by P. J. Night
“Is that why Mrs. Templeton looks so sad in the picture?” asked Jane.
“Exactly,” said Willow. “Mrs. Templeton never got over the shock of her family’s death. She dressed all in black until the end of her life. But some of her friends persuaded her that the best way to honor the memory of her husband and daughters was to make a contribution to the city in their name. She decided to donate the funds to start a world-class natural history and art museum. That’s why this is called the Templeton Memorial Museum.”
The girls stared at the portrait for a few seconds until Megan broke the silence. “I hate thinking that this whole museum was built to honor some dead girls. It’s like we’re walking on their graves!”
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” Willow said. “But this way, Blanche Templeton was able to help generations of children who came after her. Anyway, now that you know who started this museum, let’s take a peek behind the scenes before dinner. We’re going to show you an exhibit that won’t be open to the public for another week.”
“But we’re allowed to go in, right?” asked Megan instantly.
Willow gave a little sigh. “Yes, Megan,” she said. “We’re allowed to go in.”
“I don’t think I want to go in,” said Megan a few minutes later.
The girls and the two leaders were standing in front of a huge sign that read:
INSECTS: EARTH’S MOST SUCCESSFUL LIFE FORM
TEN QUINTILLION AND COUNTING!
(AND DON’T GET US STARTED ON THE SPIDERS.)
“In case you’re wondering, ten quintillion has nineteen zeros,” said Willow. “Nineteen. For every human being on Earth today, there are more than two hundred million insects. Of course we’re not going to see all of them in this exhibit,” she added. (A few of the girls laughed politely.) “Just some of the highlights. We’re going to start with the Butterfly Pavilion.”
To get into the Butterfly Pavilion, the group had to pass through two doors. The leaders wouldn’t open the second door until all the girls had come through the first one. “We have to make absolutely sure that none of the butterflies escape into the main museum,” said Willow. When the first door had clicked shut behind them, the girls found themselves packed into a small chamber in front of the second door.
“The Butterfly Pavilion is very warm,” Katherine told them. “Butterflies and moths like it that way, but it may be a little much for some of you. You’ll be more comfortable if you leave your sweaters and sweatshirts in here.”
“Hurry up, though,” Megan added. “Because it feels as if there’s not enough air in this tiny room. I think we’re using up the oxygen too fast.”
Cailyn groaned. “Megan, do you really think the museum would build an exhibit that didn’t have enough oxygen?”
“I know, but there are so many of us and—”
Before Megan could finish, Katherine had pulled open the heavy door into the Butterfly Pavilion. And it was so beautiful in there that even Megan stopped worrying for a while.
The first thing they noticed was that the space was filled with flowers. Dozens of different kinds bloomed along the pathways and climbed up the walls. There were flowering trees, too, and a mossy stream with a little waterfall was bubbling along through the middle of the room. And so many butterflies were flying through the air, sipping nectar from flowers and resting on branches, that Jane could hardly believe the scene was real.
“You probably already know that most butterflies and moths live on nectar,” Willow explained. “That’s why we have all the flowers in here. But some of them eat tree sap and pollen. Some of them eat manure—”
“Gross!” a girl shrieked.
“And most of them love salty minerals. Like the dissolved minerals in puddles or the salt on your skin when you sweat. Hold up a finger—like this—and see what happens!”
When the girls copied her, butterflies landed on the hands of at least half of them. One even came to rest on Lucy’s nose.
“That’s a tiger swallowtail,” said Katherine. “Tiger swallowtails like pink flowers the best, but I guess they’ll take noses when they get the chance.”
“I only wish phones were allowed so I could take a picture,” Lucy said to Jane a few minutes later as they wandered down one of the paths.
“I wish it was a teeny bit cooler,” said Jane. “I think I’m sweaty enough to attract all the butterflies in here. Oh, hi, Daria,” she added as she and Lucy turned a corner.
Daria had been bending over to examine a tiny moth inside a lily. Now she stood up slowly. She looked amazingly cool, Jane thought—not a bead of sweat anywhere. She hadn’t even unzipped her sweatshirt.
“Aren’t you roasting?” Lucy asked her.
“I like it this way,” said Daria. She lifted her hand gracefully into the air. A second later, a moth Jane hadn’t seen before began flapping toward them.
“Look at that moth! It’s huge!” Jane said. “Daria, I think it’s heading right for your hand!”
The moth did seem to be especially interested in Daria. Several other girls had noticed it by now. They were waving their own hands in the air to try to lure it over. But it kept slowly flying straight toward Daria.
Lucy called down the path to Katherine, who was showing some of the girls her insect guide. “Katherine, can you come and tell us what kind this one is?”
“Glad to,” Katherine called back. “Wow, that’s a whopper of a moth,” she said when she caught up to them. “I hope it’s in the guidebook. They say this book has all the butterflies and moths in the exhibit, but I haven’t seen anything like this one.” She flipped quickly through the pages. “Moths . . . brown . . . large . . . okay, here we are. That is a—hang on . . .”
As Katherine was talking, the moth landed in the center of Daria’s upraised palm. Slowly Daria lowered her hand, and everyone clustered around to see.
“It’s kind of weird-looking,” said Grace. She sounded disappointed. “Look how fat its body is. Kind of like a cigar.”
“Moths have thicker bodies than butterflies do,” said Willow, who had just joined the group. “And their bodies have fur, or anyway it looks like fur.”
“Do moths always have a mark on their fur that looks like a skull, like this one?” asked Megan. She shuddered. “Creepy!”
“That’s not a skull,” said Lucy. Then she leaned forward to take a closer look at the moth. “Wait. It does kind of look like a skull, actually.”
It did. Between the moth’s wings—where its shoulders would have been if moths had shoulders—was the clear outline of a human skull. Eyes and all.
“Katherine, have you found this guy in the book yet?” said Willow.
“Yes, I have,” said Katherine, not very cheerfully. She held up the page for them all to see.
“It’s called a death’s-head hawk moth,” she told them.
“Ugh! What a horrible name!” Daria gave her hand a disgusted shake. To Jane’s amazement, the moth let out a piercing squeak as it tumbled off. Then it flapped slowly into the air, still squeaking.
“Death’s-head hawk moths can squeak, as I guess you can see,” Katherine said. “They’re the only kind of moth we know of that can make any kind of sound! Isn’t that interesting?”
“I guess,” said Lucy. “But maybe we should go see some different bugs.”
“Sure!” said Katherine. She looked down at the information pamphlet she’d picked up earlier. “There’s an exhibit called ‘Fly, oh My,’ about houseflies—”
“No houseflies,” Jane, Lucy, Megan, and about ten other girls said at once.
“Fine, fine. What about ‘Do Bees Have Knees?’ ”
“I guess,” said Jane.
“Sure,” Lucy agreed. “As long as it’s actually an exhibit about bees and not, like, how insects’ legs work.”
“It’s definitely a bee exhibit,” Katherine answered. “I think the curators were just looking for something to rhyme with ‘bees.’ And ‘Do Bees Have Fleas?’ wouldn’
t have sounded too good.”
Megan wasn’t sure about the bee idea.
“Bees may not have knees, but they do have stingers,” she pointed out. “What if one of us is allergic to bee stings? Like, what if I am? I could die!”
Katherine looked as if she was trying not to laugh. “Megan, I’m pretty sure the bees aren’t flying around loose. But shall we take a vote? Who’d like to go to the bee exhibit next?”
Almost everyone raised her hand.
“Bees it is,” said Katherine.
The bee exhibit had a huge flat observation hive along one wall. It was covered with a sheet of clear plastic so thick and secure-looking that even Megan walked up close to check it out.
“There are twenty thousand worker bees in this hive,” Willow told them. “And I think you can see where we got the expression ‘as busy as bees’ from. The hive has one queen, whose only job is to lay eggs all day. But the worker bees have all kinds of stuff to do, starting with making all these six-sided cells out of beeswax.”
“What is beeswax, exactly?” asked Grace. “It’s not made from bees, is it?”
“No, no,” said Katherine. “Beeswax is made by bees. The worker bees kind of—what’s a good way to put this? They kind of sweat the wax out through their stomachs. Then they collect it and use it to build all those cells.”
She pointed at one corner of the hive. “That’s the nursery. When the queen lays an egg, the workers bring it to a cell over here to hatch. See how there’s a tiny egg inside each cell? And then over here is all the honey, of course.” Thousands of beeswax cells were dripping with honey in the center of the hive. “The foraging workers go out and collect nectar that they make into honey.”
“How do they get out to find nectar?” asked Jane.
“Oh, they’re not trapped in that hive! It has pipes in the ceiling that lead outside. So the bees can come and go.”
“But what if the bees sneak out of the pipes?” asked Megan. She was looking worriedly up at the ceiling. “Because I think some of them might want to.”
“No, no,” Willow answered. “The museum was very careful when they installed the hive.”
Megan tried again. “I know, but if there was a storm or something, some of the pipes that lead outside could get loose.”
“The museum was very careful about that, too.” Now Willow sounded a little impatient. “I’m sure they planned for storms.”
“But Willow, look up there!”
Everyone’s eyes followed Megan’s pointing finger. And everyone saw that this time, at least, she was right to worry. A line of bees was crawling along the ceiling. As they watched, one of the bees rose into the air and slowly began to fly around the room. Then another, and a third.
“That’s not part of the exhibit, is it?” said Megan in a wavering voice.
“Hmmm.” Willow glanced over at Katherine. The other leader looked toward the exit in a meaningful way.
“I think,” said Willow, “that it’s time to see another part of the museum. Let’s calmly and quietly go and get our—No, Megan! Stay calm, I said!”
But it was too late. Megan was racing for the door.
“I just got stung!” she screeched. “Bee attack! Bee attack!”
Her panic was contagious. The whole pack of girls thundered after her. Behind them, Willow was yelling, “Girls, slow down! Go in single file! Calmly!”
It was only a second or two before everyone was out of the bee exhibit and back in the hall, including the leaders. Jane noticed that both Katherine and Willow were panting as if they too had been running hard.
Katherine smoothed her hair and took a deep breath.
“That was stupid of all of us,” she said. “The bees weren’t chasing us. They were just flying around.”
“Well, they’re not supposed to be flying around,” snapped Daria. “That’s the whole point of keeping them behind glass.”
Katherine didn’t acknowledge her comment.
“And what about my bee sting?” whimpered Megan. “I might be about to have an allergic reaction!”
“Oh, my. Let’s take a look at that sting,” said Katherine.
Megan stuck her arm out for inspection. “It’s right there. Right on my elbow. See the swelling? Oh, I can’t stand the sight of it.” To prove her point, she shut her eyes.
Katherine looked closely at Megan’s elbow. Finally, she said, “It’s not swollen. I don’t even see a mark.”
Megan’s eyes popped open. “Yes, you do! Look!” She jammed her elbow closer to Katherine’s eyes.
“I really don’t see anything there, Megan. Are you sure you got stung?”
“It just looks like a regular elbow. It’s not even scraped,” Lucy added.
“You imagined it,” Daria said coldly.
“I did not imagine it! I felt the bee’s little legs crawling on me! Then it stung me over and over!”
Megan’s face was turning red from embarrassment and anger. She opened her mouth to say more, but Katherine cut her off. “In any case, it’s a good thing the exhibit isn’t open to the public yet. Willow and I will be sure to let the museum officials know about this tomorrow so they can make repairs.”
“And right now I think it’s time for some dinner,” said Willow. “Why don’t we head to the restaurant? If we notice anything interesting along the way, we can always stop to take a look.”
“Want to look at ‘Insect Predators’?” Willow asked hopefully a minute or so later, pointing at a room guarded by the huge model of a praying mantis.
No one wanted to meet any insect predators.
“What about ‘Ladybugs and Other Beetles’?” suggested Katherine when they passed the next gallery. “Or ‘Insect-Eating Plants’?”
“Or what about ‘Humans Eating Dinner’?” said Lucy’s friend Grace. And the rest of the group agreed.
After a few minutes of walking, Jane suddenly felt something in her shoe. She stopped and leaned up against the wall so she could take the shoe off and shake it. Nothing came out. Jane pressed her foot to the ground and realized that whatever the thing was, it was in her sock.
She sighed with irritation and bent over to pull her sock off. When she turned it inside out, a tiny stone flew out.
That was a relief—but now the group of girls had rounded a corner and disappeared from view. Jane pulled her sock and shoe back on and jogged down the long corridor after them.
At the end of the corridor, she paused. Which way had they gone? She couldn’t hear them. Should she yell to see where they were?
I can’t start yelling for them, she decided. It would be too embarrassing. She would just turn left and see what happened.
It was dumb to be worried, Jane knew. There was no way the group could have gotten so far ahead that she’d lost them. Still, she found herself walking faster and faster. Willow had been right—the place really was like a maze. And Jane had done the one thing Willow had warned against. She’d gone off by herself. Well, not exactly gone off, but . . .
Okay, going left wasn’t going to work. She’d have to retrace her steps. Jane turned around.
And from out of nowhere, a monster lunged toward her.
CHAPTER 3
Jane was just opening her mouth to scream when the monster reached up and lifted its face off . . . and there stood Lucy, holding a huge rubber mask and doubling over with laughter.
“You—you—,” Jane sputtered. “Where did you get that thing?”
“I grabbed it out of the housefly exhibit when we passed it,” said Lucy offhandedly. “I think it’s supposed to show you what life looks like to a fly. Try it on!”
“No way! Go put it back!”
“I’ll put it back after you try it on,” said Lucy. “Fly eyes are cool. Really, try it!”
Reluctantly Jane pulled the mask over her head. When she looked through the eyes, she realized what Lucy had meant. It was like looking at the world through dozens of prisms, and all the colors seemed different somehow. But she
couldn’t appreciate the view when she knew she wasn’t supposed to be seeing it.
“All right, fine. Very interesting,” Jane said as she yanked off the rubber mask. “Now take it back where it belongs.”
Lucy sighed. “Alllllll riiiiiiight. If you say so. Wait here for me, okay? Then we can catch up with the others. I know the way to the restaurant.”
No one seemed to have noticed that they’d been missing for a few minutes. The rest of the girls were passing a huge replica of a spider when Jane and Lucy caught up.
“Let’s stop here for one second,” said Willow. “We really shouldn’t leave without at least looking at some of the spiders.”
There were loud sighs from the girls, but Willow and Katherine were firm. “We’ll just look at the first room of the exhibit,” said Katherine. “For five minutes only.”
The theme of the first room was ‘Webs, Nets, and Parachutes—Amazing Spider Silk!’ Jane was glad spiders didn’t scare her, because some of the webs in the exhibit really were amazing. There was even a polyester replica of a very big and very strong spider web—forty feet across. “From the Darwin’s bark spider in Madagascar,” Katherine told them. “In the wild, some of the webs are eighty feet long. That’s as long as two school buses!” Jane was especially interested in the trapdoor spider. Trapdoor spiders, she learned, dug tiny, perfect burrows. They lined them with silk and then used the silk to attach a hinged door to cover the burrow’s hole. They also raised their globe-shaped spiderlings in the tunnel, feeding them leftover insects.
“The babies are actually kind of cute,” Jane marveled as she stared into the glass case holding an actual trapdoor spider.
“So small, too,” said Lucy. “They’re the size of a cake sprinkle!”
Daria was peering over Lucy’s shoulder to see. “I just heard someone say that you’re never farther than seven feet away from a spider,” she reported. “No matter where you are—inside, outside, underground . . .”
