The smile never leaves Hayden's face. "Mai, I'm truly amazed that you don't know this. It's
"Years ago there was this kid. His name wasn't really Humphrey—it was probably Hal or Harry or something like that—but Humphrey kind of fits, considering. Anyway, one day his parents sign the order to have him unwound."
"Why?" asks Mai.
"Why do any parents sign the order? They just did, and the Juvey-cops came for him bright and early one morning. They snatch him, ship him off, and it's over for him.—He's unwound without a hitch."
"So that's it?" asks Mai.
"No . . . because there
Now Mai's tough-girl exterior is all but gone. She truly is like a little kid listening wide-eyed to a campfire story. "What did they do?"
"They decided they didn't want Humphrey unwound after all," says Hayden.
"Wait a second," says Mai. "You said they already unwound him."
Hayden's eyes look maniacal in the candlelight. "They did."
Mai shudders.
"Here's the thing," says Hayden. "Like I said, everything about harvest camp is secret—even the records of who receives what, once the unwinding is done."
"Yeah, so?"
"So the Dunfees found the records. The father, I think, worked for the government, so he was able to hack into the parts department."
"The what?"
Hayden sighs. "The National Unwind Database."
"Oh."
"And he gets a printout of every single person who received a piece of Humphrey. Then the Dunfees go traveling around the world to find them . . . so they can kill them, take back the parts, and bit by bit make Humphrey whole. . . ."
"No way."
"That's why people call him Humphrey," Connor adds. "'Cause 'all the king's horses and all the king's men . . . couldn't put Humphrey together again."'
The thought hangs heavy in the air, until Hayden, leaning forward over the candle, suddenly throws his hands out toward Mai and shouts, "Boo!"
They all flinch in spite of themselves—Mai most of all.
Connor has to laugh. "Did you see that? She practically jumped out of her skin!"
"Better not do that, Mai," says Hayden. "Jump out of your skin, and they'll give it to someone else before you can get it back."
"You can both just take a flying leap." Mai tries to punch Hayden, but he easily evades her. That's when Roland appears from behind his bookshelves.
"What's going on here?"
"Nothing," says Hayden. "Just telling ghost stories."
Roland looks at the three of them, clearly irritated, and distrustful of any situation not involving him. "Yeah, well, get to bed. It's late."
Roland lumbers back to his corner, but Connor's sure he's monitoring the conversation now, probably paranoid that they're plotting against him.
"That Humphrey Dunfee thing," says Mai. "It's just a story, right?"
Connor keeps his opinion to himself, but Hayden says, "I knew a kid who used to tell people he had Humphrey's liver. Then one day he disappeared and was never seen again. People said he just got unwound, but then again . . . maybe the Dunfees got him." Then Hayden blows out the candle, leaving them in darkness.
On Connor and Risa's third day there, Sonia calls each of them upstairs—but one at a time, in the order they'd arrived.
"First the thieving ox," she says, pointing down the stairs at Roland.
Apparently she knows about the stolen MP3 player.
"What do you suppose the Dragon Lady wants?" Hayden asks, after the trapdoor is closed.
"To drink your blood," says Mai. "Beat you with her cane for a while. Stuff like that."
"I wish you'd stop calling her the Dragon Lady," Risa says. "She's saving your ass—the least you could do is show some respect.'' She turns toward Connor.
"You wanna take Didi? My arms are getting tired." Connor takes the baby, cradling it a bit more skillfully than he had before. Mai looks at him with mild interest. He wonders if Hayden told her that they're not really the baby's parents.
Roland comes back from his appointment with Sonia half an hour later, and says nothing about it. Neither does Mai when she comes back. Hayden takes the longest, and when he returns, he's closemouthed too—which is strange for him.
It's unsettling.
Connor goes next. It's night outside when he goes upstairs. He has no idea what time of night. Sonia sits with him in her little back room, putting him in an uncomfortable chair that wobbles whenever he moves.
"You'll be leaving here tomorrow," she tells him.
"Going where?"
She ignores the question and reaches into the drawer of an old rolltop desk.
"I'm hoping you're at least semiliterate."
"Why? What do you want me to read?"