Watch Your Step (16 page)

“I'm not nervous,” Abe and Gabby say at the same time. But Abe's voice cracks and Gabby starts biting her nails, so I think they are.

“You shouldn't be,” Annika says. “This is just a way for me to see you and your parents interact firsthand. I hope it provides more clues as to why they've been behaving so strangely. But before they arrive, who'd like to fill me on what you observed in your families' cabins today?”

Abe recovers enough from his surprise to tell Annika everything that happened before the Shepherd Bull spotting, including my ping-pong attack. His ink-stained hands. Gabby's light display. The other Troublemakers we saw in the infirmary. He doesn't tell her about my dad's weird behavior, because I didn't get a chance to share that with him or anyone else. I could do it now, and I probably should, considering this is what we're at Kamp Kilter to do . . . but I don't. Maybe because I know this is information Annika would like to have, and after she almost made Elinor cry, I don't feel like giving it to her. Or maybe I don't want to rat out Dad until I'm 100 percent sure he's doing something worth ratting him out for. Either way, I keep this to myself.

Annika listens carefully and takes notes on her K-Pak. When Abe's done, she thanks him and asks us to do the same good work tomorrow.

Then a door opens behind us. I turn and see two older couples and a teenager hurry onto the deck. I recognize Abe's dad and Gabby's older sister from their appearances during our alliance V-Chat back home. I assume the other adults are Abe's mom and Gabby's parents. The men are wearing damp shorts and T-shirts,
the women sundresses over bathing suits. They all look like they just came from the beach.

“Welcome!” Annika jumps up and hugs the new arrivals. “Wonderful to see you!”

As they greet one another and chitchat, I sneak peeks at my alliance-mates. Elinor's looking at her lap. Abe's pacing across the deck. Gabby's gazing longingly out at the water, like she'd rather fall overboard than stay here.

A moment later, Annika asks everyone to take a seat. Then she says, “Mr. Hansen, Mrs. Hansen, Mr. Ryan, Mrs. Ryan, and Flora, thank you so much for taking a few minutes out of your busy vacation schedules to join us for this special meeting.”

“Is this going to take a while?” Flora asks.

“Don't be rude!” Mrs. Ryan hisses to her daughter.

Flora ignores her mother and looks at Annika. “I was tanning. I'll look like a half-eaten Oreo if I don't get another twenty-three minutes of prime sun time on my stomach. You understand.”

Annika forces her lips into a smile. “Of course. Let's get started.” A waiter appears with a clipboard and pen. Annika takes both and continues. “We all know why we're here: to help your bad kids become good ones. By sending them to Kilter you've
entrusted me with this huge responsibility, and I hope you're pleased with the progress made so far.”

“Oh, yes,” Mr. Ryan says.

“There's more work to be done,” Mr. Hansen says.

“You're right,” Annika agrees. “And I think Role Reverse will be an excellent tool for getting at the real root of your children's behavior.”

“Role Reverse?” Mr. Hansen asks skeptically.

Annika explains. “Either you or your wife will play Abe. Abe will play one of you. Gabby and her parents will do the same.”

“Play him how?” Mrs. Hansen asks.

“During a brief skit of sorts, you'll act and speak as you believe he would. He'll act and speak as he believes you would. Through this interaction, we'll gain insight into how you view him and vice versa. The results may be surprising, and they'll definitely be helpful.”

“What do you mean by a ‘skit of sorts'?” Mrs. Ryan asks.

“A scenario,” Annika says. “From real life.” The adults still look confused, so she adds, “Let's keep it simple. There must've been a specific incident that prompted you to send your kids to Kilter. Reenact that moment.” She looks around. “Who'd like to go first?”

“
I
will.” Flora jumps up. “Let's do this, Geek Girl.”

Head low, Gabby stands.

“That's very kind, Flora,” Annika says. “But I'd rather one of your parents—”

“Look at me!” Flora declares, covering her heart with both hands. “I'm Gabby! And I'm doing homework! Again! Because I
love
homework! Math! Science! English! History! The more boring the subject, the better!” Flora pauses, cups one hand to her ear. “What's that? A phone call for me? That can't be! Because I don't have friends! I don't have time for them! I'm far too busy reading and studying and getting straight As!”

Flora stops, then flings her arms to the side and folds over at the waist in a dramatic bow. I wonder who she's really talking about, because the person she's playing sounds nothing like the bubbly, friendly, super-social Gabby I know.

“Moving on,” Annika says. “Mrs. Ryan, you'll play Gabby. Gabby, you'll play your mom. Mrs. Ryan will start.”

Flora drops into her chair. Gabby's mom stands up slowly, like she'd much rather stay seated. Preferably back on the beach than here on Annika's yacht.

“Action!” Annika exclaims.

Mrs. Ryan jumps. Gabby's head snaps up. They look at each other uncertainly. After a few awkward, silent seconds, Mrs. Ryan begins.

“It's the middle of the night,” she says, her voice soft. “My family's sleeping all snug in their beds. Now's the perfect chance to scare them!”

“That's not exactly how it went,” Gabby says.

“That's not for you to say right now.” Annika wags her pointer finger. “Please continue, Mrs. Ryan.”

Gabby's mom does. “I don't know why I've been so unhappy lately, or why everyone's making me mad . . . but they are. So I must keep trying to make
them
unhappy. And this is the perfect chance.” She reaches into her skirt pocket, pulls out nothing, and raises her hand like the nothing is something. “Blindfolds! For Flora. Mom. And Dad.” Mrs. Ryan pretends to tie invisible blindfolds three times. “I'll triple-knot them so they're impossible to take off. Then I'll go to the front door  . . .”—Mrs. Ryan tiptoes across the deck—“open it  . . .”—pretends to open a door—“and set off the security alarm!” She claps her hands over her ears. When she speaks again, she practically shouts. “The beeping is so loud! They're freaking out! And they can't take off the blindfolds
so they can't see where they're going or what's happening! For all they know a bunch of burglars are stealing everything we own!” She laughs. “Mom and Dad just ran into each other! And fell to the floor! Flora just tripped over her sneakers! Perfect!”

Mrs. Ryan continues to describe the chaotic incident. I glance at Annika and see her studying Gabby's mom and jotting down notes. I glance at Gabby, whose face is bright red.

Finally, Mrs. Ryan stops. Her face is bright red too. She's breathing heavily. Behind her, Mr. Ryan shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Flora smirks.

“Your turn, Gabby,” Annika says.

Words burst from my alliance-mate's mouth. “I'm having the best dream ever! Flora and I are at the spa! We're getting manicures and pedicures! After this we'll go shopping! And out to dinner! And maybe catch a movie! Just the two of us! Oh, wait—so is this a dream? Or am I awake? Because that's what we do every weekend!”

“Not every—”

“Shh!” Annika cuts off Mrs. Ryan.

“What's that?” Gabby continues. “The security alarm? Is someone in the house? Is Flora in danger? I must find her! I
must make sure she's okay! I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to my favorite daughter!”

Gabby stops. Her chest rises and instantly falls. Over and over and over again.

“Gabby,” Mrs. Ryan says, her eyebrows low. “Is that what you think? That I care about your sister more than I care about you?”

Gabby doesn't answer. She takes her seat instead.

“Mr. Hansen?” Annika asks. “Abe? You're up.”

Abe and his dad stand and face each other like this is the Wild West and they're about to duel. Mr. Hansen starts.

“It's my birthday. I've just opened my present from my parents . . . and it's a football. Another one. This one's not even new. The leather's faded. It's soft and mushy, probably because it was blown up a hundred years ago. It's the worst gift I've ever gotten.” Mr. Hansen tosses up an invisible ball, catches it. “Dad says we should go to the park and throw it around. He keeps talking about quality time, and father-son bonding, and all sorts of other mumbo jumbo.”

“Quality time?” Abe asks. “Bonding? You never said anything about—”

Annika shushes him. His dad continues.

“But hanging out with my
dad
? Please. I'd rather eat this football than throw it around with him. If he doesn't get that by now, I'll just have to make him.” Mr. Hansen takes the invisible ball and seems to squeeze it. “I'll pop this and turn it into a lamp shade. Maybe then Dad will finally understand how I feel about him.”

Mr. Hansen stops. Abe starts.

“It's my son's birthday! A perfect reason to give him his eighth football—and millionth reminder that I wish he were bigger! Stronger! Into sports! If I had a daughter, the art thing would be cool. But Abe shouldn't be painting or drawing or sketching! He should be throwing and catching and grunting! If he did any of those things, maybe I could be proud of him!”

Abe stops. His dad's frowning.

“Your father loves you very much,” Mrs. Hansen says, voice wavering. “So do I. That old football was his as a boy. He just wanted you to—”

Mrs. Hansen is interrupted by a shrill beeping. The noise comes from Annika's K-Pak. She picks it up, turns it on, and taps the screen.

“I'm very sorry,” she says a moment later, “but I have to leave for another meeting. We'll end here.”

No one moves. Not even Flora. Abe, Gabby, and their families exchange curious looks, almost like they're really seeing one another for the first time.

But then two waiters appear on the deck. They motion for the families to stand and leave, and escort them to the door. When they're gone, Annika thanks us for our cooperation.

“You got it,” Abe says, and gives her a small salute. “Is there anything else?”

Annika starts to shake her head, then stops and looks around. “Actually, yes. Where's Lemon?”

W
here
is
Lemon?

By the middle of the night, I have a long list of where he's not. Like our underground house. The barbecue dinner hosted by Lizzie, our language arts teacher. The karaoke party after that. The golf-cart ride back to camp. His bedroom. The bathroom, living room, or kitchen.

I e-mail him every few hours. At three in the morning, when I still haven't heard back, I reread my notes to make sure I didn't say something upsetting.

TO:
[email protected]

FROM:
[email protected]

SUBJECT:
Hi!

Hey, Lemon!

Just wanted to let you know that Abe, Gabby, Elinor, and I just met with Annika. We looked for you before we left our parents' side of the lake, and we also e-mailed and tried v-chatting, but we didn't find or hear from you. You had dusting duty, right? I hope you didn't get lost in a big gray cloud! LOL.

Anyway, the meeting was interesting. I'm sorry we didn't wait longer for you but it was kind of an emergency. I'll fill you in on everything later.

Speaking of later, Lizzie's having a BBQ at her place! Should be tons of fun. Can't wait to see you there.

—Seamus

TO:
[email protected]

FROM:
[email protected]

SUBJECT:
Me again!

Hi, Lemon!

Man, I'm stuffed! Whoever decided gooey melted cheese and hot meat was a good match was RIGHT.

I'm sorry you missed out. See you at the karaoke contest? I hope so! Gabby's sure to get a little out of control, so we'll need all the help we can get dragging her offstage every now and then.