Six (27 page)

Parker took a step back and stared at Michael. “You
punched
him?”

Michael nodded. “And now I have three days detention.”

Parker laughed—more out of shock than anything.

“It's not funny,” muttered Michael. “My parents are back tomorrow. They're going to kill me.”

Parker gave Emma a sideways grimace. “Sorry, Michael,” he said. “I don't think it's funny—I just didn't think you'd do something like that.”

Michael looked up at Parker with wide eyes. “
Me neither!
I don't know what happened—one moment he had his hand on my throat in the corridor, and then next he was lying on the floor.”

“You knocked him out?”

Michael nodded slowly, and before Parker could stop himself, he let out a laugh that he immediately covered up with his hand.

“Sorry,” said Parker. “What did Aaron do?”

“He cried a bit. I feel really bad.”

Parker saw Emma turning her back to them to hide her giggles. Michael looked over at her and then back at Parker with narrowed eyes.

“Why are you two in such a good mood, anyway?”

“We've decided we're going to SIX.”

It was Michael's turn to look shocked. “You spoke to Solomon?”

Parker pursed his lips. “No. But if he says he can get us there—then we're going.”

“But it's probably not even true!”

“Probably—but not definitely. I can't think of any other good reason that Solomon looks like he does.”

Michael sighed. “Me neither. I've looked up all his symptoms, and I can't find any condition that's even close to it.” He paused. “So what now?”

Parker shrugged. “I guess we wait for Solomon to call.”

*  *  *  *  *  *

“It's all arranged.”

Those were Solomon's first words when he called that afternoon, and they took Parker completely by surprise. He had expected to discuss his decision with him, perhaps, or to hear Solomon's ideas for getting them there—he had not expected to hear that it had all already been arranged.

“What?”

“I spoke to Lina. If it's going to happen, it has to happen straightaway.”

“But . . . why?”

“There is one trip for new personnel scheduled every month. That's tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“It's that, or we wait another month.”

Parker didn't say anything. He looked at Emma, and she seemed just as surprised—and unsure—as he was.

“Parker? Do you want to go?”

Parker hesitated. “Yes . . . I think so . . . but I didn't think it would happen . . .”

“So soon?”

Parker nodded and then remembered that he was on the phone. “Yes,” he said.

“You don't have to go. You really don't. We can work something out here. Your father will understand.”

At the mention of his father, Parker's resolve returned. “No. No—we want to go. What's going to happen?”

“Okay. Good. Listen carefully—there's a lot to do before we go.”

“We?”

There was a pause. “You'll need an adult to accompany you. Children would never be sent to SIX on their own.”

“So why couldn't Dad have taken us?” asked Parker. As he asked the question, he realized he already knew the answer.

“Your dad did not go willingly. And if you were there, what incentive would he have to sort the problem out?”

“I get it,” said Parker. “You're coming with us?”

“Well, I
could
do with a holiday,” he answered.

Nobody laughed.

“Parker. I have nobody here to stay for. I want to do this.” He paused. “I need to do this.”

“Won't another teleportation hurt you?”

There was a slight pause. “I'll be fine. I have a resistance to it, remember? And it's not like I could end up looking much stranger than I already do.”

“But . . . why would you take the risk?” asked Parker. He wasn't sure why he would try to sow seeds of doubt in Solomon's mind if this was the only way they were going to see their father again. Solomon, however, had clearly already made his mind up.

“I'm not taking any risks—I know what I'm doing—and it's not up for discussion. If you're going, I'm going.”

Michael leaned into the phone. “How are you going to get out, though?”

Parker hadn't even thought about this.

“Well, that's the easy part. I go out every night.”

“Really?”

“The night attendant is saving up for a new car and I need some fresh air—it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. There are some things to work out, though.”

“Like what?”

“You both need to look different. Lina doesn't think Bowveld will be there—he doesn't bother with the run-of-the-mill stuff—but in case he, or anybody else who might recognize you is.”

“What do we have to do?”

“There's not much we can do with you both. Change your hair. Dress you different. Lina has arranged for her sister to meet you. If it's a problem to meet at Michael's, we can meet at a hotel—”

“No,” interrupted Michael. “Here's fine. My parents aren't back till tomorrow.”

“What about Hilda?” whispered Parker.

“I'll speak to Brendan—he'll make sure she isn't around.”

“If you're sure, Michael.”

“I am.”

“Okay, I'll need your address.”

Michael told Solomon, who then repeated it back to make sure he'd written it down correctly.

“Lina's sister's name is Mai. She'll come to yours by cab at eight. She'll fix you two up. When you're ready, she'll call a cab—I've sorted out all the money for that with Lina—you don't need to worry about anything.”

“And then?”

“Then you'll all come to collect me. I'll be waiting by the road—Mai already knows to call me when you're near. She'll fix me up, and the cab will take her to her house. Mai doesn't know anything about what's actually happening, and Lina doesn't want her any more involved than she needs to be.”

“Why does she think she's doing this?” asked Parker.

“Filming for a promotional video. It's the best we could come up with. You don't need to say anything—pretend you know nothing about it.”

“Okay,” said Parker. He couldn't imagine Mai would buy that explanation, but if that's what they had agreed on, then he wasn't going to argue.

“We'll take another cab from the hospital to the train station and board the bus to the Avecto Terminal. There'll be other people there who'll be on the same trip—so you both need to keep up our story the whole way.”

“What's the story?” asked Parker.

“I'll explain when I see you. We'll have plenty of time. That's all. I'll see you at nine.”

“Wait,” said Michael.

“Yes?”

“Can Brendan take us from here? He can take us all to collect you.”

“Who's Brendan?” asked Solomon.

“Michael's driver,” replied Parker before Michael could respond.

Parker saw a brief grimace cross Michael's face as he glanced over at Emma.

“He's not just a driver,” said Michael. “He's . . . well . . . he's more like family, really.”

Parker could see that Michael was embarrassed.

“Can Brendan be trusted?” asked Solomon.

“Yes,” they all replied in unison.

“Definitely,” added Parker. “He knows everything.”

There was another pause.

“Okay,” said Solomon. “I don't see a problem with that.”

“I'll call Brendan,” said Michael.

“If there's any problem—just let me know, and we can go back to the original plan.”

“There won't be,” said Michael.

“Well then, I guess that's that. I'll see you at nine.”

“Wait!” called Parker. “What do we need to bring?”

“Nothing. Just yourselves. Lina's taken care of everything on her end, and I've made a few phone calls to some old friends. Everything is taken care of.”

“So that's it?” asked Parker.

“I think that's—” Solomon stopped talking. “Someone's coming, sorry. I have to go . . . go . . . ALBER—”

The line went dead.

Mai arrived at ten minutes past eight. Brendan stood with them at the doorway to greet her. He had convinced Hilda to go home and take the night off while he took over her duties.

Parker watched as Mai paid the cab driver and, with Brendan's help, started to pull out bag after bag from the backseat.

“This is going to be an interesting makeover,” whispered Michael to Parker.

Parker was thinking the same thing. Mai looked nothing like her sister, and it wasn't just that she was shorter and stockier than Lina. Where Lina was elegant and understated, Mai was an explosion of fabric and colors. She had streaks of fluorescent pink running through her black hair, matching pink lipstick, and some kind of multicolored tutu over blue-and-green patterned leggings. Her top half was wrapped up in a bright yellow-and-green striped shawl. Emma looked delighted.

“Hi!” said Mai as she hauled a collection of bags up the stairs. Behind her, Brendan was struggling with at least five suitcases.

Parker hurried over and took some of the bags from Mai.

“Thanks! Are you Parker?”

Parker nodded. “What have you got in here?”

“Lina wasn't sure your exact sizes. She told me to get some options. Now, where can we go do your hair?”

“My parents' bathroom is the biggest,” said Michael.

“Whoa!” said Mai as they walked into Michael's parents' bathroom. “This is bigger than my apartment.”

Parker wondered if Michael ever got tired of hearing this. If he did, he didn't say anything.

“This is going to be so much fun!” said Mai. She dropped the bags by the door and dragged over an armchair from the corner of the room.

“Right. Let's do you first,” said Mai.

Before Parker had a chance to object, he found himself sitting on the armchair while Michael ran around placing towels at his feet and Mai pulled out box after box of alarmingly bright hair colors.

“Is that all of them?” asked Parker.

“Uh-huh. You don't like them?”

“Don't you have a blond or something?”

Mai shook her head. “Even if I did, that's not going to work on your hair in one go.”

Parker sighed. “Fine,” he said. “That one then.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Emma smiling as he pointed to a vibrant red box. He had no choice; apart from the jet black dye—which was too close in color to his own brown hair—it was the only one that might pass as natural.

“I'll have to do your eyebrows, too,” said Mai as Parker replaced Emma in the armchair. “Or it'll look strange.”

Michael smiled. “Yeah, Parker—it'll look
really
strange if you don't do your eyebrows.”

Parker shot Michael a deathly glare. “Just do it,” he said to Mai.

*  *  *  *  *  *

“It's not that bad,” said Michael. Parker knew it had to be that bad if Michael was trying to make him feel better about it.

“It's awful,” he said as he stared at himself in the mirror. In fairness, the color and side parting were so different that he could barely recognize himself, so, in that sense, it was a job well done.

“I love mine,”
signed Emma. She was standing next to him, smoothing the new black fringe that hung just above her eyes.
“I just wish I could have kept my glasses the same color.”
Mai had painted the rims of Emma's glasses with black polish. It was surprisingly effective.

“Clothes,” called Mai from the adjoining bedroom.

“Can't wait for this,” muttered Parker. He took one last look at himself, sighed, and followed Emma out of the room.

“Lina said she wanted you both to have a completely new look, so I—”

“No way,” said Parker. “I'm sorry.”

He could hear Michael's muffled laughter as Mai took a deep breath and quietly returned the pink vest and lime green shorts to the bag.

“Don't you have anything, um . . . normal?”

Mai frowned and rummaged through a bag on the floor. “This?” she asked, holding up a pair of red trousers.

Parker shook his head.

“What about this?”

Parker knew she was doing them a favor, but he couldn't help the irritation building up inside him. “The whole point is we're supposed to blend in and not draw attention to ourselves. I just need something regular but different from what I normally wear.”

“You can have something of mine,” suggested Michael.

“Yes!”
said Parker. “Great. Pick something I'd never normally wear.”

Michael left just as Emma emerged from the bathroom, having already changed into her clothes.

Parker's shoulders dropped at the sight of Emma wearing a black turtleneck and black trousers. “Why couldn't you have picked something like that for me?”

“Lina said you wear dark clothes and she wears bright—I picked the opposite.” She turned to Emma. “Do you like it?”

Emma grinned.

“Then,” said Mai, “you're all done.”

Emma shook her head.
“Tell her there's one more thing,”
she signed to Parker, then ran out of the room.

*  *  *  *  *  *

“Will it rub off?”
signed Emma. Parker translated.

Mai squeezed out the last bit of pink face paint from the now flat tube onto her brush.

“No,” answered Mai as she began to dab the back of Polly's hind leg—the only remaining white patch visible on Polly's skin. “Once it's dried,” continued Mai, “it should be okay. Just don't rub it too hard.”