by April Henry
Derrick interrupted Bob’s thoughts. “How come leprosy was a thing back then but it’s not now?”
“Red squirrels can carry leprosy, and at the time there was a huge trade in both red squirrel meat and fur. There is a theory that’s how it spread. And now we have antibiotics that can cure it.”
This was all true. But it was also false, meant to lull Derrick.
The boy nodded. “I’ll email her today. How long do you think it will take her to answer?”
If Bridget didn’t understand it, he didn’t need Derrick immediately seeing a puzzled reply and figuring out what Bob had done. “I’m asking for a lot of research, so no point in checking back for at least a few days.”
After Derrick left, Bob kept thinking about the letter. Not about whether Bridget might decipher his hidden messages, but about the false words hiding the true ones. What if familial relationships in the kingdom were more tangled than he’d depicted? Readers ate that stuff up. He’d definitely add them to the version he was writing for Derrick.
He stifled another burp. Last night, to make sure Derrick never found the two earlier drafts of the note he’d worked on, he’d carried them both to bed.
And then in the darkness Bob had slowly torn off bits of paper, put them into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
BRIDGET
Not Completely Following
Sitting at the dining room table, Bridget rubbed her eyes and read Bob’s email for the millionth time. She took another sip of coffee. Maybe the reason she couldn’t follow it was because she was too tired. It felt like she’d been awake all night, coming to terms with the reality of what her relationship with Ajay was. Practical. Transactional. She had read him books. In return, he’d provided her with lunch and a pair of socks. Anything more than that had been just in her pathetic imagination.
When she’d finally dragged herself out of her twisted sheets, Bob’s message was waiting in her email inbox. It was a relief to think of something else. The first sentence made sense. Bob was working on Eyes of the Forest again. That was good. She lifted another spoonful of Wheaties to her mouth. And he wanted her to work for him full-time over the summer. That was great. The money could go into her college fund.
At least it would be great if Bob meant it. If he was mentally competent when he’d written it. Because before the part about her working for him came the sentence about how she should talk to her parents about it.
Bob knew her mom was dead. They had talked about it a few times. Once he had said something about understanding how big a hole someone could leave in your life. How could he have forgotten something so major?
Not to mention that her mom’s name had been Vivian, not Anna. Just like her dad was named Jim, not Graham.
Setting that strangeness aside for a moment, Bridget moved on to the rest of the note. Bob hadn’t said anything to her before about adding a new character. The names Jade Tarnno and Ken Pipem meant nothing to her. But then the world of Swords and Shadows was far more real to Bob than this one. What was an oblique mention from her point of view might have amounted to whole paragraphs or even chapters in his, stories that were only in his head and not yet on paper.
As she took her last bite of cereal, Bridget opened up her database and did a quick search. First for Jade Tarnno. Then just for Jade. She found some mentions of the color jade, but not the person.
Color. Bridget paused. That was a whole facet of the series she hadn’t captured. It gave her a new reason to reread the books. She brought herself back to the task at hand. No Pipems. The few instances of the word Ken were in the archaic sense of “to know.”
She closed her laptop and went to her room. As she got dressed, she mulled over the rest of Bob’s email. How could King Tristan be anything more than Princess Ofelia’s father? Cousins shared grandparents. She tried to figure it out, but failed. Of course, anything was possible in the Swords and Shadows series. Maybe Bob would introduce time traveling in Eyes of the Forest.
Bridget grabbed her coat and backpack, then locked the door behind her. As she walked to the bus, the uncomfortable feeling that something wasn’t right kept nagging her.
At the stop, she took out her phone and reread the email. She made herself pull back and consider it as a whole. It didn’t make a lot of sense. And it didn’t really sound like Bob. Or rather, it sort of did, but a hyped-up Bob. A confused Bob.
She hit the REPLY button. “Bob?” Her thumbs hesitated before she finally started typing. “Are you all right? I’m not completely following you.”
In between classes, she kept checking her email, but Bob did not reply. Trying to figure out what was wrong with him made it easier for her to walk into physics, to see Ajay again now that she knew how he viewed her.
“Can I talk to you at lunch?” she asked. She needed to discuss it with someone, and Ajay was really her only choice.
“Sure.” Ajay’s dark eyes sparked in a way that would have made her stomach flip just the day before. “I even brought two tiffin boxes today.”
AJAY
What’s the Worst That Can Happen?
All through Mr. Manning’s class, Ajay kept his eye on Bridget. She had been upset yesterday, but today she wanted to have lunch with him. That should have been a relief, but it wasn’t really. Maybe she just wanted to yell at him about the socks.
Ajay had wanted to give a gift to Bridget. But what? And then it had come to him. The weather was only going to get colder, but she was already always cold. Especially her feet. No matter how much she jigged her legs, she frequently complained about losing feelings in her toes.
So he had bought her a pair of the heaviest black knee socks he could find, knit from New Zealand wool, which the clerk at Nordstrom had assured him was the best kind, and not the least bit itchy.
The price had been surprisingly high. But only the best for Bridget.
Except judging by the look she had given him yesterday when she saw what was inside the box, she didn’t see it the same way. It was clear he had made some awful mistake.
He tried to pay attention to Mr. Manning as class dragged by. When it finally ended, they walked in silence to what Ajay now thought of as “their” table. He opened his backpack and handed her a tiffin box.
“So what did you want to talk about?” He braced himself.
“I got a very strange message from Bob yesterday. I don’t know what to think.” She handed over her phone.
Relief rolled over him. He felt nearly reverent as he regarded it. “Wow! So this is from the great man himself?”
“Yes, but read it and tell me what you think.”
Ajay read the message once, quickly. Then he scrolled back up to the top and read it over again, more slowly. Finally he looked at Bridget.
His mouth twisted. “Doesn’t he know that your mom is, um, dead?”
“He has to. We’ve talked about it. But that’s not even the weirdest thing. Neither of those names are actually my parents’.”
Ajay jerked his head back. “They aren’t named Anna and Graham?”
“Vivian and James.”
He blinked. “That’s a lot different.”
“And all those questions he asks about the series. I don’t know any of the answers. I don’t even understand most of them.”
Trying to think of another explanation, he asked, “Does he have another researcher he got you mixed up with?” Although who could mix Bridget up with anyone?
“I’m the only one.” Taking the phone back, she looked at his words again. “And if you take everything together, it just plain doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t even really sound like Bob.”
Ajay tried to put it delicately. “Do you think he could have had a little too much holiday cheer?”
She wrinkled her nose. “In interviews, he always says that he doesn’t drink.”
Ajay made a humming noise. “That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have started.” Then he said carefully, “Do you think maybe he’s having some medical problem? I mea
n, after all, he’s kind of a rotund guy.” If his sister were here, she would know exactly what high-risk categories Bob fell into. Maybe he’d had a stroke or was getting Alzheimer’s. Because something had definitely scrambled Bob’s wires.
“I’ve got his phone number.” Taking the phone back, Bridget scrolled around until she found it. Her finger hovered over the button. “I’m going to call him.”
Ajay watched her face as she listened to the ringing. When it stopped, he faintly heard a man’s voice. A recording.
“Bob,” she said slowly, “this is Bridget. Can you call me? I just have a question about your email.” After reciting her phone number, she pressed the button to end the call.
“My grandma had Parkinson’s,” Ajay said. “She got things confused. A few times she even hallucinated.” Tears sparked his eyes at her memory. “Have you ever seen one of his hands trembling?”
“No.” She exhaled heavily. “But I haven’t seen him in person for a long time.”
“Does Bob have a friend you could call? Someone you could ask to check on him?”
“He must have friends,” she said, her tone uncertain. “But I don’t know them or even who they are. We only ever talked about the books.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“About twenty miles outside of Portland. It’s pretty private. I’ve only been there once, with my dad. Bob bought the acreage on either side so he wouldn’t have to deal with neighbors.”
“Okay,” Ajay said. “How about this? If you haven’t heard from him by the last bell, I say we go out there.” He would think of some excuse to text his mom, ideally something about studying.
Her expression brightened. “You don’t think I’m overreacting?”
He shook his head. “The part about your parents is too weird. And even if it is an overreaction, what’s the worst that can happen? He’ll explain, and we’ll leave.” It was a relief that they were a team again. “We can take an Uber or something.”
Bridget straightened up. “We can take my dad’s car.”
DERRICK
A Sense of Unreality
Something had happened yesterday between Bridget and Ajay. Derrick’s heart had sunk at the sight of Ajay’s present as he watched them through the cafeteria window. But whatever was inside had not brought a smile to Bridget’s face. Instead, she had looked like she was … hurt? Was that the right word?
And last night, when Bob had asked him to send the message to her, something about that pained emotion as well as her bland reaction to when he had mentioned Bob had reassured Derrick that it was okay to send the message. Derrick had also decided it was wiser not to consult his mom beforehand. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Today, Bridget walked into physics class, not downcast, but rather animated. Quick movements, an urgent hissed conversation with Ajay. And then they ate lunch together, an activity Derrick had hoped would become a thing of the past. But the first thing Bridget did was hand Ajay her phone.
Derrick took out his own phone, already feeling dread and anger meet in his stomach, forming a pit of acid. And then he logged in to Bob’s email box.
A sense of unreality filled Derrick as he read Bridget’s confused reply. It was clear Bob’s message had been more than it appeared. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have fallen for Bob’s lies? The man was a professional storyteller, after all.
But what had Bob said to her? Were the police even now at the cabin, breaking down the door? Jumping to his feet, Derrick dumped his half-eaten meal in the trash. He would ditch school. Something he had never done before, but then again, he had never kidnapped anyone before either.
Five minutes later, he was in his car and on his way to the cabin. The entire hour he lectured himself and rehearsed what he would say to Bob, his mom, and any law enforcement.
Finally he was turning on Hoot Owl Road. Even though there were no police cruisers in front of the cabin, he was still filled with anxiety. He unlocked the door, and in a dozen quick steps, he was down the hall. He burst into Bob’s room. The old man was clacking away at the typewriter, so engrossed he didn’t register Derrick’s entrance until he slammed the door.
Reaching past him, Derrick pounded his fist on the OFF button on the treadmill.
Coasting to a stop, Bob heaved a sigh. “What do you need me to do this time? Shake my booty? Read someone’s awful poem?”
Derrick’s hands were clenched around the phone so tightly his fingers hurt. “You lied to me!”
“What?” Bob widened his rheumy eyes, trying to look innocent.
Derrick shook the phone at him. “Bridget emailed you back this morning, but I only just now saw it. You said you needed her help researching. But you must have really wanted her help escaping!”
“That’s not true.” The old man shook his head.
“Then why did she ask if you were okay and say she didn’t understand what you were talking about? What message did you hide in that email you had me send?” And what would his mom say when she found out?
Bob raised his hands. “Bridget’s just rusty because it’s been a long time since I gave her anything to work with. She’s forgotten things.”
Derrick ground his teeth at the lies. “I trusted you, and you betrayed me!”
Bob raised his open hands. “I swear to you that nothing nefarious is going on! Bridget just doesn’t remember some of the details. It’s been months since I worked on the book.”
“If she doesn’t remember it, why not just say so? Instead, she’s worried about you. She thinks you’re not making sense. Even if she doesn’t figure out whatever secret message you hid in there, she’s still concerned. You have to help me think of something to say that will make her stop asking questions.”
Bob’s white eyebrows, thick as caterpillars, drew together. “Maybe tell her I was drinking? Or sleep deprived?”
Both ideas were so lame Derrick didn’t even bother responding to them.
The phone vibrated in his hand, startling him so much he jerked. The display read Mom.
Oh crap. Even Bob appeared dismayed at the sight.
“Hello?” Derrick’s voice cracked.
“Check the video feed from Bob’s house. There’s two kids in front of the gate.”
“They’re probably just fans.”
“It sounds like they know something.”
After putting his finger on his lips and waiting until Bob nodded understanding, he put his mom on speakerphone and then pulled up the feeds from the security cameras from Bob’s house. A Subaru was parked in front of the gate. Two people were peering in between the wrought-iron curlicues. When the smaller one stepped closer to the light, he saw red hair.
Derrick said, “It’s not just two kids.” He glared down at Bob, resisting the urge to kick him. “One’s Bridget, his researcher.”
His mom’s voice sharpened. “And why would she be there?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “The security system already dispatched the police. I don’t know if I can beat them there.”
BRIDGET
Tilting Off Its Axis
“Welcome to our humble abode!” Bridget made a sweeping gesture as she stepped in the front door. Her breakfast dishes were in the sink, not the dishwasher, and there was a huge pile of mail on the dining room table, but things were mostly picked up, for which she was secretly thankful.
She tried to see her house through Ajay’s eyes. The olive green L-shaped couch with the gray-and-orange throw pillows. The long black leather ottoman in front of the couch that doubled as both footrest and coffee table. Opposite the couch, her dad’s gray overstuffed chair was flanked by a floor lamp standing on three carved wooden legs.
Other than the addition of framed photos of her mom or their family, Bridget realized everything looked just the way it had when her mom was still alive. The room suddenly felt like a time capsule—or a museum.
Darting down the hallway to her room, Bridget tossed her pack on her bed and qui
ckly closed the door as she left. It was already weird enough being alone with Ajay without him seeing her unmade bed or the clothes that had missed the hamper.
But he was still in the living room, focused on the framed photo of a grinning girl on a skateboard. He pointed. “So that’s you?”
“My mom, actually.” In the picture, her mom was a few years younger than Bridget was now. She wore a yellow T-shirt, and her red hair curled up over the edge of her helmet. Her smile was so big it squeezed her eyes closed. “She was more daring than I’ll ever be. She wasn’t scared of anything.” Except dying, but there wasn’t really a way to talk about that.
“You look a lot like her. And I’ll bet your personalities are more alike than you think.”
Bridget didn’t argue, even though the only way they were really alike was their shared love of Swords and Shadows. Instead, she went into the kitchen and grabbed the Subaru’s keys from a hook. She was allowed to use the car for grocery shopping or anything that required her to haul cargo or be out after dark—or for emergencies. And this definitely felt like one.
Once they were in the car, Bridget’s feeling that the world was tilting off its axis continued. Yesterday learning that her feelings for Ajay were one-sided. Today receiving Bob’s odd message. Then seeing her house and her mom through Ajay’s eyes. And now she was driving him to Bob’s in her dad’s car, the two of them sealed off from the world in a capsule made of glass and steel. All the parts of her life were coming together in ways she’d never expected.
“When was the last time you were at his house?” Ajay asked as she merged onto the highway.
“It was just that once, right after I met him. My dad wanted to make sure he was normal.”