shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “Like, it's always two against one in your favor.” Quincy laughed, so she went on, “What did you call them? The Twinsters?”
Quincy nodded. “You got it. Good name for those two, huh? As in, twin gangsters.”
Xandra was beginning to feel that she might also belearning something about Quincy himself. The confused feeling was warming into a kind of curiosity when Quincy's grin returned with a vengeance. “So,” he said, “I wonder if people who steal candy bars are also into stealing fish food?”
A sudden stab of fear shot through Xandra—fear for her very private secret—and with the fear came anger. Her throat was tightening and her eyes were blinking fiercely as she said, “What are you talking about? I don't know what you're talking about.”
Quincy made a snorting noise. “I'll bet you do,” he said. “I'm talking about brine shrimp. I'm talking about a lot of my brine shrimp that just up and disappeared out of the refrigerator a while back.”
Xandra tried to push past her oldest, meanest sibling and escape from the room. But his long arms moved to hold her back. “Okay,” he said. “You tell me what you did with my brine shrimp and I'll let you go. Okay?”
Suddenly feeling absolutely desperate, Xandra struggled fiercely. Clutching the remains of the Snickers bar in first one fist and then the other, she swung both of them and also kicked as hard as she could. But Quincy hit back. Before she got away, Xandra had been swatted on the backside and slapped on the side of the face, and when she finally made it back to her room, she was teeth-clenchingly, mind-numbingly angry. It took several minutes before she was able to calm down enough to start thinking about anything else. Even about the important question of what had happened to her in the basement less than an hour before. What had happened—and why?
X ANDRA MUST HAVE eaten the squashed candy bar without really noticing she was doing it, certainly without enjoying it. By the time she could think about anything except how furious she was at Quincy, Nicholas's candy bar had disappeared. Nothing remained except a few chocolate-colored smears on her fingers and around her mouth. The only good news was that the worst of her hunger pangs had vanished along with the candy. It wasn't until then that she could stop concentrating on her stomach—not to mention what she wished she'd done to a certain big bully of a sibling—and turn her thoughts back to something a thousand times more important. Dreadfully, horribly important, but right at the moment, and in that particular place, almost too horrible to be believed.
She was feeling safe now. Safe and sound behind the firmly closed door of her own room. Her own private space with its rain forest mural along one wall, its built-in bookshelves along two others, and above the shelves her huge collection of beautifully framed pictures of enchanted places. Paintings by people with names like Boyle and Bosch and Brueghel, of beautiful half-human creatures, haunted forests, and fairy-tale castles, were everywhere, filling up every bit of empty wall space. And against the far wall, her bed, piled high with her huge collection of stuffed animals. Kicking off her shoes, Xandra climbed onto her bed, pushing her way into the middle of the stack. Now that she was surrounded by her own safe and silent creatures, the weird things that had happened in the basement were beginning to seem more and more unreal.
Digging under the enormous pile of dogs, cats, raccoons and hedgehogs—as well as the yard-long velvet alligator—she picked up her favorite, an almost life-sized skunk. With the soft and cuddly stuffed Stinky draped across her lap, she stroked its long white-striped tail and tried unsuccessfully to blot out the vivid memories that kept rising up behind her eyes. Could all of it, the whole thing, the swelling, bulging clumps of darkness, the flashing eyes and the cruel
Quincy nodded. “You got it. Good name for those two, huh? As in, twin gangsters.”
Xandra was beginning to feel that she might also belearning something about Quincy himself. The confused feeling was warming into a kind of curiosity when Quincy's grin returned with a vengeance. “So,” he said, “I wonder if people who steal candy bars are also into stealing fish food?”
A sudden stab of fear shot through Xandra—fear for her very private secret—and with the fear came anger. Her throat was tightening and her eyes were blinking fiercely as she said, “What are you talking about? I don't know what you're talking about.”
Quincy made a snorting noise. “I'll bet you do,” he said. “I'm talking about brine shrimp. I'm talking about a lot of my brine shrimp that just up and disappeared out of the refrigerator a while back.”
Xandra tried to push past her oldest, meanest sibling and escape from the room. But his long arms moved to hold her back. “Okay,” he said. “You tell me what you did with my brine shrimp and I'll let you go. Okay?”
Suddenly feeling absolutely desperate, Xandra struggled fiercely. Clutching the remains of the Snickers bar in first one fist and then the other, she swung both of them and also kicked as hard as she could. But Quincy hit back. Before she got away, Xandra had been swatted on the backside and slapped on the side of the face, and when she finally made it back to her room, she was teeth-clenchingly, mind-numbingly angry. It took several minutes before she was able to calm down enough to start thinking about anything else. Even about the important question of what had happened to her in the basement less than an hour before. What had happened—and why?
X ANDRA MUST HAVE eaten the squashed candy bar without really noticing she was doing it, certainly without enjoying it. By the time she could think about anything except how furious she was at Quincy, Nicholas's candy bar had disappeared. Nothing remained except a few chocolate-colored smears on her fingers and around her mouth. The only good news was that the worst of her hunger pangs had vanished along with the candy. It wasn't until then that she could stop concentrating on her stomach—not to mention what she wished she'd done to a certain big bully of a sibling—and turn her thoughts back to something a thousand times more important. Dreadfully, horribly important, but right at the moment, and in that particular place, almost too horrible to be believed.
She was feeling safe now. Safe and sound behind the firmly closed door of her own room. Her own private space with its rain forest mural along one wall, its built-in bookshelves along two others, and above the shelves her huge collection of beautifully framed pictures of enchanted places. Paintings by people with names like Boyle and Bosch and Brueghel, of beautiful half-human creatures, haunted forests, and fairy-tale castles, were everywhere, filling up every bit of empty wall space. And against the far wall, her bed, piled high with her huge collection of stuffed animals. Kicking off her shoes, Xandra climbed onto her bed, pushing her way into the middle of the stack. Now that she was surrounded by her own safe and silent creatures, the weird things that had happened in the basement were beginning to seem more and more unreal.
Digging under the enormous pile of dogs, cats, raccoons and hedgehogs—as well as the yard-long velvet alligator—she picked up her favorite, an almost life-sized skunk. With the soft and cuddly stuffed Stinky draped across her lap, she stroked its long white-striped tail and tried unsuccessfully to blot out the vivid memories that kept rising up behind her eyes. Could all of it, the whole thing, the swelling, bulging clumps of darkness, the flashing eyes and the cruel
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