They worked in silence for a few seconds.
“What are you studying?” he asked her.
“Advanced Trigonometry.”
“Whoa. Seriously? What grade are you in?”
She shrugged. “Tenth, or maybe eleventh.”
“Uh, isn’t that something you should know?”
“We’re home-schooled. With the business our family’s in, if we went to a regular school, we’d be absent all the time. Schools don’t like that, no matter how smart you are.”
Home-schooled. That made sense. But it did bring up another question.
“So where do you guys live?”
“What? Don’t you think the plane’s our home?” she asked.
“Your brother called it your mobile headquarters. I just thought that meant you have a place somewhere that doesn’t move around.”
“I was kidding.” She laughed and looked back at her book.
Eric waited several seconds then said, “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Nope.”
He frowned. “But you do have a permanent place, right?”
“We have to keep the plane somewhere.”
“Look, I don’t mean to disturb you,” Maggie said from her end of the table. “But I’m trying to get some work done. That’s why we’re here, right? So if you could hold it down, I’d appreciate it.”
Fiona grimaced. “Sorry.”
Eric wasn’t sorry, though. He was annoyed. Maggie was supposed to be his best friend, yet all she had been doing was denying that anything was wrong and basically saying he was crazy. But she’d seen what had happened to him after he was scanned. She’d seen the SUV trying to run them down. She’d seen the Maker’s box. Granted, none of that was as odd as, say, seeing a phone book get spit out of the air, or experiencing time speeding up, or feeling the effects of the gold-ball talisman, but still, it should have been plenty for her to at least realize that things in his life were currently miles from normal.
Before he could tell her how he felt, Fiona leaned over and silently mouthed, “It’s fine.”
What was it with girls telling him when he should and shouldn’t speak? Because this definitely wasn’t fine. But he kept his mouth shut and went back to his Spanish homework.
At ten, Maggie stood up. “I’ve got a headache. I’m going to bed.”
Keira immediately jumped up from her seat. “I’m tired, too.”
Maggie glared at her for a moment then looked at Eric. “You’re on the living room couch.” She left without saying goodnight.
“See you in the morning,” Keira whispered, then followed Maggie out.
After they’d been alone for a few minutes, Fiona said, “You know, she is a good friend.”
“Who? Maggie?”
“Yeah. She’s been concerned about you.”
“She’s not concerned about me,” Eric said. “She thinks I’m stupid for listening to you guys.”
“You don’t understand girls at all, do you? If she didn’t care about you, she wouldn’t get so upset. Look, she hopped in our car with you yesterday evening when she had no idea who we were, only because she thought you shouldn’t go alone. And she’s had plenty of time since then to tell her parents or someone at school or even the police what she thinks is going on.”
“She did tell someone at school, remember? After the fire alarm, she went to the office.”
Fiona shook her head. “You are such a boy. She just wanted you to think that’s what she was doing, hoping it might make you see things her way. But she was never going to go through with it. She was too afraid it would get you in trouble. Besides, there’s a big part of her that believes something weird is going on. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”
“How do you know she didn’t go? You were with me.”
She shrugged. “I asked her.”
“When?”
“When we were waiting in the car at school while you were playing around with your buddy Peter. But I already knew the answer. Oh, and that’s another thing. When the scanner knocked you out, no one was more concerned than she was. She’s doing exactly what a best friend should do. She’s trying to protect you.”
As much as he didn’t want to hear it at the moment, he knew she was probably right.
He decided to change the subject. “So I take it your brother hasn’t been the boss for that long.”
She gave him an odd look.
“This afternoon,” he said, “that little fight about him being in charge.”
“We weren’t fighting, we were just…”
“Disagreeing?”
She took a deep breath. “Ronan’s only been Mr. Trouble for about a year. It’s not an easy job and he’s got some pretty big shoes to fill. My sister and I sometimes forget that.”
“I kind of get the feeling that you think you might be able to do a better job.”
She raised an eyebrow and then, after a few seconds, smiled. “Maybe, but it’s Ronan’s job, not mine. He’s a good Mr. Trouble. Someday he might even be great.”
“Should it concern me that he’s not great yet?”
She laughed. “Not at all. With all of us together, we’re an unbeatable team. You couldn’t be in better hands.”
He hoped she was right. “Has your family really been fighting the Makers for two hundred years?”
“Actually, two hundred and fifty. Great-to-the-seventh Grandpa Thomas Leatherwood became the first, back in 1762.”
“Leatherwood? Like you called yourself at school?” Eric asked, and then he suddenly remembered. “The pamphlet! Your family history. I knew I’d seen that name somewhere before.”
“So you did read it,” she said.
“Ah, well, I kind of half-read it, then fell asleep. Sorry. I don’t remember reading why you changed your name to Trouble, though.”
She rolled her eyes. “Did you bring it with you?”
“It’s in my backpack.”
“Then I suggest you take another look at it before you go to sleep.” She stood up. “Check out great-granddad to the third, Robert. You’ll find your answer there.”
“That’s probably a good idea. Maybe it’ll help me understand what’s going on a little better.” He yawned. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
He leaned over to his backpack, unzipped the front section, and pulled out the pamphlet. As he sat back up, he was surprised to see Fiona still standing there.
“You won’t actually find all the answers in there,” she said, looking a little as if she’d been caught in a lie. “Most clients never even hear the name Maker so the details would only confuse them.”
“But I have heard the name. So I’m not like most of your other clients.”
“No, you definitely aren’t. In fact, I’d say you’re not like any of our previous clients.” She seemed to be lost in thought. “Hold on,” she finally said, then set her book bag on the table.
Out of the main section, she pulled out a dark purple purse, and from inside that, a worn-looking, business-size envelope that had been folded a few times. She hesitated, then handed it to him.
“It’s a copy of a letter Thomas Leatherwood wrote to his son before he died.”
“You mean the first Mr. Trouble?”
She nodded. “Don’t tell Ronan I have it. And especially don’t tell him I let you read it. I like keeping a copy with me. Helps remind me why we do what we do, and how important it is.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Now get some sleep. Tomorrow things will start turning around. You’ll see.”
“What about tonight? Do you think anything will happen?”
“Ronan and Uncle Carl are taking turns watching the neighborhood. We’ll be fine. Goodnight, Eric.”