Free Lost in Cyberspace by Richard Peck Page B

connected?”
    â€œI’m afraid so. I never seem to run into anybody just reading a book or taking a nap. People sleep a third of the time, you know.”
    â€œI know. So?”
    â€œIt looks like my formula depends on Emotional Component at the other end.”
    â€œYou mean—”
    â€œRight. Every time I get there, somebody’s upset about something. Turning up just in time for trouble could be a problem. I’ve got mega-diddling to do.”
    We continued trudging home. When I got off the elevator on twelve, Aaron’s lips were moving, but his mind was somewhere else.
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    Even though I’d taken a really long way home, Mom wasn’t there yet. Without an O Pear, Heather and I were turning into a couple of latchkey kids. The apartment was all shadowy. But when I went into my room, all the lights were on.
    A girl was sitting on my bed. She was in dress code: white blouse with collar, Pence plaid skirt. But she wasn’t Heather. She was sitting on my bed in big shoes, legs crossed, making herself at home and talking on my phone.
    When she saw me, her pale eyebrows jumped up high on her pale forehead. She slapped her hand over the phone. “Who do you think you are?”
    â€œI think I’m Josh. I think this is my room.”
    â€œJosh who?”
    â€œI live here.”
    â€œYou’re like Heather’s brother?” Boy, was she annoyed.
    I nodded.
    â€œHeather never mentioned she had a brother.”
    â€œFigures,” I said. “Who are you?” But I had a pretty good idea.
    Her eyebrows shot up even higher. “Camilla Van Allen, of course. Just shut up a minute. I’m on the phone.”
    Then she went back to her conversation. “Oh, Junior,” she said in a whole new voice, “I’m sorry. I was interrupted by some little creep in a Huckley tie. Heather’s brother or somebody. I’d love to come to the party Friday night. Heather too. We’d bring her cousin, Feona Foxworthy, but Feona had to fly back to England for a point-to-point. What? Of course we can come. What do you think we are, seventh graders?”
    It went on like that. Finally Camilla signed off.
    â€œBut you are seventh graders,” I said.
    â€œIn our case it doesn’t count,” Camilla said. “Heather’s emotionally fourteen, and I’m a Van Allen. That was Junior Saltonstall. He’s having a party at his place Friday night, late. His parents are in the Caribbean. It’ll be wall-to-wall upper-school boys. Junior goes to boarding school.”
    â€œThen what’s he doing home?”
    â€œHe was expelled. Isn’t it thrilling?”
    But then Camilla realized she was talking to somebody’s little brother. She stood up, straightened her Pence plaid pleats, propped her hair behind her ears, and headed for my door.
    â€œHeather’s in her room on her phone. We have high-profile plans to make about Friday night.” Camilla gave me a hard look from the door. “Forget everything you’ve heard here. If Heather misses this party, I’ll hold you responsible.” She sucked in her cheeks. “I have influence, Jake.”
    â€œJosh,” I said.
    â€œYou say,” she said, and left.
    I get hardly any privacy.
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    I dreamed that night, big time and nonstop. I was falling, of course, plastered to my mattress and falling through time and space. Then I was walking along a street with antique cobblestones. Aaron was there in a Huckley tie. At least this time we had clothes on. It was an eerie street. Everybody was in black—black horses with black feathers on their heads pulling black buggies, funeral wreaths on doors. It was this city of death.
    Next to me the dream Aaron said, “Every time I get there, somebody’s upset about something. Turning up just in time for trouble could be a problem.”
    We went around a dark corner. In the distance was the half-finished dome of the U.S.