Episode 2

His department head. Remember? The quiet little man who came to dinner that night the barbecue grill caught fire?" Casey nodded. "Martinez fired Dad?" "Probably," Margaret whispered. "From what I overheard, it had something to do with the plants Dad was growing, some experiments that had gone wrong or something." "But Dad's real smart," Casey insisted, as if Margaret were arguing with him. "If his experiments went wrong, he'd know how to fix them." Margaret shrugged. "That's all I know," she said. "Come on, Casey. Let's go inside. I'm dying of thirst!" She stuck her tongue out and moaned, demonstrating her dire need of liquid. "You're gross," Casey said. He pulled open the screen door, then dodged in front of her so he could get inside first. "Who's gross?" Mrs. Brewer asked from the sink. She turned to greet the two of them. "Don't answer that." Mom looks very tired today, Margaret thought, noticing the crisscross of fine lines at the corners of her mother's eyes and the first strands of gray in her mother's shoulder-length brown hair. "I hate this job," Mrs. Brewer said, turning back to the sink. "What are you doing?" Casey asked, pulling open the refrigerator and removing a box of juice. "I'm deveining shrimp." 'Yuck!" Margaret exclaimed. "Thanks for the support," Mrs. Brewer said dryly. The phone rang. Wiping her shrimpy hands with a dish towel, she hurried across the room to pick up the phone. Margaret got a box of juice from the fridge, popped the straw into the top, and followed Casey into the front hallway. The basement door, usually shut tight when Dr. Brewer was working down there, was slightly ajar. Casey started to close it, then stopped. "Let's go down and see what Dad is doing," he suggested. Margaret sucked the last drops of juice through the straw and squeezed the empty box flat in her hand. "Okay." She knew they probably shouldn't disturb their father, but her curiosity got the better of her. He had been working down there for four weeks now. All kinds of interesting equipment, lights, and plants had been delivered. Most days he spent at least eight or nine hours down there, doing whatever it was he was doing. And he hadn't shown it to them once. "Yeah. Let's go," Margaret said. It was their house, too, after all. Besides, maybe their dad was just waiting for them to show some interest. Maybe he was hurt that they hadn't bothered to come downstairs in all this time. She pulled the door open the rest of the way, and they stepped onto the narrow stairway. "Hey, Dad -- " Casey called excitedly. "Dad -- can we see?" They were halfway down when their father appeared at the foot of the stairs. He glared up at them angrily, his skin strangely green under the fluorescent light fixture. He was holding his right hand, drops of red blood falling onto his white lab coat. "Stay out of the basement!" he bellowed, in a voice they'd never heard before. Both kids shrank back, surprised to hear their father scream like that. He was usually so mild and soft-spoken. "Stay out of the basement," he repeated, holding his bleeding hand. "Don't ever come down here -- I'm warning you." 2 "Okay. All packed," Mrs. Brewer said, dropping her suitcases with a thud in the front hallway. She poked her head into the living room where the TV was blaring. "Do you think you could stop the movie for one minute to say good-bye to your mother?" Casey pushed a button on the remote control, and the screen went blank. He and Margaret obediently walked to the hallway to give their mother hugs. Margaret's friend, Diane Manning, who lived just around the corner, followed them into the hallway. "How long are you going to be gone, Mrs. Brewer?" she asked, her eyes on the two bulging suitcases. "I don't know," Mrs. Brewer replied fretfully. "My sister went into the hospital in Tucson this morning. I guess I'll have to stay until she's able to go home." "Well, I'll be glad to baby-sit for Casey and Margaret while you're away," Diane joked. "Give me a break," Margaret said, rolling her eyes. "I'm older than you are, Diane." "And I'm smarter than both of you," Casey added with typical modesty. "I'm not worried about you kids," Mrs. Brewer said, glancing nervously at her watch. "I'm worried about your father."

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***