The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak by Brian Katcher

accompaniment of angry honking behind us. Without a word, Ana jumps out onto the sidewalk.
    I sit there, stunned. I know my comment was stupid, but I hadn’t expected her to bolt like that.
    Oh well, her problem. It was her job to find Clayton, not mine. Not my concern.
    Right. Like hell it isn’t .
    With a resigned sigh, I jump out after her. I then dive back into the cab to pay the screaming driver the fare.
    It’s drizzling like Silent Hill out here and it takes me a moment to locate Ana, storming off down the street in the wrong direction. I rush to catch up.
    â€œHey, Ana!” She doesn’t turn, but she stops. I expect to find her with tears streaming down her face, alone and needing a friend. Instead, I’m greeted with the most wrathful and contemptuous expression I’ve ever seen. But I hold my ground.
    â€œAna, c’mon.”
    She snarls at me. Literally snarls. “Just go away.”
    â€œC’mon. I want to help.”
    â€œThat’s a laugh.”
    I fight against the dark side rising within me. “Where do you get off judging me? If you need a hand, well, I’m here, all right?”
    She wipes a stray hair off her forehead. “You wouldn’t understand.” Those words are final, carved in granite. I have been dismissed.
    Luckily, I never know when I’m defeated. “Try me.”
    She juts her sharp chin at me, and I prepare myself for a lecture about responsibility and being a good little boy. But suddenly, her entire rigid frame collapses. Her shoulders slump, her head lolls, and her arms dangle limply. For a ghastly moment, she reminds me of a corpse on the gallows.
    â€œListen, Duquette—Zak.” She’s staring at her shoes. “You’re a guy who can go out and do whatever he likes. Whatever.”
    I start to object, but before I can think of a rebuttal, she continues.
    â€œIt’s not like that for Clayton and me. I don’t want to get into it, but . . . I can’t let anyone find out he wandered off.”
    â€œC’mon, Brinkham’s a softie—”
    â€œI’m not talking about her, Zak. If my parents ever knew I lost track of Clayton, it would be . . . bad.”
    For a moment, I think I see her green eyes glisten, but it might just be a trick of the light. I stand there, uncomfortable, wondering what she means by “bad.”
    She runs a hand over the bridge of her nose. “So I have to find my brother before anyone realizes he’s gone. Could you just get me to the center? Then you can go back to the hotel, or stay there or whatever. I know this wasn’t your fault. Mostly.”
    Yeah, like I’m going to go off and leave her after that. I try to mold my face into an inspiring smile.
    â€œListen, Ana? I may have kind of exaggerated about how crazy things get at Washingcon. Really, it’s just a lot of geeks like me. I know that place inside out. I’ll help you find your brother. It might take a couple of hours, but we’ll track him down. And if Brinkham suspects anything, just tell her we all went out to eat and lost track of time. She’ll believe you.”
    She looks at me for a moment. The humidity has caused her hair to frizz out like a poodle’s. It’s strangely adorable. And just for a second, the side of her mouth tics upward.
    â€œThanks, Zak.”
    We begin walking north. She doesn’t make an effortto stand close to me, but she’s not actively trying to lose me, either.
    â€œHey, Duquette?” She’s not looking at me.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œToday at the tournament . . . you really sucked a lot less than I was expecting. One might almost say you weren’t a total pathetic embarrassment.”
    The sarcastic, backhanded compliment cheers me up a bit. As we approach the convention center, the sun begins to come out.

ANA
4:10 PM
    I so desperately want to blame all of this on Zak. To point my finger and denounce him as the