Free The Sound of Life and Everything by Krista Van Dolzer Page A

knocked on a door, then turned the shiny knob, revealing a small lobby with an even smaller desk. The room wasn’t as fancy—after all, the doors had
knobs
—but the tulips made it friendlier. It only had one other door, which was firmly shut.
    The secretary eyed us intently as the man explained the situation, but instead of pumping us for details, she invited us to sit. I was the only one who did, though I couldn’t have said why. I thought the chairs looked comfy, and there really was no telling how long we’d have to wait.
    But I’d barely gotten settled when another man opened the second door. “What is it?” he demanded. His suit was brown, not black, but he looked too young to be the man from the portrait.
    â€œThree visitors for Dr. Pauling,” the secretary said.
    â€œDr. Pauling isn’t taking visitors.”
    â€œHe’ll want to take these ones.”
    The man sighed. “Very well. But if this is another singing telegram, we might just have to fire you.”
    I took that as my cue to barge into the room, which turned out to be a disappointment. I’d expected a smart office, with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and maybe a telescope, but except for a few men and a funny-looking model, it was perfectly empty.
    â€œDr. Pauling?” I asked.
    One of the men looked up from the model. “Yes?” His nose was big and bulbous, and little tufts of hair were sprouting from his ears.
    I folded my arms across my chest. “You have my cousin, and we want him back.”
    â€œYour cousin?” Dr. Pauling asked.
    I felt my cheeks redden. “Well, that was who he was supposed to be.”
    Mama cleared her throat. “What my daughter means is that there’s a boy downstairs whose well-being we feel liable for.”
    I didn’t know what “liable” meant, but Dr. Pauling clearly did, because he straightened up.
    â€œHe’s been involved in an experiment,” Mama went on. “But the experiment’s over now, and Dr. Franks won’t let him go.”
    Dr. Pauling raised his eyebrows. “Victor, care to explain?”
    Dr. Franks waved that off. “They’re obviously exaggerating,” he said, but even though he sounded sure, his almost-trembling knees betrayed him.
    Dr. Pauling rubbed his jaw, then motioned us into the room. “Close the door,” he said, and the man in the brown suit closed it.
    We arranged ourselves into a crooked line, with Dr. Franks on my left side and Mama on my right. The men looked us up and down, some with interest, some with the same unconcealed contempt Miss Fightmaster reserved for troublemakers and Charles Darwin. Still, I didn’t look away. If I looked away, they might decide I wasn’t serious, and I was as serious as sin.
    â€œNow,” Dr. Pauling said, making himself comfortable (or as comfortable as you could make yourself in a room without a chair), “I’d like to hear this story one small detail at a time.”
    Dr. Franks chuckled uneasily. “It is rather amusing.”
    â€œI’m sure it is,” he said. “But I’d like to hear it from the girl.”
    I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out. “Well, the whole thing started with Robby.”
    â€œWho’s Robby?” Dr. Pauling asked.
    â€œMy cousin,” I replied. “Except the experiment didn’t go like Dr. Franks thought it would.”
    â€œDo they ever?” he asked, smiling.
    The other men snickered, except for Dr. Franks. He rocked back and forth like he had to use the bathroom.
    â€œAnyway,” I said, “we have this Japanese man now, but Dr. Franks decided that we can’t take him home.”
    Dr. Pauling rubbed his eyes. “A Japanese man? Where’d
he
come from?”
    â€œForgive the intrusion,” Dr. Franks cut in, “but I don’t think this line of questioning is strictly necessary—”
    â€œVictor,” Dr.