The Power of Un by Nancy Etchemendy Page B

kitchen, his voice happy and hearty. The smell of simmering beef stew hung in the air like a promise. Maybe everything really was all right again.
    I carefully set my backpack on the hall table, licked my lips, and said, “Where’s Roxy?”
    I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until she came speeding around the corner in her stocking feet. She slid over the polished floor like a batter going for home plate and ran right into me. “Gib! You’re home! You’re home!” she cried.
    “Rox! Am I ever glad to see you!” I blurted before I realized how unlike myself it would be to say such a thing. I wasn’t even mad that she’d almost knocked me over.
    She looked up at me, eyebrows high. “Really?” she said.
    I laughed. I couldn’t stop myself, not that I wanted to. In fact, I felt like I might burp rainbows any second.I was happy and I knew it, and weirdest of all, I didn’t care who else knew it, either. “Hey, would you like to play doggy?”
    Roxy’s wide, bright eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “You’re kidding, right?”
    “No, I’m serious. Let’s play doggy! I’ll go get the leash.”
    “
Aw-ri-i-i-ght
!” she said. “Whuff!” She let her tongue loll out and began to pant.
    Dad stuck his head around the kitchen doorway and chuckled. “Boy, I guess somebody had a good day today.”
    I smiled, struck by the general greatness of the way my dad chuckles. Saturday morning I’d thought he might never smile again, let alone chuckle. “Yeah, a really good day,” I said.
    As I walked to Roxy’s bedroom to get the leash, I thought how weird it was for me to feel this had been a good day—after all, tucked into my backpack, Ol’ Shrapnel’s spitball–punishing assignment lay in wait. I guess some days feel good mainly because other days are so bad.
    So I played doggy with Roxy, and though I wouldn’t say it was actually fun, it didn’t feel as much like a chore as usual. I kept looking at Roxy and thinking how great it was that she could run around laughing, her whole body working perfectly.
    Afterward, I went out and shot hoops again, tryingto stick to the original chain of events as closely as I could. I wasn’t sure if I could still get the unner—things were already so different from before. But I figured it couldn’t hurt.
    When it was about time for me to walk to the woods, I went back into the house, feeling jittery again. Would Dad be on the phone with Rainy? Would she be telling him she’d come down with the flu?
    Dad’s voice drifted out of the kitchen. He wasn’t on the phone with Rainy. Instead he was singing a somewhat cracked version of a square-dance tune.
    Rainy
was
going to baby-sit. Ash and I could go to the carnival without Roxy, and she would be safe, safe, safe! I nearly whooped with joy. My plan was working.
    I told Dad I was going over to the woods for a while. Just as before, he reminded me to be back in time for dinner.
    “No problem,” I said. “See you soon.”
    I found the empty Coke can in front of our house, and this time, instead of kicking it, I picked it up and tossed it in the air, running to catch it, imagining what it would be like to be a star receiver in the NFL. I did that all the way to the woods and was feeling so good I nearly forgot I’d ever been worried about using the unner. It was beginning to look like smooth sailing from here on out, whether the old man reappeared or not. If he didn’t, Roxy would still be O.K. If he did, I’d get the unner back and be invincible. I could makeeverything happen the way I wanted for the rest of my life. In fact, I might even find a way to live forever!
    I started down the leaf-crunchy path, looking left and right. I was just about to give up when the old man stepped out of the shadows between two tree trunks.
    He looked just as strange as he had before. His shiny, silvery hair stood out around his head as if he’d rubbed it with a party balloon. Pale vapor and the weird electrical smell rose from