The Puzzle Master by Heather Spiva Page B

He hoped she thought it was just something else, like a cup breaking. Anything other than the inhaler.
    He found it—just as her eyes locked on it—and shoved it back into his pocket. He plopped back onto the bed and tried to act nonchalant. But the panic had stirred up his lungs. He could feel it rising like a plume of smoke and he coughed.
    She was watching him, staring through him like x-ray vision.
    “Are you …” she paused, almost like she was waiting for him to say it first, “Do you have asthma?”
    He nodded. “Yeah,” he nodded again. “It’s not so bad though.” He patted his pocket, wishing so bad she didn’t know about it. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he wanted her to keep a good impression of him; not to know he had problems. This was one more kink in the armor.
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, eyebrows knitted into the letter V.
    He faced her and then rolled off the bed into a sitting position so he was opposite of her. They both had their arms wrapped around their knees and looked like a couple of bookends.
    “Iris, that’s not something I go around telling people, especially new friends.”
    The room was almost dark now. A glow from the sunset filtered through the curtains and Iris’ face looked more doll-like than ever.
    “But my Uncle Luke, he smokes so much and yet you hang around even with your condition?”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Your uncle’s place is irresistible. You know how I am when I’m there. I love it. I love puzzles,” he pointed to the ceiling. “And now…” it felt awkward, almost like he wanted to say that he loved her. “Now, you’re there and we’ve got four months left and counting to get our big one done. I can’t not go in there.”
    She was silent, and looked at the air conditioning unit, which was rattling again. The little white and red streamers were flying awry like the tail of a kite.
    “Besides, I’m still looking for that one great thing; that one treasure that I’ll find to show Michael. He’s got that stupid club, you know.”
    They were silent again. Marshall fiddled with the inhaler and brought it out. It was almost empty. He’d have to replace it soon. You know, just in case he had a bad episode. That was all.
    “You use anything else besides that thing?” she asked, staring at the hard ivory colored plastic.
    “Nah, sometimes I’ll take some medicine at night to help me sleep, so I’m not up coughing half the night.” He laughed. “Mason hates it. We share a room ‘cause of Leila, see.” He rolled his eyes. “She gets her own room.”
    He took out the inhaler and moved it from one hand to the other, tossing it like a ball. “We moved here because of my asthma, you know. It had to be somewhere far away from anything too humid and watery.”
    She looked almost happy to see the inhaler, as if that little secret was the best thing she’d heard in a long time.
    “Do other kids know you use this?”
    “Yeah, but I try not to use it at school. You know, only in the bathroom, or something. Most kids have forgotten I even have asthma.” He looked at her under his bangs. “You want to see it?”
    She nodded and took the plastic container from him, looking at all the parts, like it was the Holy Grail. “I’ve read that you could have asthma because you don’t have enough hydrochloric acid in your stomach.”
    “Hydro what?” Marshall asked scratching his head. ‘Where’d you read that?” She handed him the inhaler and he put it onto his nightstand.
    “In a medical journal.”
    He turned his head to the side. “You always go around reading medical journals? Because last I checked, most sixth graders don’t read that stuff.”
    She smiled coyly, and brought her hands up to her chin. “It’s true. You need that, and I read them, and that’s it.” She leaned her head back. “You also can do breathing techniques; learn how to control your breathing, so you don’t have to rely on that inhaler so