Free The Absolute Value of Mike by Kathryn Erskine Page A

in Romania, Ferdi has advised me to use AIM, otherwise known as “instant messaging.” It will facilitate more timely communication. You may contact me at TheFerdiProfessor.
    That was it. No response to my text or voice messages. Had he even seen them yet?
    I stared at the message. I’d tried to get Dad to IM for three years, but he’d refused. Instant messaging? Uh . . . Mike . . . that sounds like instant coffee. No taste. No thought. If you have something worth saying, it should be well thought-out. Of course, I hadn’t put it in terms he could understand, like “It will facilitate more timely communication.” I’d said, “It’s faster.” Stupid me. I guess now that he’d heard it from a reliable source, like a Romanian university department or something, he’d do it.
    I got on AIM and saw that he was logged on, so I started typing immediately.
    Hey, Dad, it’s Mike. Yeah, I know all about “instant messaging.” I’ve been IM’ing for years. Glad you’ve joined the club. What is Ferdi, anyway? The university?
    Ferdi, short for Ferdinand, is my grad student. He’s finding some particularly challenging problems to send you.
    Right away, I decided I didn’t like Ferdi. His name, his job, and his need to find me particularly challenging problems.
    My fingers jammed the keys so hard, I kept making mistakes and it took me forever to spit out:
    So what about the money?
    Money?
    Dad, didn’t you get my voice mail and text?
    Oh, was that you? I turned my phone off. What is the problem? Plane delayed?
    No, Dad. I’ve been here since yesterday. The problem is Poppy and Moo. They have no money. You’ve got to send some fast!
    I suspect you are unused to the limited amenities.
    What amenities? Seriously, Dad, they have no money. Moo had to siphon gas out of another car!
    Hyperbole has its use in literature but I’m very busy. Briefly tell me what you need.
    $$$$
    No. I need an actual explanation.
    Actual explanation: They can’t afford to buy groceries. Their power keeps getting cut. They have no phone service. Moo really did siphon gas out of another car. They drink powdered milk.
    And you forgot to give me even the emergency money!
    I believe you may be right about the emergency money and I see there are financial difficulties. I can wire money directly to their account but it is ONLY for dire emergencies.
    Aw, and we were planning to blow it all at Big Dawg’s Tattoo and Bar, and then go skinny-dipping in Lake Revival.
    There was no typing on the other end. I asked Gladys if I could call Dad for bank business—just long enough to leave Moo’s account number. Of course, he didn’t answer. His phone was still turned off, so I sent another IM.
    I left a voice mail with her account number. Please listen!
    Must teach class. Next message, report on artesian screw.
    The artesian screw? Oh, crap.
    â€œAre you finished, Mike?” Moo asked.
    â€œOh, yeah,” I said, my head drooping almost to the keyboard. “I’m totally finished.”

10
    REFLECTION
    â€”a mirror image of a figure
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    I asked Moo to drop me at the park while she went to pay the electric bill. I had to see Past. There was something about him that made him seem like a counselor, like you could tell him anything, even though that sounds weird to say about a homeless guy.
    â€œHey, dude,” I said, approaching his “office,” where he sat reading The New York Times . I slumped down on the bench next to him. “’ Sup?”
    He folded the paper. “The usual mayhem and carnage. What’s new in your life?”
    I looked at the kid on Past’s cart and sighed. “The usual mayhem and carnage.”
    He chuckled. “What could you have going on that’s so bad?”
    â€œOh, gee, let’s see. There’s Poppy. No engineering project. My dad. Newton High. And a kid in Romania who might