Bond hopped out of the Komodo-dragon pit like a kid vaulting a backyard fence. I stagger off the ice like the Creature climbing out of the Black Lagoon. My fingers are cold, my feet are hurting, and AmberLea is with a preppy skating hunk. Still, things could be worse: I could have fallen over, for example. Or Roz could be calling. I wouldn’t want to tell her the Bun-man’s not available.
Which means it’s time to find the guy. I clomp across the rubber mats to the washroom. Bunny’s not there. I do a quick foot check under stall doors to be sure. I feel dumb doing this, but it’s slightly better than calling “Bunny?” in a men’s room. Bond could dice anybody who laughed at him into a small bowl of mush—so could Bunny, for that matter. I don’t even dice carrots.
I clomp back to the rink. No Bunny. Now I’m confused and a little bugged.
“Find him?” AmberLea pulls up. I shake my head. My ringtone sounds. “The Good, the Bad,” says AmberLea. “Nice.” Apart from the fact that she’s saved my life twice, this is another reason why I think AmberLea and I are perfect for each other.
I check my phone. It’s a text from Bunny: donut call cops. “Oh, great.” I show it to AmberLea as Toby skates up.
“Whaaat?” she says. “He’s on a donut run with some cops?”
I shake my head. “Naw, he’s a bad speller. He means ‘do not.’ My guess is, he met some of his buds from last summer and went with them. Now he’s remembered he can’t do that, and he’s scared I’ll call Roz.”
“Roz?”
“I’ll tell you later. Listen,” I say, “I better go, in case he heads home.”
“Really?” AmberLea has this way of tucking her chin into her neck when she’s doubtful. Does that mean she doesn’t want me to go?
“That’s too bad,” says Toby. Yeah right, I think.
“Okay,” says AmberLea. “Plan B: tomorrow afternoon, you have to come with us. Remember I messaged you that we sold my grandma’s cottage?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And speaking of cottages, wait till I tell you about—”
“No!” says AmberLea. “I have to tell you about Grandma’s first. Guess who bought it? Aiden Tween! He bought the whole south side of the lake. And he’s a big fan of Grandma’s movies, so he wants to meet me, and he said I could bring friends.”
“Really?” I’m stunned. Like I said, Aiden Tween is not my thing. His tweenybopper music is either bubblegum ballads or techno dance crud (remember his Comet Shuffle dance move?), but it’s not like I hang with megastars on a daily basis. Maybe I could shoot some video, post it, the whole deal. Jump-start my career. Cinema verité, as my doc prof would say. “Wow,” I say. “Can Bun come too?”
“Sure,” says AmberLea. “I’ll text you.” She gives me a wave. Toby slips his arm through hers and off they skate.
I find the bench my shoes are under. Unlacing my skates gives me the best feeling I’ve had since I found out Christmas break is nearly a month long when you’re in college. Then I reach for my sneakers and discover something weird: Bunny’s sneakers are under here too. Where the heck would he go in his skates? Still, it’s typical Bunny. My brother is kind of a special guy. I gather all our stuff and head for O’Toole Central, trying not to think about Toby and AmberLea.
When I get home, the door is unlocked and the house is a disaster—way messier than we left it. If this were a movie, I’d say the place had been searched. In real life, I’d say Bunny and his friends dropped by to get shoes and a snack for three hundred. I stuff the scattered sheet music back in the piano bench, take it off the couch, stick shades back on lamps and put things back in the fridge. The rest I’ll deal with later. I’m not going to call Mom unless Roz calls before he gets back. Then it’ll hit the fan. Donut call the cops. Thanks, Bun; I won’t. I’ll just wait for Roz to call and melt the phone line. In the meantime, I’ll do what I always do when things are a little tense: watch some movies. I think I’ll start with Blade Runner.