back for a few weeks. That would buy him some time. Or he could live in the abandoned Hopewell House, like the Phantom of the Opera. He had sneaked into the abandoned hotel once with Tom and Will. Some of the rooms still had beds, dusty but serviceable. When one room got dirty, he could simply move down the hall. Tom and Will would bring him food, and what they couldn’t get for him he would steal.
He was wondering how he would stay warm come winter when Kosh banged on the door.
“Open up, kid. I know you can hear me.”
Tucker imagined Kosh smashing his fist right through the wood panel.
“C’mon, kid, I just want to talk.”
“My name isn’t
kid,
” Tucker yelled at the door.
“Okay, then. Tuck. Open the door, Tuck.”
“It’s
Tucker.
” Only his father called him Tuck.
“Tucker, then. Would you please open the door so we can discuss this?”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Okay, okay! I won’t make you go if you don’t want to.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You don’t. But I am.” In a softer tone, he said, “Look, I just rode two hours to get here. You could at least offer me something to drink.”
If Kosh wanted to, he could probably knock the door right off its hinges, Tucker thought. His parents wouldn’t like that. He unlocked the door, opened it, and backed away. Kosh stepped inside.
“Thanks.” He walked past Tucker into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. “No brewskis?”
“My parents don’t drink,” said Tucker.
“Look at all this food. What are we going to do with it?”
“Eat it,” Tucker said.
“Oh, right. I forgot. You aren’t leaving.” He found a bottle of apple juice, sat down at the kitchen table, and drained it in one long swallow. “You know what’ll happen if you stay here, don’t you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, but for how long?” Kosh said. “Let me tell you what’ll happen. You’ll be fine for a few days. Eating whatever you want, staying out half the night with your friends, raising all sorts of hell, trashing the place. Maybe you got some cash, and you can stretch it out a few weeks. Maybe you even take the old man’s car for a spin, maybe roll it over in a ditch, bust your schnoz on the steering wheel.” Kosh put a finger to the side of his misshapen nose. “Or maybe some other stuff happens. Either way, sooner or later some nosy neighbor will come poking around and find out you been living the high life all on your lonesome. Next thing you know you’re stuck in a foster home with the Do-Good family. Or more likely, they send you to a state school. You ever been in a state school?”
Tucker shook his head.
“It’s like being in prison, kid. Turn you into a criminal if you aren’t one already. Assuming you survive.”
Tucker felt disconnected from reality, as if Kosh were nothing but a hologram of a real person. But what he was describing sounded all too real.
“You’re in a vise, Tucker. I feel for you, I really do. Fact is, you just don’t have a whole lot of options. We got a common agenda here. You don’t want nothing to do with me, and I sure as hell want nothing to do with you. I barely survived the last time we met.”
“But . . . we’ve never met.”
“Maybe not.” Kosh narrowed his eyes. “You just look awful familiar. Sometimes I think crazy runs in the family. You aren’t crazy, are you?”
“No. I have a plan.” Tucker thought about his scheme to become the Phantom of Hopewell House. But even as he thought it, the idea unraveled. People would notice lights at night, they would hear him moving around, and he would be caught in no time. And he didn’t have much money, not even enough to buy a bus ticket out of town.
“You’re a smart kid — I can tell. But life’s got a way of taking the best plan and whacking you upside the head with it. Look at me. I was planning to paint the south side of my barn today. Then I get a call from my dear brother and next thing I know,
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