Just Plain Weird Read Free Page A

about?”
              “I doubt it. My inventions are of a highly-- technical nature-- hardly something that would be widely known.”
              While he and Raffles spoke, I stared at the floor, noting that rather than having carpeting or bare hardwoods floors, the floor was instead covered with dark brown marble tiles. I’d never seen a living room floor finished that way; it looked very expensive-- especially considering the furniture in the room was so chintzy-- and not a little slippery.
              When I turned my attention back to the conversation, the man was explaining to Raffles an idea he’d had to better organize the internet.
              It was just at this point that she entered the room. She was still breathless from running down the stairs, probably from her bedroom. She had to be this man’s, Laughton’s, daughter. She hurried into the room, but when she spotted strangers sitting there and speaking with her father, she froze just inside the doorway. I’d been right when I first laid eyes on her, when they moved in; she was incredibly cute, with long wavy hair that perfectly blended blonde and light brown. Her eyes looked dark green. The shorts she was wearing were pretty short, the white t-shirt was loose, and all and all she was looking a lot better than all right. Her legs were pale, badly in need of a tan, but that didn’t stop my heart from taking a leap that nearly broken a couple ribs as I watched her standing there frozen in time. When her father glanced over at her, she gave him a look that was like a series of questions-- Who are these people? Why are they here? Why are you talking to them? What are you telling them? When are they leaving?-- the cascade of emotions running through her expressions somehow making her appear adorable. I made no mistake about it, though; it was clear she viewed us as intruders.
              “I need to speak to you,” she told her father, petulant, “in the other room.”   She said in the other room in a vicious hiss. I couldn’t explain why but I felt as though I was the cause of her tetchy attitude. Sure, she probably saw us as unwelcome visitors, but for some reason I took it all more personally than that.
              The man vanished into the other room, and when he returned, he was alone. He appeared to have been scolded for some transgression.
              “That was my daughter, Eliza,” he said, and added, in way of an apology for her rude behavior, “She’s funny, sometimes.”
              “She needs a suntan,” I said simply; it was as if it were a passing thought going through my mind, but somehow finding its way out my mouth before I could stop it. After I’d said it, I still wasn’t certain I’d actually said it but only thought it-- that kind of thing would happen to me now and then.
              The man stared at me for a moment. He seemed to be earnestly dwelling on my statement, and then starting with a soft chuckle, worked his way up to a loud inexplicable guffaw. I must have stuck on something he found extremely funny. Before long, he was holding his side, and his eyes were tearing up. He nodded agreement, unable to speak.
              Raffles shot me a side-glance that said, Oh, yeah, he’s gone.
              When he was able to speak, he said, “Why don’t you boys finish off your lemonade. It’s getting late. I’m sure your parents will be expecting you home for dinner.” He was still wagging his head at the comment I’d made.
              After we finished the lemonade, he walked us to the door, which shut behind us before we had the chance to look round, say good-bye or thanks or anything.
              “Well, that was-- interesting,” I said, as we walked back to my house.
              Raffles probably didn’t hear me, though; he was so caught up in thought.
              We sat out on my front porch,