“I ran into St. Clair an hour ago, and he talked me into coming along. He said we’d see a movie,” he adds loudly.
“RIGHT,” St. Clair says. “That moving-pictures thing. Let’s do it.” But he returns to his conversation with Anna.
Cricket and I exchange smiles. “Come in.” I nod at the box-office door. A man in a fuzzy chartreuse sweater approaches my window, but even that’s not enough to distract me from watching Cricket as he moves toward the door. Those long, easy strides. My chest swells with both heartache and heartbreak. He enters, and I jerk away my gaze.
“Enjoy the show,” I tell the sweater man. Cricket waits behind me while I print tickets for two more people. It’s impossible to concentrate with him standing there. The lobby empties again, and he takes the chair beside me. His hems rise and reveal his socks. Blue and purple stripes. On his left hand is a list: CH 12, SHAMPOO, BOX.
“How are you?” he asks. It’s not a casual question.
I remove my glasses for a moment to rub my tired eyes. “Surviving.”
“But she won’t be there for much longer.” He fidgets with his watch. “Will she?”
“Her credit is shot, and she’s failed the background check for every potential apartment.”
He grimaces. “In other words, she’s not leaving tomorrow.”
“The break-in charges from when she tried to get back inside her apartment aren’t helping either.” I cross my arms. “She wants Nathan to sue to have the charges against her dropped, but he won’t. Not when she was in the wrong.”
Cricket’s frown deepens, and I realize that he doesn’t know about Norah’s recent arrest. I fill him in, because . . . he already knows everything else.
“I’m sorry.” His voice turns to anguish. “Is there anything I can do to help?” There’s a certain restraint in his muscles as he struggles to keep from reaching out to me.
“What’s box?” I blurt.
He’s thrown. “What?”
I point at his hand. “Read chapter twelve and buy shampoo, right? What’s box?”
His right hand absentmindedly covers his left. “Oh. Uh, I need to find one.”
I wait for more.
He looks away, and his body follows him. “And I did. Find one. I’m moving some stuff back into my parents’ house. My room at school is crowded. And my other bedroom is empty. It has lots of space. For things.”
“You . . . you do spend a lot of weekends there.”
“Andschoolbreaks andsummers.” The words tumble out, and his face darkens as if shamed by his eagerness. No conversation is safe anymore. St. Clair interrupts with timing so perfect that he must have been listening. “Hey, did you know that Cricket Bell is related to Alexander Graham Bell?”
“Everyone who knows Cricket knows that,” I say.
“Really?” Anna looks genuinely interested. “That’s cool.”
Cricket rubs his neck. “No, it’s dumb trivia, that’s all.”
“Are you joking?” St. Clair says. “He’s one of the most important inventors in the entire history of the world. Ever! And—”
“It’s nothing,” Cricket interrupts.
I’m taken aback, but then I remember that first night he was home, when I mentioned his middle name and our conversation grew awkward. Something has changed. But what?
“Forgive his enthusiasm.” Anna grins at her boyfriend. “He’s a history nerd.”
I can’t resist bragging. “Cricket happens to be a brilliant inventor himself.”
“I’m not.” Cricket squirms. “I mess around. It’s not a big deal.”
St. Clair looks enraptured. “Just think. You’re the direct descendant of the man who invented”—he pulls out his cell—“this !”
“He didn’t invent that,” Cricket says drily.
“Well, not this,” St. Clair says. “But the idea. The first one.”
“No.” This is the most frustrated I’ve ever seen Cricket. “I mean he didn’t invent the telephone. Period.”
The three of us blink at him.
“Anna confused,” Anna says.
“Alexander Graham Bell didn’t invent the telephone, a man named Elisha Gray did. My great-great-great-grandfather stole the idea from him. And Gray wasn’t even the first. There were others, one before Alexander was even born. They just didn’t realize the full implications of what they’d created.”
St. Clair is fascinated. “What do you mean, he stole the idea?”
“I mean, Alexander stole the idea, took credit for it, and made an unbelievable sum of money that shouldn’t have been his.” Cricket is furious now. “My family’s entire legacy is based on a lie.”