Free The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak by Brian Katcher Page B

for what), it vanishes. The smiley, goofy expression returns, like a mask dropped over his real features.
    â€œC’mon. I know a guy. He’s on the Washingcon board. He might be able to help us find Clayton.” He shoots me a thin smile, then takes out his phone and sends a text.
    I nod, relieved that I haven’t offended him so much that he won’t talk to me. And a little curious.
    What sort of pain have you experienced, Zak Duquette?

ZAK
4:54 PM
    Imaginary pain? Ana Watson tells me my pain is imaginary? Oh, that’s rich .
    Unbidden, the memories return. The demons that show up at random times. The reason Roger keeps finding me playing video games at four in the morning.
    Dad, joking about his chronic toilet problems .
    Mom and Dad, explaining to ten-year-old me how he’ll need to have some surgery soon. I’m more impressed by the X-ray they’ve brought home. The one with that vague mass in the intestinal area .
    Dad, ever the optimist, pretending he’s going to buy a toupee. And that he’d finally found a diet that worked .
    â€œSorry, Zak, looks like I can’t make the camping trip this year.”
    And those awful last weeks, when he’d lost everything, when there was nothing left for him to do but lay on the couch and wait for the inevitable, he’d still hang out with me. We’d sit there and watch entire series, epic things like LOTR because he was too sick to even talk, and I’d hold his hand and even then I didn’t really believe I was going to lose him because, after all, he was my only daddy and . . .
    And suddenly I’m back at Washingcon, storming down a corridor, with Ana by my side. And she’s looking at me with what I’d almost believe is real concern.
    Cool it, Duquette. It’s not her fault. Everyone thinks they’re the only one who’s ever been hurt .
    I receive a text. “That was Warren,” I tell Ana. “He says to meet him in the Pacific Ballroom.”
    Ana nods but doesn’t say anything. It’s hard to read her. She’s always so snippy and pissed off, but sometimes she almost acts like she’s enjoying being around me, just a bit. If this gamble with Warren pays off, she might actually lose her contempt for me.
    Evening is falling. The rooms grow more crowded as guests begin to trickle in from the cubicle farms and computer help desks around the city. Soon the events will start: autographing, panels, games, and movies.
    â€œSo, do you guys rent the entire complex?” Ana asks out of nowhere.
    â€œPretty much. We don’t need all the space, but the convention center learned early on that it’s best we do what we do without any outsiders. Especially after what happened four years ago.”
    She sighs. “You clearly want me to ask about that, so tell me what happened.”
    I snort, wishing she’d show a little fake enthusiasm. “The Seattle Square Dancing League held their annual barn dance here. Quite a sight, seeing an octogenarian cowboy in polyester pants almost throwing down with an Asian Anakin Skywalker. It’s hard to say who was the bigger group of freaks.”
    â€œSpoiler alert: It was you people.” Ana is smiling, so I let it pass. I have the uncomfortable feeling that I’d let a lot pass, just to keep that smile pointed at me.
    â€œAt any rate, Warren’s in here.” We’ve arrived at the ballroom. Its doors are closed, and a sign reads PRIVATE EVENT .
    â€œShall we knock? I’ve seen enough of this place that I don’t want to barge in on anyone.”
    I chuckle, remembering the time I stumbled upon a square dancer getting very friendly with a Ghostbuster half her age. “It’s cool. Warren’s one of the con organizers.He told me to come on in.” I remember something. “Hey, Ana, when you meet him . . . don’t mention it.”
    â€œMention . . . what?” she places her hands on her hips and