Free Is Anybody There? by Eve Bunting Page A

baskets for a while. Afterward we lay on our backs on my bed, a package of Fig Newtons between us, a pitcher of lemonade on the floor.
    “You’re sure he took something?” Robbie asked.
    “Pretty sure.”
    He sat up so suddenly, the bed bounced and my plastic glass of lemonade sloshed over my bare stomach between my T-shirt and jeans. “Not your mom’s bike?” he asked.
    “No, goofball!” I grabbed a Kleenex to sop up the mess. “It couldn’t have been anything that big.”
    Robbie plunked back down. “But what’s in the garage? I mean that anybody would want?”
    “Tools. My spare bike parts. Boxes of stuff for the Goodwill. The ladder. The lawn mower.”
    “Well, he sure didn’t hide those behind his back.” Robbie paused. “You think your mom’s going to marry him?”
    “Sometimes you get the craziest ideas, Robbie.”
    Robbie giggled. “If she did, your namewould be Marcus Milardovich. You’d sound like a Russian spy.”
    “You think it sounds weirder than Robert Roberts?”
    “
I
think it does.”
    I gave him a look. “It’s not going to happen. Anyway, I’d
never
change my name.”
    “OK, OK.” Robbie lifted one foot and flicked a piece of dirt from the sole of his Nikes. I picked the dirt crumbles from my bedcover and made a face.
    “Did I tell you my cousin Jimmy plays on Nick’s team?” Robbie asked.
    “About a hundred times you told me.”
    “Did I tell you how they had this real mean assistant coach and he told the guys to crawl on their hands and knees after they lost a game and how Nick exploded and yelled—”
    “And told the guys to get up, they weren’t animals, and then he fired the coach—”
    “The assistant coach,” Robbie corrected. “His name was Mr. Clipper.”
    “You’ve told me all that a hundred times, too,” I said.
    “That was pretty nice of Nick, huh? Jimmy says all the guys like him a lot. Jimmy likes him.”
    “Listen,” I said. “Nick’s probably different at work and at home. That doesn’t mean anything. Anyway, I happen to know he’s not going to be around today. Usually he leaves his door unlocked, so I might just go up there and see what I can find.” I made myself sound real casual. “Mostly I’m looking for a clock. Or whatever he took from our garage. Mostly I’m looking for proof.”
    Robbie’s eyes sparkled. “Great idea, Marcus. A search-and-destroy mission.”
    “I don’t know about the destroy. Wait a sec.” I went to the window to check and I saw that Nick’s car was still there. “I’ll have to wait,” I told Robbie, sliding down on the floor with my back against the bed. Robbie was chugging lemonade straight from the pitcher, with a sound like water flushing down a drain. He wiped his mouth on the end of my bedcover. “Guess who I saw this morning?”
    “Don’t do that,” I said. “I have to sleep under that bedcover. Who did you see?”
    “Anjelica Trotter.”
    I kept a poker expression, although it was hard.
    “She was riding her bike along your street.”
    “Yeah?” I examined the wet patch on the bedcover.
    “Where do you think she was going?” Robbie asked.
    “I have no idea.” Even the top of my head was burning, but I managed to sound real cool. “How did she look?”
    Robbie did a round curving thing with his hands on the front of his T-shirt. “Another two inches, I swear! Anjelica Trotter’s top is a total miracle.”
    “Total,” I agreed. If only he knew!
    “I bet she—” Robbie began.
    Outside my window was the sound of Nick starting up his Dodge. “We’re in business, Robbie,” I interrupted happily. “Here’s where the action starts.”
    But pretty soon I realized it wasn’t going to be easy to get up Nick’s stairs without Miss Sarah or Miss Coriander spotting me. I’d forgotten about them. There was no way to get the action started. Every time I’d wander out toward the back, there they’d be mixing things or peeling things at their counter by the window. They’d wave