The League of Unexceptional Children--The Kids Who Knew Too Little
Page 10
“Never underestimate the power of the underestimated,” Jonathan said with a smile as they pushed the wheelbarrow out of the shed and into the garden.
Shrieks similar to those Jonathan and Shelley had heard from a hyena on a nature program filled the yard. Long gone were the monotone chants of “Occulta potentia in umbra.” The Order was now at war, and as such, released sounds that one might describe as hair-raising, as in they actually raised the hair on the back of Jonathan’s and Shelley’s necks.
Through the trees and shadows of the night came flashes of red.
“Hurry, Johno!” Shelley pleaded as Jonathan and Carl stacked a bag of fertilizer atop the wheelbarrow, then an old wooden crate, and finally a terra-cotta planter. It was wobbly and unsafe, but it was their only shot.
“You ready, Shells?”
“I was born ready.… Well, not for this… but for other things, like being rich and famous.…” Shelley trailed off as she wrapped old rope around her arm and then slowly started up the makeshift structure.
“They’re getting closer.… Hurry, dear girl, hurry,” Harold pleaded as Shelley mounted the bag of fertilizer, then the crate, and finally the terra-cotta pot. Standing uneasily at the top, she placed her hands on the mossy green wall, her fingers just shy of the top. Palms sweating, heart pounding, Shelley lifted her heels until she was standing on her tiptoes.
“I can’t reach,” Shelley whimpered as the shrieks of the Meriums echoed through the night.
“Just a little higher, Shells; you’ve just about got it.”
“They’re almost here!!” Harold said.
You can do this, Shelley Brown, she told herself. You’re an unexceptional, which is to say, you’re actually kind of special. You come through where others fail. You may not be smart or popular or athletic, but somehow, someway, you always manage to pull off the impossible.
“I got it,” Shelley said as she slowly pulled herself up to the top of the wall. Looking out over the garden, she saw the Order swarming like locusts, desperate to find them.
“Drop the rope,” Jonathan called out.
Shelley dropped the rope, waited for Jonathan to grab one end, and then, holding the other end, she rappelled down the wall.
Once down, she secured the rope to a tree and waited. Next over was Carl, then Harold. And though she felt relief to see them, she also felt panic—terror, actually. Would Jonathan make it in time? She needed him. His family needed him. The world needed him—whether they knew it or not.
“Johno! Hurry! Please hurry!” Shelley cried.
“I’m trying,” Jonathan called out as he saw a masked figure running toward him. Jonathan was empty, both physically and mentally, and he had a twenty-eight-pound book strapped to his back. Why hadn’t he made Carl or Harold carry it? he thought. Bad planning, that’s why! Why couldn’t he have a good plan just this once, one that was easy, one that went smoothly. But of course, life wasn’t smooth, and espionage was definitely never smooth.
Pulling himself up the wall using the rope, Jonathan watched the masked figure get closer and closer. He wasn’t high enough up the wall; the figure could still reach him.
“Occulta potentia in umbra,” the figure chanted, grabbing hold of Jonathan’s foot.
“No!!!!” Jonathan screamed as he felt himself slipping down the rope.
Harder and harder the figure pulled while Jonathan fruitlessly tried to escape. This is it, Jonathan thought, you’re not going to make it.
“Johno!!!!” Shelley’s voice carried over the wall.
The figure turned and looked up, momentarily distracted by Shelley, giving Jonathan a sliver of a window to pull back his foot and kick the figure in the face. As the masked person dropped to the ground, Jonathan’s adrenaline surged, fueling him up the rope to the top of the wall. But once at the top, Jonathan realized he wouldn’t be able to rappel down using the rope, for there was no longer any weight on the inside wall to hold him.
“How am I going to get down?” Jonathan called to Shelley, Harold, and Carl below.
“Throw the book first, then jump—we’ll catch you,” Harold offered.
And so Jonathan threw the twenty-eight-pound book to the ground and then closed his eyes and jumped. He had imagined the three of them catching him softly with their arms.
“Ahhh!” Shelley screamed as Jonathan landed atop her, spraining her ankle and breaking her wrist.
It wasn’t a perfect landing. It was actually a rather imperfect landing. But it worked, and in the end, that’s all that mattered.
NOVEMBER 4, 9:03 A.M. THE WHITE HOUSE. WASHINGTON, DC
“Can you believe this is actually happening?” Shelley asked Jonathan as they waited inside the White House, President Arons outside in the Rose Garden with Harold, the black book, and pretty much every reporter in the country.
“I’m just happy my parents are back home,” Jonathan responded.
The Murrays had been released following the verification of Glenda’s letter and the black book. Not that Carmen and Mickey had any idea who had orchestrated the whole thing. Jonathan thought it better they find out along with the rest of the world. (Full disclosure: The Murrays considered being on television the ultimate sign of success.)
Shelley smiled. “We’re about to be famous… super-famous.… From now on, people are going to remember us.… They might even call us by our correct names.”
“No more Jerry and Sally or Sue and Jeffrey,” Jonathan added.
“Yeah,” Shelley agreed.
“But also, no more League…” Jonathan muttered.
“What do you mean?” Shelley replied.
“It’s kind of hard to be a spy when you’re famous.”
Shelley paused. She hadn’t thought of that. She had just assumed that they would keep working for Hammett and the League of Unexceptional Children. Everything would be the same, only the world would know that they were special. They were somebodies.
“I’ve spent my whole life with this feeling that I’m not who I’m supposed to be, that the life I wanted was impossible… so I made up stories, I told lies… anything just to escape that feeling for a second.…”
Jonathan nodded.
“Because the feeling’s so heavy, it’s like a weight, always there to bring me back to reality… and reality’s never been much fun. But then again, it’s hard to have fun when your only friend can’t speak or even breathe air.”
Jonathan tilted his head. “I don’t follow.”
“Zelda the goldfish.”
“Well, at least you had Zelda. That’s one more friend than I ever had.”
Shelley started tearing up.
“Shells, please don’t cry, because then I’ll cry, and then we’ll be known as the crying spies… and that’s not the kind of international nickname I want for us.”
Shelley’s tears came faster and heavier.
“What is it? I’ve never seen you like this before,” Jonathan said as he dabbed Shelley’s cheeks with a tissue.
“I’m crying for the girl I used to be… the girl who thought she was a nobody.”
“But not anymore, Shells! In a couple of minutes the whole world is going to know who we are! Our parents! Our classmates! Strangers! Everyone!”
“Yeah!” Shelley said excitedly. “Maybe they’ll build a statue in our honor! And everyone will have to bow when they pass by!”
“I’m not so sure about that.… It feels a little dictator-ish,” Jonathan replied.
Shelley shrugged. “You might be right.”
“We don’t need a statue. Our names are going down in history!”
“But we’ll lose this… we’ll lose the League,” Shelley added.
“Yes,” Jonathan said. “But you’ll get what you’ve always wanted. You’ll be recognized for who you are.”
“What about you? Isn’t that what you want too?”
“I used to think so, but it turns out all I really wanted was a friend.” Jonathan smiled shyly. “And now I have one.�
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Shelley pointed to the door to the Rose Garden. “So you’re doing this for me?”
“That’s what friends do. They help each other realize their dreams.”
“What if it’s not my dream anymore? What if I’m happy just being Shelley Brown, international lady of espionage?”
Jonathan smiled. “But no one will know that. To the outside world, you’ll still be boring old Shelley Brown.”
“Yeah,” Shelley mumbled, peering over her glasses at Jonathan. “But when it comes to Shelley Brown, whose opinion could possibly matter more than Shelley Brown’s? And I know that I’m awesome.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Jonathan said. “But are you sure you want walk away from all that? I know how much you want to be famous.”
“As the saying goes, fame can’t buy you happiness, but money can buy you groceries, which you can use to feed your best friend after a long day of spying and really, what’s better than that?”
“Nothing,” Jonathan agreed as the two turned away from the door to the Rose Garden, leaving the president, reporters, and international acclaim behind.
“Come on,” Shelley said as she looped her arm through Jonathan’s, “let’s get back to headquarters.…”
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