The Wig in the Window by Kittscher Kristen

Author:Kittscher, Kristen [Kittscher, Kristen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-06-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Enemy Incoming

“How many times I got to tell you?” Grandpa Young shouted to someone at the door. “I’m not gonna buy anything.”

My family had just had dinner together for the first time that week because of all the long hours my parents had been putting in before next Thursday night’s test launch. It figured we’d eat together the one night I needed to be glued to the walkie-talkie for Grace’s Ralston update. I was handing dirty dishes to Jake, who seemed to believe cleanup duty was actually a regular hip-hop gig showcasing his ability to rap along with one out of every eighty words blasting through his headphones. If he didn’t occasionally strike painfully awkward hip-hop poses, we all would have assumed he was listening to a highly inappropriate phonics-based reading program.

“What’s up, Dad?” I heard my father intervene in the foyer. “My God! Please come in. So sorry. Sometimes, you know . . .”

“That’s quite all right, Wade” came Agford’s reedy falsetto.

I froze.

“Old age does bring its challenges,” Agford added with a little cluck.

I pulled off Jake’s headphones before his next rap eruption, but it was Grandpa who shouted instead. “Enemy incoming! Double torpedoes!” he boomed.

As my dad led Agford into the kitchen, I reminded myself to find Grandpa later and hug him.

“Charlotte! Nice to see you,” my mom said uncertainly as Agford handed her a decorative glass jar filled with—of course—blood-red beets.

“I thought I’d pop over and bring your gift early this year, since Soph left her assignment book in my office today.” Agford waved a notebook I’d never seen in my life and scrunched up her face. She was having more and more trouble imitating a smile. “Besides, Sophie and I didn’t quite finish our discussion earlier, so I thought . . . you two don’t mind if I spend one quick moment with her alone, do you?”

“If that’s all right with you, S—” My dad couldn’t finish before Agford had slung her arm around me and steered me halfway to the stairs. What could I do? Take her out with Wave Hands Like Clouds?

Grandpa Young shook his head at my dad. “I’m telling you, Wade, it’s domestic defense you should be working on. Increase the burn velocity on that missile interceptor. That’s your trouble.” Grandpa slapped him on the back.

“Sure thing, Dad,” my father said, exchanging a look with my mom.

If only they understood what Grandpa really meant.

Agford’s headache-inducing “perfume” cloud roiled in her wake as she walked around my room and surveyed its decor. She ran her fingers along the books on my shelf, pulling out Sun Tzu’s The Art of War and glancing at the cover before sliding it back in the wrong place. She held up my Hello Kitty piggy bank and squinted at it, tapped the lid of my I Ching fortune-telling sticks, and poked at my brass Buddha figurine. I made a mental note to order incense from Feng Shui Planet to counteract her Lysol stink. It was going to take weeks to restore proper balance.

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