CHAPTER 21 -PAVEL'S CURSE

Maybe Pavel did have secret powers. 

I came home from a day at the town pool, famished. I could sense trouble the minute I walked into the kitchen. 

Mom put the phone down, shaken.

"Vanda, they can't find Bryan! He was swimming at the reservoir with a group of kids. Oh, that damn kid." 

Bryan was always missing or suspected of something. He probably only said he was going to the rezzy but went to Worcester to buy war stuff.

"I'll go see if he's at the Burnham's," I grabbed a peanut butter and jelly and walked down the hill toward my friend's house. We all liked to hang out there because Mrs. Burnham, who talked in a soprano voice, was divorced with seven kids and not vigilant. Unlike my mom, she couldn’t hire a housekeeper, nor be one, so I’d often put my hand in something icky and mysterious. I never knew if it was food or some excretion of a child. 

When I passed the tennis courts, Ricky McKeough, a sweet kid who had been with Bryan that day, walked toward me. Two others, Angel Porter and Leslie Burnham, followed him.

"Hey, Ricky! Hey, you guys. We're looking for Bryan."

"They found him." Ricky looked at the ground.