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“Who do you think he really is?”

Caleb is in our living room, looking at the card. I called him as soon as Mr. Kent left, and he biked right over.

After Caleb was a wuss and wouldn't call Isabel (even though I called her last time), I got her on the phone and she had her dad drive her over.

“I called the
Honolulu Star-Advertiser,
and of course they've never heard of anyone named Clark Kent,” Isabel says importantly.

“You called
the newspaper
? That's pretty— Wow.” I cannot imagine doing that in a million years.

Caleb snorts. “I could have told you that. I knew he was a phony from the beginning.”

“Then why didn't you say so?” Isabel responds, sitting on the couch. She folds her arms and glares at Caleb.

I decide now is the time to give them the news. “Guys, there's more. You aren't gonna believe this. I got into room 1405.”

“Whaaat?” Caleb's eyes widen and, in spite of himself, he sits down on the couch next to Isabel.

“But you said that was impossible!” Isabel exclaims.

“Well, maybe not
impossible,
” I reply, trying not to sound too smug.

“Details, details!” Caleb demands.

“I just started thinking of how I would manage this if it were a computer game, you know?” I begin.

I tell them everything, from “borrowing” my mom's stuff all the way until I came back home.

“So all I ended up with was this note,” I finish, showing them the small folded piece of paper in my hand.

“You're amazing!” marvels Caleb.

Isabel is gazing at me with a dazed expression. I can't believe how impressed she looks.

“You really did this,” Isabel says. “That's…that's…”

Oh, what a feeling. When Miss Know-It-All is so awestruck she's at a loss for words.

“That's the
stupidest,
most
irresponsible
thing I've ever heard!”

I have to admit I wasn't expecting this.

“But—” I try.

“But
nothing.
What if you'd been caught? Impersonating your mother, stealing her ID, damaging hospital property? Not only could you have gotten arrested, but your mother could have been fired as well!” Isabel is pacing now, shaking her head.

“But he
wasn't
caught,” argues Caleb.

Isabel is still fuming. “That was just luck! I mean, do whatever you want, but to put your mom's job in jeopardy like that…”

“It wasn't just luck,” I say firmly. “I knew exactly what I was doing, and the plan worked. I got in the room and got the remote.”

“How did you know?” demands Isabel. “To gamble your mother's job—”

Okay. That does it. It's time to let them know.

I go to my room and return with my laptop.

“I think you need to see this.”

“What is it?” asks Isabel.

“I was planning to show Caleb, but I want you to see it too.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over us as the laptop boots up.

Finally, I make my confession.

“It's…the truth. The truth about how I figured out about Great-Uncle Ted's apartment. And getting into the hospital. You both think I'm some sort of genius or something, but I'm not. I lied to you. Both of you. I didn't solve those puzzles on my own. I…had help.”

“What kind of help?
”
Caleb asks incredulously.

I take a breath and say, “I know it's going to sound crazy…but there's a game of my life online.”

Isabel and Caleb stare at me for a long moment. Finally, Caleb speaks.

“Right, Ted…and there's also a magical land where unicorns barf rainbows.”

“Look, I don't expect you to believe me,” I insist. “But that's how I was able to figure out the patterns in Great-Uncle Ted's apartment. And all the other stuff. I just let you think it was me being smart.”

Isabel looks concerned. “Ted, that's silly. You mean there was a game that was
like
your life—”

“No!” I'm shouting now. “It
is
my life. That's how I solved it. It wasn't me. I can't pretend it was anymore.”

I type “www.thegameofted.com” in the browser window and press the Enter button, then turn away.

I don't want to see my friends' faces when they're confronted with the truth.

Isabel and Caleb lean in and peer at the screen.

“This is pretty unbelievable,” Caleb says in a low voice.

“I never thought something like this existed,” agrees Isabel. “Never.”

“See? What did I tell you?” I cry.

Caleb and Isabel burst out laughing.

“You really had me going there, dude,” says Caleb.

I turn and look at the screen.

What I see is: a happy elderly couple waving at the camera, holding playing cards, surrounded by a frame of little hearts. Underneath is a quote: “Tom Mortimer and Barb Everdell—‘We met through TED! It was the best thing we ever did!' ”

Underneath them is a banner announcing: “The game of TED—Terrific Elder Dating! Finally, a place for singles in the prime of their lives!”

Then, in a blinking square in the corner: “Come to the American Legion Hall on Ventura Boulevard every Wednesday for Game Night! We have all your favorites! Bingo, canasta, mah-jongg! Meet eligible singles 65 and up in a fun, no-pressure atmosphere.”

“Thanks for showing us this. Looks like fun,” Isabel remarks.

“
And
no-pressure!” Caleb adds.

“Too bad there's that age limit thing…,” Isabel manages to get out before breaking into another spasm of giggles.

I stare at the screen in shock. “Must have typed in the address wrong,” I say.

There's one sure way to call up the page.

I pull up the history menu on my browser and note with satisfaction the address from the night before. Bingo!

The Game of Ted.
Confidently, I click on the link, and the home page loads in.

There are Tom and Barb, waving happily back at me.

I sit, frozen in place, staring at the image, willing it to change to the mysterious game that got me so far when I needed it, and is now making me look like an idiot in front of two people doing their best not to laugh in my face.

“Maybe you fell asleep and just
thought
you played the game. It was your unconscious mind working out the puzzles,” Isabel suggests.

“That makes sense, man,” Caleb says. “Either that or you were getting your advice from Tom and Barb.”

“You guys think I'm crazy!” I yell.

“We don't think you're crazy,” Isabel says, in that voice that you use when you think you might be talking to a crazy person.

“It's just that it should be there if you said it was, shouldn't it?” asks Caleb.

“I guess that's true,” I admit.

Now what?
Was
I dreaming? I close the laptop (bye, Tom and Barb) and stare at it. Great.

At least Isabel isn't mad anymore.

Now she just thinks I'm nuts.

“So…um…where's the key?” she asks gently.

“I told you. All that was there was this paper.”

I show them the three symbols.

“Those look so familiar,” Caleb says.

“Yeah, I know. I think I've seen them somewhere too,” I answer, grateful that we're talking about something else. “But I can't remember where.”

“It's Japanese. It is possible it came with the remote? You said it was a Sony. That's a Japanese company, right?” reasons Isabel.

“I don't think so,” I say firmly. “Mrs. Krausz said Great-Uncle Ted was always fiddling with the remote, so it would have fallen out then, and she said it hasn't worked right since he left. He definitely put something in there. But why this paper?”

There is the sound of a door opening behind us.

My mom pushes her way in, holding two bags of groceries. Caleb and I get up to help her.

“Mom! What are you doing here?” I ask as I place the bags on the kitchen table.

“I live here, remember?”

Ho ho. Mom humor, level one.

“I
told
you I was going shopping before work. Just like your father—you
never
listen. Why, hello, Isabel!”

My mom's tone turns from irritated to honey-sweet in a nanosecond as she sees the third person in her living room.

“Hello, Mrs. Gerson. It's always so good to see you,” says Isabel.

As my mom begins to put away the food, I casually pick up the piece of paper.

“Mom, there's something I found when I was going through Great-Uncle Ted's things that I wanted to ask you about.”

“As soon as I get this stuff sorted, Teddy,” Mom answers from inside the fridge.

Caleb and Isabel exchange grins as I stand by, handing my mom items as she calls for them. Finally, satisfied with the arrangement of her foodstuffs, Mom stands up, smiles, and turns to her oh-so-helpful son.

“Now, what did you find? Photos?” She turns to Isabel. “I hope he hasn't shown you any pictures of me from the seventies. It was a bad decade for hair and fashion. I even had a perm, for gosh sake!”

Isabel assures her I've done no such thing.

I hold out the paper. Mom looks and sighs.

“Oh, Teddy, why do you have to embarrass me in front of your friends? You know I don't read Japanese.”

“So it
is
Japanese.”

“Of course it is.” My mom turns to Isabel. “Uncle Ted was always trying to get me to learn it when I was a kid, but it seemed so hard, and I never had any need for it, really. The only thing he taught me that I remember is if you get a mosquito bite on your leg at the beach, you should rub sand on it.”

“I'm sorry?” Isabel says pleasantly, obviously thinking Mom is speaking gibberish.

My mom laughs. “It's a mnemonic. You know, a way of remembering something? That's how to remember how to count the first five numbers in Japanese. If you get a mosquito bite on your knee, it itches, and if you rub sand on it, the itch goes away. So…ichi ni san shi go…‘itchy knee sand, she go.' Get it?”

“Itchy knee sand, she go,” Isabel repeats, nodding. “That's pretty cool.”

“I only wish I'd learned more,” Mom groans. “My brother Peter picked up more Japanese than I did. But that was at least partially because of all those video games he played.”

Without warning, Caleb jumps to his feet. “Is the stuff from your great-uncle's apartment in your room?” he asks.

“Yes, but—” I reply, looking after Caleb as he dashes upstairs.

A moment later, he returns with a white cardboard box. It's the one we filled with the old video game cartridges and controllers from the store.

“We were wondering about these,” Caleb asks, bringing them over to my mom.

Her eyes light up when she sees them.

“Oh my gosh! Those were your uncle Peter's! He'd die if he knew you had them!”

“That explains why ‘Wakabayashi' is written on them in marker,” I jump in. “They weren't Great-Uncle Ted's—Uncle Peter's last name is also Wakabayashi.” Mom peers into the box. “But in all these years…you never mentioned Uncle Peter played video games,” I say. “As a matter of fact, you never want me to talk to him about them.”

Mom looks up at me. “It's…a sore subject. I remember when Uncle Ted took those away from him. That summer, Peter was a little older than you and worked part-time at the liquor store, helping out in the back, stocking the shelves. He even hooked this up to the TV Uncle Ted had in the storeroom. Uncle Ted got sick and tired of watching Peter doing nothing but playing these games, so he confiscated them. Peter stopped playing games right after that.”

“Uncle Peter is my mom's brother,” I explain to Isabel. “He's a really successful software engineer.”

“Then it makes sense he was an early gamer,” Caleb adds.