Jonathan left Richard's house and replayed Richard's unwavering words in his mind as he drove.
"Where have you been? I've been waiting forever." Carly eyed the tardy Jonathan, puzzled. Noticing his distracted look, she added, "Is something wrong?"
Jonathan snapped back, offered a smile. "Nothing. Sorry to keep you. I'll treat you to a large Heihe Tea later."
"Then I'll order the jumbo." Carly's lips curved as she folded her arms.
"Of course." Jonathan's smile softened.
"What kind of illusion would you like me to create today?"
"You've read the script—give me the setting of Act Four."
"And whose likeness should I use for the lead and the heroine?"
"Ours."
"…Jonathan!"
…Mike cut class and came home to an empty house.
Ever since his little sister Holly had started first grade, Mom had a lot more free time. She'd banded together with other well-off wives in similar situations, and they often gathered to kill the hours.
With Mom out—no doubt off with her plastic sisters—Mike could rummage freely.
"What's this?" Digging through his parents' room, Mike finally found, in the nightstand on Mom's side, a racy "girly" book.
Just the cover screamed 18-plus. A bare-chested, broad-backed hunk stared out, and the longer Mike looked, the more familiar he seemed.
Blond hair, blue eyes, muscles, and a knowingly grinning backside—yikes! Pure Billy type. Mike flipped a few pages, his anger fading into resignation and something more complicated.
Fine—such a brawny, handsome sweet-talker was a lethal weapon against women. With his parents' loveless, sexless marriage, it made sense Mom would be drawn to a guy like that.
The thought turned Mike's scrutiny inward. He studied his own skinny arms and legs, felt his soft face, and sagged. No wonder Eleven barely noticed him. Maybe it was time to work out—if he could hit even a third of Chade's build, he'd be happy.
"Mike, what are you reading?" Nancy's voice at the door made the book fly from his hands as he spun toward her in shock.
"N-Nancy!? What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same." Nancy crossed her arms. Finding him cutting class and ransacking their parents' room, she assumed he was either stealing or up to no good. Big-sister mode kicked in; he wasn't sliding down the wrong path on her watch.
Mike opened his mouth, then closed it, lost for words.
At the same moment, Dustin, Will, and Lucas were equally speechless, caught red-handed outside the gym—dead before battle, spotted by a passing employee before they could even peek inside.
"Oh, Dustin, Will, Lucas—why aren't you in school?" Mrs. Wheeler planted her fists on her hips, every inch the scolding mother. She'd watched the three grow up with Mike; they might as well be her own kids, and right now she was not pleased.
Will glanced left and right, lowered his head, and stayed silent.
Dustin grinned. "We were… curious."
"Curious about what?" Billy, in a skin-tight tank, sweat highlighting every masculine line, spoke with a weight that pressed down on them.
Lucas froze, but his mouth kept moving: "Curious about muscles!"
Dustin's brain raced. "Yeah! We're thinking of working out, but we can't afford the fee, so…"
"Sneaking a look!" Will's small face was solemn, sweat betraying the lie. "Watching how you train so we can copy it at home."
Billy narrowed his eyes. He knew the three friends of his shrew sister weren't telling the truth. Whatever they were plotting, they deserved a lesson for skipping school.
He wiped his nose, hands on hips. "Sneak? Not needed. Since you're my sister's pals, I'll give you a free taste of real gym training."
"Billy?" Mrs. Wheeler blinked, surprised.
Billy smiled at her. "It's fine. I've been there. Kids won't quit until curiosity's satisfied. Once they learn it's not all fun, they'll crawl back to their normal lives."
Mrs. Wheeler listened, found it reasonable, and nodded, but still told the three kids, "However, I'll tell your mothers everything that happened today when we get back—don't think you're off the hook."
At that, Dustin's trio instantly wore expressions of agony.
That agony lasted the whole afternoon… Billy had done it on purpose, dragging them through grueling workouts, then aerobic stretches; a full yoga set left these stiff-boned guys wrecked.
In the end, Dustin and the others hobbled out of the gym, steadying themselves against the door, calves trembling.
That evening, Dustin and company rendezvoused with Mike in Eddie's basement. Eddie and his band were off touring, so the little villa they rented together in town was left in the trusted hands of Mike and friends for upkeep and cleaning; when they had nothing on, they could hang out here and blow off steam—basically a secret lair.
"You guys okay?" Mike, seeing his three pals half-dead, took pity and popped the caps off three colas.
"Fine." Dustin lifted a limp hand; the fierce ache made his arm feel alien. "How'd it go on your end?"
Mike deflated. "I realized every romantic-lead type Mom reads about matches Billy's looks, plus he plays the gentleman in front of adults… damn, I can't even."
Dustin, Will, and Lucas exchanged glances, straightened their backs, and Lucas declared, "After shadowing them all day, we saw sparks, but they both stayed within moral bounds."
"Meaning?" Mike blinked, frowning.
Will answered, "Meaning nothing actually happened."
Lucas: "At least for now… no, I'm sure it never will."
Mike sprang up in delight: "Really!?"
"Really." The three grinned and nodded.
Then Mike remembered something and his face fell. "Crap!"
"What?" Dustin's group froze.
Mike swallowed and spilled how he'd skipped class to hunt for proof of Mom cheating, only to be caught by Nancy; cornered, he'd told her everything.
"We're toast!" After hearing it, Dustin & Co. looked at each other and, as one, drew a finger across their throats.
Mike pedaled home at top speed, desperate to stop disaster before it started.
He arrived to find he might already be too late—yet things weren't as catastrophic as he'd feared.
"Nothing's wrong, Mike." Seeing him burst in panting, Mrs. Wheeler, realizing why he'd been anxious and off his food these days, felt both vexed and tender. She opened her arms. "Come here."
"Sorry, Mom." Mike stepped into her embrace. "I was just scared…"
Mrs. Wheeler patted his back, crooning as when he was a baby. "It's all right, Mike…"
"Great, I imagined the whole thing," Mike muttered under the shower, recalling how she hadn't blamed him but patiently explained she'd only sought some emotional refuge, never meant to betray the family.
"How could you ever doubt me, Mike!"
Suddenly he heard his mother's anguished roar. Startled in the spray, he spun to see her dragging luggage, grief-stricken, heading for the door.
The scene felt so real it shattered him; he yelled, "No! Mom!"
He screamed himself hoarse, but she didn't turn back; a weird bell tolled in his ears.
Bong!
His head rang; the hopeless vision vanished. He was still in the bathroom, the overhead light just steadying.
Mike stood bewildered.
Bang-bang-bang!
"Mike!" Nancy shouted outside.
"Here." He shut off the water, wrapped a towel, and opened the door. "What's up?"
"The light flickered and I thought I heard you yell—was worried…" Nancy exhaled at the sight of him, then noticed red drops hitting the tile and towel.
No—blood!
She looked again; Mike, realizing, pressed a hand to his nose: a nosebleed.