by P. J. Night
PROLOGUE
For centuries the girl had been asleep.
Asleep, tightly wrapped, in her close-fitting bed. Asleep, undisturbed, under tons of silent sand.
Asleep through turmoil and wars and famines on the Earth’s surface. Asleep when the mighty Nile flooded its banks, and asleep when decades of drought wiped out whole villages.
Civilizations had come and gone while she slept, and nothing had disturbed her dreamless sleep. She had slept through the early days of her tomb’s discovery. Through years of patient, careful digging as the sand above her was brushed away. She had slept as her sarcophagus was lifted into the glaring sunlight of an Egyptian day and carried away from its resting place.
And for the next hundred years she had slept in a dusty office in an Egyptian museum, visited by almost no one.
But now, in the darkness, she began to stir. Something was coming through to her. Sounds. Movement. Then the sense that she was in the wrong place. It was time to wake up.
In the darkness, the girl frowned.
CHAPTER 1
“I don’t want to go,” Jane whispered to herself. “I don’t want to go.”
Ahead of her the huge, cavernous lobby of the Templeton Memorial Museum was ringing with the clamor of fifty other girls Jane’s age. They were lined up in front of a long table, eagerly signing in for the Templeton Lock-In.
A poster on the wall above the tables blasted the neon-pink words: THRILL TO AN OVERNIGHT EXPERIENCE BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE MUSEUM! But from her place at the end of the line, Jane was not thrilled. Not at all. Not one bit.
“It will be good for you,” her mother had said to her that morning. “You need to socialize with more girls your own age.”
But what, Jane wondered, am I supposed to say to girls I’ve never seen before in my life? And how on Earth can I possibly spend an entire sleepover with them?
She cast a miserable glance around the lobby—a bustling hive of girls and their parents and all their random good-bye conversations.
“Dad, I don’t need an alarm clock! They’ll wake us up, I swear!” And “I don’t see your allergy pillow, honey. Where’s your allergy pillow?” And “Fine, then! I don’t want to hear another word about it!” And “No, Mommy, don’t hug me. Everyone will think I’m a baby.”
I’m just not anything like these girls, Jane thought. I can tell just by looking at them. Why, why did I have to—
“Are you here to register, dear?” came the friendly voice of a woman in front of her.
Jane jumped out of her thoughts. The line had been moving along without her noticing, and now she was standing right at the registration table.
“I guess so,” said Jane. Nervously she twisted a hank of her blond hair around one finger.
“Okay! What’s your name?”
“Jane Meunier.”
The woman glanced through a sheaf of papers and checked off Jane’s name. “Have you done a lock-in with us before, Jane?”
“No. We—I—uh—just moved here,” Jane stammered. “I don’t know anything about anything.”
The woman chuckled. “Well, then, you are in for a wonderful surprise. This is going to be the best night of your life! Now, where’s your sleeping bag?”
Jane pointed to a pile of blankets in her basket.
“Oh, no sleeping bag?” remarked the woman. “Did you bring a foam pad to put under your blankets? That floor can feel awfully hard.”
“Foam pad?” exclaimed Jane. “I’ve never heard of using a foam pad! Oh, I knew something was going to go wrong right away!”
“Don’t look so worried!” said the woman. “They’ve got extra foam mattresses in the Great Hall for people who need them. And you’ll have a wonderful time. The lock-in is one of our most popular events. There’s a huge waiting list every time.”
“She’s right. The lock-in is really, really fun.” This voice was coming from behind Jane. She turned around to see a girl—who had dark hair and brown eyes—smiling at her. “I’m so excited!” the girl continued. “I’ve been waiting to be old enough ever since my sister did a lock-in here three years ago. Hi, Mrs. Crawford,” she added. “I guess you know I’m here to register for the lock-in tonight.”
“Yes indeedy, Lucy,” said the woman at the table. “I’ve got your paperwork right here! Jane, this is Lucy Nasim. Lucy has attended every single Templeton Museum event in the history of the world.”
“That’s pretty much true,” said Lucy. “Pottery workshops, plant hunts in the park, Meet the Owls—you name it. I love this museum. I totally wish I lived here.”
Jane smiled shyly at Lucy. At this moment, she wasn’t exactly feeling the same way, but she could already tell that Lucy was really nice.
Mrs. Crawford handed each girl a name tag. “Lucy, this is Jane’s first time at the museum. Why don’t you take her to the Great Hall? The group leaders are already there. And help her get a foam mattress, okay?”
“Of course I will,” said Lucy, shouldering her backpack.
“And Lucy—none of your practical jokes tonight, okay?” Mrs. Crawford turned to Jane and said, “Lucy can be kind of a prankster. Don’t let her play any tricks.”
Lucy rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “I’ll try to be good. Let’s go, Jane. I know everything about this museum,” she added with a laugh as they began walking. “The Great Hall’s where we’re going to be sleeping. It’s down at the far end of the building. I think the museum people put it there because they like you to walk past some of their greatest hits on the way.”
“Greatest hits?”
“Oh, you know, like some of the most famous stuff. There’s a pearl the size of a baseball, for instance. And what some people think might have been King Arthur’s crown. And in there is the Hall of Mythology,” said Lucy. “It’s superpopular.”
Jane looked around at all the lifelike statues. Most of them were beautiful, but some were a bit creepy. Jane shuddered. In the center of the gallery, a marble boy was struggling to free himself from the tentacles of a massive marble sea serpent. Behind the sea serpent, Jane could see a wall mosaic of a ten-foot-tall woman who seemed to have snakes for hair. And next to the snake-haired woman, even taller, was a battered wooden statue of some kind of monster with not one, but three ferocious dog heads.
“Those myths can get pretty weird,” Lucy said cheerfully. “But I guess people like the exhibit—it’s always crowded.”
It was thinning out now that the museum was about to close. People were hurrying past the girls on their way toward the lobby, and as Jane and Lucy passed the next exhibit hall, its lights blinked off. Glancing back, Jane realized that the mythology gallery was also dark now. For some reason, she didn’t like the thought of that sea serpent and the snake-haired woman standing silent and motionless in a darkened room.
“Ta-da! Here’s the Great Hall!” Lucy exclaimed.
The Great Hall was a huge round chamber with a vaulted ceiling so high above the girls’ heads that Jane wasn’t sure she could actually see the top. As they walked in, Jane noticed that the hall had four identical entryways spaced at equal intervals, like the directions on a compass. She and Lucy were passing through the south entrance. It had an old-looking map of the South Pole over the door, but that was the only thing that distinguished it from the other three entrances.
“I always go in through this door,” said Lucy. “I love Antarctica.”
But Jane wasn’t paying attention. She was staring into the Great Hall, which was now a hive of excited girls. Some were laying out their sleeping bags and arranging pillows on top of them. Some were studying the murals lining the curved walls. Some were standing around chatting in groups of three or four. And all of them were shouting at the top of their lungs—or that’s how it seemed t
o Jane.
“There’s Lucy! Loooocy! LOOOOCEEEEEYYY!” someone screamed, and a girl with curly red hair and round blue eyes raced up to them.
“I was beginning to wonder when you were going to get here,” the girl said, panting. She looked over at Jane. “Hey, who’s this?”
“This is Jane. It’s her first time here,” Lucy answered. “Jane, this is Cailyn. She goes to school with me.”
Cailyn tossed Jane a quick smile and instantly launched into a long description of her summer. “And then we went to the Silver Islands and I learned how to water ski and almost broke my leg, but it turned out to be a sprain, but I think a sprain hurts even more, and then I went to camp for two weeks and I got the most horrible sunburn you ever saw, and then my brother and I went to my aunt’s farm in Danville . . .”
“Lucy! I’ve missed you so much!” Another girl had just rushed up, and two others followed her. Is everyone here a friend of Lucy’s? Jane wondered. Within a couple of minutes, she and Lucy were surrounded by a cluster of excited girls.
About twenty conversations seemed to be going on at once. Jane did her best to keep up. All these girls seemed pretty nice, she realized. Probably kids who wanted to spend a night in a museum were interesting and fun.
There was one girl in the group, Megan, who seemed to be even more nervous than Jane. “These floors are awfully slippery,” she told Jane earnestly right after they’d been introduced. “We’re going to have to walk very carefully. I made sure to wear shoes that have a lot of traction.”
So yes, it was probably safe to say that Megan was scared too. Also, Jane reminded herself, she couldn’t be the only shy person in a group of fifty girls. What about that girl hanging back at the outer edge of the group, for instance? The one with the straight dark hair and the sour expression? She looked sort of scared, sort of stuck up, and sort of, well, angry, Jane decided. But what was there to be mad about?
Abruptly the girl seemed to realize that Jane was looking at her. She glared back at Jane, her eyes narrowed.
Jane felt bad for being rude. She gave the girl an embarrassed smile.
But the girl didn’t smile back. If anything, she seemed to get even angrier.
I dare you to speak to me, her look was conveying. I dare you.
CHAPTER 2
Jane nudged Lucy. “Do you know that girl back there?” she whispered.
“I don’t think so, but she looks lonely,” Lucy remarked.
Jane was working up the courage to disagree with her new acquaintance, but before she had a chance, Lucy was calling the angry girl over. Head held high, the girl strode into the center of the group.
“My name is Daria,” she said stiffly.
“Hi, Daria!” said Lucy brightly. “I’m Lucy, and this is Jane, and this is Cailyn, and this is Grace, and this is—”
“That is way too many names,” Daria interrupted.
Lucy paused. “You’re right,” she said, smiling gamely. “You’ll learn all our names by the end of the night anyway. Why bother learning them all at once?”
Daria did not return the smile.
“So, um . . . are you from around here?” Lucy asked, trying to engage the girl.
“No,” said Daria.
There was another pause.
“Well, that’s—nice,” Lucy said uncertainly. “Jane’s new here too. Right, Jane?”
“Uh—yes. Hi, Daria, I’m Jane.”
“I heard Lucy say your name. You don’t have to tell it to me again,” was Daria’s reply.
Well, nice to meet you, too! Jane was tempted to retort sarcastically, but luckily a deep gong clanged through the Great Hall before she could. Everyone turned to see two women standing in the center of the room. One was athletic and energetic looking, with a halo of short auburn curls. The other was taller and had straight black hair that fell to her waist in a shining sheet.
“Could everyone come here and sit down?” the auburn-haired woman called.
Without a word, Daria turned her back on Jane and Lucy and walked toward the two women.
“Ugh, she is awful!” Jane whispered to Lucy as they crossed the room after her.
“Maybe she’s just shy,” Lucy murmured back. “Let’s give her a chance.”
But Jane knew what shy looked like, and she was pretty sure that shyness wasn’t Daria’s problem. More like stuck-up, she thought.
When the girls were all assembled, the leaders introduced themselves.
“Hello. I’m Willow.”
“And I’m Katherine,” said the woman with long black hair. “Willow and I are college students in art history, and we’re going to be in charge of you guys for the night. Before we start this evening’s tour, I’m going to tell you some cool stuff about the museum. Then Willow’s going to give you the boring stuff about the rules. That won’t be your favorite part of the night, but bear with her.”
The Templeton Memorial Museum was a century old, Katherine told the girls, and it had some of the greatest collections of art, history, and science in the world. The girls at the lock-in would tour some of the most famous exhibits and get a peek behind the scenes as well. They’d be served dinner and breakfast in the museum restaurant. “They have great food,” Katherine reassured everyone.
She continued, “One of the museum’s trustees—a member of the Templeton family—came up with the idea for these lock-ins about ten years ago. He wanted to make the museum even more interesting for kids. We think most of the kids in the city would agree that he succeeded. The museum holds these lock-ins once a month for middle-school and high school kids, alternating between sessions for boys and girls. There’s always a waiting list.”
Megan, the ultranervous girl, raised her hand. “Why are they called lock-ins? It makes us sound like prisoners!”
“They’re called lock-ins because . . .” Katherine dropped her voice to a hollow, mysterious moan. “No one can get out and no one can get in.”
Megan gave a frightened gasp.
“Just for your own safety, of course,” Katherine finished with a chuckle. “We don’t want anyone wandering off, and we certainly don’t want anyone from outside to wander into the museum.”
“Wander into the museum?” echoed Megan in a panicky voice. “Has that happened before? Who wandered in? Did any of the exhibits get stolen? Why weren’t the burglar alarms working? Did anything else bad happen?”
“No one has ever wandered in,” Katherine answered hastily. “That was just a figure of speech! We’re going to have lots of fun tonight, but—well, I guess this is a good time for Willow to talk about the rules.”
Now the auburn-haired woman stepped forward. “We’re sure you’re a responsible bunch,” she began. “All the same, there are a few rules we must ask you to keep in mind.”
“They always ‘ask’ you to keep rules in mind,” Lucy muttered to her friends. “What they really mean is, they’re telling you to obey them a hundred percent.”
“The most important rule is, don’t separate from the group. This is a big, big building, and it’s very easy to get lost. Do not go anywhere by yourself,” said Willow.
“I know this museum very well,” Daria added for seemingly no reason. “I couldn’t get lost.”
Jane rolled her eyes. Daria probably just thought she was better than everyone else.
Willow went on as if she hadn’t heard. “The other very important rule is not to leave the Great Hall once we come back here after the tour and dinner. In other words, lights out means no leaving and wandering around. There are night guards posted throughout the museum. On lock-in nights, they help keep an eye on our guests. But as you can imagine, that’s not their main job. Please obey the lights-out rule so the guards can watch the exhibits and not you!” Willow was smiling, but she sounded as if she meant it.
“What if we have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and everyone else is asleep?” asked Megan. That was one question Jane was glad to hear. She’d been wondering the same thing.
<
br /> Katherine pointed to a far corner of the room. “There is a bathroom over there. You will all use that one.”
But Megan wasn’t done asking questions. “And what if there’s some kind of emergency and we have to go home?”
“This is my fifth time doing this and no one has ever had to leave in the middle of the night,” Katherine assured her. “But on the off chance that happens, then wake up one of us. Wake up Willow, for instance,” she added, laughing.
Willow didn’t seem to think that was so funny. “The point is, no walking around the halls by yourself,” she said. “This museum has a complicated floor plan. The ground floor, especially. It’s practically like a maze. So no wandering off, or you may never be seen again.”
Before Megan had a chance to start worrying again, Katherine spoke up. “Willow is just joking,” she said soothingly. “Don’t worry, girls. We’re here to look after you. We’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”
When the leaders led the girls out of the Great Hall, Jane noticed that Megan stayed very close to Katherine.
Jane couldn’t help smiling to herself. Of course she’d been a little on edge at the beginning, but it definitely made her feel better to see someone who was a hundred times more nervous than she was.
“We always begin our tour with a look at Blanche Templeton. None of us would be here if it hadn’t been for her,” said Willow a few minutes later.
Just beyond the lobby was a huge portrait in an ornate gilded frame. It showed a pale, sad-looking woman dressed all in black. Even the handkerchief she was clutching was black-edged. A little mahogany table stood next to her. On it were four miniature portraits with a newspaper next to them. Across the top of the newspaper was a banner headline: TITANIC SINKS ON MAIDEN VOYAGE; HUNDREDS LOST AT SEA.
“Why did the artist put in that newspaper?” asked Lucy. “It’s a strange thing to have in a painting.”
“Well, Mrs. Templeton and her husband, Arthur, were an important couple in the city,” Willow said. “They gave money to all kinds of good causes, especially educational ones. The Templetons had three daughters. In April of 1912, Mr. Templeton brought the girls to England for a special treat—a trip on the Titanic. When the ship hit that iceberg, Mr. Templeton and the three girls lost their lives. Their bodies were never recovered.”
