by Brandon Mull
All eyes were on Mrs. White. “If I had evidence, I would share it. All I have is knowledge and experience. I could tell you stories about this man, but I have no tangible proof to show you.”
“Can we see the note on the back of the watch face?” Summer asked.
“Now you doubt that?” Mrs. White asked. “You found the teleidoscope right where the note described!”
“Can we see the note?” Summer repeated.
“If there is no trust in this relationship, perhaps you should turn in your candy,” Mrs. White said.
“My dad says people who insist that you trust them usually don’t deserve it,” Summer said. “You don’t need to give me more candy, but I earned the candy that I have. Everything you’ve had us do so far has seemed shady, and this new assignment is the shadiest yet. I just don’t trust you.” Summer looked at her three friends. “Any of you guys coming with me?”
“I am,” Pigeon said. “You probably have good intentions, Mrs. White, and your candy is amazing and fun, but I’m not cut out for this sort of stuff. I don’t have all my candy with me, but I can bring it back if you want.”
“Summer has a point, you earned the candy that you have,” Mrs. White conceded. “You can keep your share, as long as you use it in secret, and stay out of the treasure hunt. How about you, Nate? Trevor?”
Nate cleared his throat. “I’ll keep working for you,” he said.
“Me too,” Trevor agreed. “Sorry, Summer.”
“It’s okay, you guys can do whatever you want.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I better go. Come on, Pidge.” They started walking away.
“Are you certain?” Mrs. White asked. Summer and Pigeon paused, listening. “There is no coming back if you walk away now. You’ll miss many of my most amazing candies. You haven’t even seen Creature Crackers!”
“We’re sure,” Pigeon said. He and Summer passed through the batwing doors to the front of the store. She continued holding back the tears.
“You were really brave in there,” Pigeon said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Was I?” she said, her voice catching. “Or was I a chicken?”
They stepped out into the rain.
“It’s hard to stand up to somebody like Mrs. White,” Pigeon said. “I wanted to before the graveyard mission, but I didn’t have the guts. I wanted to again this time, but who knows if I would have without you.”
“Well, the adventure is over for us,” she said. “No more treasure hunt, no more candy.”
“I think I’ve had enough treasure hunting,” Pigeon said. “We can still have some fun with the candy we have left.”
They hurried across the rain-glossed asphalt of Greenway.
“I hope Nate and Trevor know what they’re doing,” Summer said.
“I sort of doubt it,” Pigeon sighed.
*****
Nate felt bad as he watched Summer go. She had looked truly hurt when he and Trevor chose not to side with her. He wished he could explain. What Summer had asked of Mrs. White had sounded really reasonable to him. Mrs. White’s evasive responses had made him even more suspicious of her. Which meant it was even more important to keep working for her until he figured out what she was really doing.
“Shame they didn’t want to trust us,” Mrs. White said, shaking her head. “You boys sure you don’t want to follow them out?”
“I’m sure,” Nate said.
Trevor nodded.
Mrs. White narrowed her eyes. “I could tell you two were made of tougher stuff than those others. As we close in on our goal, things will be heating up. I need to know I can rely on you boys to the bitter end.”
“You can,” Trevor promised.
“Very well,” Mrs. White said. “The man whose mind we must erase is a magician like me, but has lived here in town a bit longer. His name is Sebastian Stott.”
“Mr. Stott, the ice cream man?” Trevor blurted.
“The very same,” Mrs. White said. “You may have noticed him out on his route again. He would do anything to lay his hands on the treasure we are seeking.”
“But he’s so nice!” Trevor exclaimed.
Mrs. White shook her head knowingly. “Believe me, he’ll be a lot nicer if we let him start over with a new memory.”
Trevor looked to Nate. Using the table to shield the action, Nate nudged Trevor with his foot. Whatever they ended up actually doing, they had to play along for now.
“Will the Clean Slate work on a magician?” Nate asked.
“It will work on anyone unless forced upon them,” Mrs. White said.
“So, what’s the plan?” Nate asked.
“Sneaking into his home will require some ingenuity,” Mrs. White said. “We magicians lay down protective spells to guard our abodes. But I know a way to bypass his defenses, an arcane technique that he would never expect. Mirror walking.”
“What’s that?” Trevor asked.
“Most of those who still know of this secret believe it has been lost over the passage of time.” Mrs. White held up a tiny blue mint. “Put this in your mouth, bite down hard, and for a moment you will be able to step through a looking glass into the space inhabited by reflections.”
“Like Alice in Wonderland?” Nate asked.
“Not like Alice,” Mrs. White said. “You will become a living reflection capable of dwelling in the darkness that unites all reflected space. No walls exist in the void between mirrors, no substance except floors. The feat of magic that either discovered or created this space is nothing I can take credit for. But I do know how to access it. You can pass through the blackness from one mirror to another, and gain entry to forbidden places.”
“Weird,” Trevor said. “That’s how you want us to get into Mr. Stott’s house?”
“I have done some investigating, and I know he has a mirror large enough. None suspect that this secret art endures. You’ll need only take a mirror near his house, climb inside, pass through his walls in the darkness, enter his bathroom through the mirror, deposit the Clean Slate in his milk or his juice, and then exit through the mirror.”
“Once we’re in, can’t we just go out the door?” Nate asked.
“Open no window or door,” Mrs. White warned. “Do not explore his home. Go from the bathroom to the kitchen and back.”
“What if he finds us?” Trevor asked.
“Don’t let him find you,” Mrs. White said. “If he does, run away. If you’re caught, play dumb. But be careful and you won’t get caught. Strike late Friday or Saturday. Be sure the house is dark. Or I suppose you could sneak in during the day if you’re sure he’s off driving his route. I’ll leave the timing up to you. Each Mirror Mint gets one person through one mirror. You’ll pass through a mirror to get into the darkness of the reflected world, and through another to get out. Should you get stuck in the reflected world without a mint, you could become trapped for all eternity.”
“Eventually we’d die,” Nate said.
Mrs. White shook her head. “Not true. You would stop aging, no longer require food or air, and persist as a living reflection until the last mirror in the universe was destroyed.”
“So be careful with the mints,” Trevor said.
“Most careful,” Mrs. White agreed, handing each of them four. “Two for each of you to get into his house, and two to get out. I imagine you’ll want to stay together, although it might be wiser to enter solo, leaving the other guarding the mirror outside.”
“Together is better,” Trevor said. “It would be too freaky alone. We’ll hide the outside mirror.”
“Who wants to take charge of the Clean Slate?” she asked, holding up the gray cube.
Nate accepted it. “How do we find our way if the mirror world is dark?” he asked.
“The mirrors are all you can see in the blackness,” Mrs. White said. “You can peer out of them like windows. But no light shines in through them. It can be disorienting—with no walls, you can see mirrors a long ways off.” From under the tab
le Mrs. White lifted a large oval mirror in a frame. “This should be large enough for you to fit through. The closer you place it to Mr. Stott’s house, the closer you will be to his bathroom mirror. I suggest you set up really close to minimize the distance you’ll have to traverse in the dark.”
“Can we get in through a window?” Nate asked. “Windows sometimes have reflections.”
“Most reflections in windows or water are too faint to connect to the mirror realm,” Mrs. White explained.
“Should we use Melting Pot Mixers?” Trevor asked.
“The Mixers will do you no good if Mr. Stott catches you,” Mrs. White said. “Your only option on this mission is to avoid getting apprehended.”
“Where does Mr. Stott live?” Trevor asked.
“1512 Limerick Court,” she said. “Just off Greenway, between here and your school.”
“Do you have blueprints of his house?” Nate asked.
“No need,” Mrs. White said. “Go through the big mirror in his guest bathroom. Don’t confuse it with the small mirror in the bathroom adjoining his bedroom. The guest bathroom opens onto a hall. Walking away from the bedroom doors, pass through the living room and into the kitchen. I’ll wrap up this mirror so you can take it now. Any other questions?”
Nate and Trevor looked at each other. Nate shrugged.
“I think we’ve got it,” Trevor said.
“One more thing,” Mrs. White said. “Until our treasure hunt concludes, I would prefer that you limit your exposure to Summer and Pigeon. Put those friendships on hold for a week or two. All right?”
Nate and Trevor nodded.
“Good boys.”
Chapter Ten
Ice Cream Man
Heather Poulson passed a folded note to Nate, not even bothering to be sneaky about it. Miss Doulin stood at the front of the room reading aloud from a textbook, having obviously not prepared an actual lesson. Seeing his name printed in blue ink, Nate unfolded the torn slip of lined paper and read the single question it posed:
You don’t actually trust her, do you?
Nate looked at Summer in her desk near the front on the far side of the room. She did not look back at him. They had not talked all morning. He had caught her once giving him a sad, pensive stare.
Tearing part of a page from his notebook and uncapping his black pen, Nate wrote:
I’m not an idiot. Trust me. (Even though I have no proof ha-ha)
He folded the paper, wrote “Summer” on it, and handed it to Heather. The note traveled to the corner of the room where Summer sat. She scanned the message, shook her head, tore a fresh piece of paper, and began writing. Her reply was passed to Nate and he opened it.
I do trust you, you’re my friend, no joke. I’m worried about you. The candy is fun, but that lady is hiding something. I think she’s dangerous. Don’t you?
This note was on a larger piece of paper, leaving space for him to reply. When he started writing, he noticed that his script appeared small and cramped compared to her loopier style.
Of course she’s dangerous! I only stayed so I could keep an eye on her a little longer. She doesn’t want us hanging out with you and Pigeon anymore. We’ll have to meet in secret. I don’t even think we should eat lunch together—she seems to have some way of knowing things. Trevor and I have some surprising info. I don’t want to write it down.
He crossed out his name as the addressee, wrote hers, and sent the folded paper back to Summer. After she read his words, she gave him a look to ask, “Then what do we do?”
Nate leaned over to Heather. “Hey, Heather, trade seats with Summer.”
“I’ll get busted,” she whispered.
“I don’t think Miss Doulin will care,” Nate said.
“She might.”
“Never mind,” Nate said. He got up and walked across the back of the classroom, then up the row to Summer’s desk. Miss Doulin continued to read aloud. He squatted beside Summer. “She wants us to erase Mr. Stott’s memory,” he whispered.
“The ice cream man?” Summer sounded shocked.
“She says he’s a magician like her.”
“What are you going to do?”
“We’re not going to do it,” Nate said. “We’ve agreed on that much already. We’re still trying to decide our next move.”
“Go talk to Mr. Stott,” Summer said. “Spill your guts and see what he has to say. Maybe he can help.”
“Or maybe he really is worse than she is,” Nate said.
“Even if he is a bad guy, he’ll be glad you brought the info to him,” Summer said. “He can at least help you figure out what the heck is really going on. If you’re not going to use the Clean Slate on him, you can’t keep working for Mrs. White. And she may not take it well if you quit now. You’ll probably need help dealing with her.”
“I guess talking to Stott is the only real option,” Nate admitted. “We can’t just do nothing.”
“You might be able to try quitting like me and Pigeon,” Summer considered. “Just return all the candy and walk away. But with what she told you about Mr. Stott, you may know too much.”
“Plus if we quit and try to pretend like none of this happened, we won’t be able to learn any more info,” he said. “I have to find out what is going on. Mr. Stott lives at 1512 Limerick Court, just off Greenway on the way home. If you want to come, meet us there tonight at eleven.”
“I’ll be there. Mr. Stott has been driving that truck around since I can remember. He’s always acted genuinely nice. I bet he’s one of the good guys.”
“I hope so,” Nate said, glancing at Miss Doulin, who continued reading from the textbook. “One more strange thing. Yesterday evening, after Trevor and I left Sweet Tooth, I had my mom drive me to the cemetery. I told her it was a follow-up visit for my project, but really I wanted to pick up the Forty-niner.”
“Was he there?”
“Yeah, that wasn’t the strange part. While we were nearby, I took a look at Margaret Spencer’s grave. It looked untouched, with grass over it and everything.”
“No,” Summer said.
“I’m serious. And I don’t mean maybe all the rain somehow made it look a little better. The grave looked untouched. Somebody covered our tracks for us, maybe with magic, maybe with gardening, I don’t know. My guess is Mrs. White did it. But weird, huh?”
“Very weird.”
“See you tonight.”
Nate headed back to his seat, winking at Pigeon.
“Nate?” Miss Doulin asked. “What are you doing?”
He looked over at her, a little surprised that the teacher had glanced up from her reading and noticed him crossing the room. “Can I use the rest room?” Nate asked.
“Um, sure, go ahead.” Miss Doulin returned her gaze to the textbook. “Where were we? Ah, yes.” She started reading aloud again.
*****
The house at 1512 Limerick Court was a boxy, one-story home made of wood and white brick. A small detached garage stood at the end of the short driveway. Quirky items cluttered the yard: a sculpture made of bicycle wheels, an inflatable Elvis, an aluminum totem pole, a miniature windmill with rotating sails, a giant ceramic boot with flowers sprouting out the top, along with other more conventional eccentricities like wind chimes, bird feeders, lawn gnomes, and pink flamingos. A low chain-link fence enclosed the front yard, with a gate providing access to the brick walkway that led to the porch.
As Nate and Trevor straddled their bikes in front of the gate, only one of the house’s large, rectangular windows was illuminated—a window at the right end of the squat structure, with the blinds closed. The asphalt under their tires was almost dry. The rain had tapered off during the day. Patches of stars peeked through the clouds overhead.
“Think Summer and Pigeon will show?” Trevor asked.
“Summer at least,” Nate said.
“I don’t like standing here on the street,” Trevor said. “Somebody might see us.”
Nate inclined his head towa
rd the door. “Should we go knock?”
“We don’t need to all enter together,” Trevor said, reaching to open the gate.
“You have those Frost Bites ready just in case?” Nate asked.
Trevor nodded. “You have the Shock Bits?”
“Yep,” Nate said. “Think he might have a dog?”
Trevor rattled the gate gently and whistled. No animal responded. “All clear,” Trevor said, opening the gate and wheeling his bike through. They left their bikes propped against the inside of the low fence and walked to the front door. Artificial turf blanketed the porch. A terra-cotta Buddha sat near the door, along with a painted statue of a cheetah. Nate pulled open the screen door and knocked. When the house remained quiet, Trevor pressed the lighted doorbell. They heard it chime a few notes from “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head.”
