cream, clear, real, mice, éclair, lime, mile, meal, realm
COSMO DIDN’T WANT me to come in with him, but he also didn’t want me to call the cops, so I stood outside, feeling shivery and numb and scared.
After a few minutes, he told me it was OK to come in.
‘Nothing seems to be missing,’ he said.
‘It was a message, wasn’t it?’ I told him. ‘You owe me.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It was kids. A random prank.’
‘But—’
‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘Yeah. Got it.’ And I did. He was telling me that it was better for him – better for both of us – if that’s what everyone else who lived here thought this was.
‘How horrible, what happened to the Economopouloses,’ my mom said, as we walked over to Cypress Elementary the next day. It was a beautiful warm April afternoon, and it was even more special because it came after three days of rain. The warm sun on the wet grass and the trees and the millions of colorful flowers that now bloomed all over the place made everything smell delicious.
‘Dumb teenagers,’ I said.
‘I picked this neighborhood because it was supposed to be safe. Then we wind up with an ex-con upstairs, and now this …’
‘Mom. It is safe.’
I logged on to my cyber-teacher and, as usual, Mr Acheson stopped by to say hello. He was all dressed up in a navy blue suit that I hadn’t seen before and he looked like he’d lost some weight. He and my mother wandered off to talk about who knows what while I got my work done. As usual, I didn’t budge from the lab until my mom returned; I’d learned my lesson about leaving the school solo. She was a few minutes late, again. While I waited, I thought I caught a glimpse of Troy walking past, and I wondered what poor sucker the Three Stooges had chosen to pick on, now that I was gone.
Like I said, it was just a routine day. That is, until we got home. Because that’s when a miracle happened. A minor miracle, but still, one of those perfect little moments that make you think there really is a Higher Being up there, and that for one random moment, he’s watching over you and no one else.
Mom was listening to music while she made one of her tuna casseroles, so I’d have something to eat once she left for work. I was reading Inkspell, the sequel to Inkheart.
Mom put the casserole into the oven, then she turned to me. ‘Ambrose, we need to talk.’
‘About what?’
‘Put your book down.’
She turned off the music and sat beside me on the couch. I put my book down and looked at her. She sounded serious, and she looked serious, too. My stomach started to do somersaults. I was sure I was busted. She must have found out Cosmo and I were spending time together.
‘You know that I will never love any man the way I loved your father,’ she began.
‘Yeah.’
‘And you know that my first priority, forever and always, is you, Ambrose. You’re the most important person in my life, period.’
‘I do know that.’ And suddenly I felt a wave of panic. She was going to tell me she had six months to live. ‘Mom, is something wrong? Are you sick?’
She laughed and said, ‘Oh, God, no, nothing like that.’ She took a deep breath and continued, ‘I’ve been asked on a date.’
‘A date?’
‘Well, it’s not really a date, it’s a one-day cooking class.’
‘Who asked you?’
‘Bob. Mr Acheson.’
‘You’re kidding me.’ But I knew she wasn’t. All those times he’d ‘casually’ dropped by now made perfect sense. Still, it was hard to imagine Mr Acheson, with his nose hairs and his wacky ties and his receding hairline, dating anyone, let alone my mom.
‘It’s a funny story, actually,’ Mom continued, twirling a piece of hair on her finger – a sure sign she was nervous. ‘He won a contest. He entered his name in a draw at a bookstore, and he won two tickets to an all-day Italian cooking course at Barbara Jo’s Books to Cooks two Saturdays from now. So, in some ways, it’s not really a date, we’re just … taking a course together, and I thought, well, it wouldn’t hurt for me to learn a few more skills in the kitchen …’
She looked at me, concerned, because I was dead quiet. I was quiet partly because I just couldn’t picture my mom with Mr Acheson, but mostly because I was thinking that the Scrabble tournament was two Saturdays from now. She could go to her cooking course. I could play in the tournament.
‘Ambrose, if you don’t want me to go, just say so. I’ll call him and tell him no. In fact, I should probably call and tell him no anyway—’
‘No!’ I shouted, startling her. ‘I mean … of course you should go. You should go on dates. You’re not bad looking for someone your age.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ she said.
‘You’re welcome. Just – don’t look in his nose. He has lots of nose hairs.’
‘Really? I hadn’t noticed. Actually, I think he’s kind of cute.’
I almost fake-barfed, but I stopped myself.
‘You’re honestly sure you’re OK with this?’
‘I’m sure. Go.’
She smiled, relieved.
And so did I.
Later that afternoon, I was on a cloud when Mom went to work. I wanted to run upstairs and tell Cosmo the good news, but I remembered he had an NA meeting after work. The Economopouloses were out, too, because I couldn’t hear their footsteps or their Greek music upstairs.
So I warmed up some tuna casserole and ate it, then I practiced my blocks and my punches to a Bryan Adams CD. When I was done, I got out some of the word lists Mohammed had printed up for me and put on the TV for company.
At about eight o’clock, there was a knock on the door.
It was dark outside, and I could just see a figure through the gauze curtain on the window. Our outdoor light had burned out, so I couldn’t flip it on for a better look. I figured it was Cosmo, home from his meeting. But when I threw open the door, it wasn’t Cosmo.
It was Silvio.
You know that expression, ‘My heart leapt into my throat’? Well, that’s what mine did. He was even scarier looking up close and he was standing under our outside light. His skin was kind of gray and his teeth were all crooked and yellow.
‘Hey. Remember me?’ he said. He smiled, but it wasn’t friendly.
‘Sh-should I?’ I squeaked.
‘I’m your uncle Cosmo’s friend.’
‘Oh, yeah. Um, he’s not home right now.’ I tried to close the door, but he held out one powerful arm to stop it.
‘You’re not really his nephew, are you?’
‘I – what are you talking about?’
‘You think I’m an idiot?’
‘No.’ My stomach felt queasy. I was afraid I might have a diarrhea poo, right there in front of him, right in my pants. All I could think about was that he could kill me with his bare hands and my mom would find the body when she came home from work. All her over-protective theories would be proved right, and she’d be left truly alone in the world. It was enough to make me want to cry.
‘Pass a message on to your “uncle” for me, will you?’
I nodded.
‘Tell him his buddy Silvio dropped by tonight. And I want what he owes me.’
‘He’s working on it, I swear, he told me—’
‘You tell him fifty bucks here and fifty bucks there doesn’t cut it. I want my money. Paid in full. Or else.’
‘Or else what?’ I couldn’t help asking.
He didn’t answer that. He just said, ‘Think you can manage that?’
I nodded.
‘Great. Then have a nice evening. And lock the door behind me. Hasn’t your mother warned you not to open the door to strangers?’ He laughed like he thought this was really funny and sauntered away.
I slammed the door and locked it and dragged a heavy chair in front of it. I’d have to remember to remove the chair before Mom got home, which meant I wouldn’t be able to go to bed before then.
But that wouldn’t be a problem. No way would I be sleeping a wink tonight.