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

plan. I come up short and crack him across his big old nose. It must have hurt, as he yelps and clutches his face.
    His towel lands on my feet with a wet plop .

ZAK
3:33 PM
    Our taxi driver is having a loud argument with his dispatcher in Russian. I’m thankful for this. It gives me time to lean back, enjoy the ride, and think of how absolutely, utterly screwed I am. I cannot believe that little geek left the hotel. First chance he gets, he runs off to have fun at my con.
    It’s exactly what I would have done, of course. The kid has moxie. Moxie that is going to get me kicked off the team and straight into summer school. I’ll be spending June taking tooth-brushing lessons with the mouth breathers. Plus, my hair is still wet, I’m wearing dress slacks and a stained T-shirt, and I’m pretty sure Ana gota view of everything when I had my wardrobe malfunction. And it had been so cold back there in the hotel room . . .
    On the seat next to me, Ana repeatedly attempts to phone her brother, pausing only to scowl at me when the call goes to voice mail.
    Eventually, I’m forced to break the non-Cyrillic silence. “I don’t think he’s going to pick up.”
    She turns to me, and for a moment I fear she’s turning into the She-Hulk. After a second, I realize that her eyes are just really green, kind of like two angry Life Savers.
    â€œThanks, genius. Now, be quiet, I’m trying to think.” She says it in a sarcastic, superior tone. The same tone as when she blew me off in the library the other day.
    â€œYou know, this isn’t my fault.” And maybe you could mention that to Mrs. Brinkham . . .
    Ana grabs an elastic thing and forces her frizzy hair into a ponytail. If I wasn’t so bloody irritated with her, I might mention she looks better with her hair loose. Less uptight. “Zakory, thanks to your stupid stories about your stupid convention, my brother is out wandering around Seattle. So unless you want me to tell Mrs. Brinkham what you’ve done . . .”
    And there she crosses the line. I am willing to accept a little ranting, but if she thinks she is going to narc onme, it’s time to go on the offensive.
    â€œExcuse me? No one forced Clayton to leave, okay? I was in the shower, and I wasn’t going to invite him in there with me. And you know what? He’s thirteen, not eight. I’ve been going to this con since I was ten. I think MegaMind can handle himself for one night.”
    Ana rolls her eyes farther than I think the optic nerve can stretch. “Just show me where this convention is. Then, if you want to leave, fine. Tell Mrs. Brinkham whatever you want. Good Lord, I can’t believe she wanted you on our team.”
    I shouldn’t let her get to me. What do I care what she thinks? But for some reason, I need to defend myself. “You don’t know me. You . . .” And then I go blank, unable to think of that perfect, cutting comeback. What had James called it? L’esprit de l’escalier .
    Ana has her phone out again. “I know one thing, Zak. You’re a guy who only cares about number one. I’m concerned about my brother, while you’re probably still pissed that you’re not playing cards dressed like an elf right now.”
    I am having difficulty staying civil. “You know what? Have fun looking for your baby brother. You’re going to wander around all night, and when you find him, he’ll probably be drinking a soda and watching a movie. I mean, what the hell do you think is going to happen?C’mon, everyone gets in trouble now and then. He just wants to have a little fun for once.”
    Okay, maybe Ana’s a little too high-strung to find that calming. But I am unprepared for my companion’s reaction.
    â€œStop this cab!” she bellows. Her face has gone stark white. For an instant, I’m afraid she’s going to take a swing at me.
    Rasputin brakes hard, to the