salvage it. They own it if they find it, even if it used to belong to someone else. They get salvage rights. Instead of searching an ocean, we searched a trash heap. Trash doesn’t belong to anyone. It’s been thrown away. We get salvage rights.”
Peter tried to think of a good answer for that argument, but he couldn’t come up with one. Dante could be persuasive, and he sounded logical. Nobody throws something away and then gets mad because someone else finds a use for it.
Except, Peter didn’t think the bag had been thrown away.
A car turned the corner at the end of the block and headed their way. Peter watched it glumly. He didn’t want to argue with Dante, but there was no way they were going to try to sell the gun. Worse than that, though, is he realized that he didn’t trust Dante with it. He didn’t even want Dante to take it home with him. Peter imagined Dante punching icons at random in his house. The wrong button, and the neighborhood could melt down or blow up or levitate. Peter wondered if there was anything the gun couldn’t do. Maybe T-Man’s buddy at Peter’s locker had been right. The gun was no different than a wizard’s staff. Maybe it did make them gods. Was there an app that could call down lightning? Was there an app that could turn a person into a toad? Could he raise the dead? Would apps that did any of those things be any more unlikely than what they’d already seen?
The car stopped in front of Christy’s house. Christy jumped out of the passenger side, grabbed a book bag from the backseat, and then walked up her sidewalk. She waved. He hesitated before waving back.
“You’re the luckiest guy in the school, Peter. What I wouldn’t do to have my bedroom window facing her bedroom window.”
Peter got up, repulsed. “Give me a break. She’s a person, not a peep show.”
“A very pretty person,” Dante said reasonably. “So, have you tried that x-ray vision app on her yet?”
For the second time in as many days, Peter found himself blushing.
“Not quite holier than thou, are we?” said Dante. “I’ve got to go to dinner with mom and the stepdad tonight. Let’s meet tomorrow to see what else the gun can do.”
Dad sat in the kitchen, eating a sandwich. He read from his laptop, which was open on the counter, while holding the sandwich in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. People told Peter all that time that he looked like his dad. Dad’s narrow face and angular nose made him younger looking than he was. Only the gray hair gave his age away. Like Peter, he was tall and slender, but other than that, Peter couldn’t see the resemblance.
“Do you know anything about this e-mail?” Dad asked. “It says it came from the school.”
Peter walked around the counter to read the message. It had the school’s group mail header. Every parent and student would have received it. WE KNOW YOU HAVE OUR PROPERTY. WE WILL TAKE YOU APART IF IT IS NOT RETURNED. REWARD OFFERED.
Dad said, “All caps is a bit of overkill. Odd wording too, don’t you think? Threat and bribe in one. Normally I get notices about upcoming PTA meetings from the school.” Dad put the sandwich down. “There’s an attachment.”
“Don’t, Dad,” said Peter, shielding the keyboard with his hand. He envisioned his own picture popping onto the monitor. He said, lamely, “It might be a virus.”
“From the school?” Dad laughed. “Not likely.”
“It’s a hack, Dad. The school didn’t send this.”
The attachment was a picture of a burnt tree. Peter recognized the branch that had exploded, sending the top third of the branches to the ground. It was the tree he’d torched right after he found the gun.
While he was eating his own sandwich, Peter’s phone buzzed with a text message from Dante. “Did you see the school’s e-mail? You might be right.”
Over the lasagna, Christy’s parents mentioned the e-mail too. Christy’s dad owned three hardware stores, but they were hundreds of
Peter tried to think of a good answer for that argument, but he couldn’t come up with one. Dante could be persuasive, and he sounded logical. Nobody throws something away and then gets mad because someone else finds a use for it.
Except, Peter didn’t think the bag had been thrown away.
A car turned the corner at the end of the block and headed their way. Peter watched it glumly. He didn’t want to argue with Dante, but there was no way they were going to try to sell the gun. Worse than that, though, is he realized that he didn’t trust Dante with it. He didn’t even want Dante to take it home with him. Peter imagined Dante punching icons at random in his house. The wrong button, and the neighborhood could melt down or blow up or levitate. Peter wondered if there was anything the gun couldn’t do. Maybe T-Man’s buddy at Peter’s locker had been right. The gun was no different than a wizard’s staff. Maybe it did make them gods. Was there an app that could call down lightning? Was there an app that could turn a person into a toad? Could he raise the dead? Would apps that did any of those things be any more unlikely than what they’d already seen?
The car stopped in front of Christy’s house. Christy jumped out of the passenger side, grabbed a book bag from the backseat, and then walked up her sidewalk. She waved. He hesitated before waving back.
“You’re the luckiest guy in the school, Peter. What I wouldn’t do to have my bedroom window facing her bedroom window.”
Peter got up, repulsed. “Give me a break. She’s a person, not a peep show.”
“A very pretty person,” Dante said reasonably. “So, have you tried that x-ray vision app on her yet?”
For the second time in as many days, Peter found himself blushing.
“Not quite holier than thou, are we?” said Dante. “I’ve got to go to dinner with mom and the stepdad tonight. Let’s meet tomorrow to see what else the gun can do.”
Dad sat in the kitchen, eating a sandwich. He read from his laptop, which was open on the counter, while holding the sandwich in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. People told Peter all that time that he looked like his dad. Dad’s narrow face and angular nose made him younger looking than he was. Only the gray hair gave his age away. Like Peter, he was tall and slender, but other than that, Peter couldn’t see the resemblance.
“Do you know anything about this e-mail?” Dad asked. “It says it came from the school.”
Peter walked around the counter to read the message. It had the school’s group mail header. Every parent and student would have received it. WE KNOW YOU HAVE OUR PROPERTY. WE WILL TAKE YOU APART IF IT IS NOT RETURNED. REWARD OFFERED.
Dad said, “All caps is a bit of overkill. Odd wording too, don’t you think? Threat and bribe in one. Normally I get notices about upcoming PTA meetings from the school.” Dad put the sandwich down. “There’s an attachment.”
“Don’t, Dad,” said Peter, shielding the keyboard with his hand. He envisioned his own picture popping onto the monitor. He said, lamely, “It might be a virus.”
“From the school?” Dad laughed. “Not likely.”
“It’s a hack, Dad. The school didn’t send this.”
The attachment was a picture of a burnt tree. Peter recognized the branch that had exploded, sending the top third of the branches to the ground. It was the tree he’d torched right after he found the gun.
While he was eating his own sandwich, Peter’s phone buzzed with a text message from Dante. “Did you see the school’s e-mail? You might be right.”
Over the lasagna, Christy’s parents mentioned the e-mail too. Christy’s dad owned three hardware stores, but they were hundreds of
Similar Books
