Gimble beamed at her. “You play D and D, too?” He turned and mouthed to Mulder, I think I’m in love.
Phoebe took another quick look around the room. “I take it your dad is on another one of his top secret trips?” She turned to Gimble. “And no, I don’t play D and D. But I know how, and I speak Elvish.”
Gimble brought his fist to his chest and let out a long breath. “It’s like gods sent you down from heaven.”
“How could you let him get this bad?” She glared at Gimble.
“It’s not his fault,” Mulder said. “I’m a big boy.”
“So you claim.” Phoebe marched down the hallway and peeked into each room until she spotted his open bedroom door. She walked in and shook her head in disgust.
Clothes were strewn all over the floor, along with books, sunflower seed shells, and more apple pie wrappers. Mulder scooped up an armload of clothes and dumped the heap in his closet.
Phoebe inspected his perfectly made bed. “Are you sleeping on the sofa again? Or did your insomnia come back?”
Mulder ran a hand through his hair. It was sticking up and he tried to smooth it down. “Sort of.”
“Sort of to which one?”
He shrugged. “Both, I guess.”
She picked up the book on his nightstand and read the title. “The Meaning of Murder? Doing a little light reading before bed? No wonder you can’t sleep.”
Gimble scanned the collection of serial killer books on Mulder’s shelf and flipped through Year of the Zodiac Killer. “I love the Zodiac Killer.”
“Do you know how disturbing that sounds?” Phoebe asked.
“I just meant that me and the Major—that’s what I call my dad—we tried to crack the cryptograms the Zodiac Killer sent the cops,” Gimble rushed on. “The authorities figured out three of the codes, and a high school teacher solved another one. But nobody ever deciphered the rest.”
“Like I said, disturbing.” Phoebe poked around the room, searching for more proof that he wasn’t taking care of himself.
Mulder took the paperback out of his back pocket and dropped it on the nightstand.
Gimble looked through the rest of the murder books, as Phoebe called them. “So have you read all of these?”
“Uh … yeah.” She held up the copy of The Meaning of Murder. “He made me read most of them, too.”
“No one makes you do anything,” Mulder said.
“True.” Phoebe smiled just enough to make him remember what it felt like to feel her lips against his. She was like the sun—the bright spot in his universe, resisting the pull of the black hole that threatened to suck him in.
Why was she still hanging around with him? Guys tripped all over themselves to talk to her, even though most of them didn’t understand half the things she said. Maybe that was the reason Phoebe hadn’t found a boyfriend after he left. She didn’t have a lot of options at a tiny island high school full of jocks.
But she will next year.
Mulder rubbed his eyes and tried to bury the thought. It was the beginning of April. Phoebe would be leaving for MIT in the middle of August. Less than five months—that was all the time he had left with her. Then she would meet a good-looking college genius and forget all about him.
“Stormbringer?” Phoebe noticed the green paperback on his nightstand. She skimmed a few pages.
“It’s a fantasy novel the Major is obsessed with.” Gimble didn’t mention his mom.
“It sounds kind of weird.” She flipped it over and looked at the cover.
“Everything about the Major is weird,” Gimble admitted. “But it’s actually a really popular book, and the author, Michael Moorcock, is a genius. The series inspired the alignment system in D and D.”
“Is the guy on the front an elf?” she asked, referring to the male character with long white hair and alabaster skin, wielding a black sword.
Gimble gave her a strange look. “He’s not an elf. He’s an albino warrior from an alternate dimension.”
“Of course.” Phoebe tossed the paperback on the bed and took Mulder’s hand, dragging him into the hallway. “Let’s get you something to eat that doesn’t come from the cereal aisle at the grocery store, while you fill me in.”
Mulder nodded. He didn’t have the energy to argue. His mind was reeling, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the articles he’d found at the library this morning.
In the kitchen, Phoebe riffled through the cupboards while Mulder and Gimble sat at the table. She pulled out a loaf of white bread and jars of peanut butter and jelly. Then she placed slices of bread on the counter, assembly-line style.