The Twinning Project (19 page)

Ronnie was nervous. “Do you think we'll ever see Tom and your dad again?”

“Better believe it. Why are you so jumpy?”

Ronnie looked around to be sure no one could hear. “I keep seeing Earl's face through windows, even at school. Like he's a ghost haunting me for killing him.”

When Eddie told Grandpa about that, Grandpa invited Ronnie to live with them. Eddie was surprised when Ronnie hemmed and hawed. He wasn't sure about moving in. Eddie wondered if the little guy wanted to be free, but it turned out he wanted his privacy. When Grandpa said he could sleep in the finished basement and use the bathroom and shower down there, Ronnie looked very happy.

“Remember,” said Grandpa. “There's no such thing as ghosts. Earl's not dead. The monitors sent him to watch us. They think we'll try to rescue John.”

“We will,” said Eddie and Ronnie together.

Grandpa smiled. “You bet your life.”

NEARMONT, N.J.

2011

 

I
WAS
Mr. Tech Off! It felt bogus to be famous for something that Eddie had done. Everybody thought it was such a great idea. Mrs. Rupp called it a “teachable moment,” which meant that she talked about it until it was boring. And then we didn't talk about it anymore.

But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Dad had liked it. It was part of the revolution he talked about. My job was to carry on what Eddie started, and both of us had to carry on what Dad started. And to think about what else we could do to save the planets, to be real rebels.

I tried to talk to Dad the way I talked to Eddie, but I never tuned in his voice. Maybe Homeplace was too far away. Maybe the other aliens had blocked transmission. Sometimes when I played my half of the
Riverdance
duet, I thought I heard his half. But that could be imagination.

Alessa, Britzky, and I talked all the time about what had happened. That never got boring. Britzky kept reminding us that Dr. Traum had called us the seventh grade version of the Justice League of America. Dr. Traum had been sarcastic, Alessa said, but Britzky loved the idea. He even laughed when I said he could be the superhero Bratman.

“Lessi can be Wonder Woman, and you and Eddie can take turns being Superman.”

“What about Ronnie?” said Alessa.

“Robin,” said Britzky.

“Who's that?” asked Alessa.

“Batman used to have a sidekick, a kid named Robin.”

“What happened to him?” asked Alessa.

“Child labor laws,” I said.

Mom and the Lump never asked about the time I was gone. I think they know more than they let on, but I don't want to talk about any of it with them. I know Mom would have liked to hear about Dad, but I was still angry at her for not telling me about my birth mom. Alessa says I've got to just get over it. I guess I will.

The Lump was almost back to being his usual jerk self. Almost. Sometimes I caught him looking at me with a little smile on his ugly face. Britzky thought that if the Lump really did work for the government, he was part of the alien program. I'll keep an eye on him. I still have his private number but I haven't hacked into it yet. Meanwhile, we have that truce he wanted.

Grandpa was back in the nursing home, playing senile. When I tried to ask him why, since the monitors must know he's faking, he pretended he didn't understand. I figure he knows what he's doing.

NEARMONT, N.J.

1957

 

How you hangin', Tomski?

Okay. I think about Dad all the time.

At least you got to be with him. That was the ginchiest.

Do you have to talk like that?

Like what?

Skip it. Are you still seeing Earl?

Every few days. I'm glad he's not dead, but it gives me and Ronnie the willies.

They must be worried we'll try to rescue Dad.

That's what Grandpa says.

We have to figure a way to get to Homeplace.

There must be a tech thing you can figure out.

Gotta be. The Bratman wants to try. Alessa, too.

Ronnie's on deck. But how would we do it?

Have you talked to Grandpa about it?

He says to cool my jets. We'll know when the time comes.

Is Merlyn back in your school?

No. Yours?

No.

I'd better go. Grandpa thinks they're still monitoring us.

See you later, alligator.

After a while, crocodile. Wish I'd said that to Dad.

The stars blinked off.

NEARMONT, N.J.

2011

 

A
LESSA
, Britzky, and I sometimes talk about how boring Nearmont and school seem now. We're working on the election campaign that Alessa started with Eddie, but that's not enough to float my boat. Not after what we've been through.

I'm having an easier time than I ever thought I would talking to kids, mostly about technology and global warming and how there are hungry people, even in America. It feels like we're starting the revolution. Dad's revolution.

Britzky says I'm different now, friendlier, more like Eddie. I don't feel different. The old orchestra teacher came back, and after he gave Alessa a hard time about her weak technique—pushing the bow with her forearm—I mime-walked behind him in the auditorium during an assembly. Crowd went wild. He turned and saw it and busted me into the second violin section.
Big whoop
.

Sometimes we wonder if there's anybody we should tell our story to, like Homeland Security or the FBI, so they could go after the aliens. But Alessa thinks they wouldn't believe us and would lock us up. Britzky thinks they
would
believe us, because they already know, and would lock us up.

As time goes on, we need to keep reminding each other that it all happened. We have little reminders. I got Britzky and Alessa reading Mark Twain books. It's spooky how you can find connections in
The Prince and the Pauper
and
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
with things that happened on the twin Earths. Alessa thinks Mark Twain had a great imagination. Britzky thinks Mark Twain might have been a monitor.

Britzky and I started playing Chinese handball at lunch against a wall of the school. Other kids got into it. Some are pretty good. Some of the Asian kids didn't like the name, so we changed it to Ace-King-Queen, Duke's name for the game. Even girls play.

The basketball coach begs me to come out for the team. I want to tell him,
You don't want me, you want
my brother from another planet
. But I just lie and say that I'm preparing for a big violin competition and don't have time. Actually, I don't have a lot of free time. I'm working on the CloakIII and a more powerful version of the pepper spray bomb that blew up in Earl's face in the park. I just got the new TPT GreaseShot V. It has
three
settings.

I think about Dad all the time. I believe what Grandpa on EarthTwo said: “It's not over. We'll all meet again.”

While we're waiting, there's plenty to do right here on Earth. Both of them.

R
OBERT
L
IPSYTE
was an award-winning sportswriter for the
New York Times
and the Emmy-winning host of the nightly public affairs show
The Eleventh Hour.
He is the author of twelve acclaimed novels for young adults and is the recipient of the Margaret A. Edwards Award honoring his lifetime contribution in that genre. He has also written numerous works of fiction and nonfiction for adults. He lives in Manhattan and on Shelter Island, New York, with his wife, Lois Morris, and his dog, Milo.