“No. But he doesn’t have a phone or a computer, so I never hear from Julian.”
“He’s out again today.” She frowns, obviously worried. I don’t tell her he’s probably just skipping. I mean, is she forgetting the first weeks of school when he dodged her? “This is the third day in a row. I’ve called home, but I haven’t heard back from anyone.”
I guess three days is weird, even for him. “I could go by his house.”
She perks up. “Would you? That would be very helpful.”
“I can go now if you want.” Anything’s better than sitting in this office doing nothing. I can tell she’s about to say no, so I add hastily, “I’ve got lunch next period, so I won’t be late to class or anything.”
“All right. You can go”—her eyes shoot from side to side, and she whispers like her office is bugged—“but don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“No problem, Dr. Whitlock.” Everyone worries too much.
I ignore the doorbell. It’s always a UPS man or a salesman, never anyone I want to see. When it rings again, faster and more insistent, I slowly climb out of bed, wincing. I take careful steps to the front door, then peek through the fish-eye.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when I open the door.
“Manners, Julian,” Adam scolds, sweeping right past me. “Nice house.” Then he squints at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
I retreat a little, afraid he might try to touch my shoulder. “Nothing.”
“You look like hell.”
The pain has dulled to something bearable, but I’m congested and my head aches. This happens a lot after a punishment. Just as the marks begin to fade, I get sick.
“It’s just a cold. Or maybe the flu.”
“You go to the doctor?”
“No.”
“Well, what have you been eating?”
“Uh…peanut butter and jelly.”
He shakes his head as if disappointed, then scans the house again. “Is your uncle really anti-technology?”
“Why?”
“No computer. No TV. What do you do here all day when you’re sick?”
“Nothing.”
“That sucks,” he says sympathetically.
He starts jogging through the house the same way he does through the courtyard at school. I’m terrified he’s going to break something, or that Russell will be home at any minute. Russell might be gone for two days or he might come home right now.
“Where’s your room?”
“It’s the last one on the hall. But I—”
He starts jogging in the opposite direction and stops in front of the china cabinet. “What is all this?”
“No one can touch that!”
But he’s already opening the glass doors and poking at everything on the shelves—five antique cameras, dozens of first-edition books, delicate dishes, and an old silver gun.
“This is weird,” Adam says, picking it up. “Who mixes their weapons with their china?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t like people touching them. He doesn’t like people in the house at all.” When Adam puts it back and carefully closes the glass door, I exhale in relief.
But I get nervous all over again when he bounces into the kitchen and tears open the refrigerator. “Is this all you have?” he asks.
I nod.
Adam frowns as he studies the jar. “Now if this was a halfway-decent brand of jelly it would be one thing, but it’s all processed.” He says it like it’s a curse word. “Full of sugar and preservatives.” Those are curse words too.
“I’m feeling a lot better. I’ll probably be back at school tomorrow.”
“Want me to hang out?”
“No,” I say quickly, listening for Russell’s car. “My uncle really doesn’t like people to be over.”
“But you’re sick. He wouldn’t want you to be by yourself when you’re sick.”
“He won’t care what the reason is.”
Now Adam looks at me so intensely that for a second he reminds me of Dr. Whitlock and Mr. Pearce and everyone else who tries to read my thoughts.
“Okay,” he says, still looking uncertain. “I guess I’ll go.”
WHEN I GET to first period on Thursday, the door is locked. It takes me a second to notice the sign that reads CLASS IN LAB ROOM 202. By the time I get there I’m late, but it looks like almost everyone else is too.
“I told the class yesterday where to go,” Miss West says when she sees me. “Is that so hard to remember?”
“I’m sorry. I was absent yesterday.”
“It’s always something with you, isn’t it?”
I sit at the empty table in the back and drop my head onto my arms. A minute later, a throat clears behind me. I open my eyes to find Kristin, Alex, and Violet standing over me. “Would you mind if we took this table, since it’s big enough for three people?” Violet asks. Her eyes are round and black and kind.
“Okay.”
I’m grabbing my backpack when Kristin adds, “Unless you’re waiting for all your friends.”
“No…I’m not waiting for anyone.”