Max and the Magic Lens ch.3

CHAPTER 3: Daylight’s little problem.

Max sure is acting weird, thought Logan while watching her brother nip at a pea with his fork, his eyes downcast and his brows furrowed. He hadn’t touched his mashed potatoes, which were usually first to go.
She looked across the table at her mother, who seemed to be gaining pigment in her skin now that she wasn’t making human judgments on unlawfulness. That was now absent from her mother’s attention and when the two of them made eye contact, her mother asked what was on her daughter’s mind.
“Oh, nothing much,” Logan answered. It was true enough, except for Max acting strange. He had the house to himself for practically the entire weekend. Why then did he look so . . .
“So what’s wrong, Max?” Mrs. Gardner asked him. “You look so pensive.”
Max, realizing that he’d been wrenched from his ponderings, meekly denied anything was bothering him.
“But you haven’t even touched your mashed potatoes,” Logan offered.
“Not that hungry,” he grunted.
What’s his problem? Logan asked herself. Honestly, what could have happened yesterday that was worse than what Mom had to go through? She’d been kept at the courthouse for two nights, after all, and I didn’t get home until about two hours ago. It’s not like I really care, but still, what’s bugging Max?
The subject of her thoughts just swallowed a pea when his mother said, “You know, son, you can tell me anything.”
Max looked at her as if he suddenly realized he was naked. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then stood up, stretching.
“Going for a walk,” he mumbled.
“This late?” Logan pried. “It’s already nighttime.”
But he was already out the door.
“Mom, something’s up with him.”
“He’ll let you know when he’s ready.” She gathered up their dishes and said, “I’m exhausted right now. Think I’ll go to bed early. You know, Logan, a walk might do you some good too.” She winked and Logan threw on some overalls and tennis shoes before she was hot on her brother’s trail.
She was quite the veteran at hide-and-go-seek and in her early childhood she had mastered the art. Now she was practically the Goddess of Stealth, an invisible wraith, a hidden phantom that expertly haunted the ignorance of her brother’s backside. She also had a knack for sensing hidden emotions.
Something was definitely bugging Max because his eyes were focused on the ground and his mouth was fixed in a tight frown. She watched him aimlessly walking the damp streets under the golden lamplight while she basked in the shadows.
No, not aimlessly walking. Aimlessly prowling. There was a pattern to it. His legs knew where they were going; she wondered what it meant.
Was he looking for something?
From time to time he deviated from his abstract conflict-trek, like when he raised his head occasionally to gather his bearings; so he did have something in mind. Sometimes he’d stoop over a puddle in the street and just stare at his face, which rather befuddled Logan. Perhaps the most eccentric oddity of all was when Max put two hands to his chest and shivered, his head reeling from side to side to see if anybody saw him. Logan could see, even from a distance, the ember-like blood rushing to his embarrassed cheeks.
What was going on?
Where are we going, Bro? She thought when Max started moving again.
Eventually, they came to a dead-end alleyway and Max turned and picked up his pace. He started jogging . . . running . . . sprinting. Logan had to try hard to keep up without making a sound. She might be the better hider, but her brother was uncommonly fast for a lump that did almost no exercise but ride his bike. It was a wonder he was skinny. But then again, he really didn’t eat much when he wasn’t hungry.
Finally, he stopped, and right in front of him stood . . .
Absolutely nothing. Just the lawn of a nearby house and a feeble wall that marked the border of the ICD. Logan watched as her brother stammered a “What?” and a “Where is it?” Obviously, he was either lost or the “it” had moved.
“I . . . I don’t understand,” she heard him whine. “This isn’t fair.”
She was tempted then and there to reveal herself and demand to know exactly what he was talking about, but she knew better. Her brother never liked her sneaking up on him and Mom wouldn’t approve.
Well, while I’m out here I might as well go visit Cassy, she thought.
Cassandra was one of Logan’s best friends. She lived in the ICD and if truth be told, was the Yin to her Yang. Cassy was as girlish and sweet as Logan was roguish and rough. How any friendship could exist between such polarities can only be deduced by one of the simplest properties of magnetism: opposites attract.
Logan often went to her house just to listen to her, because Cassy was an outstanding people-person and whenever she talked everyone felt better.
“So what’s the latest gossip?” Logan asked while sitting cross-legged on Cassy’s bed.
“I hear there’s peeping tom in our neighborhood. The nerve. I wonder if he’s cute?”
“That sounds pretty serious, Cassy. How come no one’s reported him?”
“Too embarrassed, I guess. They say he’s only interested in sexy girls, though, so you’re probably all right.”
Logan threw a pillow at her friend. “Seriously, though, maybe something should be done. Our bodies aren’t displays for the sheer sake of this guy’s enjoyment. I mean, don’t you think it’s a bit, I don’t know, creepy?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like he takes pictures. I guess the whole thing is kind of rude. I don’t know. It, like, hasn’t happened to me yet.”
They talked some more until Logan announced it was getting late.
“Wait right there,” said Cassy, going to her closet, which was half stuffed with plush animals. She pulled out a long wooden board.
“Here, come again by rooftop. You use this plank as a kind of bridge. I heard about it in school. They’re even starting to Roof Hop in some Outer District suburbs. Just, like, make sure the roofs are flat. You can keep that one. I have an extra. You’ll like it. Traveling by rooftop is so cool.”
“Thanks, but isn’t it dark up there right now?”
“Don’t know, never tried at night.”
“Think I’ll walk this time.”
“Whatever. See you soon!”
“Yeah. See ya’.”

Logan arrived home at a very late hour, but since it was the summer holidays, she wasn’t worried about lack of sleep. She had to see Max again.
She found him in his room, the light still on, laying on his bed. He was staring at the ceiling, but jolted from his trance when his sister knocked and opened the door. He shot up in excitement.
“Max, what’s going on?” Logan asked, annoyed.
Max eased back into a laying position and stared at the ceiling again. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
Logan put her hand on her hip in hopes it would reveal to Max her obvious irritation. “Promise?” she demanded.
“Promise,” he said to the ceiling.
“Is Mom asleep?”
“Yep.”
“And you?”
“Not that tired.”
“Hmph,” Logan said. She was certainly tired. What exactly did he do yesterday, anyway?
Before she left for her own bed, she noticed Max’s head turn to his desk, where a piece of paper-
CLICK.
She closed the door.
He better tell me in the morning, she threatened.
Unfortunately, Max wouldn’t have a choice.

Logan slept wonderfully that night, but since she had gotten to bed late the night before, the sun was already riding high when she awoke. She yawned comfortably, placing a hand to her mouth to feel her jaw loosen, and gracefully hopped out of her bed.
Before she reached the stairs she heard a frustrated cry coming from her brother’s room.
She knitted her brow, wondering who it could possibly be. It certainly didn’t sound like her brother. She quietly opened his door and found someone in Max’s clothing with short, chestnut-tinted hair. The girl in Max’s clothing glanced up at Logan and yelped. Logan, for her part, screamed and slammed her back into the door, shutting it.
A short time passed, each girl penetrating the other with a frenzied stare, the new girl’s cheeks aflame. Logan demanded to know who the person was, in long, forced syllables.
“L-Logan,” the girl blathered.
Logan raised her fists and drew a frown with her lips, a gesture well known to all that she meant business.
“Logan, it’s me! Max.”
One fist lowered and Logan’s face turned into a half grimace of ineffability. When she looked at the girl’s blue, unwavering eyes, the eyes of her brother when he was being sincere, she lowered her other fist and calmly said, “Prove it.”
The girl claiming to be her brother quickly ran through a list of historical events that only Max and his sister would know, half of these consisting of some of Logan’s personal embarrassments.
“All right, all right,” she stopped the girl while she went on to how Logan once ripped her pants in front of everyone at a birthday party. “Look, just answer me this. What’s my brother’s favorite kind of snake?”
Now it was the other girl’s turn to frown, saying, “That’s not fair, I hate snakes.”
Logan chuckled a “Hm” of interest and started circling the new girl like a preying wolf, intensely scrutinizing her before getting face to face with this freckled imposter.
“Okay, ‘Max’, you do look . . . somewhat familiar,” Logan conceded, backing off, still wary and ready to call for her mother in a second’s notice, though it would have been pointless because her mother was quite knocked out at the moment.
The girl claiming to be Max then wrenched all doubt from Logan’s mind. She smiled that beam that could only be done by Max himself, a genuine show of mirth, the eyes opening up like windows to her soul.
Only then did Logan realize, as if recognizing the eyes behind a mask, her little brother, Maximillion Tiereseus Gardner, sitting before her. Needless to say, her jaw dropped as her caution drained away and she was re-saturated with bafflement. After all, she was only a year older than Max and had a plentiful store of imagination, so the idea of the supernatural wasn’t completely out of the question.
“You . . . you really are . . .”
“Told you so,” said Max.
“But how? When? Where? What’s going on?”
The girl that was Max put a finger to her lips in an effort (a needless effort) to quiet her sister. When she raised her voice in hysterics, Max cupped her hand over Logan’s mouth. The only reason Logan stifled herself was because Max’s hand felt so small compared to what she was used to in the death battles of rock-paper-scissors they used to play to see who would ride in the front seat of Mom’s car. She usually won because Max had bulkier fingers.
“I’ll tell you what happened but you have to quiet down. Please. I don’t want anyone else to know yet.”
Max released her and started.
“It all began with a fight the other day.”
Then, in her own version, which was mostly the truth (trivial bits were exaggerated for her own sympathy), she retold her story of how she got the box and the stolen item inside it.
“And you used it?” Logan asked, sort of feeling that Max got what she deserved.
“Well, obviously,” Max gestured at herself. “But how was I supposed to know it would do this to me? Anyway, I had forgotten all about it when I got home.”
Logan shook her head in irritation.
He can be such a pain sometimes. Or is it “she” now? . . . Whatever.
“Well, go on,” Logan said.
“Right, well I kind of had these nightmares, see, and then I woke up like this. I was little freaked out, but you guys were gone, so the only thing I thought to do was to go looking for the old lady . . .”