Behind the Curtain Read Free Page A

up.”
    Ingrid paused. “You want Sean Rubino to come up?”
    Ty’s eyes got that squinty look she knew so well. “What’s your problem?”
    Ingrid went downstairs. Dad’s golf clubs stood inthe corner by the door. Sean was over there, examining the putter.
    “He says go up,” said Ingrid. “Second door on the right.”
    Sean slid the putter back into Dad’s bag and went upstairs. She didn’t like the way he put his hand on the rail, which was crazy.
    Ingrid got her backpack and sat down at the kitchen table, her first choice homework venue. She closed her eyes, pulled out a book. Whatever it was, she’d do first. Except it turned out to be math. She tried again. English. That was better.
    The assignment: Write ten complete, grammatical sentences using two adverbs in each.
    Ingrid went to the fridge, snapped open a Fresca. Ah.
    1. This corpse has been frozen recently, said Sherlock Holmes icily.
    2. Holmes stepped into the hansom cab handsomely as the horse neighed nasally.
    3. Dr. Watson coughed harumphingly when the woman in red—
    Ingrid heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The front door opened and closed. She went to thehall, looked out the window in time to see Sean driving off in the Firebird, one taillight out. He turned right on Avondale and disappeared. Ingrid was about to return to her homework when headlights flashed down the street. A second car drove by, also turning right on Avondale. This one read ECHO FALLS POLICE on the driver’s door, and in smaller letters: CHIEF . But Ingrid would have recognized Chief Gilbert L. Strade anyway, just from the massive silhouetted form behind the wheel.
     
    Homework all done, at least to her satisfaction. Sometimes Ingrid was easily pleased. Up in her room, she went online, sent an IM to Stacy.
    Gridster22: sean was here
    Powerup77: ???
    Gridster22: to see ty
    Powerup77: sean my stupid bro?
    Gridster22: yup
    Powerup77: wha for?
    Gridster22: i’m asking u
    Powerup77: dunno—wanna come over after the game?
    Gridster22: sounds goooooood—i’ll—
    Ty poked his head in the door.
    “Got a minute?” he said.
    Gridster22: cul8tr
    “What?” said Ingrid.
    “Need a safety,” he said.
    “What about Dad?”
    “They went to bed.”
    “Why so early?”
    “Do I look like a search engine?” Ty said. “You gonna help me or not?”
    Ingrid went to the basement with Ty. They had practically a whole gym down there—StairMaster, treadmill, slant board, bench press, and machines for leg curls, leg extensions, leg presses, ab crunches, delt thises and pec thats, none of which Ingrid ever used. She’d read in a magazine—on the letters-to-the-editor page, actually, just a letter from some reader who didn’t even have an MD after his name, but it did get printed—that thirteen was too young for weight training. No sense taking chances.
    Ty went to the bench press, slid a forty-five-pound plate on each end of the bar, then added twotwenty-fives. Forty-five plus forty-five was ninety, plus fifty made one thirty, and don’t forget the weight of the bar itself, forty-five more: one eighty-five. Wow. The most she’d ever seen him do was two twenty-fives on each end—one forty-five—and that had been only a few weeks ago. Those iron plates: so big.
    “What are you looking at?” he said.
    “Nothing.”
    Ty lay down on the bench. Ingrid stood at the end, ready to help if he had trouble raising the bar back up to the cradle. But what kind of help could she be with one eighty-five? Ingrid weighed ninety-four pounds.
    Ty gripped the bar, his fingers wriggling around for the spot that felt right. He planted his feet on the floor, first wriggling them a bit too. Then he took a deep breath, jerked all that weight up out of the cradle, lowered it to his chest, pushed up again.
    “One,” said Ingrid.
    Down. Up.
    “Two.”
    He grunted.
    “Three.”
    The grunts got louder. His face got red. His eyesbugged out. He looked like a freak. But he did ten. Ten at one