Читать книгу Battle of the Beasts - Ned Vizzini - Страница 6

Cordelia and Eleanor were down the path and practically on top of their brother before he could appreciate his delivery. He held up—

“A backpack?” Cordelia asked.

“Not just a backpack,” Brendan said. “A Mastermind backpack, from Japan. You see this skull logo on the back? Real diamonds.”

“Like the crystal skull from Indiana Jones?” Eleanor asked.

“No! Cooler than that! This is one of the most exclusive backpacks in the world! There were only fifty of them ever made!”

“Where did you get it?” Cordelia asked.

“From a website,” Brendan said.

His mother was coming down the path. He gulped. He’d been rehearsing for this moment.

“Brendan! What is that?”

“Well, Mom, it’s a—”

“Diamond skull backpack from Japan that he probably spent a thousand dollars on,” Eleanor interrupted.

“Nell!”

Brendan started putting the backpack on. Maybe if his mother saw how great he looked in it, she’d let him keep it. “Mom, look … Bay Academy is a great place … I mean, it’s the best school in San Francisco. Everybody knows that.”

His mother’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she was listening. Cordelia and Eleanor shared a look of annoyance. Brendan went on.

“It’s also a really competitive place. And I don’t mean like in studying. I mean, we’re going to school with high-powered kids. Kids whose parents are bankers and CEOs and baseball players. And my wardrobe, it just … needs a status piece.”

“A status piece,” his mother repeated.

“Have you ever heard me complain about all the clothes you order from L.L.Bean? No. But they’re just normal clothes that every kid wears. I need something that I can wear when I’m walking down the halls and have people go, ‘Wow, who’s that guy?’ Because otherwise, I’m invisible. Or visible in a bad way. Like a stain.”

“Mom!” Cordelia said. “You’re not buying this, are you? He’s giving you a sob story for a thousand-dollar backpack!”

“Will you stop with the thousand dollars? It didn’t cost that much,” Brendan said.

“Well, how much did it cost?” his mother asked.

“Seven hundred.”

His mother’s forehead turned into upside-down arrows of wrinkles. “You spent seven hundred dollars on a backpack?”

“Including shipping.”

“How did you pay for it?”

“Your credit card.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s all good,” Brendan said. “I wrote you a cheque to pay you back.”

Brendan pulled the cheque out of his pocket. It was one of Mrs Walker’s, made out for the exact cost of the backpack, but Brendan had crossed out Mrs Walker’s name on the upper left-hand corner and replaced it with his.

“You wrote a cheque to me from my account,” said Mrs Walker. Her face was crimson now.

“Yeah. I mean … I figured some of your money is technically my money, too,” said Brendan. “I know you and Dad put away money for us to go to college. So I figured I’d use my college money to buy the backpack.”

“You have no idea how much money we put away for college!” Mrs Walker snapped. “You’re sending that bag back immediately!”

“But it’ll help me become popular, and by becoming popular, I’ll be invited to more extracurriculars, and by doing more extracurriculars, I’ll get into a better college. Think of it as an investment!”

“You know what would help you get into a better college? Getting rid of the S’s from your report card,” Mrs Walker countered. (Bay Academy Prep didn’t do letter grades; it had E for excellent, S for satisfactory, N for needs improvement, and U for unsatisfactory – or as the students called it, uh-oh.)

“I’ll get all E’s this semester,” Brendan said. “I’ll be like Cordelia. I promise.”

“Don’t believe him,” Cordelia said. “The last thing he wants is to be like me.”

Brendan looked at her. That’s not true, he thought. Deal’s still the smartest person I know. She’s just been acting a little weird lately.

“I’m very angry with you, Brendan,” said Mrs Walker.

“How are you gonna punish him?” asked Eleanor.

“Shush, Nell,” said Brendan.

“Make him do chores!” said Cordelia.

“Chores?” said Brendan. “What are our three cleaning ladies gonna do then? Do you really want to put people out of work in this economy? Just to punish me?”

“No,” said Mrs Walker, “what you’re going to do is make this backpack count as your birthday present.”

“That’s not fair,” said Brendan. “My birthday isn’t for six months.”

“Or,” said Mrs Walker, “you can get a job at In-N-Out Burger.”

“Are you kidding?” asked Brendan. “One kid at Bay Academy sees me making animal fries, my entire life is over!”

“Your decision,” said Mrs Walker. “And if you ever use my credit card again, I will take that backpack right down to Glide Memorial and give it to the first homeless person I see. Don’t think I won’t.”

Brendan shrugged and sighed; he knew this fight was over – and he’d got to keep the backpack. It just meant he couldn’t get a moped for his birthday like he was planning. “Yeah, fine, okay, Mom,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting him off so easy,” Cordelia said.

“Look, I took you and Eleanor on a shopping spree when we got the settlement.”

“Yeah, but … but …”

“But you’re girls?” Brendan said. “Sorry, equal rights.”

“Brendan! Stop antagonising your sister and get ready for school!”

A few minutes later the Walkers rushed out to Sea Cliff Avenue with bags full of homework and books to meet the black Lincoln town car waiting for them. The driver, Angel, a portly, cheerful fifty-seven-year-old, was always early. He turned down the music of the great accordion player Flaco Jiménez as the kids came towards the car.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen Walkers!” he said. He always said that. “We ready for school? Mr Brendan! Looking sharp! What is that? A Mastermind diamond backpack? Aren’t there only a hundred of those out there?”

“Fifty.”

“Fifty?!” shouted Angel. “The girls are gonna be swarmin’ all over you, dude!”

Brendan raised an I told you so eyebrow to his sisters as they piled into the car, where magazines were laid out next to that morning’s San Francisco Chronicle and fresh bottles of water. Brendan and Eleanor cracked two bottles; Cordelia ignored them, listening to her music, and turned up the heat in the back seat.

“What are you doing?” Eleanor asked. “It’s gonna be like eighty today!”

Cordelia pulled her earbuds out. “I’m freezing,” she said.

“It’s not cold!”

“Yeah,” Brendan said. “Maybe you need to eat more, Deal.”

“Both of you leave me alone,” Cordelia said.

Brendan and Eleanor gave each other a look, but then Eleanor said, “It’s fine. Put it at whatever temperature you want. I’m going to read my new book.”

Eleanor pulled out an Encyclopedia Brown book her mother had given her. She was very proud of how she could read Encyclopedia Brown now. She could usually solve the cases, too – Probably because of all the mysteries I had to solve on our adventures, she thought. To try and get her in a better mood, she showed the book to Cordelia.

“Look how close I am to being done. Today I’m gonna finish!”

Cordelia stared at the book, shrugged, and looked out the window, ignoring her sister. Eleanor’s face fell.

Brendan noticed. “Hey, Deal, what’s your problem?” he asked. “Angel? Could we please have some privacy?”

Angel raised the dark glass panel between the front and back seats. Now it was like the Walkers were in a private, rolling chamber.

“Deal,” Brendan said. “What’s up with you? You haven’t been acting like yourself. You’re not reading, not even about Will in Kristoff’s books. Is that what this is about? Will? I know you miss him.”

That got Cordelia’s attention. Will Draper was a World War I fighter pilot, a character from Denver Kristoff’s novel The Fighting Ace. He had collided with the Walkers when their house got banished during the first Wind Witch attack … and, to be completely honest, he’d had a bit of a crush on Cordelia. And vice versa.

“Why should I read about Will?” Cordelia said. “He clearly isn’t thinking about us, or he would have been in touch. Maybe we imagined him. Maybe we imagined all of it.”

Brendan sighed. Losing Will was the hardest thing the Walkers had faced after their adventures. When they went back to San Francisco, they brought him with them, and he had promised to meet Cordelia at her school the next day – but he never showed up.

That was six weeks ago.

The Walkers did everything they could to find Will – searched the internet for reports of a confused man who thought he was a British pilot, put up posters depicting a sketch of him – but nothing had come of it. Cordelia had gotten sadder and sadder as days passed and she never heard from him, and then her sadness had turned to anger. She didn’t like the idea that someone had the power to make her feel so bad.

“Maybe he drifted magically back into The Fighting Ace,” Brendan said, “and he’s there now. We know Kristoff’s books are weird, cursed things. Maybe they can absorb a character if he gets out.”

“I just hope he’s okay, wherever he is,” Eleanor said.

“Yeah,” Brendan agreed. “He was kinda like the older brother I’ll never have.”

“I miss his corny jokes,” Eleanor continued.

“And the way he held my hand when we—” started Cordelia, who quickly stopped herself, realising that Brendan and Eleanor were staring at her.

“I thought you said he wasn’t real,” Brendan said.

“I shouldn’t have,” said Cordelia. “I know he’s real.”

They all thought about Will for a moment, about how great it would be if they had one more person they could talk to about the things in their lives that they couldn’t talk about with anyone else, when the car screeeeeeched to a halt.

“Hey!” Angel yelled from the driver’s seat, so loud that they could hear him through the panel. “Are you crazy? Crossing in the middle of the street?”

Brendan powered down the window. Cordelia was the first to speak: “Dad?”