The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak by Brian Katcher Read Free Book Online Page A

demand to visit Nichole .
    I am strong. I am strong.
    Because they kicked her out. They disowned my sister because she broke the rules. And they’ll do the same to me. They will .
    I am strong.
    Enough of this. I have a couple of free hours. Enough time to change clothes, take a short nap, and do a little studying for tomorrow.
    As I start to unbutton my white blouse, I catch a glimpse of myself, reflected in the rain-splattered hotel window. I smile, wryly. To be honest with myself, it’s not like I have to explain the dating ban to a lot of guys.
    Nichole used to say I was cute. But then, that’s a pretty girl’s prerogative. She never had to deal with steel-wool hair, a pointy chin, and a complete and total lack of a chest.
    Good old Ana, straight As in everything . . . including cup size .
    I stand in profile, trying to imagine what I’d look like with curves. And do I really want that? I’d probably just end up attracting morons like Duquette . . .
    Who is that out there?
    I lean into the window and wipe away the condensation. Outside, one story down, I see someone walking away from the hotel. A kid. He’s standing in the middle of the street, in the drizzling rain.
    I can’t make out his features but I know who it is. Only one person would be wearing that glaring tangerine-and-red T-shirt.
    It’s Clayton. He’s leaving the hotel alone.
    I watch, helplessly, as he hails a taxi and climbs inside.
    I storm down the hallway, ready to kill the first person I see. And I’m making sure that the first person I see is Zak Duquette.
    What was that cretin thinking, letting Clayton go off in a taxi somewhere? He’s only thirteen, for goodness’ sake! Where does he need to go now that he needs a cab?
    Oh, if my parents find out about this, I’m so dead.
    I arrive at the boys’ room. Taking a deep breath, I smooth my top, focus my energy, and attempt to drive my fist through the door.
    There is no answer for a minute or so. Maybe no one’s there. But just when I’ve decided to go find Mrs. Brinkham, I hear Duquette shouting from inside.
    â€œHold your horses! What, did you lose your key or . . .”
    He opens the door. I take a step back when I realize that he’s been in the shower. His hair is covered in shampoo and he’s wearing nothing but a flimsy hotel towel that he holds around his waist, revealing his pale, damp torso.
    â€œAna?” He squints through the suds.
    I quickly make eye contact. “Where did my brother go?”
    â€œHuh?” He points to the empty room, where the TVplays loudly. “I thought he was in here. Maybe he went to get a soda.”
    I shove my palm into his hard, wet chest and force him back into the room, shutting the door behind us. I then realize that Duquette might misinterpret a gesture like that, so I cut to the chase.
    â€œClayton just left this hotel in a taxi. I saw him but couldn’t stop him. Do you have any idea where he’s going?”
    Zak wipes soap out of his eyes with his wrist, his other hand still holding up the towel. “I dunno. You know, I was right in the middle of a—”
    â€œThink!”
    He opens his mouth, then pauses. “That little punk,” he mumbles.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHe must have gone to Washingcon! He kept asking me about it. I thought he was just curious.”
    I clutch my face in my hands. This cannot be happening. My little brother, running off to Duquette’s world of drunken trolls and spacemen and God only knows what else. Oh, this is bad. So very bad.
    And then Duquette laughs. Like this is funny. Like it’s a joke.
    â€œWow. Clayton decided to break the rules. Didn’t see that coming.”
    I don’t need this. I turn to leave.
    â€œAwesome.”
    That does it. I twirl around to give Duquette a good smack across the cheek to pay him back for putting this moronic idea in my brother’s head.
    At least, that was the