Chapter 8

About an hour after my mom’s announcement, I get a call from Gabby. I’m half-expecting her to say that her dad’s squadron is deploying too.

“Ohmygod, Alex, it’s my computer!” I’ve never heard her sound so panicked. And we almost got eaten by wild animals yesterday. “It’s totally dead! What do I do?”

“Okay, calm down. When you say ‘dead’ . . .”

“Well, I was working on my application for the Berkeley summer program, right? And I had a glass of water on my desk. But I swear, Alex, it wasn’t anywhere near the laptop. It was all the way at the other end of the desk. But I go to the bathroom and I come back and it’s spilled all over the computer and I can’t get the cursor to move and I can’t type and—”

“All right, first of all, unplug it and turn it off.” This is one thing that hasn’t changed for me in a few years. My dad’s taught me just enough about computers to make me my friends’ go-to tech-support guy. I guess some parents do less for their kids.

“I haven’t saved my essay yet!”

“Well, do you have it backed up?”

“Backed up how?”

Hmm, not promising. “You know, on a flash drive, online . . .”

“No! It’s only saved on this computer. Ohmygod, Alex, what if I lose the essay? The application deadline’s this week. I don’t have time to redo the whole thing!”

I’m trying not to get annoyed. My mom’s about to deploy, and Gabby’s freaking out over her laptop? But I remind myself that this Berkeley program is a big deal to her. I take a deep breath. “Just sit tight. I’ll be right over. If you’re lucky, we just need to dry it out. Then it’ll be fine.”

I don’t say this, but I have my doubts that she’ll be lucky.

***

“Maybe it’s true,” says Gabby as I unscrew her laptop’s hard drive. “Maybe the curse is real.”

I almost laugh. “So murderous coyotes can’t convince you. But this can?”

“That water couldn’t have spilled on its own!”

“Could one of your stepsisters have done it?”

“They’re not home. My stepmom took them on a grocery run to the commissary.” She chews on a fingernail. “Anyway, I keep thinking about this line from Sherlock Holmes and the Zombie Thief. If you rule out what’s impossible, whatever’s left must be the truth. No matter how unlikely.”

“So you don’t think the curse is impossible.” I gently lift out the hard drive and set it aside to dry. Her battery is already soaking in rice. Next I flip the laptop right side up and detach the keyboard.

“That water spilling the way it did should’ve been impossible. But it happened. Something caused it. Believe me, I’d love to think of another explanation.”

Maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised by this sudden shift in her outlook. Maybe it’s just that I’ve never seen Gabby change her mind before. I guess I assumed it wasn’t something she did.

Now that the keyboard’s loose, tiny drops of water sprinkle my fingers. “Well, my mom’s getting deployed. So that’s another fun coincidence.”

She grimaces. “Oh, man. That’s a way bigger deal than this.” She gestures at the computer. “Sorry.”

“No worries. That application matters a lot to you. You have a right to be stressed.” I hold up the keyboard. “You’ll want to let this sit overnight. Longer would be better. I can help you put it back together after school tomorrow. Then we can see if there’s permanent damage.”

“Thanks.” She pauses. “So what do we do? If there’s really a curse, I mean.”

“Destiny’s the expert on supernatural stuff. I might have a lead, though.”

***

As I’m leaving Gabby’s place, I get a text from Ahmed. Got a minute to talk?

I call him. “What’s up?”

“My dad just found out,” says Ahmed quietly. “He’s getting transferred again. To Florida. We move next month.”

I sink down on my front step. “Ah, man.” You learn to expect this. You make friends and they move away. You make friends and you move away. Rinse, repeat. Like the deployments. It’s a script I know by heart. The only permanent thing is how temporary everything is.

“And there’s a bonus,” Ahmed adds. “Tanner Crook’s dad is getting transferred to the same base.”

I groan and pick a word that sums up my feelings.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Not that I can’t handle it. I mean, we’ve been at Edmonds together for a year. I can deal. I’d just rather not have to. You know?”

“For sure.” Plus, the way Tanner was today . . .

I stare up at the black sky, the pinprick stars. “Listen. Gabby’s changed her mind about this curse stuff. Thinks it’s worth looking into. Can you meet in the library at lunch tomorrow?”

“Uh, okay.”

“Taps” is starting to play. All over the base, speakers project the nightly bugle call into the darkness. Ahmed and I listen to it in silence. Neither of us hangs up.

“Taps” is fifty-nine seconds long. When it’s done, the only sound I hear is Ahmed’s breathing on the other end of the phone.

I say, “Did you know that the guy who wrote the lyrics to “Taps” actually did three verses?”

“I didn’t. I just know the one. Day is done . . .”

“Yeah, yeah. All is well, safely rest, et cetera. Well, the second one goes like this.”

I’m not a great singer but I give it my best shot:

Fading light dims the sight

And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.

From afar, drawing near,

Falls the night.

“Huh,” says Ahmed. “I like it.”

“Yeah. For some reason, I’ve always liked that verse best.”