frowning. “So Mitchell’s still bothering you?”
Bastian picked at his casserole. He really wished dinner would end.
Zander did more than stand back while Mitchell taunted Bastian. Zander was the reason Mitchell taunted. Sure, Zander had betrayed the other Sardines by leaving the team, but he’d betrayed Bastian the worst. He’d told Mitchell all about Bastian’s art—secret, confidential things—and Mitchell hadn’t let up about it since.
I hear you like to paint with pinks and purples, Mitchell had mocked more than once. They your favorite colors, huh? And just last week, Mitchell had slid a note into Bastian’s locker, attached to a small tube of lip gloss. If you’re gonna act like a girl, the note read, why don’t you look like one, too?
As though being girly was an insult.
Bastian would never forgive Zander for what he’d done. Never.
“Lola,” said Mrs. Gil. “What have those boys been saying?”
Bastian looked up, aghast. His mother was playing dirty.
“Um.” Lola cast a wary look at Bastian. “They just…poke fun sometimes. Because Bastian hangs out with us, and we’re all girls.”
“Jealousy! That’s all that is,” said Mr. Gil, winking at Bastian.
But Bastian found it hard to believe that Mitchell Jensen could be jealous of anyone; he was the richest kid in town. He never had to worry about saving up for new glowboard equipment, and he bragged about how he’d been taking private skating lessons since he was four years old. What did Bastian have that Mitchell could possibly want?
Anyway, Bastian didn’t like talking about Mitchell, and he didn’t like it when his mother called what Mitchell did bullying, though Bastian guessed that was technically what it was. Repeating the stupid things Mitchell said only gave his words more power, and that made Bastian feel small and weak all over again. Like he hadn’t done or been enough to stay out of Mitchell’s way.
To his relief, the topic was forgotten when Mr. Gil brought up his work at the Callaway Wildlife Museum, which had recently acquired a tarantula. Lola covered her mouth in horror as Mr. Gil wriggled his hand toward the breadbasket, imitating the giant spider’s scurrying legs. The table shook with laughter, and dinner carried on, but Bastian stayed quiet the rest of the meal.
“What’re you thinking of, my brooding artist?” Mrs. Gil asked him as they were clearing the table.
Bastian was thinking of a lot of things. He was thinking of Dani’s voice in his head, and of Zander’s betrayal, and of losing to the Grackles, and of the blue flame that had been growing inside his chest, day by day.
Only, he couldn’t tell his mother any of those things.
So Bastian said, “Nothing much.”
And once the table was cleared, he followed Lola into the dark backyard for Sardines Night.
Avery was late for Sardines Night, but she had a good reason. Sort of. She was reading an email. An email she’d read fifty times before.
Radar, the best Australian shepherd in all of Texas, sat by Avery’s side, in front of the kitchen computer. He watched her intently, his head tilted, one ear floppy, the other pricked. Avery felt his stare and looked down.
“It’s stupid to keep reading it, right?” she asked him.
Radar cocked his head.
“It’s not like I’m nervous,” Avery went on. “He’s my dad, you know?”
Radar blinked at Avery.
“Fine,” she sighed, turning her attention to the computer screen. “I guess I’m pathetic, or whatever.”
There was a folder in Avery’s in-box marked Important. She opened it now and clicked on the only item the folder contained: an email from her dad, Eric Miller, dated two months ago. For the umpteenth time, Avery read the letter’s contents:
Hey, Veemeister!
Hope you’re doing great. Mom says school is going well and you’re really loving your sport competitions. She and I have talked this through, and I’d like to plan a trip to see you in Callaway this summer. The earlier the better, I say. Maybe June? Let me know what you think.
Love,
Dad
Avery clicked out of the email. She swallowed, trying to soothe her dry throat.
Her dad was coming to visit. It was only a matter of weeks now. And he hadn’t canceled. He always canceled. Every day he didn’t write her to say sorry, plans have changed, his promise felt a little more real.
“AVERY MILLER!”
Avery started, and Radar jumped to attention, directing a low woof toward the kitchen door. Through the glass pane, Avery saw Dani Hirsch standing with hands on her hips, her fair skin washed out by the porch light.
“Coming, coming!” Avery yelled, getting to her feet. She rubbed Radar’s head—a quick goodbye—and hurried to the door.
When she stepped out into the hot, sticky night, she was met with Dani’s glare.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
Avery merely smiled and shrugged, then followed Dani, who was already forging a path through the grass toward the loose fence board that led to the Gils’ backyard.
Avery’s thoughts were still on the email.
Weeks.
Her dad was coming in weeks.
This time, it was really happening, and she’d be able to put her plan into action.
Avery crossed into the Gils’ yard with a buoyant spring in her step.
Every Sardines Night began with the game.
That’s the way things had been since the Sardines had formed two and a half years ago—way before Avery had moved to Cedar Lane. The Sardines gathered every Sunday night at eight o’clock sharp, after everyone’s dinner but before anyone’s curfew.
Sardines Night was a night for making plans and sharing stories inside Cedar House, the Sardines’ official clubhouse in Lola and Bastian’s backyard. It was a night to discuss glowboarding techniques and upcoming competitions. It was also a night to talk about what was going on in the neighborhood and at school. Sometimes, it was a night to watch Radar perform the tricks that Avery had taught him that week.
Every Sardines Night was slightly different, but one thing was always the same: The night began with a game of sardines.
When Avery followed Dani into Cedar House, she found out that Dani wasn’t the only Sardine in a bad mood. Bastian looked sullen, too, and Avery knew that was thanks to the way things had gone at the May Day Draft Train Bonanza. Dani and Bastian wouldn’t so much as glance at each other, and Lola looked as uneasy as Avery felt. That’s why Avery was extra grateful that it was her week to be It. She could escape from the simmering tension, while the other Sardines counted down her hiding time.
Sardines was the exact opposite of hide-and-seek, which was what made it twice as fun. Only one person hid, and everyone else sought. Once the first seeker found you, they squeezed in close, so the two of you were crammed like sardines in a tin. Then you kept on cramming until only one seeker was left. When that seeker found you, the whole group laughed and made a big deal about why it had taken the last Sardine so long.
Avery loved to be It. She liked the aloneness of hiding first. She liked how the waiting made her heart flutter and flip. It was almost as good as the feeling she got when she skated.
Now Avery stood outside the clubhouse, considering her hiding prospects. The official limits stretched from the Gil property straight across to the Hirsch lawn, and then the back fence up to Cedar Lane. Anything within those four lines was fair game—indoor or outdoor, upstairs or downstairs. Over the past year, the Sardines had used up most of the best hiding spots.
There was one excellent spot, though, where no one had hidden yet: the oak tree in the Hirsches’ backyard. Avery had been eyeing it for a while now. The branches were sprawling and good for climbing, but they had been pruned so far up that those nearest the ground were a big reach away. The climb would require jumping, a good grip, and excellent sneaker treads. That, Avery guessed, was why no one had dared to hide there yet: It would take time, and it would be dangerous.
Tonight, Avery decided, she was brave enough to try.
She cut across the Gils’ lawn and into her own, passing the broken-down swing set that she and her mom had never fixed up. She pushed open the loose fence board that led from her yard to the Hirsches’ and, at last, approached the oak tree, which stood tall, shading a padlocked toolshed.
Even the lowest branch was high up, and Avery had to jump three times before she caught hold. She was strong, but most of that strength was in her legs—great for pushing a glowboard and keeping poised. There was much less power in her small, bony arms. Pain burned down Avery’s shoulders, but she gritted her teeth and, step by step, inched her sneakers up the trunk until she was parallel to the branch, clinging for dear life.
“You’re basically cheating!” shouted Dani.
“Stop following me!” Bastian cried.
Avery gulped. The sixty-second count was over, and the others were coming to find her. In one big go, she heaved herself onto the branch so that she was facing the ground. She scrunched toward the trunk, panting. Once there, she contorted until she was on her feet, and then she really started to climb. She rose, up and up, until she finally settled on a branch that was sturdy and wide enough for sharing. There, she was hidden in a cloak of green leaves. For anyone to find her, they’d have to stand directly beneath the tree and look up.
Flush with triumph, Avery pulled a paperback from her back jeans pocket. She always had a book on hand for moments like this. Tonight, though, the moonlight was obscured by the leaves of the oak, and even with squinting, Avery couldn’t make out the words of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Sighing, she tucked the book away. Without a story to distract her, her mind wandered where it almost always did these days: Glow in the Park.
Glow in the Park was, hands down, the biggest glowboarding event of the year. It began at dusk on the first day of summer, which this year fell on the twentieth of June. There would be a draft train—the only event the Sardines were old enough to compete in—as well as single speeds and duo racing, and for each race there were cash prizes. The first-place prize for the draft train competition was $500—a sum that Avery could hardly wrap her head around. The truth was that the Sardines really needed that money. Dani’s parents had refused to buy her any glowboard equipment, which Dani claimed was their attempt to force her back into competitive swimming. Avery’s mom was working overtime to pay the new mortgage, and she couldn’t spare any extra change. Both Avery and Dani were skating with worn-out sliders and knee pads and out-of-date boards. Meanwhile, the Grackles got new equipment every single season, straight off the Gloworks factory belts, courtesy of Mitchell’s dad, the so-called King of Callaway. Unless the Sardines won the money, there was no way they could keep up with that.
It all came down to Glow in the Park. If they didn’t have the prize money to buy new equipment, they’d be through. You couldn’t be a team after all, if only half that team had the right stuff to skate.
And Avery cared more than anything about keeping the Sardines together. After all the bad things that had happened in LA, she had made not just one friend, but three. Friends who didn’t know about her problems in California. They hadn’t known her dad or watched her parents divorce. They didn’t know about a certain visit to the principal’s office. They didn’t know about Avery’s ex-friend, Katelyn Sumner. Avery could lose a competition, but she couldn’t lose any more friends.
The moon shone speckled light down through the oak leaves. Somewhere in the neighborhood, someone was barbecuing, filling the air with the scent of grilled steak and charcoal. Closer, a dog barked—Radar, in Avery’s house. Closer still there came a sound: thup, swish, thup, swish, thup. Someone was walking through the grass, close to the tree.
Avery peered through the leaves, making out a pink-and-red flower crown. She sucked in her breath, like breath holding could make her invisible. Instead, it did just the opposite; Lola flinched at the sound, looking straight up and meeting Avery’s eyes. Lola grinned, revealing the prominent gap between her front teeth. She waved at Avery, then looked around and whispered, “Coming up!”
“Careful!” Avery whispered back, but Lola was moving fast.
Lola was shorter than Avery, but she was strong, too. Avery watched, awed and a little envious, as Lola grabbed hold of the lowest branch and shimmied her way to a sit. She did so far quicker than Avery had, and seconds later, she was by Avery’s side.
“That was impressive,” Avery whispered to Lola. “Why haven’t you ever hidden here?”
“I have, actually,” said Lola, breathing hard. “But it was before you moved in, and it was in winter, when all the leaves were gone, so there wasn’t a good cover like we’ve got now.”
Lola offered a fist, which Avery happily bumped. Then the two girls watched and waited, swinging their legs in tandem, Lola’s olive-toned knee knocking pleasantly against Avery’s pale, freckled one. Lola had brought up with her the smell of jasmine and lavender—a soap she’d been using ever since Avery had met her. The scent made Avery smile contentedly. Secretly, she was glad that Lola had been the first one to find her. Over the past year, she’d grown closer to Lola than to the other Sardines. Avery loved talking—especially about the stuff she’d read in her latest book—and Lola was such a good listener and question asker. They had a joint cause, too: Lola, like Avery, didn’t like it when the Sardines fought. Avery knew she could count on Lola to have her back when it came to group disagreements. In fact, Avery felt confident that Lola had her back when it came to anything. She hoped Lola felt the same way about her.
Now that Lola was here, Avery knew without a doubt who would find them next: Bastian. The twins were dependable that way.
Sure enough, one minute later, Bastian appeared beneath the tree, hands on his hips, looking left and right. Lola stifled a giggle into her knuckles. Again, Bastian swept his gaze across the yard. Then the winning thought occurred to him. He looked upward, and Avery and Lola waved down.
“Dani isn’t going to like this,” he said once he was settled beside them.
That was true. Dani always got miffed when the twins beat her, and she’d be especially insulted to find they’d hidden in her own backyard.
