“Three … two …”
They heard a faint,
open the door, and started guzzling milk from the carton. Kate was hysterical, so weak with laughter she was down on her knees, clutching the counter so
she wouldn’t fal over.
But Jack wasn’t laughing. Served Tom right for being in his room last night.
At least he hoped it had been Tom.
Fol owing the old saying about discretion being the better part of valor, Jack had skedaddled before Tom recovered from the pistachios. He didn’t want to
deal with him tonight.
Was it okay to dislike your brother? Real y, real y dislike? He thought of another old saying: You can choose your friends but you can’t choose your
family. They had that right. No way in a mil ion years would he have chosen Tom for a brother.
He reached Steve’s front door and knocked.
“Hi, Mrs. Brussard,” he said as she appeared. “Steve around?”
He was glad Steve’s mom had answered instead of his dad. Maybe he wasn’t a kil er. Maybe he’d real y been trying to protect his three Lodge brothers
from the mysterious and dreaded klazen. Maybe they’d died of natural causes or, as Dad thought, scared themselves to death. But Jack had trouble
buying that. And he feared that Mr. Brussard would take one look at him and realize that Jack suspected the truth.
Mrs. B smiled as she pushed open the door for him. She was short and pudgy with straight brown hair. Steve looked nothing like her.
“He’s down in the basement with that computer. I swear, if he devoted that much time to his homework during the school year he’d be a straight-A
student.”
Jack doubted that. Not with the condition Steve was too often in by the end of the night. But he said nothing about that as he headed for the basement
stairs, hoping he’d find Steve sober for a second night in a row.
No such luck. Steve was slumped on the couch watching that sappy
“I never noticed before,” he slurred with a sil y grin, “but Michele Lee is cooooool.”
She
“I thought you were locked out of the liquor cabinet.”
“I am.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Steve raised an amber plastic vial and rattled its contents. “I was forced to improvise.”
“Pil s? Whose?”
“My mom’s.” He tossed Jack the bottle. “Check it out.”
Jack caught it and examined the label. Under Steve’s mother’s name it read:
“What’s this stuff?”
Steve grinned again. “A tranquilizer. My mother’s had them around forever. Hardly ever uses them.”
“You’re taking a
“Better believe it.” He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth. “Completely nuts.”
Jack tossed the vial back. Steve tried to catch it but was too slow. It sailed right past his hand.
“Don’t you want one? They take the edge off everything and make you feel sooooooo mel owwwwww.”
Jack didn’t get it. Life was too cool to spend in a fog. He didn’t want to miss a thing.
“Maybe I prefer edgy to mel ow.”
Steve’s gaze drifted back to the TV. “Isn’t she beauuuutiful?”
“She’s old enough to be your mother!”
“I wish she was. I’d sit and look at her aaaaaal day.”
“I thought we were final y gonna get some work done on the computer.”
