The Multiplying Mysteries of Mount Ten

by Krista Van Dolzer

  “Then we figured out the rest pretty easily,” Graham said.

  It felt like my brain was about to set itself on fire. I might have been a math nerd now, but their explanation just confirmed that they were on a different level. Not because Graham and Marshane were any smarter than I was, but because they’d put in the time to actually learn all this stuff.

  “The only thing I want to know is what the message really means.” I waited for lightning to strike, and just like that, it did. “The workroom must be the shed.”

  Graham exchanged a loaded look with Marshane. “It could be the shed,” he said.

  “Unless it’s the storage room.”

  I almost laughed in Marshane’s face. The workroom had to be the shed; that was the only explanation. But then the director glanced at us over her shoulder. She was halfway up the path that eventually led back to the lodge, so I grabbed the scrap of paper, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it into my pocket. There was still a decent chance she was our mass murderer.

  While Graham raced to catch up, I purposely hung back. I needed time to digest and space to let my brain wander, so I plodded along, mostly staring at nothing, until I realized that I was staring at something—and that that something was pink.

  Then the something moved.

  I blinked despite myself. There weren’t very many pink things in the natural world. A flower could have been pink, but it definitely couldn’t have moved. Before I could decide whether or not to chase the something, my feet were flying toward the woods.

  Director Verity whirled around. “Esther, where are you going?”

  I didn’t bother to reply, just plunged into the restless trees. If I’d really just seen what I thought I’d just seen, there was no time to lose. Angeline must have escaped, but she was lost or confused. A few days in the company of a mass murderer, and anyone would go crazy. It was my job to save her.

  Voices called after me, but I paid them no heed. If I stopped to explain, I might lose Angeline. I didn’t stop running until I was well out of sight, at which point I let myself pause to survey my surroundings (and swallow mouthfuls of air). The something was gone, but I’d kept my eyes on the spot. As long as I kept heading in that general direction, I’d find it eventually.

  I only had to cover ten yards before I saw it again through a gap in the bushes. I veered instinctively toward the something but also toward the footsteps that were hot on my heels. If Angeline stayed on this line, I might not catch up to her before they caught up to me.

  A boulder appeared in my path, but when I swerved to avoid it, I ended up smacking into a sapling instead. I bounced off the bendy trunk and hit the ground, hard, but I didn’t cry out, just lurched back to my feet. If Angeline didn’t slow down, I’d never be able to save her.

  I was about to give up when I spotted the something again—and this time, it didn’t move. Putting on a fresh burst of speed, I half hobbled, half sprinted toward that violent pink smudge. Branches scratched my cheeks and whipped into my eyes, but I just plowed ahead. It had definitely stopped.

  Just before I reached the something, I stumbled across a ravine, so I scrambled down one side, then scurried up the other. At the top of the next ridge, I finally laid eyes on it. But it wasn’t Angeline. It was a twisted-up sweater.

  I approached it warily, like it might rip my throat out at any second. But the sweater was just a sweater (though it was kind of dirty). I poked it with a stick, then tentatively picked it up. It had gotten tangled on a broken-off branch, so I had to unwind it. When it started unraveling, I winced despite myself.

  As far as sweaters went, it was a doozy. It looked more like a jacket than a sweater, but instead of a zipper, it had a row of bright pink buttons and a frothy lace edge. I’d never seen Angeline in this particular sweater, but it was her signature color. As I brushed off the dirt, I noticed the jagged tear in the sleeve.

  It was covered with blood.

  CHAPTER 22

  I was still gaping at the tear when some of the other math nerds reached me. Graham was the first one on the scene, but Marshane was hot on his heels. They took one look at the sweater and stumbled back a step.

  “Whoa,” was all Graham said.

  “Where did you find that?” Marshane asked.

  I motioned toward the broken branch. “It was hanging over there.”

  Marshane looked around. “Where did it come from?” he replied.

  I scowled. “Where do you think?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it shut again. We were still just standing there gaping when several more math nerds caught up. Munch planted both hands on his knees, and Federico emptied the contents of his stomach on an anthill.

  He wiped his mouth off. “Is it Angel—?”

  I cut him off with a stern look. Director Verity had arrived.

  “What’s going on here?” she demanded, looking back and forth between us. She’d been smart enough to wear a pair of flats, but she was still going to have to junk them. Also, her hair was coming out of its neat bun.

  I was tempted to hide the sweater, but that would only make things worse. “I’m sorry, Director Verity.” I lowered my gaze. “I just thought I saw … someone.”

  “Who would you expect to see out here?” Then she noticed the sweater. “Oh.”

  What kind of an answer was that? Maybe I’d been too cryptic. After drawing a deep breath, I held up the bloodied sweater. “I think it’s Angeline’s.”

  Director Verity paled, but before I could press her for details, she stuck out her chin. “How could it be Angeline’s?” she asked. “You know as well as I do that Angeline went home.”

  I opened my mouth to answer, then swiftly snapped it shut again. If she wanted to play dumb, I would just have to play dumber.

  Director Verity held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

  I licked my lips. If I gave it to her, I’d be sacrificing my best piece of evidence.

  Director Verity trembled. “I said, give it to me.”

  I snuck a peek at Graham, who nodded (barely). But when I glanced at Marshane, he just shook his head.

  “Esther,” she said grimly, “I won’t ask you again.” When I still hesitated, she pressed her lips into a line. “Please don’t make me call Mr. Renfro.”

  She couldn’t have hit me harder if she’d punched me in the stomach. There was only one reason to drag Toby into this hot mess, and that was to threaten him. Reluctantly, I gave her the sweater.

  She wadded it into a ball and tucked it under her arm. It all but disappeared into the folds of her blue blazer. “Now, I suggest that you get back on the trail.” She surveyed the math nerds. “All of you.”

  I wanted to stand up, stand out, but I couldn’t take risks with Toby’s life. When I leaped across the ravine and slowly trudged back to the path, the math nerds followed tiredly.

  When we emerged from the dense woods, we found the others waiting for us, some patiently, some less patiently. Ravi and Oliver wouldn’t look me in the eyes—Oliver must have told Ravi that I was a psycho—and Whistler was too busy whistling the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack to notice our return. Sighing, I shuffled past Munch—and felt another scrap of paper slide magically into my palm. As soon as Director Verity assumed her place up at the front, I unfolded it:

  Griffin and Harpy haven’t been to the top of Lookout Hill.

  While I’d been chasing ghosts, the killer had planted another clue.

  By the time I got back to my room, I was determined to solve the puzzle. I slipped off my shoes and folded myself into my bunk, tucking my legs up around me. I hadn’t been able to sit cross-legged since I’d hit my last growth spurt, but it was the thought that counted.

  I’d opened my sketchbook so many times in the past few days that I could find the right page by feel as much as by sight, so instead of focusing on the pages, I focused on the grid. I’d just added Archimedes’s name when the door crashed into the wall, admitting a blast of stagnant air. The page
s of my sketchbook shuddered as Brooklyn stomped into the room and let the door bang shut behind her. I didn’t try to say anything, but when she cracked the sliding door, admitting a blast of fresh air, I blurted, “What are you doing?”

  “Friends don’t let friends stink,” she said, “or go traipsing through the woods.”

  Somehow, I knew this was her way of trying to start a conversation. “I thought I saw someone,” I said.

  She shifted her weight onto one foot and stuck both hands on her hips. “When are you going to accept that Angeline went home?” she asked.

  I motioned toward the closet. “When her stuff Disapparates?”

  Brooklyn stalked across the room and pulled the door open with a jerk. Except for a pair of lonely hangers, the closet was completely empty.

  I scrambled to my feet. “Angeline’s duffel was right there!”

  “Admit it, Esther,” she replied. “You’ve lost touch with reality.”

  I crossed the room in three great strides and checked the closet for myself, but Angeline’s duffel was gone. It was well and truly gone (though I could still see its outline in the fine layer of dust).

  I slid slowly down the wall, landing on the floorboards with a thud. I wasn’t going crazy. Angeline had been kidnapped, and Toby had been kidnapped, too. The killer had left their stuff behind to lure me into his trap. He must have come back and retrieved Angeline’s duffel to keep messing with my head.

  Brooklyn sat down next to me. “I know what’s going on,” she said.

  I swallowed, hard. “You do?”

  She nodded solemnly. “Frankly, I’m appalled that the counselors haven’t picked up on your little murder mystery.”

  I dragged a hand under my nose. “Why haven’t you enlightened them?”

  “Because I knew you’d self-destruct.” She fiddled with her ponytail. “But maybe now I want to help.”

  “Then you admit that there’s a killer?”

  “I admit that you think there’s a killer.”

  “There is a killer,” I replied.

  “Then prove it,” Brooklyn said.

  I felt myself deflate. She must have known I couldn’t prove it, not without that bloody sweater. Not without the puzzle solved.

  Brooklyn huffed. “What do you need?”

  “To prove the killer’s real?” I asked.

  “No, to prove fairies exist.” When I just gawked at her, she hissed, “Yes, of course that’s what I meant!”

  I lowered my gaze. “I don’t know,” I admitted, sighing. “Maybe I’m not smart enough.”

  She pushed herself back to her feet. “If you’re just going to sulk, then I’m going to go to the bathroom.” And with that, she disappeared.

  After the door swung closed behind her, I crawled back over to my bunk. My sketchbook was still just sitting there, practically daring me to fail. There was a good chance that I would. That I’d fail dramatically. That I’d let Angeline and Toby down.

  But they needed me to try.

  After doodling some wolves to give myself time to calm down, I decided to just start from scratch. With a fresh pair of eyes, I considered each and every clue:

  1. Satyr and Minotaur share a cabin with two other monsters.

  2. Siren has a nickname.

  3. Hydra and Cyclops are involved in a not-so- secret fling.

  4. Centaur, Griffin, Unicorn, and Manticore share a cabin.

  5. Phoenix wears glasses.

  6. Unicorn’s nickname begins with the same letter as Manticore’s first name.

  7. Cyclops and Chimera share a cabin with no other monsters.

  8. Harpy is a girl.

  9. Minotaur’s first name begins with the same letter as Hydra’s last name.

  10. Griffin and Harpy haven’t been to the top of Lookout Hill.

  There was nothing to do but jump in with both feet and do it. Since the first clue made it clear that cabin assignments were important, I rearranged my list, starting with Ms. Gutierrez and Director Verity, then Mr. Sharp and Mr. Pearson, then the boys in Cabin Gamma (Munch, Marshane, Ravi, and Oliver), then the boys in Cabin Delta (Graham, Keith, Whistler, and Federico), then Brooklyn and me. Then, finally, Archimedes.

  After drawing a deep breath, I returned my attention to the clues. If Satyr and Minotaur shared a cabin with two other monsters, then they had to be math nerds (and not Brooklyn or me). I exed out the extra boxes in both columns, then set my sights on the next clue. If Siren had a nickname, it was clearly Munch or Whistler. I exed out the extra boxes in Siren’s column, too.

  Clue number three was also helpful. If Hydra and Cyclops were involved in a not-so-secret fling, then they had to be Mr. Sharp and Ms. Gutierrez. I exed out the other boxes in both columns and the other boxes in both rows, then moved on to the next clue.

  It was a lot like the first. If Centaur, Griffin, Unicorn, and Manticore shared a cabin, then they had to be the math nerds in Cabin Gamma or Cabin Delta. As I exed out the extra boxes in each of those four columns, I couldn’t help but feel like I was making decent progress. And the fifth clue kept it coming. If Phoenix wore glasses, that instantly narrowed it down to Keith or Mr. Sharp. But since I already knew that Mr. Sharp couldn’t be Phoenix, that meant I also knew that Phoenix had to be Keith.

  I exed out the other boxes in Keith’s row and Phoenix’s column. Then I tackled the sixth clue. It was more complicated than the others I’d encountered, but I didn’t let that faze me, just calmed down and took it slow. The first two words implied that Unicorn had a nickname, which meant that, like Siren, it had to be Munch or Whistler. I reread the second half, then reviewed the other exes I’d stuck in Manticore’s column. Since I’d already decided that Manticore was one of the math nerds in Cabin Gamma or Cabin Delta, I just had to figure out which math nerds had names that began with M or W. As it turned out, Marshane was the only math nerd whose name fit, which meant that he was Manticore. Which meant that Munch was Unicorn.

  My pulse throbbed in my ears as I exed out the other boxes. I looked back over the grid to give myself time to calm down and noticed that the only empty box anywhere in Siren’s column was the one that belonged to Whistler. I stuck exes in the rest of the boxes in his row, then looked back over it again. But as far as I could tell, there were no more easy gets, so I went on to the next clue.

  If Cyclops and Chimera shared a cabin with no other monsters, then that narrowed it down to Brooklyn, Director Verity, one of the counselors, or me. I stuck exes in the extra boxes in Chimera’s column, but Cyclops’s extra boxes were already exed out. Clue number eight was even kinder: if Harpy was a girl, then the only options left were Brooklyn, Director Verity, or, once again, me.

  I exed out the extra boxes, then moved on the ninth clue. It was another doozy, but luckily, I already knew quite a few bits of information about Hydra and Minotaur. Since I’d narrowed Hydra down to Mr. Sharp or Ms. Gutierrez, I just had to figure out which math nerds had names that began with S or G. Once again, there was only one, which meant that Minotaur was Graham and Hydra was Ms. Gutierrez.

  I couldn’t help but grin as I exed out the other boxes and drew a fortifying breath. But when I surveyed my work, the smile melted off my face. I was still making decent progress, but I was down to the last clue.

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I set my sights on the tenth clue. I’d gotten the impression that I was being watched, and this clue confirmed my hunch. Somehow, the killer knew who’d been to the top of Lookout Hill and who’d stayed back down at the lodge. But in the end, it didn’t matter. If I wanted to get Angeline and Toby back, I had no choice but to keep going.

  I looked back over my work. At this point, it was safe to say my only options for Griffin were Ravi, Oliver, or Federico. But Federico had been with us when we broke into the shed, so I knew he’d been to the top. I also knew that Ravi hadn’t—he never, ever broke the rules, and Director Verity had made it clear that the hill and the cabin were off-limits—and the same went for Oliver. Bu
t then I remembered I’d made Oliver come with us on our first ill-fated trip, which made Ravi Griffin.

  Harpy was even easier. I’d been to the top of Lookout Hill, and Director Verity had, too (when she came to collect us). Which made Brooklyn Harpy.

  But now I was out of clues. I felt my shoulders droop as I gnawed on the end of my pencil. I was clearly missing something, but what exactly was I missing? Another clue? A bigger brain? I skipped back up to the top and slowly worked my way back down. And I did work a few more out. If Satyr and Minotaur shared a cabin—and if Minotaur was Graham—then Satyr couldn’t be Oliver, which meant that it was Federico. And when I exed out the rest of the boxes in his row, I found that the only box left in Centaur’s column was Oliver’s.

  Sadly, that still left Sphinx and Pegasus (and Gorgon and Chimera). I scanned the list for clues about any of these monsters and found one about Chimera. If it and Cyclops shared a cabin—and if Cyclops was Mr. Sharp—then it had to be Mr. Pearson.

  But none of the clues mentioned Sphinx, Gorgon, or Pegasus.

  How could I solve the logic puzzle without clues about those monsters? I knew I wasn’t Sphinx, but even if I factored that in, I couldn’t eliminate Archimedes or Director Verity.

  In other words, I’d failed.

  I snapped my pencil in half, shoved my sketchbook off my lap, and flopped back onto my bunk. The mattress sagged beneath my weight, but the pillow crinkled eagerly. Like someone had replaced the filling with tiny pieces of paper.

  I reached into the pillowcase and withdrew a scrap of paper. My fingers recognized the texture even as my eyes took in the words:

  Pegasus has sneaked out of its cabin after dark.

  Before I had a chance to process what the words might mean, the door to Cabin Epsilon creaked open. I leaped to my feet, ready to defend myself if necessary, but it was only Brooklyn. Her eyes were as wide as two pools of spilled brown paint—and her fingers were curled around a soggy scrap of paper.

  I snatched the clue out of her hands. “Where did you find this?” I demanded.

  “In the bathroom,” she replied. “It looked like it had been there for at least a day or two.”