silver handcuffs like tiny planets. He could have just slipped them free if he wanted to. Apparently he didn’t want to.
“Look, Pete …,” the cop was telling the rookie. “We need to get you some help. There is no one in back of your squad car. There is nothing but a pair of empty cuffs.”
“Fight!” Denton Peters suggested from the sideline,and Ms. Egami tried to shush him. “Shoot something!”
The window was open a crack. The little man sniffed and looked up at Scott.
“Oh. ’S you. Come to gloat?”
“I can see you,” Scott said quietly into the gap, “and that policeman can see you, but nobody else can.”
“You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, yeh are. Quick now an’ offer your services to those coppers! They could use a brilliant mind like yours.”
“Why can I see you? Am I crazy?” Scott asked, worried suddenly that his headaches were the sign of something else, something festering in his brain.
The little man studied him for a second. “Set me free, and I’ll explain everythin’.”
Scott looked again at the handcuffs, so large against the man’s wrists that they looked like a practical joke. “Why can’t you—”
“It’s complicated.”
“Were you stealing again? Is that what happened?”
“What else am I to do? Work for a livin’? Make shoes?”
Scott breathed, and tested the door. He expected a police car to be locked, but it wasn’t.
“Hey,” one of the police officers said just then. “Hey, your door is open.”
Scott ducked down, and the little man scootched to the edge of the car seat, rattling his handcuffs.
“Quickly!”
Scott pulled them off, easy as anything. And that’s when the little man leaped up onto his shoulder, ran down the length of his back, and was away.
“Hey!” said Scott. “Come back!”
The small red tracksuit slipped into the street, dodging traffic. Then the clop of hooves, and the mounted policewoman was towering over Scott, her horse snorting thick, furious clouds.
The officer was shouting. Scott cowered. It might have gone badly for him had the horse not chosen just then to turn into a unicorn, and throw its rider, and turn back into a horse again.
The policewoman landed on the pavement, hard. Scott ducked and dashed back to meet his class as the other officers rushed to her aid.
“There you are,” said Erno when Scott turned up beside him, panting. “Did you see that horse rear back like that?”
Scott goggled—at the flashing squad cars, the Keystone cops, the plain brown horse mincing about. Just a horse.
“I’m having kind of a weird day,” said Scott.
CHAPTER 8
Scott’s headache came back on the way home—not as bad as before, nothing he couldn’t handle. He cooled his temple against a rattling windowpane as the bus reeled up the curb and into the school parking lot, where Mom and Polly were waiting in the Hyundai and fogging up the windows with their talk.
“You okay?” Erno asked Scott as they disembarked.
“Getting better.”
“I have a theory about your headaches, Scott,” said Emily, who was shivering under her puffy blue coat. “I think I can cure them, but you have to not mind being electrocuted a little bit. Do you mind being electrocuted a little bit?”
“Um. Can I think about it?”
“Take your time. I have some soldering to finish first, anyway.”
Erno rolled his eyes. “My sister thinks she’s in one of those movies where the smart kid invents things and all her friends call her Gadget.”
“Yeah. All my friends,” Emily said, and waved her arm only at Scott. “Good night.” She stepped off toward a windowless white van, and Erno followed. Scott heard him protest furtively: “ I’m your friend. You know, sort of.”
Scott got into the backseat of his family’s Hyundai, and Polly immediately turned and hooked her fingers over the headrest.
“Because your bus was late we get pizza!” she announced.
“Get in the back and buckle up,” said Mom.
“Finally I
“Look, Pete …,” the cop was telling the rookie. “We need to get you some help. There is no one in back of your squad car. There is nothing but a pair of empty cuffs.”
“Fight!” Denton Peters suggested from the sideline,and Ms. Egami tried to shush him. “Shoot something!”
The window was open a crack. The little man sniffed and looked up at Scott.
“Oh. ’S you. Come to gloat?”
“I can see you,” Scott said quietly into the gap, “and that policeman can see you, but nobody else can.”
“You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, yeh are. Quick now an’ offer your services to those coppers! They could use a brilliant mind like yours.”
“Why can I see you? Am I crazy?” Scott asked, worried suddenly that his headaches were the sign of something else, something festering in his brain.
The little man studied him for a second. “Set me free, and I’ll explain everythin’.”
Scott looked again at the handcuffs, so large against the man’s wrists that they looked like a practical joke. “Why can’t you—”
“It’s complicated.”
“Were you stealing again? Is that what happened?”
“What else am I to do? Work for a livin’? Make shoes?”
Scott breathed, and tested the door. He expected a police car to be locked, but it wasn’t.
“Hey,” one of the police officers said just then. “Hey, your door is open.”
Scott ducked down, and the little man scootched to the edge of the car seat, rattling his handcuffs.
“Quickly!”
Scott pulled them off, easy as anything. And that’s when the little man leaped up onto his shoulder, ran down the length of his back, and was away.
“Hey!” said Scott. “Come back!”
The small red tracksuit slipped into the street, dodging traffic. Then the clop of hooves, and the mounted policewoman was towering over Scott, her horse snorting thick, furious clouds.
The officer was shouting. Scott cowered. It might have gone badly for him had the horse not chosen just then to turn into a unicorn, and throw its rider, and turn back into a horse again.
The policewoman landed on the pavement, hard. Scott ducked and dashed back to meet his class as the other officers rushed to her aid.
“There you are,” said Erno when Scott turned up beside him, panting. “Did you see that horse rear back like that?”
Scott goggled—at the flashing squad cars, the Keystone cops, the plain brown horse mincing about. Just a horse.
“I’m having kind of a weird day,” said Scott.
CHAPTER 8
Scott’s headache came back on the way home—not as bad as before, nothing he couldn’t handle. He cooled his temple against a rattling windowpane as the bus reeled up the curb and into the school parking lot, where Mom and Polly were waiting in the Hyundai and fogging up the windows with their talk.
“You okay?” Erno asked Scott as they disembarked.
“Getting better.”
“I have a theory about your headaches, Scott,” said Emily, who was shivering under her puffy blue coat. “I think I can cure them, but you have to not mind being electrocuted a little bit. Do you mind being electrocuted a little bit?”
“Um. Can I think about it?”
“Take your time. I have some soldering to finish first, anyway.”
Erno rolled his eyes. “My sister thinks she’s in one of those movies where the smart kid invents things and all her friends call her Gadget.”
“Yeah. All my friends,” Emily said, and waved her arm only at Scott. “Good night.” She stepped off toward a windowless white van, and Erno followed. Scott heard him protest furtively: “ I’m your friend. You know, sort of.”
Scott got into the backseat of his family’s Hyundai, and Polly immediately turned and hooked her fingers over the headrest.
“Because your bus was late we get pizza!” she announced.
“Get in the back and buckle up,” said Mom.
“Finally I
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