Free Crusader by Edward Bloor

elected." Suzie opened a Twix bar. "But I guess he was nice enough. Basically, the more money you had to contribute to the campaign, the nicer he was to you."
    "That's pretty creepy."
    She gave me that same look. "No, that's just the way it is." Suzie bit the Twix in half. "He wants to schedule Mr. Lyons for an event' here in September."
    "What event?"
    "The new fountain. Mr. Lyons will be here to turn it on and to give a speech. Channel Three will definitely be here to cover it, and maybe Channel Fifty-seven and the Sunshine Network.
    "'National attention' is the word they were using last night. Mr. Lyons needs to get 'national attention.'"
    I started to point out to her that that was two words, but I caught myself. I got up to leave, but there was something about Suzie's look that made me stand still by the desk. She seemed to be struggling with something. She finally said to me, "Roberta, you know your dad and I are getting pretty close now. Right?"
    "Uh-huh."
    "I just want you to know that if you ever need to talk to me for ... girl talk? You know. I'm here for you."
    I flashed back in horror to Mom's words from the dream,
Do you need to talk to me?
I wanted to shout at Suzie,
No! I don't need to talk to
you.
I need to talk to my mother.
But I only shouted to myself.
    Suzie must have noticed the change in my face. She quickly added, "Of course, if you'd rather talk to someone else, that's fine, too. I'll understand. Okay?"
    "Okay."
    I hustled out of there.
WEDNESDAY, THE 23RD
    As I passed the rotunda today, I heard a loud clanging sound. I looked over and saw Leo kneeling behind the DANGER horse. He looked up and saw me, too, which was bad, because I was already late.
    He yelled, "Hey, Roberta! Come over here."
    Leo is a skinny, wiry guy. He has one of those bodies that could be anywhere from thirty to seventy years old. He has a square head and big false teeth. His teeth are so big that they look like a mistake, like he got some big guy's teeth instead of his own. I called back, "I can't, Leo. I'm late. Can I talk to you on break?"
    He yelled, "Come over here!" again. I looked ahead at Arcane, then I detoured over to the rotunda. Leo gestured around him. "Look at this, will you?" I guessed he was talking about the big hole and the loose tiles. "You got to tell your dad's girlfriend"—he bugged his eyes toward the office—"Suzie the Floozy over there, that this ain't gonna work."
    "What isn't going to work, Leo?"
    "This new fountain scam they got going now. They're telling everybody we got a new fountain. Do you see anything new here?"
    "No. I guess not."
    "I'm hooking up the old fountain. There ain't one new thing under here. Just an old pump, an old motor, and some very old pipes. They need to rip it all out and start over."
    "But, Leo, isn't the whole point that they want the old fountain back? So people can remember what it was like ten years ago?"
    "It broke ten years ago! That's why we shut it down and capped it."
    "Oh." I looked nervously at Arcane.
    Leo took pity on me. "Go on. If you gotta go to work, go on. But remember to tell her what I said."
    I half ran the remaining twenty yards to Arcane. Kristin was alone behind the counter.
    I said, "I'm sorry I'm late."
    She said, "You're late?"
    "Yeah. Is my dad here?"
    "He's in the back, eating."
    On weekdays Uncle Frank usually works from ten to five, and then Dad takes over from four to nine. Sometimes it's the opposite. Either way, that one hour when they overlap is uncomfortable for everybody.
    Someone who looked at our business from the outside, like the mannequin in Slot #61, might think that Uncle Frank does all the work and Dad does nothing. That's probably how Karl and Kristin look at it. That's definitely how Uncle Frank looks at it. But the fact is my dad has been in the arcade business for twenty years. He really knows what he's doing. Uncle Frank has been in the arcade business for three years. He only thinks he knows what he's doing.
    Uncle Frank