He swallowed.
“But Gemini wrote in it, too. He said that he and Vincent were the same—that they were both destined for greatness. He said that he was going to bring Vincent back, and learn the higher mysteries.”
“We were right,” Sheila whispered.
There was a moment of silence.
“There was a strange phrase he’d written in the very back,” T’Challa continued, “but I couldn’t make any sense of it. ‘Midnight, under the gibbous moon, in the damp below, where the arches meet.’”
“What the heck does that mean?” Zeke asked.
“I don’t know,” T’Challa replied.
Sheila silently mouthed the words, considering.
T’Challa looked out toward the woods beyond the football field. Gray clouds rolled in the distance. You can trust them, a voice in his head urged him. You’re all working together. You’ve got enough secrets. “There’s more,” he said.
Sheila raised her eyebrows. She turned to Zeke and then back to T’Challa.
T’Challa swallowed again. “I heard Mr. Jones talking to another man. They said something about getting children to swear on something. Gemini supposedly did it.”
“Like the ritual!” Zeke exclaimed. “He made those kids swear on that book!”
“‘Darkness falls,’” Sheila whispered, her voice almost trembling. “‘And He shall awaken.’”
“‘Swear to Him,’” T’Challa added, “‘and ye shall be rewarded.’” He paused and looked at both of them. “Mr. Jones is doing something really evil. Something deadly. Whatever Gemini and the Skulls have planned is nothing compared to this. He said something about a circle, and that the children were expendable, and that he would not be denied.”
Silence fell again, but for the raucous chatter of crows in the trees.
“That means Mr. Jones is going to do something to them,” Zeke said.
T’Challa nodded. “You’re right, Zeke. We have to help them before it’s too late.”
Sheila crossed her arms. “I’m not helping Gemini Jones. No way.”
Zeke remained quiet—unsure of what to say, it seemed to T’Challa. “We probably have to help them,” he finally said. “Even if we don’t want to.”
Sheila remained adamant. “Zeke, remember that time Gemini and his friends got that new boy lost in the woods? And when they tried to stuff your head down the—”
“I know. I know,” Zeke interrupted. “Don’t remind me. They’re definitely not nice. But who knows what Mr. Jones is up to? It could be serious, and if something bad really does happen, how could we live with ourselves?”
“We have to at least talk to Gemini,” T’Challa suggested.
Sheila scowled.
“When?” Zeke asked. “How?”
T’Challa sat for a moment, thinking. He bit his lip. “I don’t know,” he finally said, “but whatever we do, we have to do it soon. Mr. Jones could strike at any time.”
A shadow passed over Sheila’s face.
“What?” T’Challa asked. “What is it?”
“Gibbous,” Sheila said, as if she were in a trance. “I remember now. It’s when the moon’s nearly full, but doesn’t cast a lot of light.”
“And when is that?” Zeke asked.
Sheila swallowed. “In two days.”
T’Challa knew what he had to do, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Here goes,” he said, and walked toward Gemini’s table. “Just let me do the talking.”
Sheila and Zeke looked at each other skeptically. “Yes, sir,” Sheila said.
T’Challa was surprised to find the Skulls in the cafeteria. It seemed that they had their own schedule when it came to attending school. M’Baku was there, along with the usual crew, but this time, Wilhelmina Cross sat with them. “Look who it is,” she said, as T’Challa approached the table. “And you brought the nerds with you.”
The Skulls looked up and considered T’Challa and his friends. Zeke and Sheila remained quiet, but both wore scowls.
“I’ve heard about you,” Wilhelmina said. “Marcus said you spied on us. In the woods.”
The night of the strange ritual flashed through T’Challa’s mind.
“Better be careful,” Wilhelmina said with a sneer. “You never know what you’re gonna see.”
“Maybe a ghost,” Deshawn said.
“Boo!” Bicep crowed.
The Skulls all laughed, except for Gemini, who only rapped his knuckles on the table.
T’Challa looked at M’Baku. He stole my ring. I can’t believe it. My best friend.
“I need to tell you something,” T’Challa said quickly.
Every set of eyes at the table fell on him.
“And what would that be?” Gemini finally said. “You’re sorry for poking your nose in other people’s business?”
“I know what I did,” T’Challa said. “The…the spying, and I’m sorry.”
“Sorry didn’t do it,” Gemini said. “You did.”
“You have to listen to me,” T’Challa persisted. “Something bad is going to happen. And soon. You have to be careful. I think your father’s planning something.”
Gemini burst up from his chair.
“What? What’d you say, Africa? What do you know about my pop?”
T’Challa stepped back. “I just know. When I came to see…Marcus the other day, I had a feeling. You have to be careful. Something bad is coming.”
“Yeah,” Wilhemina said. “Something bad is comin’ if you don’t get to steppin’.”
There was nervous laughter from Deshawn and Bicep. M’Baku was expressionless. T’Challa didn’t know if it was guilt or fear.
Gemini stood just a few inches from T’Challa’s face. “You know something, T. Charles? I’m about tired of your mess.”
And then he swung.
T’Challa ducked and sprang back up, then pushed hard with both hands against Gemini’s chest.
Gemini fell back into the table, sending trays and glasses crashing.
Heads began to turn. Fight! Fight! Fight! rang throughout the cafeteria as a hundred or more students rushed to the commotion. Cell phones came out of pockets.
“Stop!” Zeke and Sheila shouted at the same time.
Gemini picked himself up and charged at T’Challa again. T’Challa knew he could take him. Gemini had no grace or skill, just brute strength.
He stepped aside as Gemini flung out his right leg, trying to kick, but instead, the leader of the Skulls went down in a heap, slipping in a puddle of spilled milk. A few students in the crowd began to laugh.
Gemini bolted up and charged again. T’Challa stepped aside, but tripped, and his legs went out from under him. Wilhemina Cross smiled and drew her leg back under the table.
Gemini used T’Challa’s moment of distraction to lunge. He dove on top of him, pinning the young prince to the ground. Gemini brought a fist down on T’Challa’s nose. T’Challa was stunned. It felt like a thousand tiny needles had pierced him.
T’Challa saw a glimpse of M’Baku there in the crowd, stone-faced. He thought of calling out for help, but his friend was truly lost to him now.
T’Challa pushed up on his elbows with all his strength and hurled Gemini off.
Tweet!!!!!
The throng parted as Mr. Blevins pushed through the crowd, whistle dangling from his mouth. “Break it up!” he shouted. Tweet!!!!! “Break it up now!”
Gemini rose to his feet. “Keep my pop’s name out of your mouth!” he shouted.
T’Challa got up. The back of his pants were wet from rolling around in spilled milk. Everyone was staring at him.
“Alright,” Mr. Blevins said. “Everybody settle down.” He turned to T’Challa and Gemini. A vein throbbed on his forehead. “I don’t even wanna know what it was about, so spare me the excuses. If it happens again, you’re both running twenty laps around the school. Got it?”
T’Challa nodded.
“I hear you,” Gemini said, breathing hard.
“Beat it,” Mr. Blevins said. “Both of you knuckleheads.”
T’Challa turned to leave, but not before M’Baku shot him a glance.
T’Challa saw nothing behind his eyes, just a blank stare, like he was wearing a mask and the real M’Baku was missing.
Could that be? T’Challa wondered again. Is Gemini behind this? Did he put a spell on him?
“You okay, T’Challa?”
T’Challa jumped. He looked at Zeke. “What did you call me?”
Zeke cocked his head, curious. Sheila’s forehead wrinkled.
“I called you T.,” Zeke said slowly. “What did you think I said?”
T’Challa squinted, still breathing hard from exertion. He could have sworn that Zeke called him by his true name. Do they know somehow?
He was tired. That was it. He needed a break. “Nothing,” he said. “Just hearing things, I guess.”
Zeke turned and cast a questioning glance at Sheila.
T’Challa got up to answer the door. His nose was still stinging.
Clarence the concierge cocked his head and leaned in. “Ouch,” he said. “I bet that smarts.”
“I’ll be okay,” T’Challa said.
Clarence handed T’Challa the ice pack he had called for. T’Challa pressed it up to his nose. Clarence came halfway into the room and peered around. “What happened to your friend?” he asked. “The higher-ups here at the embassy didn’t give us your names, but we were told you were very important guests.”
T’Challa hesitated. Is he fishing for information, or just being a little nosy?
“Anyway,” Clarence continued. “I haven’t seen the two of you together in a while, and I was wondering.”
T’Challa flopped down in a chair. “He has some issues he’s working out.”
“Oh,” Clarence said. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I don’t think so,” T’Challa answered.
“Do let me know if that changes,” Clarence said.
“I will,” said T’Challa.
Clarence took one last look around. “Well,” he said, straightening his suit jacket. “I should be getting back downstairs, then.”
“Thank you,” T’Challa said. “For the ice pack.”
“Not a problem,” Clarence answered. “And, by the way, I know a good gym, if you ever want to learn some boxing moves.”
T’Challa grimaced as Clarence left the room.
He laid his head back and closed his eyes. His nose still hurt, and the ice pack just made it a cold hurt. Gemini was a stubborn fool. T’Challa had tried to warn him, and he hadn’t listened.
What of the children? They have sworn to it?
Midnight, under the gibbous moon, in the damp below, where the arches meet.
The Vibranium should provide enough energy, but we shall see, won’t we?
What did Bartholomew Jones want with Vibranium?
T’Challa opened his eyes. He was exhausted, and he felt it in every muscle. He let out a long, winded breath. He needed to rest, just for a minute, and then get back to figuring out the mysterious clues of Mr. Jones.
RIN-N-N-G-G-G-G!
T’Challa jumped.
It was the phone.
He caught his breath. He’d never even heard it ring before. It could be Father, but he wouldn’t call on a regular old phone. Then again, it could be the strange man from the bus. Maybe I was followed again!
Another ring shattered T’Challa’s thoughts, sending his heart racing. He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Yes, this is Clarence again, at the front desk. I’m sorry to disturb you. It seems you have…guests.” There was a pause and muffled voices. “Zeke and…Sheila? They’re looking for a Mr. T. Charles.”
T’Challa pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed it to his chest. How? he wondered. How was this possible? He raised the phone back to his ear.
“There’s no other guest in the embassy by that name,” Clarence continued, “but their description sounds like you.”
Thousands of tiny pinpricks raced up the back of T’Challa’s neck.
“Hello?” he heard faintly over the speaker.
T’Challa silently counted to five. He raised the phone back to his ear. “Let them up,” he said.
A minute later, Zeke and Sheila were standing in T’Challa’s room.
“How did you find me?” T’Challa asked.
“This is an embassy,” Zeke said, taking in the room. “Why in the world would you be staying at an embassy?”
“Well,” Sheila said. “He is from Africa.” She shot a look at T’Challa. “At least that’s what he says.”
“Guys,” T’Challa said, and loudly swallowed. His palms were sweating. “How. Did. You. Find. Me?”
Sheila and Zeke looked at each other. “We followed you,” Zeke said. “I knew there was something strange going on. I couldn’t figure out why the first time I met you, you caught the 134, instead of taking the 76 down Michigan Avenue.”
So much for being secretive, T’Challa scolded himself.
“Plus,” Sheila said, “Zeke and I caught the bus behind you from school. We followed you back here.”
“And,” Zeke went on, “I’ve counted the amount of times you’ve dodged the question about where you live. You said you had an uncle on Michigan Avenue. So why didn’t Marcus stay with you? Why would he be staying with a host family? And that watch of yours—”
“Enough,” T’Challa said wearily. He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. “Enough.”
He knew this moment was coming. He just didn’t know it would be now. “No more lies,” he whispered aloud.
Zeke glanced at Sheila.
T’Challa raised his head and looked at both of them. Zeke and Sheila had proved themselves as friends. I can trust them. I have to.
He rose off the bed. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. But he was doing it. He had to make his own decisions. “What I’m going to show you, you’re not going to believe,” he said.
“Try us,” Zeke countered.
“Here goes,” T’Challa whispered.
T’Challa walked to the safe, knelt down, and turned the combination: 2, 1, 19, 20: BAST—the name of the Panther God and his cat back home. No wonder M’Baku guessed it. He knew how much he loved that cat. How could I have been so thoughtless?
“What do you have in there?” Sheila ventured, voice wavering. “Please don’t tell me you have a gun.”
“Of course he doesn’t have a gun,” said Zeke. And then: “Do you have a gun?”
“No,” T’Challa said, and then stood up. “But I have this.”
He turned around. The mask covered his eyes.
“Uh, you’re a cat burglar?” Zeke joked.
“No,” he said. “I’m the son of the Black Panther. My name is T’Challa.”
“I can’t believe it,” Zeke said, pacing back and forth in the small embassy room. “I can’t freaking believe it!”
“I knew there was something different about you,” Sheila added, shaking her head. “I just knew it.”
Zeke stopped his pacing and rounded on her. “Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I’m not saying I knew who he was, just that he was different.”
“Who else knows?” Zeke asked, turning back to T’Challa.
“Just you two. And M’Baku, of course.”
“So that’s his name,” Sheila whispered.
“You’re from…Wakanda,” Zeke said, still amazed. “It’s real. I can’t believe I’m standing here talking to the Black Panther.”
“I’m not the Black Panther yet,” T’Challa said. “That’s my father. A lot has to happen before that day comes.”
Father.
T’Challa had broken his command to stay hidden. The kingdom was under attack, and here he was, far from home, revealing his identity.
“Wait a minute,” Zeke said. “You’re a prince. A prince! Shouldn’t we kneel or something? Like, kiss your hand or whatnot
?”
Sheila laughed. “Uh…not.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” T’Challa assured him. “But you have to keep this a secret. If my father ever found out that I revealed myself, well, I don’t know what would happen.”
Zeke stared hard at T’Challa.
“What?” T’Challa asked. “What now?”
“You have a suit, right? Like a real Super Hero?”
Sheila waggled her eyebrows. “C’mon then. Let’s see it.”
T’Challa sighed. No need to hide now. He walked back to the safe and withdrew his suit from the box. He handed it to Zeke, who took it into his hands carefully, the same way T’Challa had when his father had given it to him. He felt another pang of guilt—a sharp jolt to the stomach.
Zeke’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he felt the fabric. “This is Wakandan tech,” he said, as if in a daze. “Like your watch, right?”
“Right,” T’Challa answered guiltily.
“What watch?” Sheila asked.
T’Challa grimaced. He just knew his little display with the watch was going to come back and haunt him. Didn’t matter now, though. They knew everything anyway.
He thrust out his arm. Zeke and Sheila leaned in. “What’s it do?” Sheila asked.
T’Challa tapped the screen. “Lots of things.”
A pulsating red light began to glow within the opaque, black surface. After a moment, tiny particles, like dust caught in a sunbeam, rose from T’Challa’s wrist and took on a three-dimensional shape. It was a cube, which rose in the air and rotated on one corner. Zeke and Sheila looked on, mouths agape.
At least I don’t have to lie anymore, T’Challa thought, his guilt tinged with relief. “Guys,” he said, swiping his hand through the projection, which then disappeared. Zeke’s and Sheila’s eyes widened even more. “Now that we’re all here, we’ve got to figure out what to do.”
“Right,” Sheila agreed.
“We know Mr. Jones is planning something,” T’Challa said, “but what?”
“‘Midnight,’” Zeke recited, “‘under the gibbous moon, in the damp below, where the arches meet.’”
Black Panther Page 12
