Read Frek and the Elixir for Free Online Page B

straight up to his room. He just had to look under his bed to see about the lumpy, shiny, purplish thing, even though the watchbird was whirring along behind him. To appear less suspicious, he acted like he was tidying up. “Keeping things organized,” he muttered. “Zhak made a mess.” He forced himself to work on his shelves and his closet a bit before looking under his bed. Mom appeared in the room before he’d gotten to the bed.
    â€œAre you looking for the Anvil?” she asked straight out.
    â€œNo,” lied Frek, annoyed with her for making it all so obvious.
    â€œI wonder if this really does have anything to do with Carb,” said Mom, plopping down on Frek’s desk chair. She looked keyed up and chatty. “The counselors said they got a message when the Anvil came down? Those toons you saw, did they talk about him?”
    â€œNo,” said Frek. “But the Anvil came through the asteroid belt. Where Dad is. Not that you care what he does anymore. Can you leave me alone now, Mom?”
    â€œAre you mad about me and Carb getting unwebbed?”
    â€œDo we have to talk in front of the watchbird?” said Frek.
    â€œThat thing?” said Mom. “It doesn’t matter. The house tree has eyes and ears, too, you know. And for sure Gov taps into that; you know his puffball has plenty of brain nodules to monitor what the counselors don’t watch in person. So forget about the watchbird. He’s mainly for following you outside.”
    â€œI don’t want to talk,” said Frek stubbornly. “And I’m not looking for the Anvil. I’m only cleaning up.”
    â€œSuit yourself,” said Mom. “Come downstairs in a bit; we’ll have lunch.”
    Frek worked on his closet a little more, folding a few of his mounded clothes, and then he walked over to his bed. He lay on the floor beside it, shifting the objects about, all the while peering to see the thing that was maybe the Anvil. The watchbird strutted back and forth on the floor right beside him, turning its head this way and that. Frek was almost glad the watchbird and the house tree were observing him. If there really was an alien under his bed and it came darting out at him, it wouldn’t be so bad to have Gov and the counselors ready to help.
    But he saw nothing but toys and games. Had he imagined the shiny thing before? No, wait—there was a funny spot by the wall, a spot where things didn’t want to go. He pushed with his Solar Trader game box, bulldozing some toys toward the mystery corner. His throwing disk slid off to one side of the special spot and the model rocket slid off to the other. Yes, something was there, but you couldn’t see it. The air in that spot had a warped quality—as if a lens were floating there. Scooting forward and stretching his arm out as far as he could, Frek reached into the place where nothing wanted to go. And, yes, he felt something. Bumpy, smooth, faintly vibrating. He swept his hand on past the spot, so that maybe the watchbird and the house tree wouldn’t realize what he was doing, even though his heart was pounding so hard that it seemed like everyone must be able to hear. He took a deep, shuddery breath, sat back up and brightly said, “No sign of the Anvil! And now my room’s nice and tidy.” And then he went downstairs to the kitchen.
    It was cozy in the kitchen. Their little yellow-white marble statue of the Buddha looked friendly up the wall shelf. Seeing the Buddha always made Frek feel safe and good. Mom and Frek’s sisters were eating grobread and anymeat with carrot sticks and sliced tomatoes from their garden. “Help yourself,” said Mom, nodding to the kitchen counter. “But don’t let that dirty little watchbird kac on anything.”
    The grobread and anymeat loaves were there with the knife. Frek had thought he was too worried to eat, but when he saw the food he changed his mind.