When he finally got up, it was almost 1 p.m. He wandered into the living room and found his father sitting in his recliner, reading the paper.
“There’s the sleepy head,” his father said. “Must be something going around. I didn’t get up until late, either.”
Eric started to head into the kitchen to get a glass of water, then paused. “What about Mom?”
“Your mother?” his dad said, looking confused.
Eric stopped breathing, sure that his father was about to say his mother was still on a business trip.
“All I know is, she was up before me.”
“I just live in a house full of lazy men, that’s all there is to it.”
Eric turned around. His mother had just come out of the kitchen, a glass of water in her hand.
“Thirsty, sweetie?” she asked, holding it out to him.
“Thanks.” After he took a sip, he said, “So how was the business trip?”
“Business trip?” his mother asked. “What business trip?”
“The one you’ve been on for the last four days?” he said tentatively.
She put a hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”
He stared at her for a moment, and saw that she had no idea what he was talking about. His father seemed equally clueless so he forced out a laugh and said, “Just…kidding.”
When Eric went to school Monday morning, he couldn’t help but be nervous. Despite a wonderful weekend with his parents, the past two weeks had been complete disasters. It was hard to believe the theme wouldn’t continue. But his bike — which he and his dad had repaired on Sunday morning — held up just fine on the way to school, getting him there with plenty of time to get to his locker before class. And while the smell of orange soda still hung in the air, the janitorial staff had cleaned off what they could and had scraped most of the gum from his lock. His books weren’t in the best condition, but they’d had enough time to dry out so that was good enough for him.
He was starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was really over. Then he turned the corner and came face to face with Peter Garr.
They stared at each other for a second. Then, before Eric could move out of the way, Peter said, “Sorry,” stepped around him and walked off.
Eric was so shocked by the encounter he was almost late to class. But when he got to his desk Ms. Lindgren hadn’t even arrived yet.
Maggie looked over from her seat. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he replied.
“So where are your friends?”
“Gone.”
“And what about your problems?”
He shrugged. “Gone, too. I think.”
She smirked and shook her head. “See, I told you they didn’t know what they were talking about.”
There didn’t seem to be any sense in explaining how wrong she was, so he just said nothing.
“I am glad things are better,” she said. She paused for a second. “Did those two girls even stay all night on Friday?”
“Why?”
“After I went to bed, Keira was in the bathroom, and I never heard her or Fiona come in. I was just thinking maybe they decided to go home.”
“You don’t remember anything else?”
She thought for a moment. “I had this weird dream about being in their car, but that was about it. Why? Did something happen I should know?”
Eric almost laughed. “No. Nothing.”
The final proof that the Makers were no longer affecting his life came during P.E.
Basketballs were lined up once again at the end of the court.
“Those drills went so well on Friday,” Coach Roberts said, “I thought we’d do them again.”
The team Eric had been on before didn’t want him this time, so he joined a group of guys he’d hung out with in the past. Like on Friday, the line referee was someone from the girls’ P.E. class. Only this time, instead of Fiona and Keira, it was Maggie.
The way things worked out, Eric ended up being the last person in his group. By the time his turn came, his team and the one he’d been part of on Friday were running neck and neck in first place.
Tommy was their final runner. He had a two-second lead on Eric by the time they were both on the court.
For their lap, the ball was at the far end so they had to pick it up and bring it back.
Eric ran faster than he’d ever run. Though his team was in no danger of coming in last and having to do laps, he had no desire of coming in second, either. He wanted to beat Tommy.
By the time they reached the balls, he had actually pulled ahead. He grabbed his basketball, touched his foot on the other side of the line, then began racing back to the finish. He’d gone only a few feet, though, when Maggie blew her whistle.
He glanced over his shoulder, shocked that she would blow it on him when he’d done exactly what he was supposed to do.
Only she wasn’t pointing at him.
“Tommy Bird,” Coach Roberts called out. “Start your lap over!”
Eric streaked ahead, a grin as big as the Rocky Mountains on his face.
As he crossed the finish, his teammates started cheering and clapping him on the back.
Life was definitely back on track.
JOURNAL OF RONAN TROUBLE (MR. TROUBLE No. 10)
BOOK 2
