She groaned. “Where I got it doesn’t matter. What matters right now is that it was stolen.” She turned to me. “Can you search their name?”
“Sure.” I took out my phone and typed HATMAKER. “There are over two hundred people named Hatmaker in the United States, but none around here,” I said.
“He called her Martha. Try that.”
“No match.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Gee, Sherlock, you think a couple of thieves are going to give you their real names?”
“Police are on the way,” the clerk announced as he walked toward us, a broom in his hand. “Hey, could you move your car? I’ve got customers waiting to use the pump.”
As the clerk swept away the glass, Tyler moved the car from the fuel pump to a parking spot in front of the convenience store. Then we waited. And waited. I guess a broken car window and a stolen box wasn’t high priority on the police department’s agenda. Jax went into sulk mode, her lips pursed, her arms folded tightly, not saying a word. I read my book. Tyler called his friend Walker and they argued about the color of Cyclops blood. Time passed. I don’t mind silence. I can sit for hours happily not saying anything. But when Jax doesn’t talk, it means she’s thinking. “Are you planning revenge?” I asked her.
“Maybe.”
I could appreciate the desire. It still stung whenever I remembered how Jeremy Bishop stole my Pokémon cards in the third grade.
“Hey,” Jax suddenly blurted. “Those Hatmakers said they owned a shop. What was it called? Oddities? Weirdities? What was it?”
“Peculiarities,” I remembered.
“Yeah, that’s it. Look it up.” She nudged my elbow. I searched and found a shop called Peculiarities in Los Angeles. But the website showed a photo of the owner—a young woman named Nelson. Jax leaned against the car, her mood going sour again. I felt bad for her. She’d never know what our mysterious great-aunt had sent.
When the police finally arrived, Jax gave a description of the Hatmakers. She remembered little details that I hadn’t noticed, like the way they wore their hair, and the color of their clothes. I didn’t say much. The officer kept trying to trip Tyler up by asking the same questions over and over. Did he think my brother broke the window and was blaming it on someone else? Did he think we were all lying? Just because we were kids, that didn’t mean we were trying to get away with something.
Uh, scratch that. We were trying to get away with something.
When Jax described the puzzle box, she said nothing about our great-aunt or how the box was supposed to have gone back to the post office. “It’s a metal box, very shiny, with an LCD screen on the top and a button on the side. If you find it, please don’t push the button. Seriously.” She pointed to the officer’s notepad. “Write that down.”
“What will happen if I press the button?”
“You’ll ruin everything,” Jax said.
He removed his glasses. “What, exactly, will I ruin?”
Jax didn’t answer. She looked at me. I’d been standing on the other side of the car, hoping to avoid the officer. I took a deep breath. “Uh . . . the box is a puzzle,” I said, focusing my gaze on the officer’s nose. Because sometimes I don’t know if I should look into a person’s right eye, or the left eye, or flit between the two. “My parents own a toy-testing company, so we get all sorts of fun stuff.”
“A puzzle, huh? Okay, that’s all I need.” The officer handed Tyler a card. “Your parents can contact me at this number and I’ll send them a copy of the report. It’ll take a few days to process.”
“Do you think you’ll find my box?” Jax asked, her face clenched.
He adjusted his sunglasses. Sweat dotted his upper lip. It had to be super hot in that polyester uniform. At least the UPS guys got to wear shorts. “Honestly, kid, I wouldn’t count on it.”
As the police car drove away, Jax flicked a piece of glass off the car’s window ledge. “They won’t do anything. They think it’s just a stupid box.”
“Well it is just a stupid box,” Tyler said. “Why don’t you two care about my car? All you talk about is that box. Look. At. My. Car. How are we going to drive to DC like this?” He took out the back floor mat and shook it. “Don’t stand there like you’ve just seen Medusa. Start cleaning.”
“Medusa?” Jax asked.
“Greek Mythology One-Oh-One,” Tyler said. “Jeez, how can you not know about Medusa? She turns people into statues. She’s on level two of Cyclopsville, right next to the Furies.” He set the floor mat back.
Furies? Jax mouthed.
“Don’t ask,” I whispered.
Now that the box was gone, Jax and I had no reason to go to DC. Maybe we could avoid the whole fake geocache contest and never have to admit that we’d lied. “Uh, we can’t drive all the way to DC with a broken window,” I said. “It’s dangerous and Mom will flip out. We should go home.
“I’m not going home,” Tyler said. “I set out on a quest and I’m going to get that trophy. I can fix this window.” After making that statement, he stared at the empty hole that used to be a window.
Here’s the thing about my brother—he’s a genius on paper, and he can solve any math or computer problem under the sun, but ask him to fix something and he’s useless. If he got stranded in the desert and the only way back to civilization was to change the flat tire on his car, we’d find his vulture-pecked skeleton weeks later. My dad’s the same way. If you need an analysis of fibers in your breakfast cereal he’ll type up a report and get it to you the following morning, but if the toilet lever is sticking, forget about it.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jax whispered. She pulled me away from the car and Tyler’s ears. “What if those Hatmakers push the button? What if they waste the last three readings and don’t figure out that it’s a puzzle? The box will go to waste!” Her eyes widened. “Or what if they do realize it’s a puzzle and they get the eighth reading and the ninth reading and draw the circles like we did?”
“Then they’ll go to the right spot,” I said, immediately regretting my words, because as I said them, an idea lighted up Jax’s eyes.
“We can ask Juniper.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. We can go to her house. It’s her puzzle box. She must know where it opens. She can tell us and we can go to the right spot and wait for the Hatmakers to show up.”
“No way. We’re supposed to forget we heard Juniper’s name, remember? And you want to see her in person?”
“There’s something going on here, I know it. Something beneath the surface. I can feel it.” By this time, Jax and I were in a huddle next to the convenience store door. People were coming and going, carrying bags of chips and sodas. “Whatever is inside that box, it belongs to me. It wants to be with me.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about? The box wants to be with you? That sounds crazy.” Tyler was trying to cover the window with his coat, but it wasn’t working.
Jax stuck out her lower lip. “Ethan, this is really important.”
“Oh no, I’m not falling for that.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet. “Look Jax, your birthday present was stolen. I’m sorry, but it’s gone. Sometimes you have to let things go.” I walked into the store and bought a box of plastic wrap and some duct tape. While Tyler watched, I covered the window with two layers of wrap, securing it around the edges with the tape. It wouldn’t earn me an engineering degree but it was functional. I threw the leftovers into the trunk.
“Cool,” Tyler said as he checked out the new window.
Jax grabbed my arm and began whispering again. “We need to get Tyler to take us to Juniper. We’ll have to tell him the truth.”
“Uh . . . I’m not telling him the truth,” I said, shaking my head. “No way. I’m not suicidal.”
“Then I’ll tell him.” She cleared her throat. “Tyler, I have something to tell you.”
“What?” he asked.
“Uh-oh,” I murmured, putting some space between us.
>
My brother’s temper is like a flash flood. Flash floods take people by surprise. Survivors have reported that they were standing in a dry riverbed and suddenly found a wall of water rushing at them, sweeping everything away. When Tyler was little, he’d throw himself on the grocery-store floor and kick and scream. Sometimes he threw things or kicked things. Mom called his outbursts temper tantrums. Dad said Tyler needed to grow up and act like a man.
Jax had seen Tyler’s temper. So she knew what she was in for.
She folded her arms and looked him right in the eye. “There is no geocaching contest. It was last week.”
Tyler cocked his head, his expression remaining calm. “What did you just say?”
“We changed the date on the flyer so you would take us to Washington, DC.”
“You changed the date?” His neck tensed.
“Yes.” Jax stepped back. We both saw it at the same time, that look in his eyes. The rage was right there, boiling in his brain, ready to spill forth.
“Here we go,” I whispered. During a flash flood, it’s a good idea to hold on to a tree. During a Tyler tantrum, the best thing is to evacuate the premises. But what was I going to do, run across the parking lot and hide behind the fruit stand?
“Changed the date?” Spit flew out of his mouth. His eyes blazed, his breathing came fast and shallow. “Let me get this straight. You told me there was a geocaching contest and there’s no geocaching contest? Just because you wanted a ride to Washington, DC?”
Jax fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “Yeah but—”
He shot a deadly look at me. “You knew about this?” I nodded. Why did he seem taller all of a sudden? And was he frothing at the corners of his mouth? “Do you know what you’ve cost me?” More spit. “I’m in the middle of developing the fourth level of Cyclopsville. You peons have wasted an entire day of work. And my car was vandalized. Vandalized!” With a sweep of his arm, he dismissed us, got into the car and slammed the door. All four doors clicked into lock mode. The engine roared to life.
“Wait. Tyler, listen.” Jax knocked on the driver’s window. Tyler’s hands gripped the steering wheel. “Juniper sent that box to me for my birthday.” The car chugged as Tyler put it into reverse. “She wanted me to solve the puzzle but I couldn’t do it alone. I needed your help!”
He backed out of the parking spot, then turned onto the road and picked up speed, the tires squealing as if they were also pissed. And then he was gone. I had to give my brother some credit—he’d really showed self-control this time. No punching holes, no throwing food. Dad would have been proud.
Jax pushed a lock of hair from her eye. “He’s not really leaving us, is he?”
“I told you not to tell him,” I said. Why doesn’t anyone listen to Caution Boy? I sighed and walked over to the fruit-stand bench. Jax watched the road for a bit longer, then sat next to me.
“He’ll come back,” she said. But then she scrunched up her face. “Won’t he?”
“He’ll come back. He just needs to burn off some steam.”
My brother wasn’t my favorite person. He was rude and arrogant. He never showed any interest in what I was doing and often acted as if I didn’t exist. But he wasn’t stupid. Abandoning his brother and twelve-year-old girl cousin at a gas station would not go over well with the parents.
Sure enough, ten minutes later, the car pulled back into the lot and screeched to a stop right at our feet. Tyler got out. His eyes narrowed as he stared down at us.
“Tell me more about that box.”
12
Jax
I told Tyler everything. How the package had arrived on my birthday, how Mom had grabbed it and how she’d thrown it into the car, forbidding me to have it. I told him how Ethan and I had followed Mom to the diner and how I’d intercepted the package from Michael the breakfast cook. How we’d opened it in the park, pressed the button five times, then went to Tyler’s room to get help, where he pushed it the sixth time. “After you explained the geometry, we took the train and did the seventh reading. The right spot is either in Lake Oneida or in Washington, DC. I figured Juniper wouldn’t make me stand in the middle of a lake so we tricked you into taking us to DC.”
Tyler listened, his arms tightly folded. But he didn’t look at me the whole time I was talking. Just kept staring over my head. Ethan had slid to the end of the bench. I know he wasn’t afraid of Tyler punching him, or anything like that, but Ethan doesn’t like confrontation. He’s sensitive that way. I’m different. If Tyler yelled at me, I’d yell right back. Maybe that was why Ethan and I got along so well—we were opposites.
“I couldn’t get to DC without your help,” I explained. “That’s why I lied to you. I was worried you’d blackmail me. It was my idea, not Ethan’s. I’m sorry.” I tapped my feet, anxiously waiting for his reaction.
A car pulled into the station, another drove away. I could picture those stupid Hatmakers. Were they laughing about their great find? About how they’d sell the box in their shop? The box’s smooth, warm surface was still fresh against my fingertips.
“It doesn’t make sense.” Tyler narrowed his eyes and kept staring into space. “Why would Juniper send the box to you? I’m the brains in the family. She should know that. There’ve been six articles about me in the Chatham newspaper.” This wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. He didn’t seem angry—more like insulted.
“I don’t know why Juniper sent the puzzle box to me,” I said. “But she did and here we are.” A wave of frustration rolled over me. It felt as if we’d been at that stupid gas station for days! “Why did I leave it in the car? I had a bad feeling about those people. You should never ignore a bad feeling. Never.” I usually listened to my instincts but I’d let myself down.
Tyler scratched his five-o’clock-shadowy chin. “I’m the one who figured out how to solve the puzzle. So I’m the one who should get to open the box, not those hat people.”
“Hatmakers,” Ethan quietly corrected.
“Whatever. The point is, this great-aunt of ours made a huge mistake sending the box to you. If she’d sent it to me, it would already be opened. And whatever is inside would be sitting on my shelf, next to my trophies.”
I should have been insulted. In Tyler’s universe, his intellect reigned supreme. But a little ray of hope appeared. Maybe my “quest” wasn’t over. “Tyler?” I said as sweetly as possible. “It’s obvious that Juniper doesn’t know you are the genius in the family. If we go and see her, you can tell her that she made a mistake sending the box to me. She lives nearby.” I pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket. It was the corner of the packaging with Juniper’s return address.
“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “She should be informed.” He slid back into the driver’s seat.
“Wait, what are we doing?” Ethan asked.
“This long lost aunt of ours needs to send all future puzzles to me,” Tyler announced.
I broke into a huge grin. Who cared about future puzzles? I only cared about this one. Nobody steals a birthday present from Jax Malone without a fight. “Woo-hoo!” I cried.
Ethan sat very still, his face tight with uncertainty. I knew he was coming up with all sorts of reasons why we shouldn’t do this. I could practically see them streaming through the air. I sat next to him at the end of the bench. “We aren’t expected home until tomorrow night. Everything will be okay,” I told him.
“What if she doesn’t want to see us?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t she want to see us?”
“Because something happened and she’s not welcome in the family.” Ethan chewed on his lip. “Maybe she doesn’t like us as much as our parents don’t like her.” It was a reasonable excuse, but I was better at arguing. I was going to join the debate team as soon as I got into high school.
“If Juniper didn’t want to see us then she wouldn’t have sent me a birthday present,” I pointed out. “And she wouldn’t have included her return address.” I waved the piece of paper. “
She’ll tell us the exact spot where the box opens. Then we’ll thank her and we’ll still have time to get to Washington, DC, and stay in the hotel like we’re supposed to.”
“And then what?” Ethan asked.
“Then we’ll find those Hatmakers and demand the box back,” I said. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy but what else could I do? I’d never wanted anything this much in my life. “Come on, Ethan, it’ll be okay. What else are you going to do? Go home and read?”
Ethan grumbled something under his breath, then he slowly walked to the car and slid into the backseat. He never stayed mad at me for long. I wasn’t worried.
As soon as I’d climbed into the front passenger seat and closed the door, Tyler smirked at me. A deal was about to be made.
“When the quest is concluded, I’ll tell my parents that we got the dates wrong for the geocaching competition and that no one was to blame on one condition.”
This was expected. Tyler never did anything for free. “What’s the condition?”
“That if we get the box back and if whatever’s inside is worth a lot of money, then we sell it and I get half. I’m saving for a new gaming mouse.”
“Half?” I gulped. “But I promised half to Ethan.”
He snorted. “Why would you split it with Ethan? You own the box, I’ve got the brains. What’s Ethan’s role in all this?”
“Ethan’s role is . . .” I paused, glancing over the seat. Ethan was slumped down low, his book propped in front of his face. “He’s . . .” Ethan raised his eyebrows and looked at me over the top of the book. “He’s my best friend and he fixed the window,” I said. “And I already promised half to him.”
“I’m okay with thirds,” Ethan said.
“Thirds it is.” Tyler smacked his hand on the steering wheel. “The quest to retrieve the secret box has commenced.”
As Tyler drove away from the gas station, Ethan gave me that look I knew so well—the what are you getting me into look. I smiled at him. “Don’t worry. This is the Then what? part of the adventure. Remember?”
The Secret Box Page 7
