The Summer I Saved the World ... in 65 Days by Michele Weber Hurwitz Page A

become thoroughly confused. I hear Matt’s door open. I didn’t even know he was home.
    He comes bounding down the stairs, takes off his headphones. “Hey. What’s up?”
    â€œNothing.” I put the book down. “Everything.”
    Surprise. He sits next to me on the sofa.
    â€œYou look the way you looked when your goldfish died,” he says.
    â€œI do?”
    He points to the book. “I remember this. Never understood it.”
    â€œOh, great.”
    â€œHey, I owe you a card game, don’t I?”
    â€œDon’t you have to go somewhere? Work?”
    â€œIn a half hour.” Matt goes into the kitchen, grabs a deck from the drawer, and then comes back and starts shuffling it. Fast and neat, like a pro.
    â€œWhen did you get so good at shuffling?”
    He shrugs, starts dealing. “War?”
    â€œOkay. I’m going to beat you this time.”
    He laughs, and in about fifteen minutes, I’m down to a couple of twos and fours and one lonely king.
    â€œI don’t get how you always win,” I groan. “Do you have some secret strategy?”
    He stretches his arms out, wiggles his fingers. “I’m just lucky.”
    A few more cards, one last war, and we’re done.
    â€œThat was the fastest game of war ever,” I say. I search Matt’s face. This is the first time we’ve played since Grandma died. Doesn’t he remember what happened?
    Hard to tell. These days, he keeps everything inside.
    He shuffles the deck. “You know how to play poker?”
    â€œUh-uh. No one ever showed me.”
    â€œ
What?
That has to change.”
    He deals, puts the rest of the deck on the table, turns the top card over. “We’ll play open hand. So, what you want to do is look for things like pairs, straights.”
    â€œI have two queens.”
    â€œThat’s pretty good.”
    â€œWait. What do you have? Did I possibly beat you, for once in my life?”
    He looks at his cards, smiles. “Yeah. You did. Not bad for someone who’s never played poker before.” Matt glances at the clock. “Oh, man, I gotta go.” He stands, looks at me for a long second.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThis was fun.” I think he’s going to say something else, but he’s out the door. In the Jeep. Evaporated.
    The pool closes at seven. Where does he go after? Please tell me it’s nothing like when he got in trouble at school.
    Later, when Mom and Dad come in and spread out at the table, I sit down with them. Other parents might get it, that maybe I want to talk. That maybe this is a small yet momentous gesture from their teenage child.
Hello, I’m here
. But they barely look up. Just a few scattered words.
    Dad: “Everything okay?”
    Mom: “Your hair’s getting long. You could use a trim.”
    â€œSo how’s the case going?” I ask them.
    â€œJust … one … sec,” Dad says, flipping through a legal pad. Then to Mom: “We have to go after the Florida property.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œHeck, Bermuda too,” Dad says, and laughs.
    Mom nods. “Not that we’ll get it.”
    I pour myself some lemonade and move to a stool at the island. “Matt taught me how to play poker. Wanna play when you’re done?”
    Dad hands a file to Mom. “Sure, in a bit.”
    â€œYou’re done reading this?” Mom asks him.
    â€œPokerrr,” I say, swirling my lemonade as I spin on the stool.
    Dad smiles. “You used to spin like that when you were little and didn’t like what we were having for dinner.”
    Mom writes something. “Nina, honey, just a minute—”
    â€œOh, am I interrupting the lawyer show?”
    She takes off her reading glasses, looks at me. Finally.
    â€œWe’re not ignoring you; we’re just so preoccupied. The media are all over this case. You wouldn’t believe what’s been going