Antsy Does Time

“Gu

She looked at me for the first time since I had been alone with her. It was an odd look. I didn’t understand it. She seemed bewildered.

’You’re joking, right?”

“So ... then he’s actually sick?”

“Of course not!” She took a moment to gauge my seriousness, and her expression became a bit worried. “You mean you didn’t know?”

That threw me for a loop. I stammered a bit, and finally shut my mouth long enough to control it and simply said, “No.”

’You mean you weren’t just humoring him? Playing along?” “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a good person.”

“I’m not that good!”

’You mean all this time ... all those contracts . . . you really thought he was dying?” said Kjersten. “I just thought it was a smart way to force Gu

“I’m not that smart!”

She covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh no!” Her entire understanding of the situation was based on the premise that everyone knew Gu

“Did you actually think Principal Sinclair was just ‛playing along’?”

“Principal Sinclair?”

“Did you think that stupid time thermometer was all part of some practical joke?”

“What thermometer?”

I explained it all to her, because between te

“There was a message on the answering machine, from Sinclair,” Kjersten said. “But I erased it before I heard the whole thing—I thought it was one of those school recordings we always get.” Which was understandable, since Principal Sinclair did sound like an automated message. I suspected there must have been more messages that Gu

Then I thought about something Kjersten had said. She thought I was trying to get Gu

“Does Gu

The question just frustrated her. “How should I know? You know what he’s like—no one can ever figure out what he’s really thinking.”

I was relieved to know that it wasn’t just me. If he stymied his own sister, it meant he was more of a mystery, and I was less of a numbskull.

Out front I heard the scrape of metal on pavement, and glanced out of the window to see the tow truck leaving the driveway, scraping the underside of the Lexus on the curb as it did. Mr. Ümlaut just stood there and watched it go. I almost expected him to wave.

“So what’s wrong with your car?” I asked, in an attempt to change the subject.

“It’s not our car,” Kjersten said. “At least not anymore.” Then she got up and closed the blinds so she didn’t have to look at her father standing in the driveway. “It just got repossessed.”

This is something I knew a little bit about. When my parents got my brother Frankie a car, he was supposed to get a part-time job and make payments on it. He didn’t, and the family fights all became about how they’d come and take the car away. Dad was going to let the bank repossess the car to teach Frankie a lesson, but it never got that far—Frankie got the job, started making payments, and the threatening phone calls and letters in red ink stopped coming. I wondered how many letters and phone calls you had to ignore until they actually showed up at your door.

“My father tried to stop them by ripping out some hoses so they couldn’t drive it away. Then they sent a tow truck.”

“I’m sorry,” was all I could say to Kjersten. Now I felt like an idiot for dismissing the whole thing as just a family argument—but before I started beating myself up over it, I did a quick search for ultracool Antsy, who seemed to be easier to find these days. Even without thinking, I knew what he would do. I went to her, and gave her a gentle kiss. She kissed me back with a little bit of spark, so I kissed her again with slightly higher voltage, and she returned that with enough electricity to light Times Square, but before circuit breakers started popping, we shut it down, because we both knew this wasn’t the time or place. Just my luck, right?

“Don’t be too hard on Gu

“Hey, you’re the one throwing pillows at him.”

With a gust of cold air, Mr. Ümlaut came in and saw Kjersten and me standing a little too close. I made no move to back away from her. Sometimes a guy’s gotta stand his ground.

“I thought your business was with Gu

“Yeah, well, I got lots of business.”

He looked from me to Kjersten, to me again, like he was watching one of her te

“We’ll talk about this later.” Without looking at me again, he went to the back of the house and I heard the door to his study close. This was a house of many closing doors.

“We won’t talk,” Kjersten said. “He says that all the time, but we never do.” Kjersten smiled at me, but there wasn’t much joy in that smile.

’Yeah,” I said, shaking my head in understanding. “Fathers and follow-through . . .” My own father didn’t follow through on much of anything these days—threats or promises—since he started the restaurant. But Mr. Ümlaut did not have work as an excuse.

“I just wish things could be the way they were a couple of years ago,” Kjersten said, “back when everything was fine—or at least when I was naive enough to think it was.” Some warmth came back to her smile as she looked at me. I was glad I could have that effect on her. ‛You’re lucky you’re a freshman—you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

That made me laugh. “And you don’t?”

She kissed me gently on the forehead, then looked out to the grease spot on the driveway where her father’s car had been. “My life is going to change very soon.”

“Whoever it is, I have no intention of letting you in.”

I knocked on Gu

I knocked again. This time there was no response, but I did hear the door being unlocked. I opened it to find Gu

I sat at his desk chair, realizing he couldn’t stay that way for long—he’d have to breathe eventually. Sure enough, he loosened the grip on the pillow, turned to see me for just a split second, then turned his face the other way.

“Go away,” he said. But if he really wanted me to go away, he wouldn’t have unlocked the door.

I said to him the one thing I could think to say under the circumstances. “I’m sorry you’re not dying.”

He sat up and faced me. He seemed insulted. “Who says I’m not? Just because it’s a Dr. Gigabyte diagnosis doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Well, then maybe my sister has leprosy.”

He showed no sign of being surprised or confused by that, and I wondered if maybe he had, at some point, been given that diagnosis by Dr. Gigabyte, too.