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unbeatable.
    As a Norse god, Thor can also fly and move stuff—like a statue—and has the ability to pass through time. If my dad really wanted to get rid of whomever stole the Spartan, Thor could use his superstrength to launch them out of the Earth’s atmosphere.
    When I lift my chin up and look around, though, there’s no huge muscled guy in a blue suit and red cape carrying a leather-bound hammer. I tuck my feet up under my legs and hug my knees to my chest. It’s too bad. ’Cause I think Thor and I could be best friends.
    For a long time, my dad talks to Mike. There’s nothing for me to do but wait. I can’t even listen to the radio because I don’t have the keys.
    After a while, I’m so bored that I lean my head against the truck and stare up at the sky. The moon’s huge; it looks like every star in the universe is out. Even though the night looks magical and the air smells like just-washed sheets, I just want to go home. I close my eyes and think about my soft blanket, big pillow, and warm bed.
    In my dream, someone is calling my name.
    â€œJack! Jack, wake up, honey!”
    I recoil as something grabs me. Blinking back sleep, I see Ava shaking me. Her face is all crunched up and she’s holding Sam, who doesn’t look happy either. Officer Mike stands beside her, arms crossed against his barrelchest, forehead crinkled up.
    Before I can say a word, Dad stalks right up to Ava, his eyes flashing black with glints of silver. A sure sign he’s angry.
    â€œExcuse me,” he barks at Officer Mike, who pauses before tipping his hat to Ava and stepping away.
    â€œListen,” he begins, grabbing at Ava’s shoulder.
    Ava steps back and shakes her head. “We’re going home, Mitchell.”
    My stomach corkscrews. Ava opens the truck door and waves at me to jump down.
    â€œBut, Ava—” My dad stops then and clenches his jaw.
    Sam starts wriggling like a porpoise. His face screws up like he’s just about to start wailing. It’s way past his bedtime. I don’t look at Dad, I just stare straight ahead and get into Ava’s Jeep. She’s got the top up and the heat blasting, so it feels about a hundred degrees warmer.
    After she buckles Sam in and hands him his fuzzy brown bear, he quiets down. I give him my finger to hold, and he squeezes it with both hands, telling me “Ja-Ja-Ja” like a story. His curly hair is wild tonight, and there’s a drooly shine on his bottom lip.
    When we pull into the driveway and wait for the garage to open, Ava shakes her head one more time.
    â€œYour dad shouldn’t have dragged you out tonight.” She turns around and looks at me.
    I’m warm now and feel safe, so I smile and shrug. “No big deal,” I say.
    â€œJack,” she tells me. “Your dad doesn’t like kids—anyone—messing with ‘his’ stuff on ‘his’ campus.” Ava makes quotation marks with her fingers, but she’s not making fun of him at all.
    I nod. Yep. My dad has a temper sometimes. Like a button you press, and everything explodes. I’m used to it. She’s not as much. Ava can say stuff, though. I can’t. I lick my lips a little. “Was that . . . in his briefcase . . .” I don’t want to say the word.
    â€œYes.” She nods and closes her eyes tight. She puts a hand on her forehead and brushes hair from her face. “Believe me, I’m not happy about it.”
    In the back, Sam starts to kick. He’s impatient to be set free from all of the buckles and straps.
    â€œLet’s go inside, okay?” She ruffles my hair and tilts her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to get your brother to bed. We can all use some sleep.”
    Ava grabs Sam. I head for the house, brush my teeth, and change clothes. I grab another blanket and try burying myself under a mountain of covers, snuggling down deep.
    I wake up again