Free The Latent Powers of Dylan Fontaine by April Lurie

house if you want.”
    I panic, thinking about the golf cart, but thankfully Olson says, “That won’t be necessary, Dr. Fontaine. The boys’ rooms will be enough.”
    While the two of them head upstairs, my dad exhales loudly and plunks onto a dining room chair. I take my seat on the armrest next to Headbone, and the six of us wait in silence. In the kitchen I hear Chloe flipping the pages of the medical journal.
    “Dr. Fontaine?” Mertz says, after what seems like an eternity. He and Olson pad down the steps. My dad stands up; he looks awful—like he hasn’t slept in days, which may very well be the case. “We didn’t find anything. In either of the boys’ rooms.”
    My dad nods and says nothing. Nick sits back, relieved, and Moser and Headbone give each other low fives. Randy sits there, expressionless.
    Chloe is smiling in the kitchen doorway. Our eyes meet for a brief second, and I smile back.
    Meanwhile, Olson walks over and hands my dad a slip of pink paper. “It’s been an interesting evening, Dr. Fontaine,” she says. “This is a warning notice about the noise level.” She looks at the five of us lined up on the sofa. “Gentlemen, I hope I won’t be hearing any further complaints from the neighbors?”
    “Oh, you got it,” Headbone says, giving her a thumbs-up. “Definitely, no more complaints.”
    She nods. “Well, if that’s the case, this should be the last time we meet.”
    As my dad ushers Mertz and Olson to the foyer, I watch Olson’s hips sashay out the door. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind meeting up with her again,” Headbone says, “under different circumstances, of course.”
    When my dad returns, he stands there for a long time giving Randy and his friends the evil eye. I know what he’s thinking—if Randy didn’t hang out with these morons, our lives might be normal. There was a time when he used to kick them out of our house on a regular basis. But they always came back. After a while I guess he realized he couldn’t choose Randy’s friends. Now they’re like a fixture in our home, an eyesore that you get used to. My dad sighs deeply. “Randy, Dylan. I’m going to bed. We will discuss this situation tomorrow. The rest of you,
leave
.
Now
. And I don’t want to see your faces for a long time. Understood?”
    Nick is the first to stand up. “Yes, Dr. Fontaine, we understand. And we’re sorry about everything.”
    Headbone chimes in. “Yeah,
really
sorry. It won’t happen again.”
    Moser holds up the tube of cortisone. “I apologize too, Dr. Fontaine. And thank you for the medicine. It’s helping, um, sort of.”
    My dad walks over to Moser with a look of concern and examines the red patches on his face. Not only are his doctorly instincts kicking in, but I think deep down he’s got a soft spot for Moser and Headbone. “Just keep using the cream every two to three hours, Moser. Oh, and one more thing.” He pulls out a pad of paper from his pocket, scribbles something down, and rips out a sheet. “Use this next time you shower. It’s a prescription for hypoallergenic soap.”
    Moser looks like he’s about to faint. “Did you say…
shower
?”
    “Yeah, dude,” Headbone says. “We’ve got a girl in our band now. Showering is, like, mandatory.”
    From the kitchen doorway Chloe chimes in, “Don’t worry, Dr. Fontaine. I’ll make sure Moser gets the right soap.”
    “Thank you, Chloe,” my dad says. “And now, all of you,
go!
”
    While my dad trudges to his room, Randy steps outside with his friends, and after a chorus of goodbyes, I hear him and Nick talking in hushed voices on the front patio. I strain my ears to listen, but since I can’t make out what they’re saying, I give up and head upstairs to bed.
    In the hallway I hear Tripod meowing from inside my mom’s studio. “Stupid cat!” I say, pushing open the door. “She’s not here, you idiot, and she’s not coming back. Don’t you realize that by now?”
    Tripod rushes past me, and I see that