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without him noticing, but he noticed. 'You don't look sick,' he said, brushing a bunch of leaves into the street. I told him, 'I feel sick.' He asked, 'Where's Mr. Feeling Sick going?' I told him, 'To the drugstore on Eighty-fourth to get some cough drops.' Lie #3. Where I actually went was the locksmith's store, which is Frazer and Sons, on Seventy-ninth.
    'Need some more copies?' Walt asked. I gave him a high-five, and I showed him the key that I had found, and asked him what he could tell me about it. 'It's for some kind of lockbox,' he said, holding it up to his face and looking at it over his glasses. 'A safe, I'm guessing. You can tell it's for a lockbox by its build.' He showed me a rack that had a ton of keys on it. 'See, it's not like any of these. It's much thicker. Harder to break.' I touched all the keys that I could reach, and that made me feel OK, for some reason. 'But it's not for a fixed safe, I don't think. Nothing too big. Maybe something portable. Could be a safe-deposit box, actually. An old one. Or some kind of fire-retardant cabinet.' That made me crack up a little, even though I know there's nothing funny about being a mental retard. 'It's an old key,' he said. 'Could be twenty, thirty years old.'
    'How can you tell?'
    'Keys are what I know.'
    'You're cool.'
    'And not many lockboxes use keys anymore.'
    'They don't?'
    'Well, hardly anyone uses keys anymore.'
    'I use keys,' I told him, and I showed him my apartment key. 'I know you do,' he said. 'But people like you are a dying breed. It's all electronic these days. Keypads. Thumbprint recognition.'
    'That's so awesome.'
    'I like keys.' I thought for a minute, and then I got heavy, heavy boots. 'Well, if people like me are a dying breed, then what's going to happen to your business?'
    'We'll become specialized,' he said, 'like a typewriter shop. We're useful now, but soon we'll be interesting.'
    'Maybe you need a new business.'
    'I like this business.'
    I said, 'I have a question that I was just wondering.' He said, 'Shoot.'
    'Shoot?'
    'Shoot. Go ahead. Ask.'
    'Are you Frazer, or are you Son?'
    'I'm Grandson, actually. My grandfather started the shop.'
    ' Cool .'
    'But I suppose I'm also Son, since my dad ran things when he was alive. I guess I'm Frazer, too, since my son works here during the summers.'
    I said, 'I have another question.'
    'Shoot.'
    'Do you think I could find the company that made this key?'
    'Anyone could've made it.'
    'Well then, what I want to know is how can I find the lock that it opens?'
    'I'm afraid I can't help you with that, any more than telling you to try it in every lock you come across. I could always make you a copy, if you'd like.'
    'I could have a googolplex keys.'
    'Googolplex?'
    'A googol to the googol power.'
    'Googol?'
    'That's a one with one hundred zeroes after it.' He put his hand on my shoulder and said, 'You need the lock.' I reached up real high and put my hand on his shoulder and said, 'Yeah.'
    As I was leaving he asked, 'Shouldn't you be in school?' I thought fast and told him, 'It's Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day.' Lie #4. 'I thought that was in January.'
    'It used to be.' Lie #5.
    When I got back to the apartment, Stan said, 'You've got mail!'
Dear Osk, Hello, lad! Thanks for your glorious letter and the bulletproof drumsticks, which I hope I'll never have to use! I have to confess, I've never thought too much about giving lessons… I hope you like the enclosed T-shirt, which I took the liberty of signing for you. Your mate, Ringo
    I didn't like the enclosed T-shirt. I loved it! Although unfortunately it wasn't white, so I couldn't wear it.
    I laminated Ringo's letter and tacked it to my wall. Then I did some research on the Internet about the locks of New York, and I found out a lot of useful information. For example, there are 319 post offices and 207,352 post office boxes. Each box has a lock, obviously. I also found out that there are about 70,571 hotel rooms, and most rooms have a main lock, a