13
Ethan
FACT: Alexander Graham Bell, the inventor of the phone, thought we should answer by saying “Ahoy.” It was Thomas Edison who suggested “Hello.” That’s a pretty cool fact.
Another fact: The first mobile handheld phone was invented way back in 1973. It weighed two and a half pounds and had only thirty minutes of battery life. In those days Google didn’t exist. If you needed to do research, you had to go to the library. The actual building. And if you needed a map, you had to go to a store or gas station and buy one. An actual paper map. Thanks to my new phone, it was easy to get driving directions to Juniper’s house.
I typed the return address, which was in New Hope, Pennsylvania, and waited for the map to appear on the screen. Mom and Dad gave me the phone after I’d brought up my grade in English from C plus to B minus. My parents want me to get better grades. They never have grade discussions with Tyler, Mr. 4.2. But I get the lecture about once a month. “We know you’re capable of doing more,” they always say. “We just want you to do your best. That’s all we ask.”
What if my best is a B minus? Would the world come to an end?
There are all sorts of accolades for people who get As—clubs, awards, honors, scholarships, even trophies. But nothing is given to the B people. Statistically, there are more B people in this world than A people, but that argument never flies with my parents.
I’m not sure what my problem is, exactly. I read more than anyone I know, and the facts all stick to my brain like fruit flies to honey. But when I sit down to take a test I get nervous and start second-guessing myself. Mom says introverts often lack confidence. Dad says that some people aren’t wired to be test takers. Tyler says I’m stupid.
I scanned the New Hope tourist site. “New Hope lies on the Delaware River,” I said from the backseat. Jax was sitting in the front seat. “It’s the longest free-flowing river in the Eastern US. It starts in the Catskill Mountains and goes three hundred thirty miles to Delaware Bay. About five percent of the US population relies on it for drinking water. And—”
“How about giving us a factoid break?” Tyler said.
I sighed and finished the sentence in my head. And it is fed by two hundred sixteen tributaries.
Jax said something to Tyler, but I didn’t catch it. The atmosphere had changed and I’m not talking about the weather. When I’d asked Jax why she was sitting up front, she’d said it was because she couldn’t see very well through the plastic-wrap window. Maybe that was true but it felt like she’d deserted me. This had started as Jax and my adventure, but now we were splitting the prize with Tyler.
“Estimated time of arrival?” Tyler asked.
“We should be there by ten o’clock,” I grumbled. Jax turned around and looked at me.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” I folded my arms and slid down in the seat. Guess sulking ran in our family.
Jax was squirming. She fixed her ponytail, then squirmed some more. When Tyler reached to turn on his music, she poked Tyler’s arm. “How come our great-aunt lived in Greece?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where do you think she got such a weird box? Did she stick the LCD screen into it or did it come that way? Is she married? Do we have a great-uncle too? Did she—?”
“What is this, Twenty Questions? Didn’t you Google her?” Tyler asked as if we were too stupid to think of that. Jax darted around and looked at me, wide-eyed. Google, she mouthed. Then she glared at me as if it was my fault we hadn’t done a search.
I wasn’t about to admit to my brother that we had failed to do something so obvious. “We already did,” I told him. Jax watched hopefully as my fingers flew across the phone.
“And . . . ?” Tyler asked.
I held the phone low so he couldn’t tell what I was doing. “And what?” I stalled.
“And what did you find? Jeez, are we speaking the same language? Maybe I should try Pig Latin. Atwhay idday ouyay indfay?”
“I found . . .” I tried another search engine. Juniper Vandegrift didn’t appear anywhere. “I found . . . I found nothing.” I sat back against the seat and looked into Jax’s eyes. “It’s really weird but absolutely nothing comes up. Not a birth date, not an address, not a Facebook page. It’s almost as if she doesn’t exist.”
Jax frowned. “But she does exist. She sent me a package.”
“Widen the search,” Tyler said. “Birth records, college alumni associations, phone book records—she’s there.”
“She’s not here,” I insisted.
“Then she’s living under an alias, or she’s paid someone to remove her records,” Tyler said. “If she doesn’t want to be found then it’s possible the return address is fake.”
“Fake?” Jax said. “But it can’t be fake. I have to find that box.”
Tyler followed my directions off the interstate. The scenery changed quickly. No more fast-food restaurants or strip malls. Everything was green and lush and in full bloom.
“Wow, the people around here must be rich,” Jax said as we passed sprawling estates with manicured lawns and huge winding driveways. “Do you think Juniper is rich? She must be if she lives out here. Really rich.” I could tell that Jax was building a huge story in her head about our great-aunt, just like the stories she’d built about her father. Hopefully, reality wouldn’t be too disappointing.
We passed old stone buildings and smaller houses from the early colonial period. You see a lot of those around here. A few turns in the road and we passed a Welcome to Historic New Hope sign. Tyler pointed out that my estimated time of arrival was off by sixteen minutes.
New Hope was a weird place. Every other shop looked like an art gallery of some sort. There was a tie-dyed T-shirt shop, a bunch of craft stores, and a store that sold healing stones. A bunch of Harley Davidson motorcycles were parked in front of a stand selling roasted turkey legs. “Hey,” I said, pointing. “That’s a medieval gallery.” A full-sized coat of armor hung in the window.
“Cool,” Tyler said. He slammed his foot, stopping right in the middle of the road. I was thrust forward against my seat belt. The car behind us honked, its brakes screeching.
“Whoa,” Jax complained, bracing herself against the dashboard. “What’d you do that for?”
“See any swords?” Tyler asked.
Tyler had a sword collection that wasn’t allowed to leave his bedroom. Mom said someone might get hurt, even though the blades were dull because they were replica productions from some of his favorite movies. He had Glamdring, Gandalf’s sword, and Excalibur, King Arthur’s sword, and Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber, to name a few. Actually, I think Mom was more worried about people making judgments. She wasn’t trying to protect Tyler—everyone already knew he was a geek. I think she was protecting her own reputation. Her job was to make sure toys were safe, so she was totally opposed to toy weapons.
“No,” I lied, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t see any swords.” The car behind honked again.
We drove a bit farther, until we reached West Ferry Street. “There’s a spot,” Jax announced, pointing. It was a perfect spot, plenty of room, between a Chevy truck and a Volvo station wagon. Tyler slowed, eyed the space for a moment, then passed by.
“Not enough room,” he said.
Jax scowled. “But there was plenty of—”
“Not enough room,” Tyler repeated.
I tapped Jax’s shoulder. “Remember what I told you.” After flunking the parallel-parking section of the driving test, Dad had tried to explain the technique in mathematical terms. Tyler had gotten so frustrated he overturned his cereal bowl and stomped out of the kitchen. It was a sensitive subject.
Tyler drove around the block, twice, then found a space in a church lot that didn’t require parallel parking. Even though it was hot out, Jax grabbed her purple coat and slipped it on. She’d found it at a garage sale and had talked the woman into selling it for $1.50. She loved that coat because it spar
kled. I can’t say I’ve ever loved a piece of clothing. I don’t even care what I wear, so long as it’s comfortable and not sparkling purple. I used to wear hoodies, but Mom said I was always hiding beneath the hood. So she banned them. Then I got the baseball cap and even though I wear it every day, she hasn’t complained. Yet. The brim shades me from the sun, and from people who try to look into my eyes when talking to me.
We had to walk a couple of blocks to Ferry Street. “We’re here,” I said, checking the map on my phone. We stopped on the sidewalk, across the street from a bunch of identical houses. They were row houses—individual houses that share walls. A factoid popped into my head. The Europeans developed row houses in the sixteenth century as a way to fit more people into smaller spaces. I didn’t share that info, however. It would have gone unappreciated in this group.
“Juniper’s address is the one on the end,” Jax said.
While the other porches were decorated with flowerpots, the last porch was bare. And the curtains were closed. Was Juniper the person who lived in that house? A person who’d erased all her records from the internet. A person who’d been evicted from our family. A person we weren’t supposed to think about.
Just then, Tyler’s phone rang. “Is it Mom?” I asked, my heart doubling its pace. What would we tell her?
“It’s Walker,” Tyler said reading the screen. “Hey, Skywalker, what’s up?” Pause. “No way, dude.” From what I could tell, Walker was having some sort of gaming crisis. “Just go on the attack. If Doomringer’s a noob, he’ll try to hide behind the temple wall.” While Tyler launched a series of directions, his eyes darting wildly as if watching the action live, Jax pulled me aside.
“I’m kinda nervous about meeting her,” she said.
“Me, too.” A funny feeling had settled in my stomach. Maybe it was the pizza-flavored chips I’d eaten during the ride, combined with the mini doughnuts, but it felt like more than that. I was jittery, on the verge of turning around and heading back to the car. What if Juniper was living off the radar because she was some kind of crazy person?
“Let’s go,” Jax said, then she hurried across the street.
Tyler, who was still commanding the attack on Doomringer, seemed totally uninterested in the real world at the moment. “Flank him!” he yelled into the phone. “Listen to me. You can’t take down the temple without more life points. You have to kill Doomringer first. Use the Sword of Athena. And watch out for the Gorgons!”
I rolled my eyes. My parents worry about me?
Jax had already reached the door and was knocking. There wasn’t much movement around the row houses. A man at the far end was mowing his little strip of grass. A few cars passed by. Tyler slashed the air with an imaginary sword as he continued to direct the assault. A jogger slowed and gawked at him.
I joined Jax on the porch. As I tried to steady my breathing, she knocked again.
“No one’s home,” I said, totally relieved. “We can still get to DC and check into our hotel before Mom gets off work and calls to check on us.”
“Why are you so quick to give up?” Jax asked. “I’m not leaving until I find out about the box.”
“But if she’s not here, we can’t ask her about the box.”
“I have a feeling and I’m not leaving.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“Some feelings can’t be explained. Besides, we came all this way.” This time she pounded on the door. It rattled, then creaked open about an inch. We both stepped back. “It wasn’t locked,” she whispered.
“Why wouldn’t she lock the door?” I whispered back. “Everybody locks the front door.”
Jax leaned close to the crack. “Hello?” she called. No one answered. “Hello?”
“Uh . . . doesn’t it seem weird that someone who would lock a box with a secret code wouldn’t lock her own front door?”
“Yeah, that does seem weird.” We kept whispering. “Maybe she forgot. I think we should go in.”
“That’s trespassing,” I pointed out. “Trespassing is against the law.”
Jax narrowed her eyes. “Only if there’s a sign that says No Trespassing. And I don’t see a sign so it’s not against the law.”
Her logic was flawed. “No one puts up a sign that says No Stealing or No Murdering but it’s still against the law.”
“Ethan, you’re worrying about nothing.” Jax beamed a confident smile. “It’s not trespassing because the door was open and because we’re family.”
“But . . .” This place did not give off a friendly vibe. There was no welcome mat. The curtains were shut tight. At least the house next door had a little gnome statue out front. “What if it’s a fake address, like Tyler suggested, and someone else lives here? Someone who might freak out if we go inside without being invited?”
“Hmmmm.” She pursed her lips. “Just in case . . . don’t leave any fingerprints.” Using her elbow, she gently pushed the door open. Then she stepped inside.
I looked back across the street. Tyler was still caught up in his phone call, hacking his way through the Gorgons or beheading a Cyclops, I couldn’t be sure. I waved at him, hoping he’d notice his brother and cousin as we disappeared into a strange woman’s house, uninvited. But his back was to us. The jogger was gone and the guy on the lawn mower had driven around to the other side, out of view. I took a deep breath and followed Jax. Trespassing was trespassing, no matter how she tried to spin it.
Light streamed in through the front door. The living room was a disaster. “Now we know where Tyler gets his slob gene,” Jax said as she stood, hands on hips, scanning the mess.
But not even Tyler was this much of a slob. Furniture lay upturned, drawers were open, a lamp lay shattered. “It looks like someone broke in.”
“That would explain the unlocked door,” Jax said. Then she lowered her voice and grabbed my arm. “Do you think they’re still here?”
My heart skipped a beat.
We stood frozen, listening. The lawn mower hummed in the distance but no sounds came from within the house. I opened my phone, prepared to dial 911 just in case. Jax grabbed a poker from the fireplace. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Come on, let’s search the rooms.”
Against my better judgment, which was nothing new these days, I followed her into the only bedroom. The bed had been taken apart, the dresser drawers overturned. There were a few pieces of clothes on the carpet, a pair of shoes, and a plain black suitcase. The bathroom had also been searched, but the only toiletries were a toothbrush, toothpaste, and some shampoo. Then, we found the office.
This room was crammed with personal stuff, like photos and knickknacks. Papers and files lay all over the place, as if a mini twister had hit. After setting the poker aside, Jax reached for a broken picture frame. “I thought you were worried about fingerprints,” I said, handing her a clean tissue from my pocket.
“Oh, right. Thanks.” Using the tissue, she picked up the frame. “Hey, I think this is me. I recognize the hat.” Behind a sheet of broken glass, the frame held a photo of a woman and a baby. The baby wore a knit cap with a daisy on the front. The woman was middle-aged, with straw-colored hair that hung in two long braids. She was smiling at the baby. Scrawled in black pen along the bottom of the photo were the words Jax and Me. “Do you think that’s Juniper?”
“Maybe. She looks a bit like your mom,” I realized. Then I froze.
Jax gasped. She dropped the frame and grabbed the fireplace poker. We both whipped around and faced the office door.
Someone was walking through the house.
14
Jax
I gripped the fireplace poker in both hands, aiming it at the doorway. The robber had returned, or maybe he’d never left. Maybe he’d been hiding in the closet and as soon as he figured out we were kids, he decided to deal with us.
Ethan was probably thinking the same thing because he grabbed a book and held it like he was going to throw it. Then he must have decided that a
book made a terrible weapon, because he pulled his Swiss army knife from his pocket. As the footsteps closed in, we huddled side by side like two raccoons caught in headlights. Someone appeared in the doorway. I lunged.
“Hey! What’s your problem?” Tyler cried, ducking as I swung. “You almost poked out my eye. Are you trying to turn me into a Cyclops?”
My arms fell to my sides. “Don’t do that,” I said between clenched teeth.
“Do what?”
“Sneak up on us. I almost peed my pants.” I set the poker on the desk. Ethan stood frozen, the knife still clenched in his hands.
“Are you going to stab me with that toothpick?” Tyler asked him, arching one of his eyebrows. I’d tried to teach myself how to raise one eyebrow, practicing in the mirror until my forehead had started to throb. Tyler looked devilish when he did it. When I tried, it always looked like I was holding back a fart.
“Don’t tempt me,” Ethan said, then he put the knife away.
“So what’s going on?” Tyler asked. “Why’s everything on the floor?”
“Someone broke in and robbed the place,” I told him. “Either that or our great-aunt is a slob. She’s not here so we can’t ask.”
“If she’s not here, how’d you get in?”
“The door was unlocked.” My attention was drawn back to the photo labeled Jax and Me. Tyler was the only one of us old enough to remember our great-aunt so he might recognize her. “Is this Juniper?” I asked.
He picked up the photo. “Yeah, I think so. I remember those long braids.”
I took in more details. Juniper was holding me and smiling into the camera. Her face was tan and weathered from the sun. She had a big, broad smile and a gap in her front teeth. A bright red bandana wound around her neck. “The building behind us looks old,” I said, pointing to a white building with columns. “Do you think this photo was taken in Greece?”
“That’s the Lincoln Memorial,” Ethan said.
“How do you know?” I asked.
The Secret Box Page 8
