The Summer I Saved the World ... in 65 Days (21 page)

Mom shakes her head. “Not today. I got so caught up in it. All those billable hours … It doesn't feel as good as I thought it would. I'm irritated and … just really tired.”

The four of us stand there. Cold air is coming from the vent by my feet. The sun makes a prism on the table. The coffee machine is blinking—add water.

Dad looks at Matt. “We haven't had a free minute until today, but we need to know, Matthew, were you in that house across the street the other night? Tell us the truth.”

“I told you,” I say, before Matt can answer. “I saw some kids running away. Why don't you believe me?”

“You always jump to conclusions—” Matt says.

“If you've done something again—” Dad says, clenching his jaw.

“It wasn't him!” I shout. Fifty-eight. I think.

Long silence.

I have to do something. Now. Fast.

“Let's make breakfast,” I blurt. “I'm starving.”

The air conditioner clicks off. A few seconds go by.

“Now that you mention it …,” Dad says.

Matt shrugs. “I can always eat.”

Mom digs in a cabinet, takes out a frying pan. “I think I still know how to scramble an egg.”

“You're
really
scaring me now,” I say.

She laughs. Wow.

Dad sits down, sips his coffee. “Erica, you know something? I was all right with the old Fine and Ross. Before Melanie turned us upside down. I think we need some perspective.”

Mom's cracking eggs. Her shoulders drop a little, but she doesn't answer. And then I notice there's something in her wardrobe that isn't black. Her bathrobe. It's pink with little flowers, and it belonged to Grandma.

“Perspective is good.” I start opening cabinets. “Ms. Quinlan says that's the basis of everything.”

“What are you looking for?” Mom asks, measuring pancake batter.

“Those glasses.”

“Which glasses?”

“I found them.” The fancy ones, from the lemonade a long time ago. They're dusty.

Miraculously, we have strawberries. Matt wipes the glasses while I rinse the strawberries and cut a slice in four of them. Matt and I set the table. Fifty-nine. Wow again.

Scrambled eggs. Burnt pancakes. Slightly expired orange juice, which Dad says is still drinkable. Strawberries on the rims. The four of us at the kitchen table. Small talk. A joke. Dad cutting the pancakes like he used to cut spaghetti.

Not perfect. A little rusty.

But still a family.

A
fter breakfast, Matt's sitting in my hammock.

I sink onto the grass next to him.

There's so much to say, but we're silent. I don't know where to start.

Finally he says, “You didn't tell them you saw me in the house.”

“Right.”

“But then, I don't get it. Why do they think I was in there?”

“They saw the root beer on the night of the flood.”

“What flood?”

“A pipe burst. The kitchen floor flooded. The Millmans thought it was a ghost. Mr. Dembrowski, Eli, and I were cleaning it up when Mom and Dad found us. They were positive it was your fault.”

Matt is staring at me “A ghost? Mr. Dembrowski? What?”

“Long story.”

“Well, you didn't have to cover for me.”

“But I did.”

“Why?”

“Dad said if you screwed up again … they could take away your college acceptance. Your whole future would be messed up.”

He gets up. The hammock swings wildly. “Look, I just needed somewhere to go, okay? To get away from everything. Everyone. Don't you feel that way sometimes?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

He jumps and pulls a leaf from the maple tree, then tears it in half. “We just wanted a place to hang. We didn't think anyone would find out. It wasn't like the time before, at school—I swear, Nina. We didn't steal anything.”

“But you broke in.”

Matt shakes his head. “The lock was already broken.”

“What were you guys doing, anyway?”

He shrugs, smiles. “Playing poker.”

“Poker?”

“Yeah. Okay, so I have this goal.… I haven't told anyone.… I want to play in the World Series of Poker. I'm getting good. I play in online tournaments too.”

I remember the day he taught me. “I beat you, though.”

He laughs. “Beginner's luck.”

“Oh, okay, that's what you call it?”

He swipes at a tree branch. “I'm sure Mom and Dad will be thrilled.
Great goal, Matthew. Get serious. Have you considered law school?
”

“I still don't get why you went to the Dixons'. Why couldn't you just play at one of your houses?”

“Not the same. It was private. We could stay up as late as we wanted, be loud.”

I nod, remembering the night I saw them with their sunglasses and caps. They were just playing poker. That's all it was.

Matt sighs. “Okay, maybe it wasn't such a brilliant idea. We haven't gone back. I guess I owe you. But you owe me too.”

“What are you talking about?”

He smiles. “I saw you that day. Planting Mrs. Chung's flowers.”

My heart skips a beat. “You did?”

“I was in my room. Then when I was leaving, she came up to me, asked if I'd seen anyone. She was shaking, Nina. She couldn't understand it.”

“What'd you say?”

He narrows his eyes. “I told her, ‘Don't worry. Some things in the universe, you just have to accept without question.' ”

That sounded a lot like one of Grandma's STs.

“Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry I didn't play cards with you that day after Grandma died.”

He nods. “It's okay.”

A car pulls up. Two guys are inside. “Ross,” one calls. “Let's go, man.”

Matt looks at me. “I'll tell Mom and Dad the truth. I swear.”

His friend beeps the horn.

I pull out a chunk of grass and throw it at him. “Go play some poker.”

“Okay, Nina green-a.”

I have reached number sixty.

Remarkable.

T
he IPIT truck is back.

It's dusk, that in-between time when night and day cross paths. The leaves on the trees are wilting, the air is thick. It's the third day of the heat advisory.

The Millmans are in front of the Dixon house, talking to three guys in navy jumpsuits. Mrs. Millman looks more normal. For her.

“This is much too big for Stan and me,” I hear Mrs. M. tell them.

“If there is a ghost here, we will find it,” one of the
jumpsuit guys says. Their jumpsuits say
IPIT
on the back, along with
GOT GHOSTS
?

Some of the neighbors come outside. Mrs. Chung. Mrs. Cantaloni, who is enormous now. She's talking to Mrs. Bennett. Jack, Jeremy, Jordan. Thomas, with cape and sword. Jorie's parents. Mine.

“What's going on?” Dad asks Mrs. Millman.

“The other night,” she says, “Stan and I encountered a ghost inside that house. These men are from the Illinois Paranormal Investigative Team. They're trained to take care of matters like this.”

Dad stares at her. “You saw an actual ghost?”

Mrs. Millman nods vigorously, and Mr. Millman pipes in, “I saw it too.”

“It's best if you people move away from the location,” one jumpsuit guy says, motioning to us. The other two are positioning a tall ladder against the side of the house.

Everyone slowly walks into the middle of the street.

“Exactly what did you see?” Jorie's dad asks.

Mrs. Millman closes her eyes, as if the memory is too painful to recall. “Water. A swirling mist. Rattling, knocking. And a distinct sensation that
we were not alone
.”

Mrs. Chung nods. “Fox spirit.”

Dad and Jorie's dad roll their eyes.

“I don't know what it was. A ghost, or a fox spirit, but something otherworldly is definitely occupying that house,” Mrs. Millman says. “And we need to do something about it. Ask it to leave us alone. Once and for all.”

“I'm sure there are other explanations,” Dad says.

“Have you talked to the realtor about all this?” Jorie's dad asks.

Mrs. Millman puts her hands on her hips. “Oh, he's right there with me. We're good friends now. He believes in spirits, too. I have his permission to finish this investigation.”

The jumpsuit guys are pulling out all this equipment: little metal boxes like the one Mrs. Millman had, a video camera, a couple of regular cameras with huge lenses, and flashlights. They put caps on their heads. They bend down and tighten their shoelaces.

“We're goin' in,” one of them calls. “Don't touch the ladder. We might need to get onto the roof later.” They head toward the back.

Dad glances at me, then Mrs. Millman. “Hold on a second. Water? And you say this was a few nights ago? You saw water inside the house?”

“Yes.”

“In the back? In the kitchen?”

Mrs. Millman gasps. “You saw it too?”

Suddenly Matt is next to me. When did he get here?

Thomas circles around the group, thrashing his sword in the air. I can see the flashlights and the outlines of the jumpsuit guys through the windows of the Dixon house.

“Nina?” Mom says. “Was that the same night?”

Mr. Millman points at me. “You saw it, didn't you? You were right behind us!”

Everyone looks at me. “Yes, but … I don't think it was a ghost. Really, Mrs. Millman. It was some kids. And Mr. Dembrowski fixed the leak—”

“Mr. Dembrowski?” She shakes her head. “No, I'm positive! The ghost turned on the water. I've heard they can do things like that.”

Matt walks toward Mom and Dad. Mrs. Chung is explaining the legend of the
kumiho
to Jorie's mom, who looks confused.

“Uh, Mom, Dad,” Matt says. “Can I talk to you?”

One of the jumpsuit guys comes running toward us. “We're getting a reading!” He sprints back around the side of the house.

Thomas runs across the street, his cape streaming behind him, sword held high. He reaches the bottom of the ladder propped up against the house. “I'll get the bad guys!”

“Thomas! No!” I call, but he's already up a few rungs.

I run toward the ladder. He's high up when he drops
the sword. It falls silently, doesn't make a sound when it hits the ground. Thomas looks behind him. “My sword!”

And then the streetlight goes out. And the lights in the houses. The entire neighborhood is dark.

I
grab the bottom of the ladder. “Thomas! Don't let go!”

“Nina! My sword!”

“Don't worry about the sword. Just hold on!”

I start climbing. The ladder shakes. It's hard to see Thomas clearly.

I hear Dad yell, “Those ghost guys must have blown a circuit!”

Jorie's dad: “I'll call Com Ed!”

“Nina!” Thomas's voice is trembling.