But…what if it wasn’t? It wouldn’t hurt to call, would it?
There was a pay phone in the back of the library near the restrooms. He reached into his pocket to see how much change he had, then realized he’d spent the last of his money on his lunch. He leaned toward Maggie and whispered so Peter couldn’t hear, “Do you have some change?”
“What do you need change for?” she asked, suspicious.
“I need to make a call.”
Her face scrunched up. “Why do you need money to make a call?”
“Pay phones aren’t free.”
“Ugh! When are your parents going to buy you a cell phone?”
Despite the fact all his friends had one, Eric’s parents thought he was still too young. “Do you have change or not?”
She frowned at him, then reached into her backpack and pulled out some coins.
As she handed them over, he said, “I’ll pay you back.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I will.”
“Just go make your call,” she said. Then, as if she’d forgotten she should be mad at him, she added, “And hurry up. We’ve still got a lot to do.”
There was no one near the phone when he got there, so he pulled out the ad, stuck a couple coins in the slot, and started dialing. It wasn’t until he’d finished punching in the last of the digits that he realized it was too short for calling long distance and too long for local. The number on the ad was obviously a misprint.
Disappointed, he was starting to hang up when two odd things happened: 1) his coins fell into the change cup, and 2) the number he’d dialed began to ring.
Before he could decide what to do, someone answered.
“Hi. This is Trouble Family Services. The troubleshooting experts! You gotta problem, we gotta help.”
Eric suddenly found himself unable to speak.
“Hello?” the girl who’d answered said.
He tried to push a word — any word — out of his mouth, but his throat was clinched tight.
“Hello?”
He had the sudden desire to just hang up and forget he’d even found the ad.
“Hello, is anyone there?”
He drew in a deep breath.
“Ah, someone is there. Good,” the girl said. “Don’t worry. You’re not our first nervous client. But you can talk to me. I’m a friend.”
“Who…who is this?” Eric croaked.
“Excellent! You do know how to talk. I was getting worried that we might have gotten a really young one this time.” She paused. “Of course, I guess a young one wouldn’t have known how to dial…but you never know.” Again, she fell silent, this time like she was waiting for him to say something. “Oh, right. Who am I? Sorry. My name is Fiona and I am your point of contact representative.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re my what?”
“Your point of contact representative.”
“And what exactly is that?”
She said nothing for a moment, then, “Hold on, please.”
The line clicked, then music even his parents wouldn’t have listened to started to play. This went on for several seconds before it finally cut out mid-tune. Eric could hear papers moving around and then Fiona said, “I apologize for the delay.” More movement. “Ah, here it is.” Then, as if she were reading, “Your point of contact representative is here to help you.” A pause. “How’s that?” Before he could respond, she started speaking again. “Now, I have several questions I need to ask you.”
“Wait,” he said, looking at the ad in his hand. “Tell me how you did this.”
“I, uh, haven’t done anything yet.”
“The book! How did you make it pop out of the air?”
“Book…pop out of the air,” she repeated, obviously not following him.
“It made this really weird sound, but I was the only one who could hear it.”
After several seconds, Fiona let out a long, “Ooooooh.” Then, like a machine gun in an old war movie, said, “Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.”
“Are you all right?”
“Of course, I’m all right. I’m just looking for the right question…ah…here it is. Number thirty-seven. Method of contact. I hate skipping ahead like this so if you don’t mind, we’ll get to that in a few minutes, okay?”
“No. Not o—”
“Question one. First name?”
“Uh…Eric.”
“Eric. I like that. Mine’s Fiona, or did I already tell you that? It’s Irish. My mom’s idea. She’s actually from Ireland.” Eric could hear a voice in the background. “I’m just bonding, Keira,” Fiona said, her voice muffled by something held over the receiver. Her next words came back clear and strong. “Question two. How many bikes do you own?”
“Excuse me? Don’t you want to know my last name?”
“That is question seven. Right now, I want to know how many bikes you own.”
“Me personally or my family?”
“You personally.”
“One. Why would I need more than that?” he asked.
“Question three. Age?”
“Thirteen. Fourteen in a month and a half.”
“No rushing ahead. Four. Birthday?”
“November 21st.”
“Five,” she said. “If you had the choice of pepperoni pizza or Hawaiian pizza, which would it be?”
“Hawaiian?”
“Is that definite or are you just guessing?”
“Is this really important?”
“I assure you our questionnaire has been put together and refined over many, many years. Everything I ask you is potentially important. So Hawaiian then?”
“Sure.”
“Great. Six. Shoe size?”
The questions went on and on. Besides telling her his last name, where he lived, where he went to school, the color of his eyes, and how he had gotten their phone number, Eric also answered questions on such things as favorite TV show, what grade he got on his last math test, and how many cavities he had. It was all very confusing.
When she finally finished, she said, “And how can we help you today?”
“Help me? I…I don’t know.”
“You are in trouble, right? I mean, that’s why you called. So what seems to be the problem?”
Everything! he thought.
“It’s like my whole life is suddenly the opposite of what it usually is.”
“Suddenly…the…opposite,” she said.
He could picture her writing the words down on her questionnaire. Perhaps there was a space for that, too.
“I’m forgetting homework,” he said. “I’m getting into fights with people who never bothered me before. I’m losing things like my house key. That got me grounded for two days.”
“Please. No details unless I ask for them. So how long has this been going on?”
“A couple of weeks.”
He could hear her write something down. “Okay. So, here’s what will—”
“There’s more,” he said.
“What more?”
“My mother.”
“What about your mother?”
Eric hesitated for a moment, then said, “My dad says she went on a trip. But I don’t believe him.”
“Then where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“She’s missing.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.
“She could be, I guess. I just don’t know.”
More writing.
“Am I going crazy?” he asked.
“Well, as a professional, I can guarantee you that you’re not going crazy.”
“Then how do I make everything normal again?”
“The first thing I want you to do is calm down and stop worrying. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be there to help.”
“Wait, you’re coming here?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He didn’t know who these people were.