Run!

Flip's Thoughts on Tom

I will readily admit that Tom's extreme intelligence annoys the heck out of me sometimes. I mean, here he is, thirteen to my twelve, but going on forty-five. I swear he'll be able to get his Bachelor, Master, and PhD all in four years.

Him being so smart does come in handy every once in a while, even if most of the time that fascinating new specimen which he wouldn't have been able to identify if he hadn't been so smart drives him to distraction.

Truthfully, I almost wish I were like that. That's why I get such a kick out of leading the younger kids; I'm smarter than every single one of them, and that fact helps me to come to grips with the knowledge that I will never be as brilliant as Tom.

Really, I only remember one time he said something in common English.

It's a vague memory. I don't really even remember how old I was. Around Nancy's age, I guess. Nine?

Well, in any case, at that point in time Tom was already a walking dictionary/encyclopedia (mostly dictionary, though) and speaking in terms that really none of us but Pop and Henry could comprehend. Rightly, Stanley should have been able to understand them, but he was always too busy messing around with his countless disguises and such to ever read or pay attention in school, so he sometimes didn't even understand what I was saying. And I'm starting to ramble.

Scooter was only three, Mimi four, and Nancy six, so Suzy elected to stay home with them while the rest of us decided to "help out" Pop. Obviously, since we only had six people, (two and possibly three of whom wouldn't have been any help whatsoever) we didn't divide into the groups we usually do now. Instead, we went off in three groups of two, Henry and Stanley (always), Tom and me, and Anne and Alan (thank goodness a twelve year-old Alan wasn't prone to poking fun at Anne's gender yet).

So, we went off in our little gaggles. In hindsight I realize we didn't know what we were doing at all, but, naturally, we were under the trance of childish optimism and this fact didn't faze us in the least. Back then we just did it because we thought we were being helpful and we had fun at it. I guess Scooter and Mimi still sort of do it for that, but by now I think the rest of us (including Nancy; don't tell her I said so, but she's really sharper than meets the eye) realize that Pop almost expects us to interfere. The idea of doing it in secret and taking the "initiative" to "help out" is a lot of the fun.

Well, in any case, Tom and I are slinking along this alley when what do you know this man drives up in a car, parks, and climbs out carrying a sleek pistol.

Tom saw the guy, and, being Tom, even at age ten, could tell the difference between a fake pistol and genuine pistol from a hundred yards. Apparently this was the real deal.

He didn't appear to be threatening us in any way, but my older brother nonetheless uttered his groundbreaking, actually comprehendible phrase:

"Run!"

But somehow I just couldn't run. Was this really my older brother talking? Had I maybe been hanging with his doppelganger the entire time?

Before I knew what was happening, he had me by the arm and was almost dragging me away.

"Flip," he snapped, "It would be propitious if you might give ear to my remark and heed my advice."

Despite myself, I grinned.

Everything was back to normal.