In Over Their Heads Read online

  “Dad, do you think that girl saw me fall apart last night?” Jackson asked. He was afraid the question would send him into another breakdown. But he managed to keep striding forward along the trail. To keep pretending he didn’t have a knot of worry eating away at his stomach. “What do you think would happen if—”

  “Now, now, let’s leave the unbridled speculation to the humans,” Dad said. “We Lightner men deal in facts, remember? And as much as this is a run for parts for you, this is also a run for information.”

  Jackson inhaled sharply.

  “You’re going to risk an all-call request on the robot network, aren’t you?” he asked. “Once we’re back in range . . .”

  As long as they were in the nature preserve, the four adults were cut off from the network of all the other robots in the world. Because if they had access to the knowledge of other robots, other robots also had the right to seek access to what they knew. For twelve years Mom and Dad—and, it turned out, the other two parents, Denise and Donald—had kept Ava and Jackson secret by acting so boring that no one ever wanted to probe their minds. But Nick and Eryn had drawn a lot of attention to the family recently, and the adults had decided they all needed to go into hiding.

  Jackson had been watching the grown-ups since they got to the nature preserve. They all seemed stupider somehow, bumbling around without any knowledge except what was already in their own heads.

  Jackson and Ava, being illegal, had of course never been allowed to link to the robot network. But Jackson daydreamed about it.

  To know anything I want to know, anytime I want to know it? he thought. How cool would that be?

  “Dad . . . what if I did the all-call instead of you?” Jackson asked. “We could download the link into my mind and then—”

  “What? No!” Dad exploded. “That’s crazy! Do you want to get caught?”

  “No, listen, it makes sense,” Jackson said. He stopped on the trail and turned to face Dad. Dad started to breeze on by, but Jackson grabbed his arm and held him in place. “If you give your ID number for your all-call, which you’d have to do, your request would be grouped together with everything else you’ve ever asked. You’ve already got a pattern of questions that look suspicious. This one could be the tipping point, the one that makes law enforcement start looking at you. Examining your record. I don’t have any record, any pattern. Anything I ask would just look like a random question from a random kid.”

  “You don’t even have an ID number!” Dad protested. “You’d set off even more suspicions!”

  “So we make one up,” Jackson said. His knees felt weak again, but he ignored them. “We say I’m thirteen and perfectly legal. No one would know any different.”

  “Until it comes time for . . .” Dad’s face contorted, and he jerked his arm out of Jackson’s grasp. “Really, Jacky, you don’t know what you’re asking. You are not using a fake ID number to tap in to the network, and that’s final!”

  He called me Jacky? Jackson thought. Like I’m five years old again? I give him a serious suggestion—a mature, thought-out suggestion—and he treats me like a little kid?

  Dad had started walking again, taking long, furious strides that kicked up dead leaves and gravel. Jackson still stood frozen on the trail. He could barely stand, let alone walk. Dad was several paces ahead before he stopped and turned around.

  “Oh, Jacky,” he murmured, shaking his head. He rushed back, calling, “Tell me, what’s 4,208 times 9,306?”

  It was a relief for Jackson to let such an easy question flow through his brain.

  “That would be 39,159,648,” he said automatically.

  “And the square root of 6,486?” Dad asked, gently taking Jackson’s arm and propelling him forward.

  They did math problems the rest of the way down to the van. But Dad didn’t know exactly how fast Jackson had made his processing speed. In between spouting numbers, Jackson had time to think:

  Someday. Someday I will tap in to the robot network.

  And Dad won’t be able to stop me.

  FIVE

  Eryn

  Eryn bit into a granola bar that was so cold and hard she almost broke a tooth. She scowled at the gray clouds, which seemed to glower back at her from low in the sky, and she thought, Hot chocolate. Cinnamon-apple oatmeal. Pancakes with butter melting on top . . .

  It was definitely a day for a hot breakfast. Even weak tea boiled over an open flame would have lifted her spirits after her night of tossing and turning—and worrying—as she tried to sleep on the cold ground with only dead, decaying leaves for a blanket.

  But the adults had decided it was too risky to light another fire. Not when they didn’t know exactly how nearby Lida Mae’s family might be. Or—though the adults didn’t say this—when they didn’t know exactly how dangerous Lida Mae’s family might be.

  I bet Lida Mae’s family has figured out geothermal heating, Eryn thought grumpily. I bet they’re sitting around all toasty and warm, drinking cocoa and not even thinking about us, while we’re sitting out here in the cold worrying about them.

  But what if Lida Mae’s family was thinking about Eryn’s? What might they be thinking?

  “Jumping jacks,” Mom said from behind Eryn.

  “What?” Eryn said, turning to glare at Mom.

  “It’s a known fact that exercise will get your blood flowing,” Mom said briskly. “If you’re cold, you need to move around more. Studies show that something something percent of something, uh . . . proves this.”

  Eryn lowered her granola bar and gaped at her mother.

  “Did you just say ‘something something percent of something’ instead of quoting an actual statistic?” she asked incredulously.

  Mom brushed a lock of Eryn’s dark hair off her face.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered. “I guess I never actually, uh, downloaded the exact statistic from the general robot network into my own brain. But I’m pretty sure there is a statistic about that. Maybe.”

  It wasn’t like Mom to admit she didn’t know something. Or to say “uh.” Or “maybe.” Or to focus on Eryn’s appearance when Mom’s own normally sleek, businesslike bob was sticking out all over the place.

  Or to sleep in the woods or run away from civilization or . . .

  There wasn’t time to keep listing all the things Mom had done for the first time in the past week, after that fateful day when Nick and Eryn decided to spy on their stepsiblings and found out way more than they ever expected.

  Eryn glanced to the side, where Nick was coming up the hill from the makeshift bathroom Dad and Michael had built.

  “Fine,” Eryn told Mom. She tried to sound casual, like she didn’t have a care in the world. “I’m game for exercise. Maybe Nick and I will take a hike this morning.”

  Would Mom fall for this? Or would Eryn have to explain why she wanted to hike—and what they’d be looking for?

  “I don’t want the two of you wandering off by yourself,” Mom said. “Neither of you have had adequate preparation in wilderness survival training. It’s too dangerous.”

  “But—” Eryn began.

  “We’re going to split up into two groups, with at least one adult in each group,” Mom said. “And we’ll do this systematically, and divide up the territory so we don’t duplicate efforts.”

  “Do what systematically?” Eryn asked.

  Mom cast a quick glance over her shoulder, as if she feared being overheard. But Dad was several yards away, whittling a branch down to be the support for a new, sturdier lean-to. Ava and her mother, Brenda, were eating their granola bars over by the ashes of the cold, burned-out fire, as if they thought there might be some hint of warmth left.

  “You know,” Mom said conspiratorially. “Look for that girl and her family. Assess them as risks.”

  Somehow it sounded worse to hear Mom say this. To have Mom admit that Lida Mae and her family might be a risk. Especially when Mom didn’t even know about the papers from the secret room, o
r Eryn’s suspicion that someone from Lida Mae’s family might have written them.

  Eryn stood up, looking at the last part of her granola bar in distaste. She reared back her arm to throw it out into the woods. As far as she was concerned, some bird or squirrel or chipmunk was welcome to it.

  Mom caught Eryn’s arm.

  “Don’t waste that,” she warned. “Eat it—you’ll need the calories. And . . . we need to conserve our food. We don’t know if we’ll have enough for however long we need to stay out here.”

  Eryn lowered her arm and stared at Mom. Mom shook her head sternly and walked over to talk to Dad.

  “What’s going on?” Nick asked, coming up beside Eryn.

  “Mom’s gone loony tunes,” Eryn said. “Being out in the woods is making her weird.”

  “Don’t you mean, weirder?” Nick joked.

  A week ago Eryn would have rolled her eyes and grinned at that. Today she could only cross her arms and shiver miserably. Why did being cold make her feel so discouraged?

  Even Nick didn’t seem to be able to muster a grin. His face stayed grim. Eryn glanced down toward the midsection of the coat he’d pulled on when they got back to the campsite last night. Did Nick still have the papers from the secret room tucked inside his shirt, under the coat, or had he moved them to some safer place, like a pocket? Was Mom far enough away now that Eryn could remind Nick to put them somewhere safe? And then maybe talk about what Nick and Eryn should do with them?

  No, probably not, Eryn decided.

  “Let’s deal with Dad this morning, not Mom,” Nick said. “Let’s go tell him we want to go scout around for, um . . . what can we say to keep him from asking questions?”

  “Mom says we’re all going out searching after breakfast,” Eryn told him glumly. “In groups. We’ve just got to make sure you and I are in the same group. What do you bet she’ll want to make it girls in one group, guys in another?”

  “We’ll tell her that’s discrimination,” Nick said.

  Eryn was about to say, You know they won’t agree to it being all robots in one group, just us in the other, when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder.

  How could that be, when Mom and Dad were still over by the lean-to, and Ava and Brenda were still by the fire? And Jackson and Michael should be halfway back to the van by now?

  “I swear, you’re huddled up like you’re freezing half to death,” a twangy voice said behind Eryn. “Want me to show you’uns how to build a fire that’ll stay lit this time?”

  Eryn spun around, even though she was dead certain who she’d see:

  It was Lida Mae again.

  SIX

  Nick

  “Um, uh . . . sure!” Nick said, because Eryn seemed to have lost the ability to speak. “That’s really nice of you when we, uh . . .”

  Eryn elbowed him in the ribs, a deep, painful jab. Even though Eryn always claimed she and he had spooky twin skills that allowed them to read each other’s minds, Nick couldn’t tell what this elbow nudge was supposed to mean. Was it Argh! Did we say anything about robots that Lida Mae might have overheard?

  Maybe it was Don’t ask her any questions that will make her run away again! Be careful!

  Or maybe it was Remember, don’t let her see the papers you grabbed from the secret room ordering you to kill robots! Make sure you keep them hidden!

  Nick patted the top left section of his coat, where he could feel the folded-up lump of papers he’d tucked into an inner pocket. This was so much more secure than trying to hold them under his shirt.

  Lida Mae squinted curiously at him and tilted her head, making her braids look lopsided.

  “Oh, is that what you do instead of shaking hands, where you come from?” she asked. “Well, then . . .”

  She patted the left side of her collarbone, aiming the gesture at first Nick, then Eryn. Lida Mae was wearing a heavy coat this morning that looked like its outer layer was homespun—some kind of burlap, maybe?—and her motion set off a little puff of dust.

  Eryn coughed.

  “That’s not really a . . . common custom,” she said faintly. “Just a Nick thing.”

  Now Eryn’s face was squinched up and bright red. Nick couldn’t tell if she was about to explode into laughter or screams. Or if she was just cold.

  He decided to stop worrying about what Eryn might be thinking and figure out what he himself should say to Lida Mae.

  “It’s nice of you to try to adapt to my, um, custom,” he said. “Do people in your family just shake hands when you greet each other?”

  Lida Mae shook her head, sending her braids flying side to side. They thumped against her shoulders.

  “Oh, no—we hug,” she said. She grinned, revealing big white teeth that met at odd, whimsical angles. “But I don’t know you that well. Yet.”

  Nick felt his own face turn red. Was she flirting with him?

  “We would like to get to know you and your family better,” Eryn said. Nick could tell she was picking her words carefully. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

  She elbowed Nick again, and he was pretty sure what she meant this time.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you last night, asking to see your family’s farm,” he said. “Maybe in your customs that was a terrible thing to do. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  Lida Mae grinned merrily again.

  “My mammy says a true gentleman would never invite himself over to the abode of a girl he was courting,” she said. “He lets her do the choosing of when it’s time to meet her family.”

  It took Nick a moment to figure out her odd wording. It took him another moment to get over the shock.

  “You think . . . you think I was asking because I want to be your boyfriend?” he asked. Eryn cleared her throat beside him, and Nick scrambled to add, “I mean, not that you’re not really pretty and all, and you seem really smart, and . . .”

  Lida Mae gave his shoulder a playful shove. Her hand hit just an inch above where she might have been able to feel the folded-up papers through his coat.

  “Oh, I’m just joshing with you, of course,” she said, giggling. “I’m only twelve, and you don’t look any older, and that is much, much too young to think about serious courting. We’d have to be fourteen, at least.”

  Was she still joking with him?

  If you didn’t count Eryn, Nick hadn’t been any good at talking to girls back home at school, back when things were normal. He really wasn’t any good at it now.

  Eryn rescued him, taking a slight step forward that put her closer to Lida Mae and let him take a little step back.

  “About that fire you were offering to help us build,” Eryn said. “Really, I think our parents know how to do that. They just let the fire go out because we’re all about to take a hike, and we didn’t want to start a forest fire or anything while we were away. Would you mind showing us around instead? Helping us find the best hiking trails?”

  Not bad, Eryn, Nick thought admiringly.

  Except hadn’t their stepfather, Michael, said this nature preserve covered hundreds of thousands of acres? Couldn’t Lida Mae take them on a miles-long hike that purposely avoided showing them anything they wanted to see?

  “We’re doing everything we can to be safe, but our parents aren’t exactly nature people,” he said. “If they did accidentally start a fire . . . your family doesn’t live too close, do they? And your house isn’t downwind from here, is it?”

  Eryn squinted at him. He couldn’t tell if she approved of his sneaky way of trying to get information, or if she thought he’d gone too far.

  But Lida Mae just gave both of them playful shoves this time.

  “Oh, law, listen to you, worrying about forest fires,” she giggled. “You are a pair of tenderfeet, aren’t you? There’s no call to worry about fire spreading with the ground this damp, and all the woods around us still soaking from last week’s snowfall. But about that hike—sure, I’ll show you around!”

  Tenderfeet, Nick thought. Josh
ing. Courting.

  Was Lida Mae really as folksy and backwoodsy and innocent as she seemed?

  Or was she acting and pretending and hiding just as much as Nick and Eryn?

  SEVEN

  Ava

  “Deep breaths,” Mom murmured from behind Ava, where she’d moved to pull Ava’s hair back into a tight, secure ponytail. “Stay calm.”

  Ava winced. As a robot designed to look as much as possible like a human, of course she could make herself appear to breathe more deeply. But it didn’t actually help.

  Maybe it didn’t actually help humans, either.

  “Mom, do not say, ‘Don’t fall apart,’ because you know that makes it more likely that I’m going to break down,” Ava muttered back. “I see that that girl is over there talking to Eryn and Nick, and I’m fine; I’m staying centered. I just need quiet so I can focus on staying centered. . . .”

  “Good girl,” Mom said as she patted Ava’s back. Then she fell silent.

  Finally, Ava thought.

  Really, she needed the silence so she could listen to Nick and Eryn and Lida Mae. They stood at the edge of the clearing, far enough from the log where Ava and Mom were sitting that they undoubtedly thought no one could hear them. But Ava could, easily.

  Did Lida Mae just say something about “courting”? Ava thought. Seriously?

  She wished she were at the right angle to see Nick’s face—it was probably a masterpiece of adolescent-boy embarrassment. Even the back of his neck had gone red, at least in the quarter inch Ava could see in the gap between his coat collar and his hairline.

  Ava shifted to studying Lida Mae’s face: the wide, friendly hazel eyes; the sprinkling of cinnamon-colored freckles across her nose; the endearingly crooked teeth revealed with every generous smile.

  If I designed someone to look trustworthy and likable, I’d make her look just like Lida Mae, Ava thought.

  But of course that was crazy, because Lida Mae hadn’t been “designed.” She was clearly human, a random mix of inherited traits, just like Nick and Eryn.