“Who?”
“Great-Aunt Juniper. Do you think she’s still tied up? Do you think she’s scared?”
“I’d be scared,” I said. “But they won’t hurt her. They want the box. It’ll be okay.” Strange, but Jax was the one who was worried and I was the one doing the comforting. What I didn’t say was this—remember that evil voice on the phone? He wants the box, too. “Let’s get some sleep.”
While Tyler’s alter ego wandered through the bowels of a virtual labyrinth, fighting with a half-man, half-bull creature, Jax and I climbed into opposite beds. I won’t go into detail but that Japanese toilet was weird. I grabbed the tourist guidebook and read about the Lincoln Memorial. Reading helps quiet my mind when it’s spinning. My parents would kill me if they knew that tomorrow I was going to make a hostage exchange.
Jax started to snore and my eyelids grew heavy again. I turned off all the lights until the only glow came from Tyler’s computer. As I pulled back the sheets, Tyler whipped around. “That’s my bed. I claim it.”
“But I got it first.”
“Oh yeah?” He pulled off his headphones, scrambled out of the chair and grabbed one of his dirty socks from the closet. Then he rubbed the sock all over the sheets and pillow. “Do you still want this bed?” he asked with a smirk.
We were kids again, fighting over the best sleeping bag, or the best place on the couch. He’d always be older and bigger so he’d always get the good stuff. “Fine!” What a jerk.
I climbed into bed next to Jax, careful not to wake her. The box was tucked under the covers, taking up a lot of room. It jabbed my arm with its sharp corner. I tried to move it, gently tugging it free of her grip, but she opened one eye and stared at me. “What are you doing?”
“The box is in the way.”
She sat up, suddenly wide awake, her hair matted to one side of her face. “Then go sleep in the other bed.”
“I’m not going to sleep with Tyler. He rubbed his disgusting sock all over the sheets. Can’t you just move the box?”
She clutched it to her chest. “Don’t try to take it,” she said, “or you’ll be sorry.”
“I’ll be sorry? What’s that supposed to mean?”
She looked at me, her eyes flashing like a warning sign. “Those who cross the protector will suffer.” She turned her back to me, the box tucked beneath the covers. Then she started snoring again.
“Whatever,” I mumbled. What a grouch! Maybe she just needed sleep. I grabbed a pillow and blanket and found a spot on the carpet.
But something didn’t feel right, and Jax was always saying that you shouldn’t ignore a feeling. Was it that look in her eyes when she’d said she was the protector of the box? Or the way she’d spoken in a monotone, like a robot?
Those who cross the protector will suffer.
20
Jax
Tuesday
I was stuck in one of Tyler’s games.
They came at me from all sides. Clutching my box, I ran up and down staircases, through dark passages, between ancient ruins. Everywhere I went, people reached out their hands, trying to grab my treasure. Mr. Camel darted around a pillar, his eyes blazing like campfires. Mrs. Camel jumped out of a crypt like a jack-in-the-box, her twitchy fingers as long as rulers. Tyler blasted his way toward me with a ray gun. I threw myself behind a stone wall. Ethan stood in a doorway, waving at me, smiling. “Come on in, Jax. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe with me.” I staggered toward him, knowing he’d protect me. I could trust Ethan. He’d never deceive me.
But when I got close to the door, he stepped aside and the Camels were right behind him.
“Give us the box!”
I woke up coated with sweat, my heart racing. The bed wasn’t mine. The comforter wasn’t mine. Where was I?
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Our room at the Madison Hotel was faintly lit by the glow of Tyler’s computer. He’d fallen asleep at the desk. Ethan lay asleep on the carpet, burrowed beneath a blanket, a mop of brown hair sticking out. I felt around the bed. Where was it? My heart skipped a beat. Where . . . ? As soon as my fingers found the smooth surface, I exhaled.
The only other time I’d felt this way about an object was when I was really little. Spot, my stuffed orca whale, had gone everywhere with me. He came from the zoo’s gift shop and I’m not sure why I’d latched on to him. Why does one kid carry a blanket around and another kid carry an orca whale? Spot went to restaurants, movie theaters—he even took baths with me. When I couldn’t find him because Mom had put him in the dryer, or because I’d dropped him in the driveway, I’d get an achy feeling and it wouldn’t go away until he was in my arms. Eventually Spot lost all his stuffing and turned into a tattered piece of fabric, but by that time I’d grown up and didn’t need him anymore.
Now I needed something else.
The box lay safely beside me, under the covers. The Camels had tried to steal it. Tyler and Ethan each wanted a third. Everyone was trying to cheat me out of my rightful birthday present—conspiring, ganging up on me. Why should I share?
With the sheet’s edge, I wiped sweat from my face. What was wrong with me? Why was I having all these dark thoughts? Get a grip, I told myself. You’re losing it!
After quietly sliding out of bed and stepping around Ethan, I carried the box into the bathroom and got a glass of water. My reflection stared back at me, dark circles under my eyes, hair frizzed out like a Brillo pad. Using the little bar of soap from the basket, I washed my face. The warm water didn’t calm my thoughts. I tried cold water but I still felt weird.
I pulled my hair into a ponytail and looked into the mirror again. My thoughts felt thick, like they were floating in pudding. Weren’t we supposed to do something today? Oh right. Juniper. We were supposed to rescue our great-aunt.
I am the protector of the box.
Yes, the protector. Juniper’s name faded away and all I could sense was the box. It had been given to me and it was my duty to keep it safe. The contents were for my eyes only. Ethan and Tyler had no right to claim a third. I’d sneak out and open it on my own.
I put on my purple jacket, then carefully set the precious box into my backpack, wedged safely between a shirt and an extra pair of jeans. Keep it hidden. Keep it safe.
Tyler was still slumped over the desk, wrappers from the minibar scattered around him. His shirt expanded with his steady breaths. Ethan was still curled under the blanket. Was I doing the right thing? Tyler would be pissed when he found out I’d tried to open the box without him. Ethan might not care about what was inside, but he’d feel left out, that’s for sure. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He’d been my partner in most everything. I’d convinced him to go on this trip and yet, there I stood, ready to sneak out without him.
I reached out to wake him but hesitated. Dream images flashed through my mind—the Camels with their greedy hands, Tyler and his ray gun, Ethan trying to lure me into a trap. His Swiss army knife lay on the floor next to his wallet. I grabbed the knife and stuck it into my pocket.
Those who cross the protector will suffer.
No one could be trusted. I had to do this alone. Creeping like a cat burgler, I silently opened the door and stepped into the hall. With a gentle click the door closed. Morning newspapers lay along the hallway. Room-service trays from last night were piled on a housekeeping cart. The stairs would be faster than waiting for the elevator. I dashed down, stopping a few times, listening to make sure no one was following.
People with suitcases sat in the hotel lobby, waiting near a sign that read, Airport Van Pickup. Nine A.M., according to the lobby clock. I must have been really tired to have slept so long. “What’s the best way to get to the Lincoln Memorial?” I asked a guy who was working the reception desk. He told me what to do, then drew the directions on a walking map. After I thanked him, he looked at me funny. Then he stared at my backpack. My stomach clenched. Did he know about the box? How was that possible? I grabbed the map and hurried out of the hotel.
Protect. The. Box.
“Jax, where are you going?”
It was Ethan’s voice. I turned on my heels. He and Tyler stood behind me on the sidewalk, in the same clothes they’d worn all day yesterday and had slept in. Tyler’s stubble was turning to beard.
“She’s sneaking off,” Tyler said, crossing his arms. “She’s going to open it without us.”
I clamped my fingers around the backpack straps. “It’s my birthday present. I can do whatever I want with it.”
“We all know it’s your birthday present,” Tyler said. “That’s not in contention. But must I remind you, little cousin, that if we end up selling whatever’s in that box, you agreed to give me one third.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t want to.”
“Uh . . . Jax?” Ethan stepped closer and as he did, I stepped away. “You look different. Are you sick? Your face is red.”
“Stay away from me.” I took another step, my heel balancing on the sidewalk’s edge. “I know you want to take it from me and keep it for yourself.”
“Huh?” Ethan pushed hair from his eyes. “Why would I do that?”
I couldn’t answer his question. Part of me knew I wasn’t making sense. Ethan had never stolen a single thing, not even a candy bar. The only times he’d gotten into trouble were because of me. So why would he, all of a sudden, do something to hurt me? He wouldn’t. But as soon as I convinced myself that Ethan was no threat, my gut tightened and my head filled with dark thoughts. He can’t be trusted. Protect the box.
“Just leave me alone.” I turned and darted into the road. A taxi honked and swerved. A car slammed its brakes.
“Jax!” Ethan yelled, but I was already across the intersection.
Down Fifteenth I ran, making the walk lights with perfect timing, which could have been pure luck but I knew it was fate. I was meant to open the box. The contents were mine.
A block over, I stopped for a moment to check the map. I’d reached Lafayette Park, a big green area, and I was supposed to cross it and make my way around the White House. I ran past a giant statue of a man riding a horse. Tourists were everywhere, holding up their cell phones and clicking photos. I didn’t stop to gawk at the White House. This wasn’t a sightseeing trip.
I came to a big slab. The sign read, Zero Milestone.
“Wait!” Ethan caught up and grabbed my arm. He could barely talk, he was breathing so hard. “Why are you running so fast?”
I yanked my arm away. Tyler was in the distance, his pace slowing. “Don’t worry,” Ethan said. “He’ll take forever to get here. This is the most exercise he’s gotten in years. Now tell me what’s wrong. Jax?” He looked into my eyes.
“I need to do this alone.” I started running again. Ethan followed.
“I won’t let you face the Camels on your own. They’re too dangerous.”
Camels?
“Go away,” I told him, trying to race ahead. But he stubbornly kept up with me.
“Why are you acting like this?” he asked. “I know Tyler’s a pain in the butt, but you made a deal with him. He drove us here, remember? And we need him when the Camels come. He might not be able to run very fast but he’s a big guy.”
I am the protector of the box.
We crossed Constitution Avenue, just like the man had told me. The right spot wasn’t far. “Hey, that’s the Washington Monument. Slow down, would you? I’m getting a side ache.” Ethan grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to a stop. “Why are you always in a hurry?”
I was about to twist free of Ethan’s grip when the world went silent. No hum of traffic. No gasps as Ethan tried to catch his breath. Tourists stood in clumps, talking, but I couldn’t hear their voices. Eyes turned toward me, staring at my backpack. I slid out of the straps and hugged it to my chest. A few people slowed down, looking, looking, looking. How could they know about the box? How could I protect it from this many people? It was just me. Me against all of them. How could I . . . ?
Someone ripped the backpack from my hands.
Tyler had swooped in like a vulture. His face was all sweaty but victory shined in his eyes. I took a deep breath, about to scream, about to punch him when . . .
. . . I unfurled my fists. Sound returned. A car honked. A baby cried. A woman in high heels clicked past. The world cleared as if I’d been walking through fog and it had suddenly lifted. Relief washed over me. The backpack had felt like dead weight and my shoulders ached where the straps had rubbed. Tourists no longer stared. They walked past, minding their own business, caught up in their own plans. No one was trying to steal the box. My two cousins gazed at me, bewildered. I rubbed my eyes. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” Tyler asked sarcastically. “You totally freaked out.”
“I . . . I thought you and Ethan wanted to steal the box,” I told him.
“How could you think that?” Ethan’s voice cracked. “When have I ever stolen anything from you?”
Never. That was the answer. Ethan was the most trustworthy person I knew. What was wrong with me? “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I felt that way. It doesn’t make any sense. As soon as you took the backpack, I didn’t feel like that anymore.”
“You called yourself the protector,” Ethan said. He shoved his hands into his plaid pockets.
I didn’t know how to explain the way I’d acted, so I changed the subject. “Where’s your hat?” I asked. It was so weird to see him without it.
“I ran out of the hotel so fast I forgot it,” he said. “Jax? You looked right at me and called yourself the protector of the box.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” I cringed. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But I wanted to protect it, more than anything.”
“It’s like the ring,” Tyler said, his voice mysterious.
“What ring?” I asked.
He motioned us over to a bench, where we sat very close, me in the middle. Then he lowered his voice, as if about to tell a scary story around a campfire. “The One Ring, Sauron’s ring. From J. R. R. Tolkien’s epic, The Lord of the Rings.” Ignoring Ethan’s groan, Tyler launched into an explanation. “The One Ring contained the dark powers of Sauron, an evil being who wanted to dominate Middle Earth. When Frodo Baggins wore the ring, he was consumed by dark thoughts and suspected everyone around him of trying to steal it. So he tried to sneak away without the other members of his fellowship following.”
“Give us a break,” Ethan said with a huge roll of his eyes. “Are you saying that Jax is like Frodo and that her birthday box is like Sauron’s ring?”
“Maybe.” Tyler shrugged. “Why not? Jax has been holding the box ever since we got it out of the motel safe. She even slept with it. Then she tried to sneak away. Frodo believed that he was the protector of the ring. Jax believes that she’s the protector of the box.”
Usually I’d ignore Tyler’s fantasies, but something felt true. “I heard Mrs. Camel say the same thing. She said that the box wanted her to protect it. And Mr. Camel said that the powers were strong.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “And don’t forget that the Camels wrote Pandora on the motel-room wall. Pandora’s box was full of evil, just like Sauron’s ring.”
These stories were beginning to sound oddly familiar. I lowered my voice. “I had strange dreams that everyone was trying to take the box, including both of you. And even though it didn’t make any sense, I knew I needed to sneak away. It was as if the box was te
lling me to sneak away. I couldn’t control my feelings.”
We all looked at the backpack.
“Mind control,” Tyler whispered.
“Okay, you two are just trying to freak me out,” Ethan said, rising from the bench. “This is ridiculous. Pandora is a Greek myth. Sauron is a villain from a book. Whatever’s inside the box is worth money and the Camels want it. They are greedy thieves, that’s all. Let’s just go open the stupid thing, get Juniper back, and go home. I’m sick of this quest.” He grabbed the backpack and slung it over a shoulder. “And let’s get one thing straight. Next time you want a partner for one of your stupid adventures, ask someone else!”
21
Ethan
FACT: Older brothers who spend most of their free time cutting the heads off of Cyclopses are completely out of touch with reality.
I didn’t believe a word. How could a box have powers? Jax got greedy, that was the truth. She didn’t want to share. She tried to do this without us but we caught her so she came up with this story about dark feelings. Tyler hadn’t surprised me—he was always talking about one of his games or fantasy novels. But Jax had acted like I wasn’t trustworthy. I’d never taken anything from her. I’d been her loyal sidekick time and time again. But instead of apologizing, she’d blamed her actions on the box, as if it had power over her. And Tyler had agreed, with his idiotic suggestion about mind control.
Mind control? No one was controlling my mind. Not anymore. Those two could play their games but I was done with this whole thing. As soon as Juniper was safe, I’d go home and find something to do that didn’t include great-aunts, kidnappers, or anything Greek.
The Lincoln Memorial stood at the other end of the Reflecting Pool, a rectangular pond that was more than one third of a mile long. The memorial’s image floated on the pool’s glass-like surface. I didn’t share interesting facts with either Tyler or Jax. They wouldn’t care that to the right was the Constitution Garden, and that the large black wall was the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. But if I said, Oh look, there’s a hobbit, they’d be interested.
The Secret Box Page 13
