Nothing Special by Geoff Herbach Page B

said.
    â€œRandy Freaking Stone! Andrew!”
    â€œUh-huh,” I said. “I’m sorry I blamed you for that crap.”
    â€œI wish I did it because Randy Stone’s awesome, but I didn’t,” Gus said.
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œJesus. That drunken, bony unicorn girl told the truth, didn’t she?”
    â€œLooks that way,” I said.
    â€œWhoa, man. So weird.”
    Gus knowing about this made me feel better.
    â€œWhere do you think he went? Is he smoking cigarettes, that sly devil? What the hell is going on? What’s all that ‘rosy’ babble about at the end?”
    â€œI think he’s probably in Florida. I think maybe with our cousin, Tovi. I don’t know for sure, though.”
    â€œEvidence?”
    â€œHe posted a picture of a pelican on feltonreinstein.com.”
    â€œSolid.”
    â€œCouple days ago he claimed his new friend at orchestra camp is named Tovi.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œThe Rose babble at the bottom led me to my grandma’s obituary where a girl named Tovi is listed as our cousin.”
    â€œGrandma? Grandma Berba? What do you mean? Grandma who?”
    â€œGrandma Rose Reinstein.”
    â€œWow.” Gus’s voice lost its normal edge. No one else in the world other than Andrew and Jerri would know exactly what that meant. (Long. Lost. Grandparent.) “No shit, Felton.”
    â€œYeah. Yeah. Seriously.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do? Tell Jerri?”
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t know…No.”
    â€œWhoa,” he said.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said.
    â€œAw, Jesus Christ, Felton.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDo you want to hang out or something?” he asked, clearly not totally convinced he should.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Please.”
    â€œOkay,” he sort of whispered.
    â€¢ • •
    Announcement on loudspeaker…
    Oh, god-dang dog crap .
    My flight is now officially delayed.
    I’m in prison, Aleah.

August 16th, 9:43 a.m.
O’Hare Airport, Part XIV
    At least another two hours…
    Just talked to Jerri. She says she’ll drive down to Chicago right now to pick me up and take me home. I’m only supposed to be in Florida until Thursday at the ass cracker of dawn (to get Andrew).
    â€œIs it really worth this?” she asked me. “You could go to football practice the rest of the week so you’ll be ready for your game, and you know Andrew is fully capable of taking care of himself. He’s fine.”
    â€œNo,” I told her. “I want to go to Florida.”
    Now I’m not exactly sure I’m making the right choice. I mean, in a lot of ways, I really don’t want to go to the Dangling Sack (Florida). Most ways, really. Okay…Okay…Calm, boy . I can’t just run away.
    Do not be reactionary, young Felton. You want to be there for your poor brother, Andrew.
    Reactionary. Monkeys fling their own poop, Aleah. Why? Because it’s there.
    â€¢ • •
    Gus and I spent that afternoon driving around trying to figure out what Andrew, aka Detective Randy Stone, was up to.
    â€œIs there any way the little dude is actually at camp and is pulling stuff just to mess with you? You know, asking Emily to spread rumors and then sending weird emails and grandparent links?” Gus asked.
    â€œNo. I don’t think he’s into random torment. I think he has a real agenda. He always seems to, anyway.”
    â€œSuch a weird kid, man. And you’re not telling Jerri because…? What? Her crazy breakdown last summer?”
    â€œYeah.”
    Gus smoked cigarettes, which I don’t appreciate very much, but what was I going to say: “Please don’t smoke in your car while you try to help me even though you don’t like me anymore?” Then, when he ran out of cigarettes, we drove over to Maddie’s house to pick her up, because apparently she’s his supplier.
    â€œI