“The plan for what?” Maggie asked. “I still don’t even know why we’re here.”
“Why, the plan to keep Eric from slipping into the abyss, of course.”
6
Eric had no idea what Maggie had been expecting to find inside the plane, but he’d been prepared to see rows of seats with overhead storage compartments.
He was wrong.
Just inside and to the right was a door he figured led to the cockpit. That wasn’t unusual. It was a plane, after all. A little less ordinary was the logo painted on the wall beside it, the same logo that was on the outside of the plane. It was simple, really, a big yellow circle surrounding the letters TFS. Just below the bottom of the circle were two lines:
Troubleshooters
• You Gotta Problem, We Gotta Help •
Still, a logo on a wall wasn’t that unusual. The big surprise was to the left.
Instead of rows of seats and overhead bins, there was a living room.
A couch, a love seat, three recliners, a coffee table, and a TV and stereo mounted against the wall. If he ignored the fact he was in an airplane with a curved ceiling and tiny windows, the living room could have easily been in a house somewhere. Well, except for the fact that all the chairs had seat belts.
“Back here,” Mr. Trouble called out from somewhere down the hallway on the other side of the living room.
Eric and Maggie exchanged looks.
“If this thing takes off with us on it, I am so going to kill you,” she whispered.
“You didn’t have to come.”
“Of course I did,” she said, pushing past him.
The narrow hallway hugged the right side of the aircraft. Along the wall on the left were several doors. As soon as they reached one that was open, they peeked inside. Beyond the door was a small bedroom complete with a pair of bunk beds, a dresser, and a desk. There were girls’ clothes lying on the floor and several manga books on the lower bunk. It wasn’t hard to guess this was where Fiona and Keira slept.
“Eric?” Mr. Trouble asked. “That is you out there, right?”
“We’re coming,” Eric answered.
He moved past Maggie to the next open doorway.
The layout inside was basically the same as the girls’ room, only instead of bunks there was a single bed. And where the other room had been a bit of a mess, this room was very neat and tidy. Mr. Trouble was sitting at the desk, an open file folder in front of him.
“Hi,” Eric said.
“Ah! Great. Please, please, come in.” Mr. Trouble waved them toward the bed behind the desk. Eric let Maggie sit first then took a spot a foot to her right.
“Just give me a second,” Mr. Trouble said.
They stared at his back while he shuffled through the papers on his desk. Then, without warning, he spun around in his chair and slapped his hands against his thighs. “So, Eric, it’s my understanding that you are having some troubles.”
“You could say that.”
“What’s he talking about?” Maggie asked. “What troubles?”
Eric hadn’t told Maggie what had been going on. In fact, he hadn’t told anyone. Each day he’d been trying to convince himself that he’d just been imagining things, or, at the very least, he was only having some bad luck. And everyone knew the best way to get rid of bad luck was to not talk about it.
“I’ll tell you later,” he said.
“I want you to know we’re here to solve those problems with you,” Mr. Trouble said. “Trouble Family Services has never failed a client yet.”
“Okay. I really don’t understand,” Maggie said. “Your mom said something about getting Eric out of an…abyss? What is it you guys do?”
Mr. Trouble leaned back, his eyes suddenly focused on the wall behind them. “I’m sure she…didn’t mean anything…specific by that.” He was silent for a moment then popped forward again, his face once more bright and friendly. “So, moving on. What we need to do is an assessment of your situation.”
Eric raised his hand in the air. “Like what those two uncle guys just did when they cut my finger?”
“They cut your finger?” Maggie said. She grabbed his hand. “Let me see.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t a cut. More of a scrape, really. Just needed a skin sample,” Mr. Trouble said. “Now—”
“A skin sample? Why would you need a skin sample?”
“It’s all part of the assessment. What we also need to do is get a clearer picture of what’s going on with you so we can determine how to deal with it.”
“You mean like with my mom?” Eric said.
Mr. Trouble nodded somberly, a concerned look on his face. “I know you’re worried about her. And you have a right to be. But I want to tell you that we haven’t lost a parent yet and I’m not about to start with you.”
Maggie let go of Eric’s hand. “What’s he talking about? I thought your mom’s on a business trip.”
“Well, she’s away,” he said.
“So she’s not on a business trip?”
“I don’t think we have an answer to that yet,” Mr. Trouble said before Eric could answer. “It’s possible that she is away at a convention of…” He whirled back to his desk, grabbed a piece of paper and looked at it as he turned back around. “Hair stylists, but it’s also possible she’s in mortal danger.”
“What?” Eric and Maggie said in unison.
“An extreme possibility at best,” Mr. Trouble said, shaking his empty palm in front of them. “There is no reason to think that’s really the case.”
Maggie leaned toward Eric and whispered, “This guy’s insane. We really need to leave.”
Mr. Trouble set the piece of paper back on his desk. “Now, back to that assessment. The only foolproof way to get an idea about what’s really going on with you is to observe you in your natural habitat.”
“My what?” Eric asked.
“Do you mean like with wild animals, like lions in Africa?” Maggie asked. “I’ve seen it on Animal Planet.”
“Well, similar, yes,” Mr. Trouble said. “Only Eric’s life will, of course, be more complicated than that of the common lion. And with far less killing of antelope.” He started to chuckle but no one else laughed.
“So what, exactly, am I supposed to do?” Eric asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Mr. Trouble repeated. “Well, not actually nothing. Just go through your day like you usually do and we’ll do the rest. Don’t do anything out of the ordinary. Just pretend like it’s a typical Tuesday.”
“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Maggie said.
“Ah, right. A typical Friday, then.”
“And you’re going to…?” Eric asked.
“Observe.”
“So you’ll be standing around watching me?”
“Oh, it’s not quite as simple as that. Just leave the details to us. We’ve done this countless times. This first day is usually very easy. You won’t even know we’re there. Most of our clients say they actually experience fewer problems on the day we observe them than they’d been having for a while. So there’s that to look forward to.”
“What about school?” Eric asked. “How are you going to watch me there?”
“Again, details. Trust that we will take care of everything.”
“Are you seriously thinking about going along with this?” Maggie asked.
Eric sighed. That was a good question. Was he really going to—
His gaze fell onto the clock sitting on the dresser across the room. It was 8:45.
He jumped up. “We need to go now.”
“What’s your hurry?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“Nine o’clock?” Eric said, looking at him. “You promised to get us home? No way we’re going to make it in time.”