Stealing the Game (6 page)

“You want me to dig up dirt on your brother?” Theo asked as we pedaled through Palisades Park. It was a shortcut to the Currie home.

“No, not dirt. I just want to find out what’s going on with him. He’s lying about something.”

“Sorry, Chris, I guess I’m still not clear about what you want me to do.”

“I’m not sure either. I thought you could help me figure out what the next step should be.”

Theo didn’t say anything.

“Look,” I said, “I feel bad asking you. Like I’m betraying him or something. But I’m worried about him. Like maybe he’s in some kind of trouble. He’s
just not being himself.”

Theo didn’t say anything for a while, then, “Let me think about it.” He looked over at me and must have noticed the worried expression on my face. “I’ll figure
something out.”

“We didn’t talk about price,” I said. “How much?”

Theo laughed. “Well, if I don’t find out anything, then no charge. But if I do find out something, then…no charge.” He laughed again. “We’re teammates, dude.
We gotta stick together.”

I nodded. “Thanks, man.”

We pedaled on in silence.

The more I pedaled, the more this seemed like a dumb idea. Because the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if maybe I didn’t really want to know why Jax was lying.

As we flew through the park, we both looked over at the basketball courts. Kids were stopping for a quick game or two on their way home from school. Brightly colored backpacks lined the sidewalk
next to the court.

I noticed the gleam in Theo’s eyes. Probably the same one in my eyes. We both wanted to stop and play. When a real basketball player sees a court and kids gathering for a game, everything
else fades into the background as unimportant.

But Theo wasn’t the kind of kid who’d break a promise. That’s one of the reasons I’d gone to him.

“So?” Sharon said now, her eyes focused on Theo. “How’re you going to prove that Brick didn’t chew Damon’s stupid phone?”

Theo picked up the phone, tilted it in the light, looked at it from all angles. “First of all, I didn’t promise I’d figure this out. I just said it was a possibility. Second,
I’m not here to prove Brick is innocent.”

“But he
is
innocent,” Sharon insisted. She looked outside the sliding glass door. Brick and Hobbit, brindle-colored bulldogs, were playing together in the yard. They fought
over a long rubber bone. As their heads shook back and forth, slimy webs of drool flung from their jowls.

“Are they related?” I asked.

“Brothers,” Damon said. “But not from the same litter. Brick is a year older.”

“Lucky them,” Sharon added. “It sucks being a twin.”

They stopped talking, and the three of us just stared at Theo, who was now puffing hot breath on the broken glass of the phone.

“What are you doing?” Damon asked.

Theo stared at the glass and smiled. “Catching a canine criminal.”

THEO
counted off on his fingers as he spoke: “I need a pencil, a knife, clear tape, and a sheet of unlined paper. Note cards
would be better.”

“What for?” Sharon asked.

Theo ignored her and turned to Damon. “And I need you to hold the dogs.”

“What do you mean, hold them?” Sharon asked, alarmed.

“Just their heads,” Theo explained.

“Their heads! What for?” Damon asked.

“I’ll explain later,” Theo said. He looked at me and grinned. That grin told me that he could have explained to them right then what he was doing, but Theo liked a little drama
when he performed his magic. I’d learned that last time.

I had no idea what he was doing, but I helped Sharon gather the materials from various drawers and cupboards. I held a Swiss Army knife in one hand and a couple pencils and a tape dispenser in
the other.

“I have note cards up in my room,” Sharon said as she climbed the stairs. “You’ll have to wait here. Boys aren’t allowed upstairs.” She turned and smiled at
me. “But then again, my parents won’t be home from work for a couple hours.” She waited for my response.

I waited for my response, too. I didn’t know what to say. I never did when it came to girls. I was interested in girls (
really
interested, if you want to know the truth), and some
were interested in me. Some, like Sharon, let me know they were interested. Others just told friends who told friends who told friends until someone told me. But all I ever did was smile and nod
and pretend I didn’t notice anything. The rumor around school was that I had a secret girlfriend who attended another school and that was why I didn’t flirt with any of the girls at our
school. It wasn’t true, of course, but I never tried to correct it. To be honest, it kind of took the pressure off me.

“I don’t want to break any house rules,” I said to Sharon. For a moment she looked disappointed, then she smiled brightly, as if by refusing to go against her parents’
wishes I had proven that I was even better than she’d first thought.

She bounced up the stairs, her red ponytail flopping up and down.

When we returned to the kitchen with the supplies, Theo was taking an extreme close-up photo of Hobbit’s nose. Damon held his dog’s head steady while Theo snapped a couple more
shots. When he was done, he took a few of Brick’s nose.

Then he sat at the table and used the knife to shave the graphite from the pencil, making a small pile of black dust on a note card.

“Okay, Theo,” Sharon said impatiently. “Tell us what the heck you’re doing.”

“Detective work,” Theo replied, squinting at the pencil point as he scraped the knife blade across the graphite. “You know that every person has unique fingerprints,
right?”

“Yeah, we watch
CSI
and
NCIS
,” Damon said. “You got one of those blue light things?”

“They’re called a forensic light source, and I don’t need one.” Satisfied that his pile of graphite dust was now big enough, Theo slowly lifted the note card, careful not
to spill any. “Just as each person has unique fingerprints, dogs have unique nose prints.”

“That’s stupid!” Sharon said with a disbelieving frown.

“It’s true,” Theo said. He lowered the note card until it hovered over the broken iPhone glass. Then he gently sprinkled the black dust over the glass. When he’d emptied
the card, he softly blew across the top of the glass, spreading the black dust evenly.

The three of us watched him without saying a word.

Theo placed a strip of clear plastic tape across the bottom of the screen. When he peeled it back, the tape lifted all the black dust. He then pressed the dirty tape across a blank note card. He
repeated this action until he’d completely re-created the face of the iPhone onto a note card.

He held up the note card for Sharon and Damon to see. “And that is the nose print of our phone chewer.” A clear dog nose pattern was revealed in the black pencil shavings.

Theo pulled out his own phone and displayed one of the photos. He enlarged it so he could see the dog’s nose pattern. He did the same with the photo of the other dog. We went back and
forth a couple times.

“Well?” Sharon demanded. “Which dog did it?”

Theo looked sadly at Damon. “Sorry, dude. Looks like Hobbit broke your phone.”

“I told you!” Sharon said. She squatted down beside Brick and briskly petted him. “See, baby Brick, I knew you were the good dog.”

Damon looked stunned for a moment. Then he shrugged, stooped down, hugged Hobbit, and said, “You’re still my good boy, aren’t ya?” Hobbit drooled his answer.

Theo and I looked at each other and shrugged.

As we climbed onto our bikes, Damon handed Theo a twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks, man,” he said.

“No problem,” Theo said, pocketing the money.

We started pedaling away. Sharon waved from the front stoop. “Now you know where I live,” she hollered after us, smiling directly at me.

“Looks like you made a new friend,” Theo teased.

I didn’t say anything.

“You know,” Theo said, “not talking about things doesn’t actually make them disappear.”

I know, I thought. But I didn’t say it out loud.

AS SOON
as I walked through the door into my house, my parents rushed at me with their “we have company, so act happy”
smiles frozen on their faces.

“Chris, we have a surprise for you,” my mom said. She pulled me into a hug and whispered into my ear, “She’s considered the best in the county and is costing us a
fortune, so be nice.”

My dad just smiled and gave me an awkward thumbs-up, like he’d just read about the gesture in
Time
magazine and was trying it out for the first time. The way he did it looked like
he was about to start sucking his thumb.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. My parents are pretty cool when it comes to caring about me. I’ve never felt anything but unconditional love from them. Yes, they have
expectations. Yes, they want me to be the best version of myself that I can be. And that can be massively annoying. The fact that I have to hide parts of who I am from them because I know
they’d disapprove is painful.

But I get where they’re coming from.

They’re both overachievers who excelled in school and now excel at being lawyers. They love what they do, they love each other, and they love Jax and me. In their minds, they found the
perfect formula for success and happiness. And they want Jax and me to follow their formula, because they think it will make us as happy as they are. I thought Jax was doing just that, and the
formula was working for him. Which left me as the oddball of the family. I had no interest in law; I barely had interest in finishing high school. The only things I actually liked doing were
playing basketball and working on my comics.

Jax dropping out of the Richards Foolproof Formula for Success and True Happiness must have scared the bleached teeth out of my parents. I had to admit, it even scared me a little. I mean,
I’d always figured that if everything else failed, I’d always have the Richards Formula to fall back on. But if it didn’t work for Jax, how could it possibly work for me?

Which is why I was now being introduced to Hannah Selby. The best (something) in Orange County.

“Hi,” I said as we shook hands.

Hannah was about my height, five feet eleven, tall for a girl. She was in her early twenties, though her pale blue eyes were so piercing when they stared at me that she seemed older. She was
that rare California blonde who was actually born that way. I could tell, because her hair was nearly white from the sun. She even smelled like sunscreen. She reminded me of a younger Pepper Potts,
Iron Man’s girlfriend in the movies. Except she had a little scar under her left eye that was shaped like a long comma. I tried not to look at it, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Fencing accident,” she said, touching her scar. “I used to fence in college. I was showing my little sister how to do it, not noticing that she’d accidentally knocked
off the protective tip.” She shrugged. “That’s what little sisters are for, I guess. To remind us to be more careful.”

“Little brothers, too,” a voice said. Jax closed the front door behind him. “Hey, Hannah. What’s new at the zoo?”

Jax knows her?

“Hi, Jax,” Hannah said stiffly. She pronounced his name like it was something nasty she’d stepped in and couldn’t scrape off her shoe. Okay, some bad history there.

I could smell beer on Jax’s breath. From Mom and Dad’s sour expressions, so could they.

Mom stepped forward, took Jax by the arm, and walked him toward the stairs. “I’m sure you’d like to freshen up a bit, Jax. Then Dad and I would like to hear all about your
day.”

Jax snorted as he climbed the stairs. “Sure, Mom. I’ll tell you about how me, Bucky, and Tommy hung out at the malt shop reading Archie comics and playing punch buggy all
day.”

I watched him climb the stairs, my jaw literally hanging open. I’d never seen Jax be such a smart-mouth before. My dad glared after him, barely able to contain his anger. But we had a
guest, and that took precedence over yelling at Jax.

“So,” Hannah said, her warm smile back in place, “your mom and dad say you need a little help with math and science.”

More than a little, I thought. But I said, “I guess.”

We heard the shower turn on upstairs. Then we heard Jax singing an oldies rock song I’d heard when driving with Dad. The group was the Zombies and the song was “Tell Her No.”
“‘Tell her no, no, no, no…’” There were a whole lot more no’s, which he screeched loudly.

“Why don’t we go into the living room,” Mom said. “I’m sure we’ll be more comfortable there.”

“That’s okay, Ms. Richards,” Hannah said. “I should be on my way. I just wanted to stop by, meet my newest pupil, and set up a schedule.” She took out a small
planner and a pen. “Now, how many days a week do you want me here?”

“What do you suggest?” Mom said.

Hannah shrugged. “I’ll know better after our first session. Will you or Mr. Richards be home during these sessions?”

“I’m not sure. Some days we both work late. Will that be a problem?”

“Not for me. Sometimes students work better without distractions. They can focus more.”

They kept talking about me as if I were some wounded bird that had to be nursed back to health even though I might never fly again.

“‘Tell her no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…’” Jax sang. I wished I’d said that.

“
IT
’
S
just a little favor, Chris,” Jax said. “A favor for your beloved older brother. Is that asking so
much?”

I didn’t say anything. I was sitting at my desk trying to answer Mr. Laubaugh’s study questions for
The Catcher in the Rye
.

Of what significance is it to Holden that Jane keeps her kings in the back row during checkers?
I’d wondered the same thing. Holden keeps talking about this girl he knew who never
moved her kings from the back row when she played checkers because she thought they looked good there. Why wouldn’t she just use them to beat the other player? It’s like stealing the
ball, dribbling the full length of the court with no one around, then not taking the shot until the other team gets downcourt. Was she just crazy?