Out of This World (2 page)

Zachary reached for his second glass. He was just inches from it . . . and then stopped.

And then stopped.

Instead of touching his second glass he picked up the first again, the one he had just emptied, and grinned at his sister. Raising his eyebrows mischievously, he turned the empty glass over and swiftly brought it down over Jenna’s paper cup. Then he calmly reached for his second glass and began drinking.

Jenna shook her head in confusion.
How lame
. He had delayed her for a moment, but he still didn’t have a chance. She could drain this tiny cup in a single gulp before he even started on his third glass. She reached out to remove her cup from the prison of her brother’s overturned glass.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” warned Zachary, who had suddenly stopped drinking.

“What are you talking about?”

Zachary shook his head. “I can’t believe you would forget your own rule. Remember? We can’t touch each other’s glasses or we lose. You weren’t just about to touch my glass, were you?”

Her face contorted into a mask of horror as she realized how completely she had fallen into Zachary’s trap, and how foolproof it was. He hadn’t broken any rules. His glass hadn’t touched her cup nor had he caused a single drop to spill from it—but he had left her with no way to reach her tiny container. Worse still, he had tricked her into setting the trap for
herself.
She had become
snared on a rule that
she
had insisted upon.

Jenna screamed in frustration as her brother calmly finished his third glass and held out his hand for payment.

Even now, months later, the memory of these humiliating losses still stung; still caused her face to redden in anger.

But that was then and this was now.

She looked at the cards again and considered the bet her brother was offering. This situation was different from the last two. This wasn't a preplanned con. This was a stupid magic trick he was trying to teach himself. And he only wanted to bet a dollar, not five or more, which showed that he wasn't too sure of himself.

And there was no way out this time.

The next card he turned over couldn’t be hers because he had
already
turned hers over. This was her chance to get even with him for the last two bets. Maybe
more
than even.

“Why just a dollar?” she asked. “Let's make this interesting.”

Jenna Lane leaned forward and stared intently at her older brother. “I'll bet you a
hundred
dollars!” she challenged firmly.

CHAPTER TWO

A Winning Bet

Zachary coughed. “A . . . a hundred bucks. Have you gone crazy?”

“What’s wrong, Amazing Zucchini? Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch.”

Her brother frowned. “You're insane, skunk-breath. Besides, you don't have a hundred dollars.”

Jenna considered. He was right. He had been saving his allowance money for a long time, but she hadn’t. “Then you put up a hundred and I'll put up whatever you want. How about my bike?”

Zachary shook his head. “What would I do with your bike? I'll tell you what: if I lose I'll give you the hundred. But if
you
lose, you have to do my chores for three months.”

“Which ones?”

“All of them. Whenever it’s my turn to do the dishes, take out the garbage, rake leaves—whatever—you have to do it for me.”

Jenna glanced at the cards Zachary had already turned over for reassurance and was comforted to see the King of Clubs still among them. “You're on,” she said, barely able to contain her excitement. She trained her eyes on the deck in his hand and the card he was holding by its edge. “Flip it over and let's see.”

Zachary smiled triumphantly. “You know something, Jenna,” he said. “After you've done the last chore for me three months from now, as a favor to you, I'm going to teach you how to stop making losing bets.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. The first thing I'm going to do with the
hundred dollars I
win
is buy you a muzzle. Why don't you just turn over the stupid card already and quit stalling.”

A wide grin came over Zachary’s face. “Okay, Jen. Whatever you want,” he said smugly. “You’re going to
love
this.” He paused. “I will now flip over your card,” he announced theatrically, using the voice of the Amazing Zacharini once again.

He pulled the top card from the deck and moved it, its face still down, closer to Jenna. Then he began the motion as though he would flip it over—and then stopped.

And then stopped.

He brought the card back to the top of the deck and replaced it there. He lowered the deck and set it down on the carpet.

And then, as Jenna's jaw dropped to the floor, Zachary reached forward, grabbed the King of Clubs where it had rested on the carpet between them now for several minutes, and flipped it back over the
other way
, so the card's back was all that could be seen.         

She gasped in surprise and horror.
He had done it again
.

He had said that her card would be the next card he turned over. He had never said that it would necessarily be the one from the top of the deck he had been holding, just because all the others had been. And he had never said it couldn't be one he had
already
turned over.

“I really, really hate you,” said Jenna through clenched teeth. “Not only that,” she continued, “but did I mention that I hate you?”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Jen. I’ve always thought you were . . . well . . . just the best,” he gushed sarcastically. “Especially now that you’re going to be helping me so much. I couldn’t ask for a better sister.”

At that exact instant their mother walked into the room, just in time to hear Zachary’s last sentence. “Zack, what a nice thing to say to Jenna. It’s great to see you two getting along so well,” she said happily.

Jenna fumed silently.

“We’re having dinner in five minutes,” announced Mrs. Lane, who had shorter hair and fewer freckles than Jenna, but similar coloring and features.

“Hey Mom,” said Zachary, “isn't it my turn to do the dishes tonight?”

Mrs. Lane looked at her son as if he had come from another planet. “As a matter of fact, it is,” she answered. “But I never thought I would live to see the day when
you
would be reminding
me
of that.”

Zachary smirked and glanced at his sister whose face was so red with fury that he thought she would explode. He could swear steam was coming from her ears. “Well, we all have to do our part, don't we,” he said.

“Unbelievable,” said his stunned mother as she left his room and headed for the stairs, shaking her head.

Jenna and Zachary waited until their mom was out of hearing distance to pick up where they had left off.

“
You are such an enormous jerk!
” spat Jenna. “I should have known. How could I have fallen for another one of your scams? I must be the biggest idiot in the world!” she continued in frustration.

And she
was
. Her brother was always so clever while she was so . . . not clever. Somehow none of her parents’ talents had been passed to her. That’s why she rarely put effort into anything. Why bother? She couldn’t measure up to the rest of her family no matter what she did. She just had to face facts—Zachary had gotten a double dose of the Lane smart genes and she had gotten none.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jen,” said Zachary smoothly. “You’re not the
biggest
idiot in the world. I mean, there must be
one
person who’s a bigger idiot than you.” He held out his hands, palms up. “I mean, I can’t think of anyone at the moment. But there must be
someone
. . .”

His sister glared at him with a savage intensity.

“Hey,” said Zachary innocently. “You shouldn’t be angry. I’m only hurting myself. You know how Mom and Dad are always saying that doing chores builds character.” He grinned. “Well, you’ll be building
a lot of
character.” He lowered his eyes and looked sad. “While I’ll be ruining my life playing video games and watching movies.”

“You think you’re so cool,” growled Jenna. “But I notice you didn’t say you’d be playing with your
friends
, did you? Because you barely have any.”

For just an instant Jenna thought she had landed a blow, that she had detected a flash of uncertainty, or even anguish, on Zack’s face, but she couldn’t be sure. And since his face was now back to its natural state of absolute confidence, she could well have imagined it.

“There is one other thing,” said Zachary, clearly deciding to ignore what Jenna had just said. “Well,
two
other things. What do you want first, the good news or the bad?”

“Neither,” she said. “I’m leaving. You may have won the bet, but that doesn’t mean I have to listen to your garbage for even a second longer.”

“Yeah, well this has to do with the bet,” said Zachary. “So I’ll make it quick, and then you can go. I’ll start with the good news. I tried to pull this same scam on Dad earlier today. But he won the bet. He figured out what I was going to do and messed me up.”

It figured, thought Jenna. If anyone could beat Zachary at his own game, it would be their dad. “How is that good news?”

Zachary shrugged. “I figured you’d like hearing that I got beaten.”

Jenna had to admit he had a point. “So how did he win?” she asked. She could see someone figuring out what her brother was going to do, but she couldn’t figure how anyone could take the bet and actually win.

“Good question. Until I tried it on Dad I couldn’t think of a way either. But Dad sure did. The second he accepted the bet he grabbed all the cards already face-up on the floor and turned them all over. Then he mixed them up, looked at me, and said, ‘Okay, Son, now turn over my card.’”

 Jenna grinned. “Wow. Dad really turned the tables on you.” She only wished she could have seen the look on her brother’s face when it had happened. “So what did you lose?” she asked.

Now it was Zachary’s turn to smile. “Funny you should ask that. That’s the
bad news
part. At least for you. Dad didn’t want to bet money. So we ended up betting . . . well . . . chores. If I won, I wouldn’t be given any for the next three months. If Dad won, I would have to take on twice as many.” He paused. “As you know. . . I lost.”

Zachary looked at his sister in mock sympathy as he stood up from the floor. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a long three months for you, Sis.”

Jenna gasped in horror as the full, nightmarish implications of what her brother just said hit her like a freight train.
Triple chores
.

Zachary darted through the open doorway as his sister began screaming—just managing to dodge the shoe she had thrown at him with surprising velocity.

CHAPTER THREE

Vanished

Jenna's father and brother were already seated at the kitchen table when she made it downstairs several minutes later. Upon seeing her arrive, her mother set a large white casserole dish on the table filled with what looked like Chicken Tetrazzini, although it was difficult to be sure. An unusual and unappealing scent rose from the dish and attacked Jenna’s nostrils. Mrs. Lane may have been a talented chemist, but for some reason her talents didn't extend into the kitchen. Jenna's father was a much better cook but he only cooked every other meal.

Mr. Lane was a short man with dark brown hair and a round, friendly face, who always seemed to have a twinkle in his hazel eyes. He eyed the mystery meal cautiously, plopped a pungent mound of it onto his plate, and made a weak attempt to pretend to be enthusiastic about eating it.

“Jenna, Sweetheart,” he said, looking concerned as she seated herself at the table. “I could have sworn I heard screaming coming from upstairs. Is everything okay?”

Jenna sighed. “Just fine, Dad. Besides, I didn't hear any screaming.”

“That's what your brother said.”

Zachary looked at his sister innocently and shrugged his shoulders as if to say,
isn't it strange that Dad thought he heard something
.

“The kids were upstairs playing,” reported Mrs. Lane to their father. She turned to face her children. “I'm glad to see it. It's a nice change from all that sparring you two always seem to be doing.”

“Mom,
really
,” said Zachary, pretending to be offended. “You make what we do sound like a
bad
thing. Think of it more as . . . well, as verbal dueling. It’s good for us. You know, like being on the debate team. It’s helped make me the totally awesome human being that I am today.”

Mr. Lane shook his head as he took a tentative forkful of what he hoped was chicken. “You know, not even a cow pasture is as full of manure as you are.”

“Cow pasture?” said Zachary with a wry smile. “Manure? Really? Was that the cool expression a hundred years ago, Dad?”

“No. I just made it up. How would you have said it?”

Zachary thought about it for just a moment. “How about, not even a porta-potty is as full of cra . . .”

“Okay, okay,” interrupted Mr. Lane. “Regardless of the expression you use, my point is that you’re full of it. Fighting with Jenna is like being on the debate team? Now I’ve heard everything.”

“I’m telling you, our sparring is a good thing,” continued Zachary, undeterred. “It's giving us a chance to hone our linguistic skills—very educational.” He smiled. “There, did you see. I just used the words hone and linguistic. It's obviously working.”

His father didn’t respond. He simply rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

“Or think of it this way,” continued Zachary. “You've seen animal documentaries. Young animals play-fight with each other to learn important hunting skills they'll need to survive when they're adults. That's all Jen and I are doing. We're just testing out our verbal combat skills to use in the human jungle we'll find ourselves in when we're older. Isn't it obvious that Jen and I love each other to death?” he finished with exaggerated sweetness, glancing over at his sister and fluttering his eyelashes.