The Leveller - Julia Durango Page 0,39

away from me. Great. Maybe we should both go back to first grade.

Neither of us talks as we head back down the busy Havana streets. There are Meeple everywhere. At first I try to scrutinize everyone within eyesight, but Wyn is walking too fast, and besides, I don’t know what I’m looking for.

Finally, we turn down a residential street that looks familiar, only in the daytime it’s even prettier. I wish the houses back in Illinois were this colorful.

“You’re taking me back to the wardrobe house?” I ask, when I finally catch up to Wyn at the doorway. I’m relieved to see it hasn’t been absorbed by the hideous Blob I released last night, though I’m still not sure we should go back in.

“It’s the one place I know we’ll be alone,” he says. “Don’t worry, we won’t go upstairs,” he adds, guessing my thoughts. The warmth has gone out of his eyes and voice, but he is still kind, still polite as he enters the house first. “It’s the only building in Havana where Meeple aren’t allowed.”

I think of the girl’s bedroom upstairs, the one I’ve destroyed. The one I thought belonged to some virtual girlfriend.

Only Meeple aren’t allowed inside this house.

“Oh,” I say, unable to suppress the surprise in my voice.

He glances at me as we walk through the first floor of the house. “I thought you’d have it all figured out by now, Nancy Drew.”

I try not to get riled by the sarcasm in his voice.

We enter a walled patio at the back of the house. The whitewashed stone walls are covered with greenery and flowers, and a water fountain burbles in the middle of a small sitting area. Wyn gestures for me to have a seat on one of the iron benches.

“This is a replica of my grandmother’s old house,” he says quietly, sitting on the next bench over.

“Mama Beti’s?”

Wyn nods. “She and her family left Havana just before the Revolution in ’59. Mama Beti was fifteen. They had to leave everything behind. And then they never got to go back.”

Shame washes over me. “That was her bedroom,” I say. I don’t have to ask, I know I’m right.

“Yes.”

“Has she been here yet? Has she seen it?”

Wyn shakes his head. “Not yet. She hasn’t had the frequency procedure.”

I look down at the ground, unable to look him in the eye. I am an idiot. “I’ll help you rebuild her room, Wyn, as soon as we get out of here. I promise.”

“It’s okay, the repairs shouldn’t be too difficult once we’re out,” he says, looking down at his hands. “Besides, it’s not an exact replica. I don’t have much to work with other than Mama Beti’s memories and a few old photographs.”

“Does she know you’re doing this?”

“She knows I’m up to something because I ask her questions constantly. But I still think she’ll be surprised. I hope she likes it.”

I stare into his eyes, hoping to relay the depth of my words. “It’s beautiful here, Wyn. How could she not be thrilled to see her childhood home again?” I stop then, remembering Mama Beti’s metal walker. “How will that work? I thought only healthy people could get the MEEP piercing . . . heck, there are kids at my school who aren’t allowed to get pierced because they’re on allergy medication.”

Wyn smiles, and I’m glad to see his face look happy again. “That’s the truly amazing part. My father has some medical scientists in Belgium working on a special frequency for her. If all goes well, she’ll be one of the first disabled people to ‘walk’ in the MEEP. And it’s not just Mama Beti . . . these researchers are working on technologies that would eventually allow people with all sorts of physical limitations to experience a healthy body in the MEEP. Not only will the lame will be able to walk, but the blind will be able to see. Old people can feel young again.”

“Wow,” I say, sitting back onto the bench. “I had no idea your dad was involved in that kind of research.”

“He keeps it all pretty top secret . . . doesn’t want to let the cat out of the bag until all the tests have been done, all the questions answered.”

I was stunned. Maybe Diego Salvador wasn’t such a bad guy after all. “And here I thought the MEEP was just one big money grab . . . no offense.”

“Actually, my father spends a lot of his profits from the gaming