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houses.
    He wasn’t tempted. The fact that he’d searched the Ramirez house while Billy and his family were kinda-sorta there made his skin crawl. And even though he guessed the security cameras at Walmart hadn’t been working last Grunsday, Jax still wasn’t convinced the police weren’t going to pin the burglary on him.
    Riley returned in the evening and showed Jax how to disengage the generators. When they shut down the oneat Mrs. Unger’s house, Jax found a basket of freshly baked cookies left nearby. “She thanks you with baked goods?” Jax rummaged through the basket to check for a note. There wasn’t one.
    â€œNot very often.” Riley sighed glumly. “I guess I have to share them with you now.”
    Jax stayed up until midnight to see for himself what happened. A few minutes before twelve, he sat on the front porch with his father’s Rolex on his left wrist and Riley’s Timex in his right hand.
    Riley’s watch ticked steadily until exactly twelve o’clock and then stopped.
    The Rolex started.
    Across the street, a pit bull went berserk, running up and down the length of its fence, barking and growling at Jax. From the dog’s perspective, he’d just popped into existence from nowhere.
    â€œYou’ll get used to it,” Riley said from behind him.
    Jax held up both watches. “But they’re mechanical watches! There’s no computer chips in them!”
    Riley shrugged. “Every time-measuring device is affected by relativistic change, and, like the car you saw on the highway, a lot depends on the perspective of the observer.” When Jax’s mouth dropped open, Riley grinned. “Einstein’s theory of relativity. What, did you think that because I work at a garage, I’m stupid?”
    Well, yeah, actually. He had.

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7
    THURSDAY WAS DISTRESSINGLY NORMAL, full of teachers and classes and work. Jax wondered how he could have an extra twenty-four hours that bored him silly and still be annoyed by a regular day. Either Grunsday should be more exciting, or Thursday should be more satisfying.
    When he got home from school, he scoped out the windows of Mrs. Unger’s house. If what Riley said was true, the girl wasn’t there today. She wasn’t anywhere today.
    A.J.’s truck was parked in front of the house—A.J.’s old truck, which, like Riley’s motorcycle, had no computerized parts. Hefting a plastic bag of milk and orange juice, Jax went into the house and was greeted with “ Heeeere’s our little Walmart burglar. Went back for more, did ya?”
    Jax glared at Riley. “Did you have to tell him?”
    â€œSteal anything I might like?” asked A.J.
    â€œI took canned goods and water and batteries, you jerk. How was I supposed to know Thursday was stillcoming?” Jax walked stiffly into the kitchen. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done. The refrigerator wheezed when he opened the door to put away the milk and juice. It sounded like it had emphysema.
    There were two pizza boxes on the counter. With A.J. in the house, he expected them to be empty, but there were four slices left and Jax grabbed them all, piling them crisscross onto a plate.
    Riley came in and broke up the boxes.
    â€œI have more questions for you,” Jax said around a mouthful.
    â€œI’ll bet you do. But that’ll have to wait until later, if you feel up to it.”
    â€œWhy wouldn’t I feel up to it?”
    â€œIt’s tattoo night!” A.J. hauled a leather case into the kitchen and onto the table. He unbuckled it and whirled it around to face Jax. The case was filled with tattoo guns, needles, and bottles of ink.
    â€œYou’re giving Riley another tattoo? Where?” Riley pretty much had tattoo sleeves up to his armpits.
    â€œNo, I’m