by B. B. Alston
We dash over to an agent standing next to a small table. The lady looks us over. “Very good. You two have officially completed all the clues and earned invitations to the finale. However, I must say that I find it extremely odd that the times this year were so much faster than in previous years. I’m more than a little suspicious. Did either of you hear anything about this tryout that might have given you an advantage? Cheating will not be tolerated.”
Dylan and I look at one another. We did hear something. It’s how we knew to study Ins and Outs. Now that we’ve been caught, it makes me wonder how we ever thought we’d get away with it. These guys conduct investigations for a living.
I can’t believe I ruined Quinton’s legacy like this. It’s bad enough that Quinton’s little sister is a cheater. I won’t make it worse by lying.
The agent smiles. “It’s good to know that you didn’t cheat—”
“Wait,” I say. “We did hear something.”
Dylan starts at my words, but then he drops his head. “It’s my fault. I heard the tryout was based on Bureau knowledge and I told Amari about it.”
“But I didn’t tell him to report it. And I definitely studied my brains out to be ready.”
The agent crosses her arms, frowning. “I’m disappointed in both of you. To have elite badges and choose to cheat is a disgrace. I’m sorry to say this but . . . congratulations, you’ve officially passed the second tryout. You’ve shown the integrity and honest character befitting a future agent of the Department of Supernatural Investigations.”
It takes a few seconds to sink in. “You’re saying we passed? Even though we cheated?”
The lady chuckles. “We leaked that information on purpose. This was not only a test of how well you decipher clues but, more importantly, a test of whether you are honest when it is most difficult to be honest. Supernaturals must be able to trust you. As must your fellow agents.”
She hands us each an invitation from beneath the table and Dylan and I laugh all the way back to the elevators.
“We did it,” says Dylan. “We really made it to the finale.”
I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. “We’ve still got a chance to bring them home.”
“They’d be proud of us,” says Dylan.
I can’t get my words out so I simply nod, tears running down my cheeks.
Dylan takes my hand and for a long time we just stand like that.
26
THAT NIGHT, ALL THE REMAINING JUNIOR AGENT TRAINees are called to the lobby of the Department of Supernatural Investigations. Only six of us show up. Other than me and Dylan, there’s Josh Adams and Brian Li, and then two of Lara’s followers, Zoe Wisniewski and Madison Klein.
Lara and Kirsten aren’t here.
I overhear Madison telling Brian Li that Lara and Kirsten were actually the first to complete all the clues but didn’t fess up to getting inside information. When they told Lara she failed, she threw an epic temper tantrum so bad she may not be allowed to try out again next year if Agent Fiona has anything to say about it. Seeing as there are supposed to be eight trainees left, I guess Lara and Kirsten weren’t the only ones who were disqualified.
It might be the reason Agent Magnus pulled Dylan aside for a quick talk. If his sister really did fail the tryout, then he’s probably feeling bad about teaming up with me.
Agent Fiona lifts up her hands as she enters the lobby. “Congratulations! The six of ye have proven to be the best. But now’s no time to be resting on your laurels. There’s only seven days between now and the finale. What’s your reward for getting this far? Well, I’m giving ye all your freedom. Ye can spend the next week however you’d like. Remember, the finale will test your supernatural world knowledge, your dueling skills with Sky Sprints and Stun Sticks, and your control over your supernatural ability. Spend this next week tightening up your skills in whatever areas you’re weakest. The four of ye who score the best in these three areas will earn your Junior Agent badges and be assigned a Senior Agent or Special Agent to mentor ye for the last month of the summer session. You’ll get to go out into the world and see what agenting is all about!”
Madison’s hand goes up.
“Yes?”
She turns and points to me. “I don’t think it’s fair that the rest of us have to demonstrate our supernatural ability and she gets to skip it.”
Agent Fiona glances in my direction. “We haven’t decided yet how we’re handling Amari’s situation.”
“I heard she used a spell during her tryout,” says Brian Li. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“Amari got permission from her chaperone,” answers Agent Fiona. “And while we aren’t thrilled about it, our rules were to consult the chaperones for guidance on what’s allowed.”
“Seems like special treatment to me,” Brian Li shoots back. “I say she should be disqualified and Lara should be let back in.” The others nod in agreement.
“It’s a good thing it’s not up to ye, isn’t it? You’re all dismissed.”
The others turn and head for the elevators, and both Zoe and Madison shoot me angry looks. I want to ask Dylan more about his sister, but before I get the chance, he follows Agent Fiona into the department.
As much as I don’t like Lara’s stuck-up friends, they aren’t wrong. It really isn’t fair that I get to skip one section of the finale.
I do have things I could demonstrate for them. I’ve been practicing my illusions for weeks. But would they ever let me show off my magic?
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many people in the food court at one time,” I say as Elsie sits down at a table with me.
Even though there are a lot fewer trainees than we started with at the beginning of summer, the place is packed with tutors and coaches of all kinds. For every kid, there are like five adults helping them to prepare for the finale—all retired Bureau employees. It’s easy to see why Junior Agent spots go to legacy kids. Even if you manage to get through the first two tryouts, how are you supposed to compete with kids who have a whole team around them?
Elsie frowns. “It’s like their parents are buying them a spot in the Bureau. But that’s how it’s always been.”
“At least you don’t have much to worry about,” I say.
And it’s true. Elsie did great on her second tryout. The Junior Researcher trainees had to sit in a locked room and solve seven puzzles. The last puzzle held the key that opened the door. The first sixteen kids who opened the door got an invite to their finale. Elsie finished them all in fifteen minutes flat and was the first to claim her invite.
“Neither do you,” Elsie says. “I know you’ll make Junior Agent.”
Dylan plops down at our table.
“Sorry about Lara.” I haven’t been able to talk to Dylan since we found out his sister failed the tryout. Elsie and I still haven’t told him about the whole Key Holder thing. Even now, it’s kind of hard to bring up.
“Yeah,” Dylan says. “She’s pretty mad. And Dad agrees with her that it’s my fault for not choosing her as my partner.”
As much as Lara and I don’t get along, I still feel a spike of guilt. She’s Dylan’s sister after all.
Dylan starts to say something more but laughter drowns out his words as Lara and a group of her friends surround our table. Lara’s holding a laptop.
“Let’s see here,” says Lara. “Amari Peters, recipient of the Jefferson Academy Scholarship for the Disadvantaged. Oh, how sad.”
“Leave her alone,” says Dylan.
“Leave her alone?” repeats Lara, glaring at her brother. “But I’m just getting started.” She leans in closer to the screen. “It seems you can take the girl out of the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto out of the girl. Look at all these discipline referrals!”
“Where did you get that?” I’m so mad I’m trembling.
Lara looks to me, then her brother. “Daddy left his computer laying around. Seems like he wanted to know all about his future juvenile delinqu
ent superstar.”
Dylan stands up and snatches the computer away from Lara. “Back off.”
“How dare you!” shrieks Lara. She grabs Dylan’s plate of spaghetti and tries to dump it over his head.
“Stop!” I shout.
And it does stop. A shimmering illusion of me appears, and she catches the plate of spaghetti in midair. She turns to look at me over her shoulder and winks.
Gasps sound from the crowd of kids gathered around us. I stare at my outstretched hand. Did I really just do that? I decide to test it out. With a flick of my fingers, the illusion pushes the plate of spaghetti right into Lara’s face.
Whoa.
Kids all around the food court point and laugh. My illusion vanishes and Elsie scrambles around the table to where I’m standing.
Lara snarls. “You are so dead.”
I swallow. But I’m not running away anymore. “Mess with me or my friends again and next time it’ll be worse.”
Lara freezes, her expression suddenly unsure. She has no way of knowing what my magic is capable of—not after what I just did. I’ll bet taking me on isn’t a risk she’s willing to take with so many kids watching.
I take Elsie’s hand and head to the elevators. Dylan stays behind to calm his sister.
Once we’re inside, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Um, Amari?” Elsie stares at me, visibly confused. “That thing with the spaghetti—I didn’t know your illusions could do that.”
I look down at my hands in wonder. “Me neither.”
There are three reasons I never get tired of our library. First, it’s just so cool-looking. Everything is made up of books—the floors, the ceilings, even the pillars between the bookcases. You can type in your book title at the computer catalog and get directions like Three paces to the left and look down or Pillar closest to fern, climb up halfway. The second reason is that there’s just so many interesting things to read about, even aside from what I need to learn to become a Junior Agent.
The third reason is Mrs. Belle, the librarian. She has this knack for knowing what you’d like to read, just by looking at you. It’s really helpful whenever I get burned out from studying the not-so-fun books from our booklist. I don’t care what anyone says, there’s a reason Supernatural Laws and Regulations comes with a pillow on the cover.
When I arrive at the counter, I’m glad to see that Mrs. Belle is here. Most of the other librarians aren’t as nice. They either back away from the counter and talk to me from like ten feet away or they suddenly get busy doing something else and ignore me completely.
Mrs. Belle adjusts her thick glasses and grins. “Another old news magazine from the archives, hun?”
“Not this time,” I say. “Any chance there’s something new about Quinton that might’ve come in?”
“Just got a shipment of gossip magazines this morning. Sure, they might use less than reputable sources, but some of your best information comes from less than reputable sources. You remember that when you become a big-shot agent, you hear?”
I laugh but Elsie rolls her eyes. “A true researcher is a champion of facts, not make-believe. There’s a reason they’re shelved on the fiction side of the library.”
Mrs. Belle chuckles. “Well, if you change your mind and get a hankerin’ for a little make-believe, the computer catalog for the fiction section is right over there.”
I ignore Elsie’s protests and head straight over. What could it hurt? We’ve already read nearly everything else about Quinton. I type in Quinton Peters and a list pops up onscreen.
One headline catches my eye.
“Rumors and Whisperings: Famed Agent Kept Secrets.”
“Elsie, come look at this. What do you think?”
“I think we can do better,” she says, walking over. Then she reads the headline and her eyes widen. “I’ve heard of Rumors and Whisperings! The housekeepers swear by it. Maybe we should be thorough . . .”
We both grin.
The computer says it’s located right above us, and sure enough, when I look up, the magazine drops from the ceiling and glides right into my arms. A thrill of excitement shoots through me.
Elsie and I dash to the study hall at the opposite end of the library. Once we find an empty room, I take a seat at the desk and Elsie pulls up an extra chair.
I flip the magazine open. There are only two pages—a table of contents followed by a blank page. The table of contents reads:
Things aren’t so rosy as Madame Duboise accused of stealing from rival
Great Wall of China mysteriously grows an extra ten meters overnight. Again!
Dwarves insulted by Merlin’s insinuation that golden city is merely gold-plated
Newly elected US President faints at first Supernatural Affairs briefing
Rogue carnivorous thunderclouds threaten air travel in South Pacific
Famed Special Agent kept secrets potentially locked away forever
“There has to be some kind of trick to it,” says Elsie. We turn the magazine sideways, then upside down. We even shut off the lights to see if the words might glow in the dark.
“How in the world does this thing work?” I say, annoyed.
“Gotta ask me a question,” comes a low, deep voice.
Elsie and I just stare. The magazine just spoke. You’d think we’d be used to this sort of thing by now.
“Let’s do a test run,” says Elsie. “What can you tell me about Madame Duboise stealing from a rival?”
Madame Duboise’s pale green face and flowing rose petal locks suddenly appear on the blank page. Beside it is a much younger face, white petals jutting out of her bright yellow scalp like a daisy. “Psst, listen up,” comes a heavy whisper. “Things got heated at an EverTree fashion show after both Madame Duboise and former understudy Vivi LaBoom both unveiled nearly identical lines of translucent apparel for ghostly spirits. LaBoom, who has long held that she was the real force behind Duboise’s recent resurgence in popularity before being unceremoniously fired, has accused Duboise of having a spy within her design circle. Duboise calls the accusations ‘ridiculous,’ saying LaBoom was fired for being a ‘LaBum.’ Curious, then, that both were spotted laughing it up at Duboise’s sprawling woodland estate. Publicity stunt, anyone? Course, you didn’t hear it from us. . . .”
Elsie bounces in her chair. “Scandalous!”
Grinning, I flip to the contents and then back to the blank page. “Tell me about the Special Agent keeping secrets.”
“That’s not a question,” the magazine clucks. “Mind your manners.”
“Fine,” I say. “Can you please tell me about the Special Agent keeping secrets?”
“Why certainly,” the magazine replies. An image of Agent Magnus appears on the page.
“Psst, listen up. Special Agent Quinton Peters is known for his heroics as one half of the famed agent team VanQuish. The pair went missing under highly suspicious circumstances about which the Bureau has remained extremely tight-lipped. But maybe they’re seeking to protect his legacy more than anything. It’s customary for an agent to create a Farewell Briefcase to be delivered to a loved one in the event of a tragedy, and it was touching indeed that Quinton Peters chose to use his briefcase to offer Amari Peters a place at the Bureau. But one has to wonder, why then would an agent of reputable stature need a second Farewell Briefcase? What secrets did the golden boy need to hide so badly that he’d send it to old Magnus for safekeeping? If the conditions for opening the briefcase are never met, perhaps we’ll never know. Course, you didn’t hear it from us . . .”
I slam the magazine shut and hop out of my chair, heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” Elsie asks.
“To find out more.”
I give Agent Magnus’s door a good hard knock.
“Are you sure we should bother him this late?” asks Elsie for the fifth time.
“I have to know,” I say.
On my second knock, I hear movement inside.
; Magnus opens the door just a crack. “Whaddya want?”
“I know you’ve got my brother’s second Farewell Briefcase,” I say.
Agent Magnus opens the door a little more. “And where’d you hear that?”
“Rumors and Whisperings.”
“Blasted gossip rag,” Magnus groans. “Bane of my existence.”
“Well?” I say. “Do you?”
“Come in and shut the door behind you.”
“Can my friend come in too?” I ask. “You’ve already met her and I’ll probably tell her everything anyway.”
“I’m really good at keeping secrets,” Elsie says, crossing her heart. “Promise.”
“Might as well,” says Magnus. “Apparently top-secret work is far from secret these days.”
The office looks like a tree exploded in here. Everything is made of wood. Wood paneling on the walls, a big wooden desk, and hardwood floors. He’s got a pair of longhorn steer horns above his desk and lots of pictures of him and other agents along the walls. There’s a really big photo with VanQuish on a shelf next to his medals.
Elsie and I take the two chairs in front of his desk.
“All right, so maybe I do have it,” he says. “What’s it to ya?”
“What’s in it?” I ask, leaning forward. “Why did my brother need another briefcase?”
“Here’s the thing about that,” he answers. “I don’t actually know what’s inside. I’ve got a guess, but I don’t know for sure.”
“You mean you haven’t opened it?” I ask.
“Wasn’t meant to be opened,” he says. “Quinton didn’t put anyone’s name on it. Just asked me to keep it hidden. Said whatever was inside was never meant to see the light of day.”
Elsie and I turn to look at one another.
Then I ask, “Do you think whatever’s inside could get him in trouble?”
“That’s a strange question.” Agent Magnus strokes his beard. “What do you know?”
I meet Elsie’s eyes again. If I tell the wrong person what we found . . .
