The Never War by D.J. MacHale Page A

was skuzzy and smelled like b.o. Here you could eat off the floor. Not that you’d want to. Everyone I saw looked as if they had just stepped out of an old-fashioned department-store window. All the men wore suits and hats. The women had on dresses.
    There were only two people in the whole room who lookedtotally out of place—me and Spader. I was feeling pretty stupid wearing a bright blue suit with shoes to match. Spader didn’t look much better in Gunny’s big coat.
    â€œWe’re out of our league here,” I whispered to Gunny.
    â€œNonsense,” Gunny replied. “You’ll fit right in.”
    Yeah, right. If we were circus people here to juggle for the good folks.
    â€œCome with me,” Gunny said, and walked off.
    We followed him, staying close, hoping nobody would notice us. Gunny walked through the lobby like he owned the place. He had a slow, smooth walk that said, “This is my house and I’m proud of it.” Several people nodded and smiled at him as they passed. Gunny knew everybody’s name and had a little something personal to say to each of them.
    â€œAfternoon, Mr. Galvao, see you again next month. Hello, Mrs. Tavey. I see you’ve been to our beauty salon. Very lovely. Mr. Prevett, your luggage has all been sent ahead, just as you requested.” The guy was good. He knew every guest by name. No wonder he was a captain.
    We made it across the lobby and up to a bank of shiny, brass elevators. Gunny hit the button.
    â€œWhere are we going?” asked Spader.
    Gunny glanced around casually to make sure nobody could hear him. “They’re doing a big renovation up on the sixth floor,” he said softly. “Nobody will know if we have a couple of spacemen staying there.”
    That sounded pretty cool to me. We were going to be staying in the swankiest hotel in New York, with a whole floor to ourselves. Not bad. The elevator door slid open and Gunny motioned for us to enter.
    There was a guy inside. He was a little dude, about my size, with wire-rimmed glasses, who wore the same uniform asGunny. The only difference was he only had two gold stripes on his sleeves and wore a round cap with a flat top.
    â€œGoing up!” he announced professionally.
    â€œSixth floor, please, Dewey,” said Gunny.
    â€œYes sir, Mr. Van Dyke,” he said with a squeaky voice. “Sixth floor.”
    The little guy was the elevator operator. He slid the elevator doors closed, pushed the handle, and the elevator immediately started…down. “Oops, sorry,” he said. He pushed the handle and the elevator jolted to a stop. He struggled with it and the elevator shook. He finally found the right gear and we started to go up. Phew. The operator gave us a sheepish look of apology. I didn’t get his problem. Up, down, start, stop. Not a whole lot of options. I had the strong suspicion that this guy might be a nimrod.
    â€œThis is Dewey Todd,” said Gunny. “His father built this hotel.”
    That explained a lot.
    Dewey looked up at Gunny with a scowl. “I asked you not to tell people that, Gunny. I don’t want people treating me different. I want to make it in the hotel business on my own.”
    â€œWell, you’ve almost got the elevator part, mate,” said Spader, trying to hold back a smile. “That’s a good start.”
    Dewey smiled proudly. He didn’t get the cut.
    â€œSixth floor!” he announced, and slid the door open. We all made sure the elevator was safely stopped and everything was cool before stepping out.
    â€œEnjoy the costume party,” Dewey said. “Those are great circus outfits!”
    â€œWe’re spacemen,” I corrected.
    â€œOh, sorry.” He closed the elevator doors and we were alone.
    â€œHe really is a fine boy,” Gunny said, chuckling. “Just a little confused sometimes.”
    â€œI know the feeling,” I said.
    The sixth-floor hallway was