The Atomic Weight of Secrets or The Arrival of the Mysterious Men in Black

by Eden Unger Bowditch

  Miss Brett had been up since the rooster crowed. She had lit the stove and pumped and fetched the water. She had collected the eggs and milked the cow, and then gone about mixing the eggs, milk, and flour batter for the pancakes. She added a heaping spoonful of sugar and a pinch of vanilla she shaved from the bean pods in the pantry. She also added some cinnamon, which she’d also found there.

  Hearing voices that before had been snores, she put the first pancake on the buttered griddle and thought, Funny how nothing will call to children like the smell of breakfast cooking.

  Lucy ran to Miss Brett, hugging her around the middle.

  “And good morning to you, Lucy,” Miss Brett said.

  “Good morning, Miss Brett,” the other children said, wrapped in various stages of sleepiness and yawns. Within minutes of the first pancake hitting the griddle, all the children were sitting at the table.

  “Are you all going to eat off the wood, or are you going to put some plates on the table?” said Miss Brett. “Come now, I know you’re tired, but we are starting a new day. Lucy, get the cups. They’re on the lower shelf next to the pantry door. Noah, get the plates. They’re higher up. Wallace, the napkins, in the hamper by the plates. Faye, you and Jasper get the milk. It’s in those jugs by the sink.”

  Soon, they were all eating pancakes smothered in sweet butter and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. They munched on raisins and dried apricots, too.

  “We eat these with golden syrup or treacle back home,” Jasper said, taking a third helping of pancakes. “Hortensia makes them for us on weekends. These are better, though, aren’t they, Lucy?”

  “They jolly well are,” she said, taking another bite. “They’re lovely, Miss Brett. Mummy said she always had crepes when she was small, back in France. They’re not fluffy at all. The ones Hortensia makes are a bit fluffy but mostly chewy. Yours are much fluffier than the ones back in England.”

  “Must you eat like a horse?” Faye said to Noah, who was shoveling in what looked to be two bites at a time. “You, too,” she scolded Jasper, who stopped mid-bite and swallowed an uncomfortably large piece, slicing his next very small.

  Faye took an elegant bite. “In India, we have pooda. And...” She looked at Lucy. “These are much fluffier than ours, as well.”

  “It must be Miss Brett’s secret ingredients,” said Lucy, beaming at Miss Brett. “Miss Brett makes everything so deliciously that she must have a secret ingredient for everything. It’s the secret ingredient that makes it work. Isn’t that right, Miss Brett?”

  Miss Brett smiled at Lucy. “It’s always the secret ingredient that makes a thing work best.”

  Later, as they worked together cleaning up after breakfast, Miss Brett headed for the henhouse. Today’s lesson would cover a little nature.

  “It’s hatching!” cried Lucy, halfway through a discussion on caring for chickens. Sure enough, the egg Miss Brett had brought in from the henhouse was cracking open. That morning, Miss Brett had noticed the crack on the one egg she had left the day before, but supposed it still had some time to go. Now, they all gathered around the warming tray upon which the little egg, nestled in a soft cloth, was perched.

  “Once the little thing has dried itself off, we’ll bring it back to its mummy,” said Lucy.

  “Otherwise, it’s going to think I’m its mummy,” said Noah.

  “You look like its mummy,” Faye said, but even she had to laugh when Noah clucked and strutted. Jasper and Lucy shared a secret grin, for Noah reminded them, just the teeniest bit, of Rosie.

  “Yes, now, we really had better get the little thing back to its nest before it follows Noah everywhere,” said Miss Brett, placing a kerchief gently over the tiny chick.

  “But I want to see my new friend,” said Lucy.

  “He needs the warmth and the protection,” Miss Brett said.

  “Protection from imprinting on one of us,” said Noah. “That’s what it’s called—imprinting. That’s when a baby chick decides who its mother is and stays with that mother, even if it’s a dog or a giraffe or a girl named Lucy.”

  After the lesson, while Miss Brett prepared a picnic lunch, the children took the little chick to the henhouse.

  “I can feel its little heart beating,” said Lucy, who carried it gently.

  “Keep it covered or you’ll be in trouble,” said Jasper, keeping his eye on Lucy, who was inclined to let the cover slip so she could adopt the tiny chick.

  “Oh, do we have to put it back?” Lucy said. “I’ll be the mummy. Do we have to give him back?”

  “Of course we do,” Faye said, taking the chick from Lucy and letting it topple gently into the hen’s roost. It wiggled up next to its mother and nestled in with the other two newborns. “How do you think the mother would feel if someone else had its baby?”

  Lucy looked at her for a moment, then turned to Jasper. “Do you think the mummy hen is like our mummy? Would she be worried if someone else took us?”

  “Someone else did take us,” Faye said, studying the chickens together. They all watched as the little feathery families pecked, cheeped, and clucked as one.

  “If you look at the clouds,” Lucy said, pointing at the sky with her carrot, “you can see an elephant. You do know what an elephant is, don’t you?”

  “I own elephants,” Faye said, selecting another cheese sandwich from the hamper and looking out at the empty road. “We have to do something.”

  “We are doing something,” Noah said, his feet crossed and perched upon the trunk of the willow tree under which they picnicked.

  “I don’t mean sitting around gorging ourselves,” Faye said, knocking Noah’s feet to the ground.

  “What do you mean, Faye?” asked Miss Brett.

  “I mean, we’re all captives. We’re all here against our will.”

  “I’m not,” Miss Brett said firmly. “I came because I wanted to. I wanted to teach and help.”

  “Help keep us here?” Faye said.

  “Help keep you out of harm’s way,” Miss Brett answered calmly, taking another sandwich. She wanted to show she was not hurt, and that she did not feel somehow guilty. But she was their keeper, was she not? Did she not work for the same mysterious forces that had placed them all here? “Does anyone want more milk?” she asked.

  “Yes, please,” said Faye.

  Miss Brett stood and walked back to the farmhouse, glad to be able to wipe her tears without the children seeing.

  Once Miss Brett was out of earshot, Faye said, “We need a plan.”

  “A plan for what?” asked Jasper.

  “A plan of rescue, you dimwit,” Faye said. “We’ve got to get out of here and rescue our parents.”

  “No.” Sitting up, Lucy crossed her arms. “I want to stay.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Faye,” Noah said, putting his feet back up. “We’re safe with Miss Brett. Our parents are fine, and we’ll see them when they’re done doing whatever it is they’re doing.”

  “And what do you think that is?” asked Wallace.

  “Something for the government?” Jasper said.

  “What government?” said Faye. “The Indian? The British? The American? The Canadian? The French? That sounds a bit unlikely to me.”

  “She’s right, you know,” said Jasper.

  “Well, then... they...” Noah stalled, struggling for something to say. “They are plotting to overthrow the world with a secret invention that requires the greatest scientific minds from the world’s greatest countries.”

  “You’re an idiot,” said Faye.

  “But they must be needed for something,” Wallace said. “Our parents are all scientists, are they not?”

  “My mother’s an opera singer,” said Noah.

  “Well, she’s not been kidnapped, has she?” countered Faye.

  “Who said anything about kidnapping?” Noah sat back up.

  “I’m breaking out of here tonight,” Faye said in a near whisper.

  “You’re what?” Jasper was aghas
t. “Are you mad?”

  “Are you?” Faye said. “I think it’s mad to sit here and wait for doom.”

  “Doom?” Noah laughed. “Doom? What, you mean if we run out of clover honey or if Miss Brett burns the biscuits?”

  “Miss Brett would never burn the biscuits,” Lucy said, crossly.

  “Fine,” Faye said with finality. “If you want to sit here while your parents are... are, who knows what, you can do just that. I, for one, am going to try to save mine.”

  Miss Brett returned with the milk to a very quiet group of children.

  “Shall we return to our lesson?” she asked.

  In silence, they all carried the picnic’s remains into the kitchen and returned to the classroom.

  “I’m right here, Wallace,” grumbled Faye.

  “No you’re not. You’re here,” said Noah, wincing, “and that’s my foot.”

  Miss Brett’s five wards bumbled and bumped into one another, walking through the pitch-black dark.

  “You’re shoving me into my desk, Faye,” said Jasper.

  “Oh, sorry,” said Noah, stepping back into Wallace. “That was me.”

  “I want to go back to sleep,” cried Lucy. “I want Miss Brett.”

  “Don’t be a baby,” said Faye.

  “I’m not a baby!” Lucy said.

  “Shhhhh,” they all said.

  “You’re not a baby,” Jasper said, reassuringly.

  “If you’re not a baby,” whispered Faye, “then don’t act like one.”

  “But Miss Brett—”

  “Look, we’ll come back and save her, too. Right now, we have to figure out a way out of here.” Faye found the candle she had hidden in her desk before bedtime.

  Noah yawned loudly.

  “Will you be quiet?” Faye said. “Do you want to wake the whole farm?”

  “I’m tired,” Noah said. “It’s half past one in the morning.”

  Faye lit the candle with the tinderbox she’d hidden alongside it. Everyone took a step off of one another.

  Very quietly, they opened the door to the classroom. They had chosen the classroom door instead of the door to the farmhouse so they would not wake Miss Brett.

  “I’ve lost one of my slippers,” said Lucy.

  “Well, get it!” Faye said.

  “It’s back in the classroom,” said Lucy.

  Faye opened up her mouth to shout, but bit her tongue. “Get it,” she mumbled—mumbling was the best she could do with her tongue bitten.

  Lucy scampered back to the classroom and emerged moments later. Although it was late summer, there was an autumn-like chill in the night air. The five of them huddled close.

  “Now, as I figure it, we should go for the road. We’ll head back in the direction we came—”

  “Which is..?” Noah hadn’t a clue and hoped someone else had.

  They all looked both ways. Several times.

  “Right, I say we go that way,” said Jasper.

  “Are you sure?” Faye asked.

  “No, but I’m pretty certain,” he said.

  “Why doesn’t Lucy know?”

  “I only know things I know,” Lucy explained. “I don’t know things I don’t know yet. But I’ll know tomorrow if we figure it out tonight.”

  “Well, glad we cleared that up,” Noah said.

  “Just walk,” Faye said. “Go the way Jasper suggested.”

  “What are we going to do when we walk down the road?” asked Lucy with a shiver. She was cold.

  “We get to that when we get to that,” said Faye.

  “She has a point, Faye,” said Noah. “You’ve convinced us we need to do something, but what is the next thing we’re supposed to do? Wander around in our nightshirts in hopes that some farmer comes by on his horse and picks us all up? Even if that happened, where would we go?”

  “To the police,” said Faye.

  “The police?”

  “The police,” Faye said with certainty.

  After a few moments of contemplation, Noah said, “Well, okay. But what do we tell them?”

  “We say that... these men in black... that...” Faye faltered. “Actually, I think we should just concern ourselves with getting away so we can find our parents. We don’t need to involve the police right now.”

  The five of them trundled in the dark with nothing but the light of the candle to guide them. They tiptoed through the fields of greens and through the apple orchard. At one point, they saw a shadow standing at the edge of the field. They all stopped, thinking, for a moment, that someone was standing there.

  “It must be a signpost or something,” Faye said.

  “There are more of them,” Jasper said, pointing to the shadows in the moonlight.

  “Fine, then there are lots of signposts. It doesn’t matter. Keep walking.”

  “The signposts are moving!” cried Lucy.

  “It’s just a trick of the moonlight,” said Faye, although she thought she saw the same thing.

  Soon, they came to the dirt road.

  “All right, everyone ready?” asked Faye. There were nods all around, although the quiet did not mask their fear and apprehension. Faye took a deep breath. “This is it. We’re all together. We’ll start off and—”

  At that moment, a rumbling noise sent them all hiding behind the mound of the irrigation ditch. It was getting louder and louder. Lucy grabbed Jasper by the arm and he held her close. Faye leaned against him, too. Jasper did not have the courage to put his arm around her, but he would protect them both if there was danger.

  During the thrill of terror, Faye was the first to realize what it was.

  “It’s them!” she cried over the rumble of the motorcar.

  And it was. The huge black motorcar drove past them, and in the light of the moon, the children could see the shape of the big furry cap and funny bow that sat upon the head of what was clearly one of the men in black. Not only that, but the signposts were not signposts at all—and they were moving. Some wore caps or hats or feather boas. Some wore long trousers or jodhpurs or frilly pinafores. But not one of them was a signpost. They were all men in black.

  “We’re surrounded,” said Faye, slumping back into the ditch.

  “We’re trapped,” said Wallace, realizing for the first time that she was right.

  “They have us captive,” said Jasper.

  “I need to wee,” said Lucy, her legs crossed beneath her.

  Feeling defeated and disheartened, the five children ambled towards the schoolhouse, stopping briefly to let Lucy wee on the far side of the ditch. It felt like a slow march—a march of prisoners headed back to their prison.

  Up half the night, they returned unnoticed to their beds, but did not sleep well, and Miss Brett, after readying her jam doughnuts for breakfast, had to go in and wake the children. She did not receive a friendly welcome for her efforts.

  The breakfast table proved a solemn venue. The children did not eat very much.

  “Is everything all right?” asked Miss Brett.

  As Lucy opened her mouth, Faye kicked her under the table.

  “Just... just tired, Miss Brett,” said Lucy, her fingers heading into her mouth.

  “The lot of you?” Miss Brett asked. “Were you up in the night experimenting?”

  Lucy opened her mouth, but Faye cut her off.

  “Yes, Miss Brett. We’re terribly sorry. We were all excited to, well, you probably wouldn’t understand. Mmmm, these cakes are lovely.” Faye indulged in a doughnut. “Delicious. I’m feeling more awake already, aren’t you, Wallace?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Wallace said, “I mean, Faye. Yes, Faye.” But he only looked at his doughnut.

  “All right, you five. Listen to me. I do not care whose idea it was, and I do not care what it was you were doing, but we have a new rule on Sole Manner Farm: no midnight experiments. Now, I want you all to go back to bed and come back to the table when you can eat with your eyes open.”

  The grateful children marched back int
o their rooms and fairly collapsed onto their beds. Lucy and Noah were asleep before their heads hit the pillows. The other three found they were restless again, and sleep did not come for them.

  When Lucy and Noah both woke about an hour later, they were ready for the day. Jasper, Wallace, and Faye limped through the delayed breakfast and managed to get through the morning lessons. Nobody mentioned the failed escape attempt, and no one discussed whether or not they would try again.

  WEEKENDS IN THE MEADOW

  OR

  WHEN A SECOND ISN’T ENOUGH

  The rest of the week was easier, but now they knew the truth: It was going to be impossible to just sneak away from Sole Manner Farm to rescue their parents. It became the unspoken secret among them and, as they did not speak of it, it became easier to ignore as the days went by.

  Lessons became quite interesting. The children found that they enjoyed teaching Miss Brett about all facets of science, explaining chemical reactions and physics. Miss Brett, meanwhile, loved to find things the children didn’t know, and they were so pleased that she cared enough to do that. They learned about animals and about trees. They learned about planting and caring for the things they planted. They walked in the meadow, and Lucy picked the last of the apple blossoms as tiny apples began to form on the trees. They read stories about pirates and ogres and princesses and frogs. Mostly, they learned that, however unsure they were about the rest of the world, and however much they didn’t fit in with most teachers and students, they were sure Miss Brett cared, they had each other, and they were all in this together.

  Even Miss Brett. She might have come to the farm with a minimum of information about her students, hired to teach five children whose parents had simply gone away, but now she knew these were not children like any other. She had come to care deeply for them, to love them. She was there for them, however they might need her. They knew this and loved her for it.

  Still, this did not keep them from knowing that everything else was some horrid mystery, some terrible unknown story in which they played some strange role as captives. And the role their parents played? This question could keep them awake at night and sour even the sweetest things Miss Brett did to please them.