CHAPTER 8
The next morning, Teddy sat at the kitchen table as his mom got ready for work. He’d lain awake puzzling over the disappearances of Walter and Albert, all the while listening to the branches clawing at his bedroom window. Either the boys in the neighborhood were playing very disturbing tricks on him or his mind was, but he couldn’t figure out which, and for the second night in a row, he hadn’t slept a wink.
His mom noticed. “So I take it you haven’t had the best first couple of days here,” she said.
“Not the best, no,” Teddy admitted.
She rose from the table. “I’m too new to ask for time off work or I’d stay here with you, but listen, I want you to stick close to home today, okay?”
“No problem,” Teddy mumbled, and he meant it. He wasn’t going near rivers, construction sites, or anyplace remotely dangerous.
“Okay,” his mom said, giving him a good-bye kiss for which he felt too old. “A repairman is coming later to look at the air conditioner.”
An hour later, the repairman was bent under the air-conditioning unit with his skinny rump in the air. Teddy stood nearby holding a length of new pipe.
The repairman tossed out a piece of old metal pipe from the unit that was tattered and mushroomed out at one end as though it had exploded.
“Here’s your problem,“ he said. “Tree roots in your pipes.”
“What?”
The man stood up, one greasy hand on his pockmarked chin. The name tag on his coveralls said HANK.
“You deaf?” he said.
“No. It just seems weird.”
“It’s common, really.” Hank yawned, flipping his stringy hair out of his eyes. “Over time, they get into everything.”
“Why?”
“Looking for water, usually. In the desert those roots will get into sewers, plumbing, even crawl all the way to the river. Can’t believe this one went after the air conditioner, though. Must be desperate.”
Hank rummaged in his pocket, pulled out a pocket knife, and began to clean his fingernails. He turned his narrow green eyes on Teddy. “You know, you look familiar, kid,” he said as he rubbed an old scar on his forehead. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so,” Teddy said. “I just moved here.”
Hank shrugged and snatched the new pipe from Teddy. He plopped back down to install it, hoisting his rump back up in the air.
Teddy stared at the old mutilated pipe. “This is completely destroyed.”
“Yeah,” Hank agreed from under the air-conditioning unit. “They pry their way in. Powerful things, though they usually just crack stuff. That little number looks like a nuclear bomb went off in it.”
Hank finished attaching the new pipe and scooted out from under the air conditioner, wiping his hands on his shirt.
Teddy nodded, troubled by how easily simple tree roots had forced him out of his home.
“Will they come back?” he asked.
Hank shrugged. “Maybe, eventually. No one can give guarantees, kid.”
