by T. R. Burns
I don’t say anything.
“Kind of convenient, don’t you think?” he asks. “That Elinor wasn’t with you when balls started flying . . . and then when they stopped, she was?”
“She was the first person to find me because she was the only other person in the house. And she helped me.”
“After she hurt you.”
“No.”
“Maybe.”
“No. She was inside. The balls came from outside.”
“And there’s no way she could’ve gone outside after you split up, and come back inside once she’d stopped firing?”
Of course she could have. We were apart long enough that that’d be physically possible.
But she wouldn’t have.
“What about you guys?” I ask. “You and Gabby? If Elinor was so busy targeting me, how’d Gabby end up half-blind and you with blue hands?”
“Elinor filled the soap dispensers and rigged the fridge beforehand. Obviously.”
“And the other Troublemakers? Was she behind whatever happened to them, too?”
“Well—”
“Forget it. That question doesn’t even deserve an answer. But Abe, what exactly are you saying? That Elinor isn’t working with us? That she’s actually secretly working for her mother—who, let me remind you, trapped her in a swimming pool of snakes? And who she couldn’t get away from fast enough when we went to rescue her last semester?”
He thinks about it. “Yes.”
I laugh. “No offense, but that has to be the craziest thing you’ve ever said. I know Elinor. And she knows me. There’s no way she’d—”
“Hinkle.”
“No, you need to—”
“Hinkle.”
I freeze. So does my mouth, which is still open from being interrupted. Because Abe’s face is white. And when I follow his wide-eyed stare to a window near the cafeteria coffee station, I know why.
“Do you see what I see?” he whispers.
I see a dirty brown bandana. Tied around an oily, pimpled forehead. Holding back hair so greasy, it shines like the light in Gabby’s rigged refrigerator. Whoever’s wearing the bandana is outside, ducking under a cafeteria window.
Still staring, Abe and I answer his question at the same time.
“Shepherd Bull.”
Chapter 15
DEMERITS: 1610
GOLD STARS: 750
No way!” Gabby exclaims.
“Yes way,” Abe says.
“I can’t believe it,” Elinor says.
“I’m sure you can’t,” Abe says.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Gabby asks.
“We didn’t want to talk about it until we knew it was safe,” Abe says.
“But—where?” Gabby asks. “How? When?”
“Who?” Annika adds.
We all look at our director. She’s sitting at the head of a gleaming silver yacht. This is where Houdini brought us after we got back to our campsite, I e-mailed Annika and said we had big news, and she sent the golf cart. Houdini drove us to another lake, this one bigger and bluer than the one our parents are enjoying, and then took us by motorboat to the yacht floating half a mile off shore.
“Who is Shepherd Bull?” Annika repeats.
“Only the dirtiest, smelliest, meanest boy-giant that ever lived!” Gabby says.
“How do you know him?” Annika asks.
“We don’t,” I say. “Not really. But we’ve seen him before. At IncrimiNation.”
Annika sits up straight. “So I was right. My sister is up to something.”
“Looks like,” Abe says.
“What else do you know about this boy?” Annika asks.
“He has a lot of dirty friends,” Abe says. “When we were at their school, they blindfolded us in gross gym socks, tied us up, and locked us in a closet.”
“And he seems to be some kind of leader,” I add.
“Where did you see him today?” Annika asks.
“Outside the camp cafeteria,” I say. “Spying on us through a window.”
“Was anyone with him?” Annika asks.
“We don’t know,” I say. “He was gone by the time we ran outside.”
“And you don’t know where he went?” Annika asks.
“Nope,” Abe says. “We checked the woods and other buildings, but there was no sign of him.”
Annika looks at Elinor. “What do you know about this?”
“Yeah,” Abe says. “What do you know?”
Like the rest of us, Elinor’s sitting on one of the yacht’s comfy lounge chairs. Now she sinks deeper into the cushion and says, “Nothing.”
“You’ve spent time at your mother’s school,” Annika says. “Occasionally against your will, often against your mother’s. At the very least, you were there several weeks last semester before your friends came and got you. You’re saying you don’t know anything more about this dirty boy-giant than what’s just been shared?”
Elinor looks down at her hands, which she’s clasping and unclasping. “They’re right,” she says, her voice soft. “He’s a leader. My mother usually gives him orders, and then he tells the other kids what to do.”
Annika waits. “That’s it? You don’t know where he’s from? How old he is? What his special troublemaking talents are? Why your mother favors him?”
Elinor’s head snaps up. When she talks now, her voice is low but sharp. “He’s mean. So mean, whenever I see him coming I turn around and go the other way.”
At this I want to run over to Elinor and give her a huge hug. But Annika smirks and speaks before I can.
“No wonder.”
“No wonder what?” I ask.
“That my sister takes any chance she can get to dump her—” Annika stops herself. “Never mind! Now, tell me. What should we do about this situation?”
I look at Elinor again. She’s dabbing her eyes with her T-shirt sleeve.
“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” I say evenly. “We thought you might want the Good Samaritans to take care of it. By finding Shepherd Bull and any other trespassers, and kicking them out.”
“Definitely not,” Annika says. “At least one Incriminator is on the premises. There may be more. This is an unexpected development, but it’s also an opportunity. Here, on our turf, we have an invaluable chance to learn more about the enemy in ways we didn’t anticipate.”
“How?” Abe asks.
“Engage them,” Annika says. “Let them do whatever they’ve come to do, and while they’re doing it, watch. Listen. And, of course, defend yourselves as necessary.”
“Hang on,” Gabby says. “You want us to spy on our parents, spy on the Incriminators, and do all of our regular homework and assignments?”
“Is that a problem?” Annika asks.
“Nope!” Gabby gives two thumbs-ups to show she really means it.
“That’s what I thought. And remember: You’re well trained and up to the challenge. Just think of the Incriminators as new items you’ve picked up from the Kommissary and play with them like the toys that they are.”
Gabby laughs. Abe grins. I look at Elinor, who looks down at her lap.
“Moving on,” Annika says. “Abe’s and Gabby’s families will be here shortly.”
“They will?” Abe asks.
“Why?” Gabby asks.
“Role Reverse,” Annika says. “I told you about it the other day.”
“You also said we’d get e-mails with more information.” Abe whips out his K-Pak, taps the screen. “And I didn’t get any.”
“You’re all much busier than your classmates are,” Annika says, “so when this meeting came up, I thought it was a great chance to knock out two birds with one stone. I notified your parents, and they agreed to meet here.” She pauses. “You sound nervous. Why?”
“I’m not nervous,” Abe and Gabby say at the same time. But Abe’s voice cracks and Gabby starts biting her nails, so I think they are.
“You shouldn’t be,�
� Annika says. “This is just a way for me to see you and your parents interact firsthand. I hope it provides more clues as to why they’ve been behaving so strangely. But before they arrive, who’d like to fill me on what you observed in your families’ cabins today?”
Abe recovers enough from his surprise to tell Annika everything that happened before the Shepherd Bull spotting, including my ping-pong attack. His ink-stained hands. Gabby’s light display. The other Troublemakers we saw in the infirmary. He doesn’t tell her about my dad’s weird behavior, because I didn’t get a chance to share that with him or anyone else. I could do it now, and I probably should, considering this is what we’re at Kamp Kilter to do . . . but I don’t. Maybe because I know this is information Annika would like to have, and after she almost made Elinor cry, I don’t feel like giving it to her. Or maybe I don’t want to rat out Dad until I’m 100 percent sure he’s doing something worth ratting him out for. Either way, I keep this to myself.
Annika listens carefully and takes notes on her K-Pak. When Abe’s done, she thanks him and asks us to do the same good work tomorrow.
Then a door opens behind us. I turn and see two older couples and a teenager hurry onto the deck. I recognize Abe’s dad and Gabby’s older sister from their appearances during our alliance V-Chat back home. I assume the other adults are Abe’s mom and Gabby’s parents. The men are wearing damp shorts and T-shirts, the women sundresses over bathing suits. They all look like they just came from the beach.
“Welcome!” Annika jumps up and hugs the new arrivals. “Wonderful to see you!”
As they greet one another and chitchat, I sneak peeks at my alliance-mates. Elinor’s looking at her lap. Abe’s pacing across the deck. Gabby’s gazing longingly out at the water, like she’d rather fall overboard than stay here.
A moment later, Annika asks everyone to take a seat. Then she says, “Mr. Hansen, Mrs. Hansen, Mr. Ryan, Mrs. Ryan, and Flora, thank you so much for taking a few minutes out of your busy vacation schedules to join us for this special meeting.”
“Is this going to take a while?” Flora asks.
“Don’t be rude!” Mrs. Ryan hisses to her daughter.
Flora ignores her mother and looks at Annika. “I was tanning. I’ll look like a half-eaten Oreo if I don’t get another twenty-three minutes of prime sun time on my stomach. You understand.”
Annika forces her lips into a smile. “Of course. Let’s get started.” A waiter appears with a clipboard and pen. Annika takes both and continues. “We all know why we’re here: to help your bad kids become good ones. By sending them to Kilter you’ve entrusted me with this huge responsibility, and I hope you’re pleased with the progress made so far.”
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Ryan says.
“There’s more work to be done,” Mr. Hansen says.
“You’re right,” Annika agrees. “And I think Role Reverse will be an excellent tool for getting at the real root of your children’s behavior.”
“Role Reverse?” Mr. Hansen asks skeptically.
Annika explains. “Either you or your wife will play Abe. Abe will play one of you. Gabby and her parents will do the same.”
“Play him how?” Mrs. Hansen asks.
“During a brief skit of sorts, you’ll act and speak as you believe he would. He’ll act and speak as he believes you would. Through this interaction, we’ll gain insight into how you view him and vice versa. The results may be surprising, and they’ll definitely be helpful.”
“What do you mean by a ‘skit of sorts’?” Mrs. Ryan asks.
“A scenario,” Annika says. “From real life.” The adults still look confused, so she adds, “Let’s keep it simple. There must’ve been a specific incident that prompted you to send your kids to Kilter. Reenact that moment.” She looks around. “Who’d like to go first?”
“I will.” Flora jumps up. “Let’s do this, Geek Girl.”
Head low, Gabby stands.
“That’s very kind, Flora,” Annika says. “But I’d rather one of your parents—”
“Look at me!” Flora declares, covering her heart with both hands. “I’m Gabby! And I’m doing homework! Again! Because I love homework! Math! Science! English! History! The more boring the subject, the better!” Flora pauses, cups one hand to her ear. “What’s that? A phone call for me? That can’t be! Because I don’t have friends! I don’t have time for them! I’m far too busy reading and studying and getting straight As!”
Flora stops, then flings her arms to the side and folds over at the waist in a dramatic bow. I wonder who she’s really talking about, because the person she’s playing sounds nothing like the bubbly, friendly, super-social Gabby I know.
“Moving on,” Annika says. “Mrs. Ryan, you’ll play Gabby. Gabby, you’ll play your mom. Mrs. Ryan will start.”
Flora drops into her chair. Gabby’s mom stands up slowly, like she’d much rather stay seated. Preferably back on the beach than here on Annika’s yacht.
“Action!” Annika exclaims.
Mrs. Ryan jumps. Gabby’s head snaps up. They look at each other uncertainly. After a few awkward, silent seconds, Mrs. Ryan begins.
“It’s the middle of the night,” she says, her voice soft. “My family’s sleeping all snug in their beds. Now’s the perfect chance to scare them!”
“That’s not exactly how it went,” Gabby says.
“That’s not for you to say right now.” Annika wags her pointer finger. “Please continue, Mrs. Ryan.”
Gabby’s mom does. “I don’t know why I’ve been so unhappy lately, or why everyone’s making me mad . . . but they are. So I must keep trying to make them unhappy. And this is the perfect chance.” She reaches into her skirt pocket, pulls out nothing, and raises her hand like the nothing is something. “Blindfolds! For Flora. Mom. And Dad.” Mrs. Ryan pretends to tie invisible blindfolds three times. “I’ll triple-knot them so they’re impossible to take off. Then I’ll go to the front door . . .”—Mrs. Ryan tiptoes across the deck—“open it . . .”—pretends to open a door—“and set off the security alarm!” She claps her hands over her ears. When she speaks again, she practically shouts. “The beeping is so loud! They’re freaking out! And they can’t take off the blindfolds so they can’t see where they’re going or what’s happening! For all they know a bunch of burglars are stealing everything we own!” She laughs. “Mom and Dad just ran into each other! And fell to the floor! Flora just tripped over her sneakers! Perfect!”
Mrs. Ryan continues to describe the chaotic incident. I glance at Annika and see her studying Gabby’s mom and jotting down notes. I glance at Gabby, whose face is bright red.
Finally, Mrs. Ryan stops. Her face is bright red too. She’s breathing heavily. Behind her, Mr. Ryan shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Flora smirks.
“Your turn, Gabby,” Annika says.
Words burst from my alliance-mate’s mouth. “I’m having the best dream ever! Flora and I are at the spa! We’re getting manicures and pedicures! After this we’ll go shopping! And out to dinner! And maybe catch a movie! Just the two of us! Oh, wait—so is this a dream? Or am I awake? Because that’s what we do every weekend!”
“Not every—”
“Shh!” Annika cuts off Mrs. Ryan.
“What’s that?” Gabby continues. “The security alarm? Is someone in the house? Is Flora in danger? I must find her! I must make sure she’s okay! I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to my favorite daughter!”
Gabby stops. Her chest rises and instantly falls. Over and over and over again.
“Gabby,” Mrs. Ryan says, her eyebrows low. “Is that what you think? That I care about your sister more than I care about you?”
Gabby doesn’t answer. She takes her seat instead.
“Mr. Hansen?” Annika asks. “Abe? You’re up.”
Abe and his dad stand and face each other like this is the Wild West and they’re about to duel. Mr. Hansen starts.
“It’s my birthday. I’ve just opened my present from my paren
ts . . . and it’s a football. Another one. This one’s not even new. The leather’s faded. It’s soft and mushy, probably because it was blown up a hundred years ago. It’s the worst gift I’ve ever gotten.” Mr. Hansen tosses up an invisible ball, catches it. “Dad says we should go to the park and throw it around. He keeps talking about quality time, and father-son bonding, and all sorts of other mumbo jumbo.”
“Quality time?” Abe asks. “Bonding? You never said anything about—”
Annika shushes him. His dad continues.
“But hanging out with my dad? Please. I’d rather eat this football than throw it around with him. If he doesn’t get that by now, I’ll just have to make him.” Mr. Hansen takes the invisible ball and seems to squeeze it. “I’ll pop this and turn it into a lamp shade. Maybe then Dad will finally understand how I feel about him.”
Mr. Hansen stops. Abe starts.
“It’s my son’s birthday! A perfect reason to give him his eighth football—and millionth reminder that I wish he were bigger! Stronger! Into sports! If I had a daughter, the art thing would be cool. But Abe shouldn’t be painting or drawing or sketching! He should be throwing and catching and grunting! If he did any of those things, maybe I could be proud of him!”
Abe stops. His dad’s frowning.
“Your father loves you very much,” Mrs. Hansen says, voice wavering. “So do I. That old football was his as a boy. He just wanted you to—”
Mrs. Hansen is interrupted by a shrill beeping. The noise comes from Annika’s K-Pak. She picks it up, turns it on, and taps the screen.
“I’m very sorry,” she says a moment later, “but I have to leave for another meeting. We’ll end here.”
No one moves. Not even Flora. Abe, Gabby, and their families exchange curious looks, almost like they’re really seeing one another for the first time.
But then two waiters appear on the deck. They motion for the families to stand and leave, and escort them to the door. When they’re gone, Annika thanks us for our cooperation.
“You got it,” Abe says, and gives her a small salute. “Is there anything else?”