The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak Read Online Free Page A

forced to take the only available seat, in the back. If God were merciful, I would have been alone. Instead, there’s a boy sitting in the window seat. He doesn’t look older than ten or eleven, so I assume he’s Mrs. Brinkham’s son or something. He smiles up at me from behind thick glasses.
    â€œHi!” His voice is as joyful and irritating as Jar Jar’s. “I’m Clayton!” I half expect to see a name tag hanging from a yarn lanyard around his neck.
    I sit silently.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” He continues to stare at me, his face split into a plastic clown’s grin. Only when I actually see him blink do I start to relax.
    â€œDuke.”
    â€œIs that really your name?”
    â€œLook, um, Clayton? Maybe you’d be more comfortable sitting up there with your mom.”
    For a moment, he looks perplexed, then laughs. It sounds as if a kitten is being stepped on. “Mrs. Brinkham? Oh, no, she’s not my mother. I’m on the team.”
    The logical side of my brain tells me to shut up, but I ask anyway. “Aren’t you a little young?”
    He stomps on the kitten again. “I’m thirteen. I skipped the second grade. Now my sister and I get to go to the same school again.” He gestures to the front of the van. After a moment I realize what he’s saying.
    â€œAna’s your sister?”
    He nods again. There’s a slight resemblance, but it’s clear who got the looks in the family.
    Clayton pulls out a tome so big and musty, I mistake it for the Necronomicon . “World history. That’s my weak subject. Do you want to quiz each other?”
    The blond guy in front of me bends to get something out of his bag. Our eyes meet.
    Tough luck, pal , he wordlessly communicates.
    â€œOr do you want me to quiz you? Here’s an easy one. Xerxes was the king of: a) Macedonia, b) Persia . . .”
    I stare, longingly, at the rear door of the van. We’re only going about forty. If I rolled just right when I hit the street, I’d only break a few bones.
    â€œClayton, please stop. Please. I’m not interested.” I pause, then lower my voice so Mrs. Brinkham won’t overhear. “I’m not even really on this team. I’m not even supposed to be here today!”
    â€œYou sound like that guy from Clerks .”
    I’m a little shocked that he got that reference, but not enough to mention it. “Look, Clay, I had to skip something very fun to come here, and I’m not in a great mood.” I glance up to make sure Mrs. Brinkham isn’t listening, but she’s at the wheel, texting.
    We sit in silence for about ten seconds.
    â€œWhat are you missing today?”
    â€œA convention I go to every year. Seriously, Clayton . . .”
    â€œLast year I had to miss archaeology camp to go to the scholars’ academy.”
    Great Zarquon .
    â€œIt’s a con. A science-fiction convention. Washingcon, you ever heard of that?”
    He tilts his head. He then raises his hand in the Vulcan salute. The guy in the seat in front of me laughs.
    â€œIt’s not like that, Clayton. It’s . . . it’s kind of magic.” Realizing how lame that sounds, I continue. “It’s like, you never know what’s going to happen. Last year, some engineers built a functioning AT-AT out of an old motorcycle. Year before that, the SCA reenacted the Battle of Hastings. Eight people wound up in the hospital. They’re supposed to do the Battle of Badon Hill this year.”
    The guy in front of me has turned around and is listening.
    â€œI got to drive one of the original Batmobiles once. I met George Takei, the only man I’d ever switch teams for. I met Gilbert Shelton and I think I got high just from shaking his hand. I saw the guy who played the original RoboCop, and he’s uglier without the mask.”
    â€œI always liked that movie,” says Clayton.
    The girl in front of me