All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [11]
“Nothing.”
Eliot knew it was something, but before he could get it out of his sister, she started walking.
Why did she always do that? Leave him behind, thinking she got to lead. Eliot had half a mind to go his own way . . . but then, Fiona might get lost and never find the place by herself.
So he followed. For her sake.
One day, though, she was going to find out just how much she needed him.
They passed shoe stores and a Taco Bell and one store that sold nothing but globes and maps. Fiona paused to admire a massive world that levitated magnetically on its pedestal. She checked the building’s street number and then compared it to the address on their welcome letter.
“This is the right direction,” she said. “We should almost be there.”
Lombard veered southwest. The street narrowed and filled with houses and apartments. Eliot didn’t see anything that looked like a school.
They walked another entire block—passing the address where Paxington should have been—the last two digits of the closest number jumped from 16 to 22.
“You’re reading that map wrong,” Eliot told her.
“I’m not,” she replied.
Eliot then did the one thing he had vowed he wouldn’t do this morning. He dug into his pack, found a slender case, and pulled it out. Inside were his new glasses. The silver wire rims made him look like an ultra-dork when he wore them.
“Let me try,” he said.
Fiona glanced back down the street, confused. “Fine.” She handed him the map and letter.
He donned his glasses, cringing as he did so, but the pages came into focus. He checked the Paxington address, and then their map.
“Look,” he told Fiona, “it says it’s at the intersection of Lombard and Chestnut Streets. We’ve checked Lombard. We should go down Chestnut instead.”
Fiona examined the map. “It’s only one block north of here.” She almost looked impressed with this idea, but then added: “Not bad . . . for an Architeuthis dux.”
Eliot ground his teeth at this simultaneous compliment and insult. Architeuthis dux was the scientific name for the giant squid. Its eye was one of the largest in the animal kingdom—the size of a volleyball—and could spot prey in the murkiest ocean depths. Her commentary on his new glasses.
As he mulled over the appropriate counterinsult, Fiona grabbed the map and letter and flounced down a side street. “Come on,” she called back. “Don’t sulk . . . it was a good idea.”
Eliot removed his glasses, placed them back in their case, and dashed after her.
They emerged on Chestnut Street with its quaint pastel and stucco houses and apartments jam-packed together, every parking spot filled, and even more people on the sidewalks—all of whom seem to be very much in a hurry to get to work, or jogging as fast as they could, or delivering very important-looking packages.
. . . or like them, just trying to get school.
Eliot spotted a navy blue wool jacket, khaki slacks, and a flash of gold threads shimmering from an embroidered Paxington crest.
Another student.
Eliot pointed to this boy on the opposite side of the street. “Let’s follow him.”
Fiona nodded, and they raced alongside, shadowing the other student until they came to a crosswalk. The light was red. The other boy crossed; they had to wait.
Eliot watched the traffic. There was a break coming. They could sprint across the street, but technically, that was against the law—jaywalking—and something Audrey would definitely have disapproved of.
He thought, however, she’d disapprove more of them being late for their first day of school.
Eliot started to cross.
“You can’t do that!” Fiona shouted after him—but nonetheless she followed.
A truck pulled out of a driveway and accelerated toward them.
Eliot and Fiona sprinted.
The truck blared its horn.
They jumped together onto the sidewalk. A whirlwind of dust and fumes and papers swirled around them.
“That was stupid,” she hissed.
“There he is!” Eliot said, ignoring her, and ran after the boy from Paxington.
The student must have heard him, because he turned. The boy was older, eighteen maybe, two heads taller than Eliot, and he had