Watch Your Step (19 page)

Annika reaches one end of the deck, turns, and walks some more. She's been pacing since we got here twenty minutes ago. I e-mailed her right after I told my friends what had happened, and she sent a cart as soon as our chores were done and we got the clearance to leave from our teachers.

“We need supplies,” Abe says. “From the Kommissary.”

“As I said the other day,” Annika says, “you may engage them—but not run them off.”

“But if we don't have the right tools,” Abe says, “they might run
us
off.”

Annika stops, cocks an eyebrow in his direction.

“Believe me,” he says. “I don't like admitting it. Because we're good.
Really
good. But those kids are crazy.”

Annika keeps walking. I glance at Elinor. Our eyes meet. She shrugs as if to say she has no idea what her aunt is thinking. Eventually, Annika stops. Right in front of me.

“Do
you
feel you need additional supplies?” she asks.

“They can't hurt,” I say.

“And you think you can give my sister's students a run for their money without stopping them from proceeding with anything else they may have planned?”

“Yes,” I say.

She nods. “Very well. I'll program the cart to take you to the Kommissary.”

“Great.” Abe jumps up. “Thanks, Annika. We'll just—”

“Not so fast.” Annika motions to a waiter. He goes to the door on the far side of the deck.

“Oh no,” Abe says. “Please don't tell me my parents are here again.”

“I think you and your families would benefit from another Role Reverse session,” Annika says. “But no, your parents are sitting this one out.”

I hold my breath. If the Hansens and the Ryans aren't participating . . . does that mean mine are?

“Welcome aboard, Mr. and Mrs. Oliver!” Annika declares as Lemon's parents step out onto the deck. “And Finn, great to see you!”

Exhaling, I smile and wave to Lemon's little brother, who hides behind his mother's legs.

“Thank you,” Mr. Oliver says. “But is everything okay? A golf cart came for us and whisked us away so suddenly, we were worried something had happened to Lemon.”

“He wasn't with you?” Annika asks. “In your cabin? I assumed you'd all come together.”

“We weren't in our cabin,” Mrs. Oliver says sheepishly. “We were . . . out.”

“I see.” Annika frowns, then looks at me. “Any idea where your best friend might be?”

Lemon's whereabouts are turning out to be a bigger mystery than Mystery himself. Before I can try to buy him time, the deck door flings open.

“Sorry!” Lemon dashes onto the deck. “I'm here! Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! So great to see you, little brother!” He hugs his parents and pats Finn's head. “What'd I miss?”

“Nothing yet,” Annika says. “But Lemon, I'm not pleased with your tardiness. Your friends have been here thirty minutes. It was bad enough not coming when they did, but then not coming with your parents either? And keeping them waiting?”

“Oh, we haven't been here long.” Mrs. Oliver puts an arm around her eldest son. “It's okay.”

“No, it's not.” Annika strides to her deck chair, sits, and holds a clipboard in her lap. “But I'll deal with that later.”

“May I ask what we're doing here?” Mr. Oliver asks. “The teacher who told us we were to meet you didn't mention why.”

“Of course! And I do apologize for the lack of information. You're here for Role Reverse.”

Mr. and Mrs. Oliver exchange looks.

“Surely you've heard about it from the other parents,” Annika says. “No? That's odd. It's been such a hit.” She shrugs, then proceeds to tell them what she told Abe's and Gabby's parents about the insightful activity, and suggests that they reenact the moment that made Lemon's parents decide to send him to Kilter.

“I don't think that's such a good idea,” Lemon says.

“I don't think that's for you to say,” Annika says.

“Can't we act out a different time?” Lemon asks. “Please?”

“That'd be fine with us,” Mrs. Oliver says quickly.

Annika tilts her head, clearly wondering why the entire Oliver family doesn't want to do as she's asked. This, of course, only makes her want them to act out that specific moment even more.

“Lemon,” she says, “you may play either your mother or your father. Who do you choose?”

Lemon's quiet for a long moment. Then he mumbles, “Dad.”

Annika looks at his parents. “Mr. Oliver, you'll play your son. Okay?”

Mr. Oliver swallows and nods.

“And . . . action!” Annika declares.

If this were a movie, we'd be watching the slowest, least dramatic opening ever. Because nothing happens. Mr. Oliver and Lemon don't speak. The rest of us are silent. Even Finn is quiet as he sits in his mother's lap.

“Dude,” Abe finally says, not unkindly. “The faster you do it, the faster it's over.”

Which is enough of a pep talk to get Lemon to speak.

“How could he do this?”

“Louder!” Annika commands.

“How could he do this?” Lemon tries again, slightly raising his voice. “I've never understood this . . . hobby . . . of his. I know we used to build fires together a while ago, during our father-son camping trips, but then Finn was born. And we stopped going camping. We stopped doing a lot of things. Anyway, there wasn't a reason to build campfires anymore. Yet he kept playing with matches, lighters, and other flame-sparking
things. I didn't approve, but we always kept fire extinguishers on hand. And he was always so safe. So careful. But then . . . this.
Finn
.”

Lemon pauses. Mr. Oliver moves to pull him into a big hug.

Annika clucks her tongue. “Stay in character, please!”

Dropping his arms, Lemon's dad says softly, “It was an accident. I'm sorry.” He looks at Annika. “That's all he was thinking in that moment. I know it.”

“Fine.” She makes a note on the paper on her clipboard. “You may be seated. Elinor, you're up.”

Elinor gasps lightly. “My mom's here?”

“Don't be silly. But you've displayed your theatrical talents at Kilter more than once. Surely you can play both parts.”

Elinor's sitting next to me. I lean toward her and whisper, “You don't have to do this.” She might be in the Dramatists group at Kilter, but that doesn't mean she's comfortable taking center stage—especially by herself, with such personal material.

She gives me a small smile. “Thanks. But it's okay.”

Our chairs are arranged in a half circle. She gets up and stands in the middle of the arc. Annika's chair faces ours, so she's sitting behind Elinor.

“I'll do my mom first.” She closes her eyes and, for a moment, is perfectly still.

I glance at Annika. She's typing on her K-Pak, not even paying attention. Knowing her, she probably put Elinor up to this just to make her uncomfortable.

“Useless!”

I jump. So does everyone else on board. Now Elinor's eyes are wide open. Her nostrils flare.

“Poor excuse for a daughter!” she exclaims. “It's Mother's Day.
My
day. And what would make me happy? If my kid would just listen to me. Do what I tell her to the rest of the year, but without arguing. Is that too much to ask?” Elinor shakes her head. Fast. “But what does she do instead? She cleans the house, from roof to floor. She brings me breakfast in bed. She asks if we can take a walk together, just the two of us. I mean, really? A walk? Doesn't she know how busy I am? I don't have time for walks! And if she'd only do what I want her to,
she
wouldn't either!”

Elinor stops. Closes her eyes again.

“Mommy,” Finn whispers. “What does her mommy want her to do?”

Make trouble. Mrs. Oliver doesn't know this, though. She probably thinks Elinor's a wonderful daughter for doing all those things for her mom on Mother's Day. I know I do. Unable to answer, she shakes her head and kisses the top of Finn's head.

“I made her French toast,” Elinor begins again. Her voice is softer now. She looks like herself, only sadder. “That's her favorite. And I asked her to go for a walk, because I wanted to spend time together. I wanted a chance to talk. About the weather. Movies. Music. Whatever. I wanted to get to know her a little bit. And for her to get to know me a little bit. Because she's my mother . . . but in a lot of ways, we're strangers.” Elinor looks down. “I'm sorry I disappointed her again.”

She brushes at her eyes. Gabby jumps up and throws her arms around her. Mrs. Oliver pulls Finn tighter. Mr. Oliver puts one hand on Lemon's shoulder. Abe frowns and clenches his fists, clearly upset by what he just heard.

Glancing at Annika, I see her lips tremble. A single tear slides down her cheek. For perhaps the first time ever, she seems to feel something for her niece besides annoyance.

“Well done, Elinor,” she says quietly. “Well done.”

O
h. My.
Goodness!
These. Are.
So.
Cute!
Aren't they? Hello? Guys? Do you even see this?”

See this. See you. As in . . .
me
.

“You alright, Hinkle?” Abe asks, ignoring Gabby.

I nod. Even though I can't stop thinking about the rearranged fish sticks in my parents' cabin.

“Don't worry,” he says. “If the Incriminators want to play, we'll give them a game they won't forget. That's why we're here.”

“Here” is the Kommissary. As soon as the Olivers returned to
camp, Annika had a golf cart take us to our shopping destination. The second Abe, Gabby, Elinor, Lemon, and I were seated and buckled, the cart took off like a rocket. Traveling at the speed of light, we shot through what seemed to be hundreds of acres of dark forest, and reached the school store in minutes flat.

“Watch me!” Gabby exclaims now.

We do. She's standing a few feet away, by the eye-enhancement products. I'm not sure what we're supposed to be looking at because at first nothing seems to happen. She blinks a lot, like she has something in her eye, but that's it.

Until she sneezes. And we get caught in a blinding glitter storm.

“Vision Vortex Lash Extensions!” Gabby exclaims. “How amazing are
they
?”

“Not as amazing”—Abe coughs—“as my”—chokes—“retaliation”—coughs again—“will be!”

I turn away, wipe my eyes with my sweatshirt sleeve. When I turn back, the silver cloud has started to dissipate. A billion tiny, shimmering shards float down, covering our shoes and the floor.

“How do they work?” Elinor asks, shaking the shine from her hair.

“First,”
Gabby says with a grin, “they trick you into believing they're just normal eyelashes. Even though they're really long and silver. I could just be wearing special mascara, you know? But every time you blink, pressure builds at the base of each lash. Sneezing is the trigger. When you're ready, you just . . . ah-
choo
!” She releases a smaller sparkly cloud. “And voila! A total tinsel tornado.”

“The Incriminators will have no idea what they walked into,” Elinor says.

“I think I'll get twenty pairs.” Gabby slides the Kommissary's entire supply of Vision Vortex Lash Extensions off of the metal display bar and dumps them into her shopping basket. “Now let's find you something!”

Gabby hooks one arm through Elinor's, and they hurry down the aisle.

“I don't like the looks of this,” Abe says.

“Why not?” I ask. “Shepherd Bull and his friends will never expect to get caught in a sparkle storm. That could come in handy.”

“I'm not talking about Gabby's demo.” Abe jerks his head toward the next aisle, where Gabby and Elinor talk and giggle. “They're getting close.
Too
close.”

“They're friends,” I say. “What's wrong with that?”

“Like it or not, Gabby's an alliance member. Elinor isn't.”

“And remind me again why not?”

He counts off the reasons on his fingers. “Um, let's see. She zones out during class. She barely does the assignments. It took her years to graduate from a freshman Troublemaker to a sophomore one. Her mother's turning bad kids into dirty criminals.”

“Not everyone wants to be the best Troublemaker ever,” I say. “As for her mom, you know they don't get along. And did you forget that she helped us win the Ultimate Troublemaking Task? And that she's been helping us since?”

“Because she's your girlfriend. Which, no offense, is a temporary situation that will totally end. And when it does, there will be no loyalty or kept secrets.”