The Great Interactive Dream Machine by Richard Peck

him. Aaron seemed to confuse Daryl’s head with the soccer ball itself. The sound of their colliding skulls echoed.
    Daryl went down hard, and a circle of his sidekicks formed around him. We’d given Daryl a taste of his own soccer. Coach Renwick’s whistle cut through the chaos.
    Aaron and I made a run for the rock. And we could run like deer. We grabbed up our blazers and kept on going. We didn’t stop till we were in sight of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
    Then we were leaning against a couple of trees, getting our breath back. The adrenaline was thundering through me.
    â€œThat was great,” I gasped. “You want to go back for last period and get Buster?”
    â€œWe made our point,” Aaron said. “We got better things to do with our time.”
    â€œHow much time do you think we have?”
    It was almost the old Aaron again, because his sausage fingers were beginning to keyboard the air. Old habits die hard.
    â€œCyberspatially, we could stay like this. I’m talking numbers, not need. But the Emotional Component wears off.” Aaron tapped his forehead. “After all, the human brain is the ultimate computer.”
    â€œAre you a hundred percent sure that we’re ...”
    â€œBidirectional? Yes.”
    â€œSo what are we talking here—hours, days?”
    â€œIt varies,” Aaron said, meaning he didn’t know. “Wanting to go back could speed up the process. Like if we both concentrated, we might—”
    â€œFrankly, my heart wouldn’t be in it, Aaron. I’m not ready to give up all this.” I pointed at my body.
    â€œThat’s because you never think ahead,” he said. “Next class period we’re still absent. After that we’re at large. We’re fugitives. Also, we could go back to being eleven within the next couple of minutes. Think about that.”
    I stared. “You mean we’d be back to our miserable small bodies, but wearing these big clothes in the middle of Central Park?”
    â€œExactly. Our best bet is to get home and hide in our rooms till it happens. Anyway, this condition is caused by a virus loose in my hard-drive memory. The sooner I get back to my technopolis, the better.”
    Mention of the virus I’d caused shut me up till we got to the little pond where kids sail their boats. Aaron was keyboarding the afternoon air. We were taking long strides in our big shoes.
    â€œI can’t see it,” I said. “Today we’re getting what we wanted. When we went to the Hamptons, we got what Ophelia and Heather wanted.”
    â€œMy formula’s cuckoo,” Aaron said.
    â€œI know that. But Ophelia came with us to the Hamptons. Why didn’t Heather, not that I wanted her?”
    â€œWe went because we were standing too close to my equipment. And Ophelia wasn’t that far away. Ophelia’s mind is probably better focused than Heather’s. Who knows what kinetic powers dogs have? They’ve got a lot of untapped potential. Dogs can hear sounds that humans can’t, right?”
    â€œDo I know?” I said. “Am I a poodle?”
    â€œCareful,” Aaron warned. “Just don’t say things like that around my PC.”
    Â 
    I hadn’t thought how we’d get past Vince the doorman until we were already in the lobby. But Miss Mather was there, bending Vince’s ear. Nanky-Poo was hanging in Miss Mather’s carrier bag, but neither one of them screamed at us as we walked past.
    In the elevator Aaron said, “Your mom won’t be home from work yet, will she? I’ll stop by your place in case. If she’s there, we’ll have to duck out and make a run for the penthouse. We can hide in my room.”
    â€œBut for how long, Aaron? My mom’s going to want me home for dinner, believe it. She can’t see me like this. She won’t know me. She’ll think some senior got in her apartment and ate her little