Sorry, Dad. Miracles are for people like you—a guy whose little computer shop grew into a global tech empire. I’m not you—not smart enough, and definitely not as lucky.
I grit my teeth and get ready to open my eyes and let Ivory do her worst.
Here goes nothing. . . .
And then the outside world lights up like high noon, and an earthshaking kaboom jolts the house on its foundation, shattering glass all around us. Ivory and the goons wheel to face the source of the blast. Free at last, I leap to my feet in time to see a tremendous eruption of light and color through the empty space that used to be the picture window. It’s like the entire Fourth of July compressed into a few dazzling seconds, with roman candles spitting projectiles of flame in all directions, including into the house.
Fireworks! My fireworks! What set them off—a curious chipmunk? No time to worry about that now. I turn on my heel and sprint for the front hall.
One of the goons runs after me. Just as he reaches out and spins me around, a big skyrocket comes screaming in through the broken window, and rams into the ceiling, raining plaster on both of us. With a loud bang, it goes off, filling the room with thick smoke. Suddenly, my pursuer is dancing frantically, slapping at the red, white, and blue sparks that cover him from head to toe. I leave him in my dust, pounding for the exit.
A split second before I get there, the front door is flung wide, missing me by about half an inch. Grace and Tyrell have to put on the brakes to avoid flattening me.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt.
“Rescuing you, stupid!” Grace shoots back, the detonator still clutched in her hand.
“Let’s go!” rasps Tyrell, leading the charge out the door and along the driveway.
I follow, but over my shoulder, I can see Ivory and the goons coming out of the house, waving the smoke from their eyes.
Beyond them, I catch a glimpse of the Saline River. A stray rocket sails over the water, casting a pink glow over a boiling wave of escaping alligators. In spite of everything, I feel like cheering. I didn’t blow the gate, but the gate blew, and that’s the main thing.
We’re running our hardest, but the adults have longer legs than we do, and the gap is closing.
“Where are we going?” I call. Surely they’re not planning to hoof it all the way back to the Oasis.
Tyrell points. “There!”
Straight ahead, half hidden in some tall grass, is one of the Oasis golf carts. At this point, I wouldn’t trade it for Ivory’s Ferrari and every Bentley in Silicon Valley. We jump aboard, me in the driver’s seat.
“Hurry!” Tyrell wheezes. “They’re almost here!”
Even as I start up and steer out of the weeds, I know we’re too late. They’re all over us. I stomp on the accelerator and have the satisfaction of running over a goon’s toe. I jam my foot hard on the pedal, but the wheels just spin. Ivory and the other goon are locked onto the sunshade, holding us in place. Two more goons come racing onto the scene, hemming us in. We’re caught.
When I see the rage in Ivory’s face, my fear level bumps up to an eleven. The house is busted up. The alligators are gone.
This is not going to go well.
26
Brooklynne Feldman
I shudder awake to urgent voices inside our cottage—my dad and one other person. I sit up in bed and strain to eavesdrop.
“. . . I looked in on him and he isn’t there!” The visitor is out of breath. “I’ve been all over the Oasis. He isn’t anywhere!”
It’s Matt! Which means he’s talking about Jett! I think back to the last words I heard him say: If you won’t help me do the right thing, I’ll do it myself.
I throw on a sweatshirt and run out into the living room, where my father is trying to calm Matt down.
“I think I know where Jett might have gone!” I exclaim.
“Where?” they chorus.
“To Hedge Apple. There’s a giant mansion on the river just outside town.”
Dad stares at me. “How could he get all the way over there?”
But Matt doesn’t need convincing. “Don’t even ask. I believe it one hundred percent. This is Jett. If there’s trouble around, he’ll find it.”
My father is still skeptical. “Why would Jett even know about this mansion? I don’t mean to doubt you, Matt, but I hesitate to send the police on a wild-goose chase when the boy could be out for a midnight stroll.”
I choose my words carefully. I don’t want to get myself in trouble in case the history of Jett’s visits to Hedge Apple comes up. “Jett’s obsessed with the place. He thinks there’s a secret alligator farm there, and he thinks”—I hesitate; I don’t want to bring poor Ivory into this—“a gangster named Snapper is in charge of it all.”
They gawk at me. I add weakly, “I could be wrong. Jett’s probably okay—”
At that moment, a flash from outside lights up the dim living room. A few seconds later, a muffled explosion rattles the cottage—distant but not too distant.
We run to the window. To the north of the Oasis, the sky glows, illuminating a rising plume of smoke.
“Oh my God, Jett blew up the mansion!” I blurt.
“Or himself!” Matt adds in horror.
“We need the police!” My father pulls a key ring from a kitchen cabinet and heads for the door. “I’m going to the welcome center to get a phone.”
Matt is aghast. “You don’t have one here?”
“I live by the same rules I set down for my guests,” Dad replies righteously.
I run into my room, grab the phone that I hide between the mattress and box spring, and give it to my father.
He’s stunned. “But you surrendered your phone when you got here.”
“I surrendered a phone,” I confess. “I’ve been coming here since I was six. I’ve learned to bring a spare.”
I’m probably going to hear about this later, but finding Jett is the top priority right now. Dad punches in nine-one-one, and between the three of us, we manage to stammer out the story of the missing kid and the explosion. The dispatcher tells us they’ve already gotten calls about the blast, and officers are on the way to check it out.
Dad and I throw on clothes, and together with Matt, we run for the Range Rover. It’s the first time I’ve seen my father behind the wheel of a car since I was six. In his life at the Oasis, there’s always a buddy available to be the chauffeur. I don’t remember him as a crazy driver, but we’re burning rubber and shattering speed limits. I guess Dad is more worried about Jett than he lets on.
By car, the trip to Hedge Apple is only a few minutes long, compared with the twenty-minute chug on the river. As we approach the road that leads to the mansion, three Arkansas State Police cars speed out in front of us, flashers whirling.
Dad guns the accelerator, and we hit the dirt road flying. As we close in on the big house, the headlights of the lead squad car illuminate a frightening scene: in the weeds off the main driveway, Jett, Grace, and Tyrell are being dragged out of a golf cart by several large men. The cops blurp their sirens, and the shocked attackers flee in the direction of the mansion. State troopers burst out of the cruisers, chase down the fugitives and take them into custody.
My father slams on the brakes, and the three of us hit the ground running. Matt never struck me as the athletic type, but he covers the distance to Jett in Olympic sprinter time. Grace and Tyrell hunch nearby, their hands on their knees, panting. The three of them are shaken up, but don’t seem hurt.
My attention shifts to the arrests taking place just beyond us. My eyes jump from face to face. Four large, muscular men and . . .
“Ivory?” Dad breathes in astonishment.
I’m every bit as stunned as he is. “I knew Jett suspected Ivory,” I manage. “I never told you because, in a million years, I didn’t believe it could be true.”
We watch as the trooper slaps handcuffs on the Oasis’s number two. The six-foot-four Ivory receives no gentler treatment than her employees. As
she struggles against the tight shackles, her expression bears no resemblance to the usual serene smile of the center’s meditation pathfinder.
The cop is no shrimp himself, but he has to wrestle Ivory all the way to the squad car. “Base, you need to call Game and Fish,” he says into his walkie-talkie. “We’ve got upward of three hundred alligators released into the Saline River. . . . You heard me—alligators. Like see you later, alligator . . . ?”
For me, that’s the crowning glory. Jett was right about that too?
“That was the truth?” I ask Jett, who has finally managed to wiggle his way out of Matt’s bear hug.
Grace nods solemnly. “We owe Jett a huge apology. We didn’t believe him when he was the only one who knew anything.”
“I’m the one who owes you guys everything,” Jett says fervently. “You probably saved my life tonight.”
The trooper has Ivory almost to the car when my father steps forward and faces his meditation pathfinder. For an electric moment, the two square off. I’m holding my breath. What will Marvin Feldman, aka Magnus Fellini, say to his second-in-command who betrayed him so totally?
My dad places a hand on the shoulder of Ivory’s gown and says sincerely, “Be whole, Ivory.”
“Fool!” Ivory’s eyes bulge. “You think I liked your terrible food and your dime-store philosophy? My one consolation going to prison is I no longer have to pretend that you have something to offer any living creature with an IQ greater than a pineapple!”
Jett springs forward, his face flaming red. “Hey, lay off Nimbus! Can’t you see he’s trying to be cool about this, even though you stabbed him in the back? Okay, so maybe his food stinks and his philosophy isn’t for everybody. He believes in what he does, and there’s nothing phony about him—unlike you. He’s a better person than you’ll ever be!”
Ivory seems genuinely bewildered. “Who’s Nimbus?”
The trooper locks her in the back of the squad car, so she never gets an answer.
My father turns to Jett. “Thank you. That was very affirming. Now let’s get back to the Oasis. It’s late, and we’ve all had a busy night.”
As we pile into the Range Rover, a smile tugs at Dad’s lips.
“Nimbus,” he murmurs.
27
Jett Baranov
I have a dream. . . .
Vlad reads about the explosion in Hedge Apple and jumps on the Gulfstream. Next thing I know, a chopper is landing right in the middle of the Oasis, blowing the steam off the surface of the Bath. Out jumps my father, sick with worry.
“I’ve come to take you home, son,” he says emotionally. “Forget the San Francisco Airport. Your safety and happiness are all that matter to me!”
Man, do I ever dream big.
The reality is pretty different: the news from Arkansas never reaches Silicon Valley. Or if it does, Vlad doesn’t hear because he’s too distracted negotiating to expand Fuego to Antarctica or maybe Pluto.
Matt tries to smooth things over. “Well, you have to understand—your dad’s a pretty busy guy. He probably wouldn’t pay attention to a local news story from all the way across the country.”
Typical Matt—always covering for the boss. Still, he’s grateful to me for exposing Ivory’s scam, which saved him and a lot of other people a ton of money. He even grudgingly admits that the same attitude that made me Silicon Valley’s Number One Spoiled Brat may have helped me take down Snapper when everybody else thought I was nuts. Not that being a brat means you should get a medal. But stepping up to do what’s right is a good thing, even if it’s a brat who’s doing it.
First thing in the morning after that crazy night, Nimbus gets the adults together and explains what Ivory has been doing. He returns the checks from the leather pouch and promises to work with the police to pay back all the “donations” from past years. The money from selling the mega mansion, the Ferrari, and Ivory’s other assets will go toward that. Except one—the three-hundred-plus alligators are halfway to Louisiana by now. Arkansas Game and Fish is happy to report that the animals are mostly sticking to the river, heading south for the warmer water that’s their natural habitat.
Nimbus also offers anybody who wants to leave a full refund. Not one single guest takes him up on it. Go figure.
I thought the adults would stop loving the Oasis now that Ivory isn’t brainwashing them anymore, but that hasn’t happened—which kind of blows me away. Take Matt, for instance. He totally gets what happened to him in “meditation,” but it hasn’t made him any less gung ho about the place. He claims he’s never felt stronger or more energetic. He’s going to keep being a vegetarian even after he leaves. Also, his aches and pains have totally disappeared.
All the old people say the aches and pains part. I guess Matt’s getting pretty old. He’ll be thirty in less than three years.
“I’ll bet you feel better too,” he tells me. “You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
“I guess not being brainwashed anymore hasn’t made you smarter,” I reply. “If Nimbus had offered me the chance to dip, this whole place would be buried under a coating of my dust.” I can’t resist adding, “Like you won’t be happy to get back to Fuego so you can take your rightful place ruling the world.”
He gives me an odd smile. “I’m not going back to Fuego. My letter of resignation is already on its way to your father.”
I stare at him. “You’re quitting? Why? I know you don’t get paid much now, but if you stick with Vlad, eventually you’ll be rich!”
“Magnus once faced the same crossroads,” he explains serenely. “He was doing well on Wall Street, but he realized that what he really wanted was to make a difference in people’s lives.”
I’m horrified. “You’re not going to open another Oasis, are you? Because, let me tell you, one is bad enough.”
“Of course not. There can only be one Magnus.” He looks me in the eye. “I’m going to be a teacher.”
“A computer teacher?”
“I’m going to teach English to kids in the developing world. Orthodontists Without Borders is opening a string of schools attached to their clinics. How’s that for a coincidence? My first boss was your father. And my next one is going to be your mother.”
I’m blown away. “And you’re sure you’re not making a huge mistake?”
“There are no mistakes, only the twists and turns in the road of life.” He chuckles. “That’s what Magnus says, anyway. This feels right. Silicon Valley was never a good fit.”
“Because Vlad stuck you with me,” I finish ruefully.
“No way! How do you think I discovered I love working with kids? If I can handle Vladimir Baranov’s son, I’m ready to take on anything.”
I’ve never been the biggest Nimbus fan, and that’s not going to change. But if the Oasis showed Matt how to be happy doing what he loves, then there must be something good about it. And it isn’t even like I’ll never see him again, since he’ll be working with Mom. I can just picture the look on Vlad’s face when I hit him up to go to Honduras or Rwanda for spring break to visit Mom and Matt. That might be the sweetest “Fertilizer, meet fan” moment of all!
I wouldn’t even mind being sent back to the Oasis for a few days next year, provided Tyrell, Brooklynne, and Grace are going to be here. I’d never admit it to Matt, but this place isn’t that terrible. The activities aren’t really any more boring than what I’d be doing somewhere else, like a camp, or the youth program at a country club. I’ve actually started enjoying the Bath in a what-doesn’t-kill-you-makes-you-stronger sort of way. Face it, nobody is ever going to make a Jacuzzi that gets that hot for fear of being sued. So if you want to be boiled to the outer limits of human tolerance, it’s the Oasis or nothing. And if there’s something we Silicon Valley spoiled brats can’t resist, it’s a one-of-a-kind experience.
I still hate the food, but there are things that I hate less than others, so starving to death isn’t going to happen. I’ve got friends—ever since explosion night, Tyrel
l, Brooklynne, Grace, and I have been pretty tight. I even had a pet for a little while. He turned out to be a juvenile delinquent alligator, but it still counts. And anyway, I’ll be going back home in less than three weeks.
I can do three weeks standing on my head.
Tyrell and I are in knee-deep water, climbing into a pedal boat, when the cry comes from farther down the beach.
“Hey!” Amelia Azuma exclaims. “There’s a scary lizard over here!”
Ten thousand volts of electricity couldn’t get a bigger reaction from me. I leap from the boat, upending Tyrell and dropping him face-first in the shallows. He sputters and calls my name, but I can’t process anything. Every ounce of my focus is devoted to pounding across the shoreline to where Amelia stands over another pedal boat, shouting and brandishing a bulrush like a weapon.
I follow her frightened gaze. About three inches of water have accumulated at the bottom of the fiberglass craft. A tiny reptile rests poised, 90 percent submerged, only his eyes and nostrils above the surface. He hovers there, watching and waiting.
I rip the bulrush from Amelia’s hand and fling it away. “Are you crazy?” I demand. “You could have hurt Needles!”
The name brings Grace and Brooklynne splashing over to me. Tyrell is hot on their heels, high-stepping in his drenched bathing suit.
They take in the sight of our long-lost pet in his signature pose.
Amelia is bewildered. “What’s a Needles?”
Brooklynne puts a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Go find another boat, Amelia. We’ve got this under control.”
That’s enough for Amelia. By now, everyone knows who Brooklynne’s dad is. Hearing something from her is like hearing it from Nimbus himself. The younger girl rushes off.
“I can’t believe it’s Needles,” I marvel.
Naturally, Grace has to rain on my parade. “You know, Jett, it looks like Needles, but it could be any one of the baby alligators from the farm. They all washed right by here after the gate blew.”
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