“And who is this?” Mrs. Hofstetter said, and I realized she was repeating herself but I hadn’t heard the question the first time because I’d been lost in thought.
“This is our son, Russ,” my dad said, gripping my shoulders and steering me closer, which was incredibly weird, not to mention rude.
“Hi,” I said, sticking out my hand.
But she didn’t take my hand, just gave me such an uncomfortably piercing look I was tempted to look away. Then she did something really odd. She placed her hands on either side of my face and said, “Russ? That’s your name?” Mrs. Hofstetter stared as if I were under a microscope. Between my family’s behavior and this, I wasn’t sure what to think.
When I nodded, she pulled her hands away. I said, “My name is actually Russell, but no one calls me anything but Russ.”
“It’s a lovely name,” she said, looking at her husband, who wasn’t doing anything but standing there. “I guess I’m just surprised because I didn’t know Carly had a brother.” There was an accusatory note in her voice I couldn’t quite understand.
“It wasn’t a secret,” Carly pointed out.
But Mrs. Hofstetter’s attention was on me and me alone. “How old are you, Russ?”
“Fifteen.” It sounded young, even to me. “I’ll be sixteen this summer.”
“I see,” she said, and then I heard the hushed voices of other people entering the room, which seemed to break the spell.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said to both of them.
“Thank you,” Mr. Hofstetter said.
I sensed someone behind me and felt a tap on my shoulder. To my surprise, it was Mallory. I gave her a big smile until I noticed Jameson lurking like a snake right behind her. “This is my good friend Mallory Nassif,” I said. “Mallory, this is Mr. and Mrs. Hofstetter. Gordon Hofstetter was Mr. Hofstetter’s father.” I purposely left Jameson out. He could maneuver his own introduction.
Mallory was good with the social graces. “I was sorry to hear about your father’s death,” she said, her head tilting sympathetically to one side. “I saw him often at the diner in town and enjoyed talking to him. He was a very sweet man.”
During all of this, Carly looked uncomfortable, like she wished we all would just go away. Probably, I surmised, it was because she knew the Hofstetters and we were intruders. Well, too bad. I might not have known Gordon Hofstetter for as long as she had, but I was with him the night he died. Maybe I didn’t even want to be at the funeral, but I was entitled to attend.
People drifted in behind us, and Mr. Hofstetter thanked us for coming and said, “If you’ll excuse us, I think we have a few other people we need to talk to.” His wife reluctantly followed him to the front of the room.
After I’d introduced Mallory and Jameson to my parents, and we’d done the walk up to the front to pay our respects (Gordy, with his slicked-back hair and a dark brown suit and tie, did not look like himself at all), my folks said it was time to take a seat for the service.
I’d wanted to sit with Mallory, but my mom was clear that we were there as a family. “You can see your friends anytime,” she said, directing me with a firm hold on the back of my arm.
We sat up front, Dad on one side of me, Carly on the other. My dad, who normally never showed any interest in my social life, felt compelled to whisper (loudly), “That Mallory is awfully cute.” He nudged me repeatedly with his elbow until I gave him a head bob of acknowledgment. Parents.
Next to me, Carly swiveled in her seat; she seemed to be taking inventory of the crowd. “Oh great,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
I followed her nod to see that the place was nearly full. Scanning the faces, I locked in on the ones Carly had noticed: Mr. Specter, Kevin Adams, Mrs. Whitehouse, and Rosie. The only notable absence of the five was Dr. Anton. “What are they doing here?” I whispered to my sister.
She shrugged. “Paying their respects, I guess.”
“But not Dr. Anton?”
“Maybe he had something better to do.”
When the service started, a minister stepped up to the podium and asked us to join him in praying for Mr. Hofstetter. I checked the time on my phone and looked back to see if I could catch Mallory’s eye, but unlike me, she was praying. I did, however, catch Jameson’s eye. The dweeb’s arm extended over the back of Mallory’s chair, and he had a smug look on his face. Well, let him have his fun. Sneaking an arm behind her hardly counted as anything.
When the minister stepped away, John Hofstetter took his place at the podium, thanking us for being there to honor the memory of his father. He talked about Gordon Hofstetter’s forty-year career with the electric company and his devotion as a father, husband, and grandfather. I felt a flush of shame at how I’d thought of him as just an old guy. I’d been judgmental, something I hate in other people. I wondered, is it hypocritical to judge people for being judgmental? I thought it probably was.
My attention jerked back to the present when I saw Carly noticeably tensing. Her hands clutched her purse, and I noticed her mouth tighten.
Mr. Hofstetter was saying, “Many of you remember my son, David. He would be thirty-two if he’d lived, but unfortunately he died in a car accident when he was sixteen. My father never got over David’s death. He was our only child and his only grandchild. My wife and I found it too hard to live here with all the reminders of our son, which is why we moved out of state. We encouraged Dad to come with us, but he was firm in wanting to stay in Edgewood. He couldn’t accept David’s death as an accident, and for years he pressed the police to investigate further. I want to thank everyone here who was kind to my father in his last years, especially Carly Becker, who checked in on him from time to time and performed many other kindnesses.”
My parents and I looked at Carly in amazement. It was like she’d been living a double life: outwardly a self-absorbed, too-cool-for-school young mom, but secretly acting as Mother Teresa bringing comfort to the elderly. Her face gave nothing away; she just listened. Mr. Hofstetter talked on about Edgewood as a community of neighbors who cared about each other, and the crowd nodded in agreement. Personally, I’d never given Gordon Hofstetter much notice until he was dying in my arms. Some neighbor I was, I thought with shame.
When Mr. Hofstetter finished, the minister came back to address the crowd. “You know,” he said, “I was just reflecting on how fitting it is that we’re celebrating Gordon Hofstetter’s life the week prior to Easter Sunday, which is when Christians celebrate the resurrection of our Lord. It is a beautiful reminder that death is not final and that the soul lives on forever. May Gordon’s eternal soul rest in peace. Amen.” Several people in the crowd murmured “Amen,” in response.
The only reason I knew the holiday was coming up was because there was no school on Friday and I had off the following week. The vacation from school was far more important to me than church or dying eggs or chocolate bunnies. Frank always came over to decorate eggs with us, and even though I had to be dragged to the table to participate, I had to admit, when I dipped my eggs into the colored vinegar solution, that there was some fun in this family tradition. I drew the line at hunting for eggs in the backyard, though, and let Frank have that all to himself.
My mind wandered to what the minister had said, that “the soul lives on forever.” It reminded me of Nadia’s nighttime visit to my room. Was the glimmering wisp hovering around my ceiling her soul, or just some part of her conscious mind doing some roaming? And did it even matter?
As we got up to leave, Mrs. Hofstetter sliced through the crowd to seek out Carly. “I want to thank you again,” she said, pulling my sister into an awkward embrace, “for everything you did for my father-in-law.”
Carly looked sheepish. “I didn’t do all that much.”
“Oh, but you did. We relied on your reports, and all those times you drove him to the doctor! I’m not sure how he’d have managed otherwise. Well, we’re grateful, is all.” She turned to my parents.
“You have a fine daughter. You must be very proud of her.”
“Of course,” Dad said. He spoke for both of them since Mom was stunned speechless.
“We’re cleaning out Gordon’s apartment the rest of the week,” Mrs. Hofstetter said to Carly. “I know he had some of David’s things. If there’s something you’d like, you’re welcome to it. Just stop by.”
“Maybe I will,” Carly said. “Maybe I will.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
By the next day I’d decided our ploy had worked—Mallory’s mind control had taken hold, the two guys had reported back to their superiors that there was nothing of interest in Edgewood, and all was right with the world. There weren’t going to be any Associates sniffing around for teenagers with superpowers and trying to recruit us. We were free. Just four kids who could do incredible things. As long as we didn’t get too bold and make ourselves known, we could live our lives as usual.
That’s the conclusion Nadia and I’d come to anyway, on Wednesday during one of our nighttime talks in my bedroom. I’d found myself looking forward to hearing from her around the same time every evening. She entered my room like a heat shimmer. I’d sprawl out on my bed with the lights off, and we’d talk until one of us got tired and then, reluctantly, we’d call it quits and I’d drift off to sleep.
Tell me again, she said.
Nadia loved hearing the story of Mallory’s botched abduction. How I stopped the bad guys by shooting electricity out of my palms and how Mallory reprogrammed their brains. I admit to ratcheting up the story to make myself sound slightly more heroic, but that’s what stories are for, right? I answered: Don’t you get sick of hearing about it?
No, I love imaging it. I wish I could have been there. I could sense the wistfulness behind her words.
Maybe your mom will ease up soon and we’ll get to do something together.
Not likely.
I changed the subject. Does Mallory tell the story about the two guys the same way I do?
I don’t know. I never asked her.
How come?
A long pause. I don’t talk to Mallory like this anymore. She says it creeps her out when I astral project to her. Does it creep you out, Russ?
No, I like it.
Yeah, I like it too. It’s sort of the high point of my day.
I asked, What about Jameson? Do you ever visit him?
That tool? Are you kidding? Although…
What?
In my mind I heard her giggle. One time I projected into his house. He didn’t know I was there and he was in front of the mirror…
Yes?
Totally flexing his biceps and admiring himself.
That didn’t sound too bad. I said, I was expecting you to say something far worse than that.
Like what?
Oh no, I’m not going there. Some things a guy doesn’t say to a girl.
Awww, you are a true gentleman, Russ Becker.
I try.
You know what’s kind of weird? Nadia asked.
What?
Not everyone can see me when I astral project. It’s like I can make myself known to some people, but if I don’t want to be seen it’s like I’m invisible.
How does that work?
I couldn’t tell you. It just is.
We talked for a while longer, and then I could feel myself starting to doze. I yawned. I hate to kick you out, Nadia, but I have to get up early tomorrow.
Yeah, me too. Good night, Russ.
Good night.
But Nadia didn’t leave. I still felt her energy hovering above me as I drifted off. An immense wave of peace washed over me and I slept more deeply than I had in a long time.
The next day in school, I still carried the relief of being home free. After nearly two weeks of stress, life was back to normal. Mallory and I were on friendly speaking terms, but our relationship had never ignited the way I’d hoped. Before the school day was over, I planned to ask if she had plans for the weekend. Maybe we could go out for those wings after all. And without Jameson this time. I didn’t care if he was a genius who could move things with his mind. Nadia was right—he was a complete tool.
In Mr. Specter’s class that day the topic was physics, and he had us doing an experiment involving Slinkys. Having toys in class made every guy in the room regress to about age six, and the metallic shush-shush noise of Slinkys filled the air.
Mr. Specter sorted us into groups of four, with every group getting a sheet of instructions. I’d zoned out during the explanation portion of the class, but with three others in my group, one of them Mallory, I would be fine.
Mallory said, “Okay, Russ, you read the directions. Brad can do the drop, and Crystal and I will take care of measuring and recording.”
Yeah, Mallory’s a little bossy, but no one else was taking charge and she gave me the easiest chore, so I was okay with it. I started reading off the sheet when the intercom in the room made the high-pitched squeal that precedes messages from the office. The disembodied voice of an office lady boomed out. “Mr. Specter?”
“Yes?” he said.
We all looked up at the speaker as if there would be something to see. “Could you send Russ Becker down to the office? Tell him to bring all his things. He’s leaving for the day.”
Mr. Specter gave me a look and raised one eyebrow. “Is this a disciplinary issue?”
“No.”
He tried again. “I’d hate to have him leave in the middle of class. Can’t it wait?”
The speaker clicked back on. “His sister is here. There’s a family emergency and he needs to go home.”
“Very well then,” Mr. Specter said. “He’ll be down in a minute.”
I shoved my notebook into my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. A family emergency? I wondered if something was wrong with one of my parents. A car accident? A heart attack? I couldn’t even imagine. I’d seen both of them at breakfast and everything was fine.
Mallory said, “I hope everything’s okay.”
“Me too.”
Mr. Specter said, “Everyone carry on. I’ll be back in a minute.” Then he followed me out into the hallway, where he rested a hand on my shoulder. “Russ, do you know what this is about? Why your sister is here?”
“No,” I said. “Everything was okay when I left home this morning.”
He leaned in so close I could smell his coffee breath. “It might not be anything, but if it’s related to what we’ve discussed before, you need to let me know immediately.”
I bristled. He might be my science teacher, but I didn’t have to report to him about my personal life. “I know what to do,” I said. I meant it one way, but it was taken another.
“I knew I could count on you.” Mr. Specter released his hold on me, and I headed down the hall to where Carly waited in the office.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I spotted Carly through the double glass doors while I was still out in the hall. Wearing designer jeans with the bedazzled back pockets, she almost looked like a student, one of those girls who spend a lot of money on clothes trying to get noticed. She paced in front of the reception counter, one hand up to her forehead like she had a headache. When I walked in, she lowered her hand and I saw the strained look on her face, like she was just barely managing to hold it together. I rushed up to her. “Carly, what happened?”
“I signed you out, let’s get going,” she said, her car keys hanging off the crook of her finger.
From behind her computer, Mrs. Bomberg, the lady who handled attendance, called out, “I’m sorry to hear about your aunt, Russ. I’ll be praying for her.”
“Thank you,” Carly said, steering me toward the door.
“What is she talking about?” We were in the hallway now, heading for the door that led to the parking lot. I thought I was keeping my voice down, but it echoed in the open area. “Which aunt?”
“Keep going, just keep going,” she said, propelling me out the door. Once we were on the front sidewalk she st
opped and burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, scaring the hell out of me. I’d seen my sister put on displays of drama before, but I’d never seen her like this.
“Carly, what is it?” I asked frantically, wanting to know but also dreading finding out. All I could think was that someone was dead.
She gulped and when she answered, the words took effort. “It’s Frank,” she said. “They’ve got Frank.” She hugged me and buried her face in my shoulder. “Oh, Russ.”
“Who has Frank?”
“The Associates. They took him and they won’t give him back unless you go and meet with them.”
“So there’s no sick aunt?”
“No, no, no. I just made that up to get you out of there.” Carly pulled back to rummage through her purse for a tissue. “Russ, what are we going to do?” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“I don’t know.” I put my arm around her shoulder and glanced back at the row of windows which fronted the building. We were visible from any number of classrooms. “Let’s talk in the car.”
She led me through the parking lot, babbling as she went. “I’ve been completely freaking out. They left this horrible voice mail and I knew right away it was the Associates. I’ll let you listen to it.”
“Okay.”
“They said if we go to the police they’ll kill him.” She paused before the word “kill” like it was too awful to even say.
“That’s not going to happen. We’ll handle this. I’ll meet with them and we’ll get him back. Everything is going to be fine.” I had no idea where I’d gotten this smooth confidence. I wasn’t just saying the words, I meant them. It seemed that along with acquiring electricity I’d gotten a boost of certainty in myself.
Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 19