“Weren’t you scared?” I imagine Drew Listerman asking me, because of course he’ll want to interview me about all this for the Channel 7 news: A Day in the Life of a Ten-Year-Old Genie. I see myself shaking my head as the camera pans in super close.
“There was no time to be scared, Drew,” I tell him in my most serious voice. “There was too much work to do.”
But in real life, I am terrified. I’m alone again, and I have no idea where Mr. Hayden and Ms. Lucas have taken my sister. No one can see or hear me. I can’t get in touch with Uncle Max, and I don’t know where the closest airport is, or the phone number of a cab company to get me there.
And if I figured out where I was going, and I found a cab company to take me there, I couldn’t make a phone call to a cab company because the dispatcher wouldn’t be able to hear my voice. And let’s say I made a reservation online. Even then, when the driver came to pick me up, he wouldn’t be able to see me get into his car, so he certainly wouldn’t take me where I was going. He’d just turn around and go back to the cab company and wait for instructions to take someone else somewhere else.
I suppose I could just get into a random cab and hope it eventually picked up another passenger who had to go to the airport. But that could take all day. That could take all week!
New idea: I’ll take the bus. Buses have to make all their stops, whether they can see and hear their passengers or not.
I sit down in front of Trey’s computer and type “Millings Academy” into Google. Apparently it’s located in Grovestand, California. A little more googling, and I find out the closest airport is Orange County International, and that there’s a flight to Pennsylvania leaving in three hours. Plenty of time.
I don’t click the button to buy a ticket, because I don’t need a ticket. No one will see me to stop me from getting on the plane anyway. But I decide to keep Trey’s credit card in case I need it later.
“And that’s how it’s done, Drew,” I say out loud.
Now to Trey’s closet, because I need shoes and he’s got a rack full of them. Multiple pairs of sneakers and flip-flops, each as clean as if they had just come out of the box. Plus, he has a row of half a dozen pairs of loafers—the kind my dad used to wear to work. Work shoes, Dad called them. He had a pair in black and a pair in brown, and he’d switch them up depending on the color of suit he was wearing. On weekends he wore sandals in the summer and sneakers in the winter.
I haven’t seen Dad’s shoes in a long time and I wonder what happened to all of them.
I’m not wearing a suit, or even khakis like Trey and the Reggs, but I take a pair of work shoes anyway. They are a little big on me, and I know I shouldn’t wear shoes that are too big. Do you know how many people trip and fall when their shoes are too big? And do you know if you have a bad enough fall, you could die?
If something happened to me, I’d never be able to rescue Quinn.
I decide to double up on socks, but just as I’m opening the top dresser drawer, there’s another knock on the door. I freeze in place. “No one’s answering,” I hear a voice say from out in the hall. A voice I know: Buzz Cut’s voice.
“Let’s break it,” another voice answers. Shaggy this time. “Gimme a screwdriver.”
“I don’t have a screwdriver,” Buzz says. “Credit cards work, though. I’ve seen them used on TV.”
“Do you have one of those?”
I finger the credit card in my pocket. Ha ha ha, Reggs.
“Nope. But I have a library card.”
“You have a library card?” Shaggy asks, incredulous.
“Ms. Corson made us sign up on the first day of school. I put it in my bag and forgot about it. May as well be put to good use.”
“The best use.”
There’s no time to barricade the door with chairs or the dresser, so I’m just waiting for them on the other side. But when they come in and I try to shove them away, my hands go through them. I wind up facedown on the floor.
Note to self: Genie hands still get rug burns.
“Oh, man, it looks like a regular dorm room,” Shaggy is saying as I rub my sore palms and get back up on my feet.
“What’d you expect?” Buzz asks him.
“I don’t know . . . maybe a king-size bed and a private bathroom and a terrace. Definitely a terrace.”
“If he had a terrace, we’d be able to see it from outside the building. He still has good stuff, though—look at his computer. It’s way nicer than yours.”
“Should I take it?” Shaggy asks.
“No, moron, we can’t take it if we want to frame him.”
“Oh, right,” Shaggy says.
Buzz moves toward the desk chair. “Do you have the flash drive? I’ll stick it in the side port and load the papers on. When we tell Heddle, Trey won’t be able to deny it. The evidence will be right there. And then who’s the cheater?”
“Brilliant,” Shaggy says. He pulls the flash drive from his pocket and hands it to Buzz.
“Huh, well, look at this.” Shaggy stands and looks over Buzz’s shoulder at the monitor. “Looks like our friend was planning a little trip.”
“I wonder what’s in Pennsylvania.”
“Maybe a twerp convention.”
Shaggy and Buzz break into laughter, like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. I don’t have time for this. I put my hand on the door handle, but just before I turn it, something occurs to me: They can’t see me, but they can see the website I pulled up on the computer.
The inspiration hits me like a flash of lightning: Maybe I can spook them into telling me where the bottle is.
I run over to the desk and reach a hand between them to grab the mouse. I click to pull up a blank page.
“Why’s the screen changing?” Buzz asks.
Then I type. I’m not so fast at typing, but the guys are staring at the screen like it’s the most interesting thing in the world: I have a question.
“Dude, the computer has a question,” Shaggy says.
“Do you think it’s a ghost?”
“No, moron. It’s a computer game.” He reaches to punch Buzz in the shoulder, and his hand passes through my arm as he does it. Why can I touch some things same as always, like door handles and computers, but then people’s hands go right through me?
But I can’t let this stuff distract me right now. I keep typing. Where’s the bottle?
“The bottle?” Buzz says. “What kind of game asks about a bottle?”
No time for games, I type. Where is Trey’s bottle?
“Whoa,” Buzz says. “I have a question for you.”
I asked you first.
“This computer has an attitude problem,” Shaggy says. “Kind of like its owner.” He hits at the keys to erase my words.
I wouldn’t do that if I were you.
Shaggy is about to press the delete key again, but Buzz stops him. “I don’t like this,” he says quietly.
I type three more words: Tell me, Jake.
Shaggy falls over backward. Buzz is still staring at the screen, mouth hanging open, so I add: You look surprised, Ollie.
At this point, Shaggy has scrambled up from the floor. He and Ollie race out of the room as if they’re afraid the computer will chase them. I bet they spend the rest of the day trying to convince their friends that what they saw really happened and that they’re not crazy. All because of my observational skills. Now that’s noggining.
Noggining. Verb. The act of using your noggin, which is what Dad called my head.
Oh, Dad. I wish you back. I wish you were here right now. It’s the only wish I need.
But of course Dad is not here. I grab a pair of flip-flops from Trey’s closet, the closest kind of shoe to a one-size-fits-all, and then turn back to the computer and pull up a map of Grovestand, California, on Google. I find the closest bus stop to the school—I have to walk to Hollyhock Drive, make a left on Poppy Lane, and walk another block down, then I’ll be there. I’m a little nervous because I’ll have to cross two streets to get there. Not that I haven’t crossed streets by myself before. Because I have. Of course I have—I even did it in New York City the time I got separated from Uncle Max.
But in New York City, the streets are really crowded. I thought that made it more dangerous. But now that I think about it, it’s a little bit safer, too. Even when you’re alone, you’re not really alone.
I doubt there will be so many people on the streets in this city. And even if there are, no one can see me! What if I trip and fall in the middle of the crosswalk and a car comes speeding through and runs me over because I’m invisible to the driver?
I’ve never before felt so completely all on my own. I gather up all the bravery I have and walk out the door. I head to Hollyhock Drive and down a block. Then I have to cross the first street. I look both ways about five times, because you can never be too careful, step off the curb, and—WHAM!
It wasn’t a car, but I was sure hit by something, and now colors are swirling all around me, so fast, like someone put a rainbow in a blender. It feels like something is pulling me back and back and back.
Could it be that I’m being pulled home?
Suddenly there’s a loud SNAP!, like a giant rubber band was stretched and let go. The wind is rushing in my ears as I fly forward. I think I can make out something in the distance. The roof of a building. I’m headed straight toward it! And there’s no sign of slowing down.
I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I don’t want to die.
I can’t bear to look, so I squeeze my eyes shut tight. But then I open just one eye a crack, and the weirdest, coolest thing is happening—the roof of the building is opening up like a giant mouth. I sail right through and land on my feet with a thud.
“Zack!” Quinn shouts.