The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak by Brian Katcher

looks at me sternly.
    â€œNothing weird . . . well, maybe it is.” I’ve known Warren so long, I’ve grown used to his peculiarity. Maybe Ana will find it endearing. “It’s just . . .”
    She’s not listening. Her gaze is fixed on something behind me. I turn but don’t notice anything, other than a dozen or so people milling around in front of a room, waiting for a presentation.
    â€œZak! Look at the guy in the Iron Man helmet.”
    I let out a world-weary sigh. “Ana, that’s Boba Fett. Can you honestly not tell the difference?” I mean, the directional range finder is a dead giveaway.
    And then I realize what she means. The bounty hunter is not wearing armor. Instead, he has on a blinding orange-and-red shirt, one so clashing that it hurts the retinas from fifty paces.
    I know that shirt. Clayton was wearing it, last time I saw him. So ugly, even I noticed it.
    I grin. “Dr. Kimble at last. So, how do you want to do this? Good cop, bad cop?” I start to walk toward him.
    â€œWait.” Ana looks uncharacteristically indecisive. I wonder what happened to the bossy team captain, butI don’t miss her. “Zak, maybe you should go talk to him alone.”
    â€œJust me? Why?” That smacks of duty and effort. And why would he listen to me over his sister?
    â€œThe thing about Clayton is, he always does what he’s told. I mean always. But tonight, we got in kind of a fight. I think he’s angry with me.” She looks over at her brother, but he’s still mingling with the crowd.
    I wonder if Clayton is really that obedient, or if he’s just better at getting away with things than Ana. “What did you fight about?”
    She gives me a cockeyed look, with just a slip of a smile. I have the strange feeling that she’s implying something I’m too dense to catch.
    â€œJust talk to him, Zak. Clayton likes you. Try to get him to go back to the hotel, at least by bed check, okay? He doesn’t have to go with me, but maybe you could keep an eye on him?”
    Story of my life. I try to impress the girl, and end up hanging out with her little brother. But damn, her green eyes . . .
    â€œDuck into the ballroom, Ana. Let Warren know I’m on my way. I’ll have a word with your bro.”
    She gives me a one-armed hug. I’m so taken aback, I forget to return the embrace.
    â€œYou’re an okay guy, Zak Duquette,” she says, and releases me.
    â€œPlease, call me Duke.”
    Ana opens the ballroom door. “Good luck, Zak. Hey, how will I recognize Warren?”
    â€œTrust me. You’ll know him when you see him.”
    She shoots me a questioning look, then vanishes into the room.
    Well, it’s all down to yours truly. If I can convince Clay to hang out with me and come back to the hotel before lights-out, Ana will be most grateful. First-date grateful. Maybe.
    I guess I’ll confront him, man to man. Just remind him that it’ll cause a lot of trouble for a lot of people if he goes AWOL.
    I slip into the crowd. Remembering how he said he enjoyed RoboCop , I decide to break the ice with a line from the film. “Come with me, citizen,” I say in a monotone as I firmly grab his arm.
    The results are impressive. Clayton spins his mask toward me, then yanks out of my grasp and goes darting down the corridor, elbowing people out of the way.
    I’m too pissed to be diplomatic. “Get back here, you little . . .” He’s sprinting like a jackrabbit. I rush after him.
    There’s no way I can catch him in a mad rush—there are too many people, and I think he’s faster than me.Luckily, I have an encyclopedic knowledge of the convention center. I duck into an EMPLOYEES ONLY door, dash down a maintenance hall, nod hello to a surprised guy taking out the trash, and emerge in an empty kitchen. I crack a door and wait. Sure enough, he comes walking by, trying to adjust his facial