After breakfast, Ivy and I sat in the living room playing checkers.

"I thought it was so funny Mrs. White called you Charlie Junior!" my sister
commented.

"Takes one to know one, huh, Kaitlyn the Second?" It was a rhetorical
question. I continued. "I can't believe you don't see it, sis. You act just
like Mom!"

"Little bro, let's go over this," she flippantly retorted."See these ears?
Nothing like Mom's. Look at my hair- ditto. My cheeks, my nose. Completely
different. Bottom line is...I am nothing like my mother! So, so.......so
there!"

I suddenly had a memory flash. An argument Mom and Dad had years ago about
some stock. Mom had said, "Charles, let's go over again, shall we?" Then she
listed a bunch of reasons about how well the investment was. She ended with,
"Bottom line is that this was a profitable investment. So, so.......so there!"

I burst out laughing. "Yeah, right, Ivy. You and Mom even argue alike!"

Ivy picked up a couch cushion. "Cork it, Zackary!" She began to chase me
around the room, like when we were little kids. It felt like old times.

"Okay, truce!" I finally said.

Oh, fine. I'll tell you about that vacation in Germany. We had taken a tour
around Berlin. Ivy and I had gotten separated from the tour group. We had an
argument over who was more responsible for getting lost. It was about six
years ago, but I can still recall what happened. I had had walked into a
pasty shop. I asked in German if anyone spoke English. None of the diners
did. A lot of the employees, however, were fluent. I ordered a plate, and
requested that if a tall, redheaded girl came in, speak nothing but German.

Sure enough, Ivy came in. She walked to my table and asked, "Will you
translate for me?"

"What?" I asked. "Do I know you, young lady?"

"Come. I will serve you," said one of the waiters in English.

This made her realize that it was a trick. She picked a pastry and bonked me
on the head with it.  I had sugar in my hair for hours.

Come to think of it, Mom and Dad bought a grandfather clock and brought it
back with us. For some time, it sat in the living room. But it stopped
working. I checked it once. All the gears and springs were in perfect working
order. It just seemed to have lost its will to tick. The clock has since been
moved to the hall closet.

The clock! "Ivy," I began. "Would you help me with something?"

"OK," she answered, looking a tad suspicious.

I threw open the closet door. The clock stood there. "Help me lift it."

We picked it up. "Oooh, this thing is heavy!" Ivy puffed. "Why are we doing
this anyway?"

"To remind us of better times." With this, we set the huge clock in its old
spot.

"It used to work and now it doesn't." Ivy mused. "Blimey. What irony."

The phone rang. Ivy answered. "Hello?" Something about the reply made her
face cloud over. "Is that you, Carmen Sandiego?"

Carmen? I slipped into the kitchen and picked up the extension.

"Listen to me. Your family is dysfunctional." I heard Carmen's voice say.

"How would you know?" was the answer.

It hit me. Remember the opera? I thought I had seen Carmen in the audience.
She must have seen us, too.

I heard crying on the other end. Then there was a click. Then another. I
sighed and hung up the phone.

Why had Carmen broken down? She doesn't have family herself, so she's spared
from this trap. But then again, she seemed really upset over that thing with
Malcolm Avalon. But that wasn't her fault.

Keeping that thought in check, I reentered the living room. "Who was that?"

"Wrong number," was the reply.

Ha. Say it with me: ha.

As I was saying, that situation gone wrong wasn't really Carmen's fault. Life
has its problems, and Carmen definitely gets her share.

Just then, Mom came in. She noticed our defunct timepiece. "Oh, the clock. I
was wondering if you would go to an ice show. I was supposed to skate in it,
but I could cancel-"

"No need," Ivy and I chimed together.

We all piled into Mom's car.

"Ivy?" I asked. "About the monthly ACME family parties-"

She smiled. "Mr. and Mrs. Arguella's tango segments are almost always the hit
of the evening."

"Has it ever occured to you that we've never brought our parents?"

"So?"

"Does that embarrass you?"

"What are you getting at, Zack?"

"I don't know." It was the most honest answer I could think of.

When we reached the rink, we took our seats. I scanned the crowd. I really
don't know why. Then I gave an audible yelp.

Sitting across the audience was the unmistakeable Carmen Sandiego.

To Be Continued......