Cure for the Common Universe Read Free

Thursday.”
    That was the stupidest thing I could have possibly said. Serena still giggled.
    Oh God, what if she changed her mind between now and Thursday?
    â€œCan I call you?” I asked.
    â€œNope,” she said. My heart nose-dived. But then she patted her pocket. “No phone. I’m not on Facebook either.”
    A Luddite! Of course! This girl was anti-technology! Thatwas why the bicycle. And the record-player reference. That was why she didn’t recognize my Super Mario shirt. I made a quick mental list of things to never talk about as long as she and I were dating. To be honest, it included most of my life.
    Serena pushed off the pavement and pedaled in small circles around the car wash parking lot, moving far away, then close, then far again. “Meet me at Mandrake’s on Broadway,” she said. “Know it?”
    â€œUh, no.”
    â€œIt’s real good. And they never ID. I’ll be there at seven.”
    She straightened the handlebars and pedaled down the sidewalk.
    â€œGreat!” I waved good-bye with the sprayer. “See you at Mandrake’s on Thursday at seven!”
    She disappeared around the corner.
    I had a date. A real-life date. Suddenly the future didn’t seem so war torn. The bright July sky looked almost pretty.
    My phone vibrated again.
    Ur dead to us.
    I smiled. For the first time in years, I didn’t give a damn about the Wight Knights. Or Arcadia . I had just performed a miracle.
    Then again, maybe I could get in one last game before I started preparing for my date.
    The Xterra was still pretty dirty. I had only managed to clean the front half, and I was out of tokens. Screw it. Casey could stand to have the ass-end of her vehicle speckly for a few days.
    On the drive home I couldn’t stop smiling. I imagined making Serena laugh over and over again while we dined at Mandrake’s. I’d have to find something nice to wear. That was for sure. Should I get my crack waxed? Did people actually do that? If so, where? And was there something the waxer could sign that declared that if they ever saw me in public, like on a date at Mandrake’s, they’d have to pretend not to recognize me? The back and shoulder wax was a must. Serena was worth it, I just knew. But what if during the date I bent over to pick up her dropped fork or something and my shirt came up and she saw that I was basically an overfed Hobbit? Could I lose about thirty pounds by Thursday? Probably not. But she didn’t seem to care about my weight.
    Did she?
    Would she have said yes if she did?
    Probably not.
    Would she?
    I took a deep breath and smiled. I thought I had four whole days to think about these things.
    Turned out I had about four minutes.

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    W hen I got home, two tanklike Tongan men were standing in the driveway.
    My dad stood between them.
    He was holding a suitcase. My suitcase.
    I parked in the street, and was about to get out when Casey walked out of the garage, pushing my computer chair. She left it at the curb and then headed back inside without making eye contact.
    All thoughts of getting my crack waxed vanished when I saw one of the tanks point at me and ask, “That him?”
    My dad nodded.
    I shut off the engine. My heart started to pound, and not in a pleasant, Serena way. I didn’t get out of the Xterra. I didn’t unlock the doors. I didn’t know what was happening, but whatever it was couldn’t be good. The sun started to bake the air-conditioning away.
    My dad walked up and rapped on the passenger window. “Come on out here, Jaxon. So we can talk.”
    Before my dad retired, they called him the Mountain. Not because of his stature but because he would plant himself in people’s living rooms and refuse to budge until he’d made a sale.
    I glanced at the tanks, who cast ominous shadows on the driveway. I didn’t move. My dad tried the handle.
    â€œTell me what’s happening