He pounded on the door to the room, forgetting for a second that he had his card key in his back pocket. Ben arrived at the other side before he could fish it out. The poor guy looked the same as when Smiles had left hours ago, only with bed head and darker circles under his eyes. His army bag was slung over his shoulder, padlocked for safety, of course. The copious books inside made sharp angles against the green fabric. Ben looked like one of those ants that can miraculously carry fifty times their own body weight. “Dude, problem solved,” Smiles said. “What are you talking about?” “Where are you going? You’re not leaving or anything.” “No,” Ben said, a little testily. “You won’t let me. I was just going down to Starbucks.” “Excellent. So listen, I’ve got a plan. I’ll tell you on the way.” This crazy energy had been racing through him from the instant it hit him at the blackjack table.
