Carolynn Eliot 4
Ben watched Jill. As she read over his list, she made a shape with her mouth, the one he hated. It meant something harsh was coming.
She said, “Well . . . all this sounded good last night, but look at this list. I mean, we just recruited a bunch of kids who we barely know, who are completely untested, and who might be totally unreliable.”
“Okay, think about it this way,” Robert said. “If only one of these kids turns out to be useful, then we’ve grown our in-school forces by thirty-three percent. If two are helpful, then we are sixty-six percent stronger than before, and if three are good, then that’s a one hundred percent increase in our numbers. Plus, the Glennley guys don’t know about them, so every newbie is extra valuable. The possible upside is way better than any possible downside. I mean, even if they all went running to Lyman, or crying to their mommies, it wouldn’t matter. They don’t actually know anything—none of the details. So it’s win, win, win—is how I see it.”
“Absolutely,” Ben said. “Except I’m still not sure how much help any of them are going to be with what we’ve got to do after school today, with getting where we need to go. Because we know Lyman and Wally are gonna be on super-high alert.”
Before Jill or Robert could reply, the warning bell clanged—two minutes to get all the way to the gym for sixth-period P.E.
Instinctively, all three of them turned and dashed for the staircase.
As he trotted down the steps, Ben tried to answer his own question. He wasn’t feeling good about today’s objective.
The weekend had been a near disaster—almost game over. Lyman and Wally had broken a water pipe in a third-floor washroom on Saturday afternoon—a trick that had almost scuttled the rest of the school year, which was only three days. If that attack had succeeded, it would have been the end of Oakes School for sure. The place would have been so badly damaged by the flooding that it probably would have been condemned by the town building department. At the very least, that flood would have kept the Keepers from searching for the last two safeguards. As of this moment, they still had a fighting chance, still had access to the building. But these last three days were crucial.
I hope Captain Oakes knew what he was doing!
It wasn’t the first time Ben had thought that.
Yes, Captain Oakes had left things hidden around the school, safeguards he hoped would help to preserve the place if someone ever wanted to tear it down and use the oceanfront land for a different purpose. And, yes, the safeguards they’d found were significant: a remarkable addition to the captain’s will; a trust fund worth more than eighty million dollars; and then, just last week, some antique Freemasonry gear that had guaranteed them the help of the Grand Master of the Edgeport Masonic lodge—who turned out to be Jill’s dad.
Which was weird—especially weird, since this had made Jill feel like she had to let her mom in on the secret too. And then Ben had told both his parents about the Keepers. So now they had tons of people helping them—but the grown-ups could only help outside the school. Inside, it was all up to them—which is why they’d decided to get more kids involved. Based on how hard it had been to discover the first three safeguards, locating two more in just a few days was going to be tough.
Robert had wanted to skip right to the fifth clue, the final safeguard. . . . The three of them had a big argument about that.
And I shut Gerritt down—because the captain was on my side . . . and Jill, too.
Captain Oakes and his original Keepers had left specific instructions about finding each safeguard in order, and not messing with any safeguard that wasn’t needed. Plus, on the copper plate where the list of clues was written, there had been a special warning: Seek the final safeguard ONLY IF YOU MUST—for once it is found, our school will change forever. And the large iron key they’d found in the same place? Almost the same words were scratched into the metal: USE ONLY IF YOU MUST.
As Ben passed the second-floor doorway and kept charging down the stairs, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was falling apart. Even if they did manage to find the last two safeguards, would anything stop the Glennley Group? So far, nothing had worked—not even an eighty-eight million-dollar trust fund. And this heat wave? It seemed to make it harder to do everything, including think. The stairwell was like a sauna.
I really hope Captain Oakes knew what he was doing!
Because it felt like the school was sinking. The Glennley warship was closing in, starting to turn into the wind, getting ready to fire a dozen cannons all at once, a full broadside.
And what were the Keepers doing? Not much.
Was Jill right about those seven new kids—were they going to be any use at all? This really wasn’t the time for bumbling recruits. This was when they needed battle-tested veterans. Now was the time for the heavy guns, for some real power, for—
Ben slammed to a stop, and Jill and Robert plowed into him, almost pinning him to the wall of the first-floor landing.
“Pratt, you idiot!”
That was Gerritt, and before Jill could add anything, Ben said, “Guys, let’s cut gym class! Wally’s there, or maybe Lyman, waiting for us—we know that. So, we’re gonna skip!”
Robert looked at Ben like he’d just suggested that they all put on gorilla suits and go rob a bank. “That’s insane! The teachers’ll figure it out, that we cut class!”
“So?” said Ben. “What’s more important—the survival of the school, or a little attendance problem?”
Robert was not happy with that answer. But he said, “So . . . like, where would we hide?”
“We’re not just gonna hide—we’ve got more recruiting to do.”
Jill glared at him, her face red from the heat and exertion. “No—not until we see if the other new ones are any help! We are not recruiting more kids!”
Ben grinned as he started back up the stairs. “Who said anything about kids?”
CHAPTER 5
In
“That’s quite a story, Benjamin.”
“That’s only part of it, Mrs. Hinman! There’s a lot more, but—”
Mrs. Hinman held up a hand. “So, you’re saying that Mr. Lyman works for the company that bought the school? And you three have been fighting some kind of secret war with him for nearly a month?”
“And also the short janitor,” Jill said. “Wally works for the Glennley Group too.”
Mrs. Hinman was quiet a moment, and Ben saw an idea dawn on her face.
“So . . . the big report you’ve been working on . . . ?”
Robert said, “That was mostly a way to get more access to the school . . . except we really do want those extra-credit points—right, guys?”
Ignoring Gerritt, Ben said, “It sounds crazy, but it’s all true, and in a few minutes we can show you everything we’ve got, all the proof. But first you’re going to have to help us out a little, like really soon.”
Mrs. Hinman shook her head and took out a pad of bright yellow hall passes.
“The only help I can offer is permission to get to your sixth-period class. I really can’t—”
“But don’t you want to keep the school the way it’s supposed to be?” Jill asked. “I thought you cared about real history and about this town!”
Mrs. Hinman flashed her a sharp look. “Don’t think that I’m happy about this, young lady! Two years ago my husband and I bought a house seven blocks from here. I love this school, and now, instead of me being able to walk to work, we’re going to have to get a second car. Plus, the value of our home has fallen into the ocean. So don’t give me a lecture about caring!” She paused, and her cheeks turned bright pink. “I’m . . . I’m sorry . . . but I just don’t think there’s much I could do, even if everything you’ve told me is true.”
Ben said, “Well, you’re about to get some proof about that. Shh . . . listen!”
Everyone went still, and they heard heavy footsteps echoing in the stairwell across from the classroom door.
Ben looked Mrs.
Hinman in the eye and whispered, “Would it seem like a strange coincidence if one of the so-called janitors wanted to come and look around your room right now?” Then, to Jill and Robert, he said, “Quick, into that closet!”
In seconds the three of them were crammed into the coat closet at the back of the room. Jill grabbed the hook on the inside of the door and pulled it shut.
Ben was stuffed into the middle, and he tried to stay completely still. He also tried to stop sweating. Which was impossible. But he had to breathe, and he could smell Jill’s hair—some kind of fruity shampoo . . . maybe strawberry. And then he got a good whiff of Gerritt’s armpit, which spoiled the moment. He almost whispered, Dude, you need some serious deodorant! But he didn’t want to risk an explosion of giggles.
There was a quiet knock at the classroom door.
“Come in,” called Mrs. Hinman. “Oh—hi, Jerry.”
“Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to be sure there wasn’t any electrical damage from the weekend flood. Mind if I check a couple wall outlets?”
“No, not at all.”
Ben heard a muffled clank—Lyman’s canvas tool bag. Then there were some rustling sounds, a few clicks, and then a loud electronic beep.
Lyman grunted a little, and then there was another beep.
“Looks like things are okay. Any problems with the overhead lights?”
“No, everything’s been fine. So . . . are you checking all the classrooms?”
“Trying to—been putting in a lot of extra hours these past few days. Well,” Lyman said, “glad everything’s all right.”
“Me too—thanks, Jerry.”
There were footsteps, and then Ben heard the classroom door close.
Jill whispered, “I can’t breathe. . . . Can we get out now?”
Ben felt her start to push the door.
“Stop!” he hissed.
Lyman’s voice: “Sorry—forgot my meter.”
“No problem.”
Footsteps in, footsteps out, and the door closed again.
Ben whispered, “Count to thirty.”
After twenty seconds or so, Mrs. Hinman called softly, “He’s gone.”
Ben followed Jill into the brightness, and blinking, he saw the teacher standing next to the closed classroom door, peering out sideways down the hall.
She glanced at the three of them, and raising one eyebrow, she said, “He didn’t go to any other rooms. Sit there in the back, away from the doorway.”
Mrs. Hinman pulled up a chair and said, “All right. Tell me everything. And then tell me what you need me to do. As long as I don’t have to break any laws, I’m in!”
CHAPTER 6
The Whole Crew
Ben looked from face to face to face. “So, we’re clear about what each of us has to do?”
Jill and Mrs. Hinman nodded, and Gerritt said, “Clear as a bell.”
Hiding out in room thirty-four during sixth period, they’d come up with a new plan, a different way to launch Monday’s after-school operation. And Mrs. Hinman had offered some good ideas—in fact, she now had a key role to play.
They had told her everything, start to finish, and Robert had also given her one of the new ghost cell phones—number eight. She was completely plugged in to the Keepers network.
But as the final bell of the school day got closer, Ben felt new doubts crawling into his skull.
Yes, pulling Mrs. Hinman into the Keepers had been his idea . . . but now he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
Now I’ve got to deal with another grown-up!
Ben was startled by that half-angry thought.
So . . . what am I saying? Am I worried that with more grown-ups on board, I’m not gonna be such a big cheese anymore? And if the Keepers actually get some results, that maybe other people will end up getting all the credit?
He almost blushed, sitting there between Jill and Robert.
Am I really that selfish? And shallow? And . . . ambitious?
Ben knew about wars. He also knew about big battles, the kind that change the course of history—like the Battle of Hastings, and the Battle of Waterloo; like Yorktown, and, of course, Gettysburg. He knew that it was the commanding officers who got the glory—or the blame. And he knew that his leadership role in the Keepers seemed to be slipping away . . . or at least getting watered down. A lot.
And Ben was keenly aware that what had been happening in and around the Oakes School for the past month, this was the Battle of Edgeport. This battle was a crucial episode in the long history of the town—a town that had looked out over the Atlantic Ocean for more than three hundred years. The actions of the next few days were going to have a huge impact on the town and the whole region for generations to come.
So . . . what do I really want out of all this?
Change could not be stopped. Ben was sure of that.
Just two months ago, his own mom and dad had announced that they needed to be separated for a while, that they had some things to work out. Since then, Ben had lived one week with his mom at their house on Walnut Street, and the next week with his dad on their old sailboat at Parson’s Marina. He understood just how quickly everything could get turned upside down.
So . . . what do I really want?
Ben knew the answer to that.
He wanted things to be like they used to be. He wanted his family back, the whole family—Mom, Dad, their dog Nelson, and him—everybody on the same crew, everybody under the same roof again, every night. And he wanted the school to stay the same too. It felt like losing the school would be one change too many, a huge chunk of his life—of the whole town’s life—gone forever.
Still, there was no use pretending things were always going to stay the same. That wasn’t going to happen.
Change couldn’t be stopped . . . but people always had choices, didn’t they? Even if change was being forced on you—by parents, or by a team of smart lawyers and industrial spies—you still had a choice: You could either give up and accept someone else’s ideas about change, or you could fight for the kind of changes you believed in.
So . . . I guess the Keepers are changing too—because we have to.
Parents and grandparents were involved, brand-new kids were involved—and maybe some of them really would tell their parents . . . and that thought made something snap clear: Today, after social studies, when Gerritt had said that thing about the new Keepers telling “their mommies”? That was a wisecrack, a put-down of him and Jill—because they had both told their parents everything.
On Sunday afternoon, Jill had been pretty tough on Gerritt, telling him he needed to stop being so touchy about family stuff—which he kind of had the right to be. After all, his mom and dad had died in a car crash when he was five years old . . . something Ben couldn’t imagine. And Robert had seemed to lighten up a little. But that was yesterday. Today, it was pretty much the same old Gerritt, sharp and sarcastic.
Or . . . was today’s shift mostly because of that run-in he’d had with Wally before school?
Ben still hadn’t had a chance to talk to Robert about that. It felt like Gerritt had been avoiding him all morning, and at lunch he’d barely said two words—and one of them had been, “Duh!”
No way around it: Gerritt was being a real blockhead today.
But he didn’t care what Robert thought, or what kind of wisecracks the guy made about “mommies.” Ben was glad he’d told his parents—because now they were actually talking to each other again.
Because they both want to help me.
And it was also clear that Jill had done the right thing when she’d gotten her mom involved. In fact, without Mrs. Acton, they wouldn’t have discovered the starting point for this afternoon’s search. Because on Saturday morning, Jill had shown her mom the full set of safeguard clues:
After five bells sound, time to sit down.
After four times four, tread up one more.
After three hooks pass, one will be brass.
After two tides sp
in, a man walks in.
After one still star, horizons afar.
Then Jill had explained exactly how they had solved the first three clues—which was important, because each solution revealed more about the way Captain Oakes was thinking as he planned. And Mrs. Acton really got it. She understood how every word of each clue had a meaning—concealed, but mostly hidden in plain sight.
And looking at the next clue they had to solve, “after two tides spin,” she’d had an idea right away: “I’ll bet that has something to do with a tide mill!”
She’d explained to Jill that since Colonial times in America, there had been about three hundred tide mills along the Atlantic coast.
The idea behind a tide mill was simple. In Barclay Bay, for example, the difference between high tide and low tide was about ten feet, and there were two high tides and two low tides each day. To make a tide mill, workers had to dig a channel for water to rush into during the high tide, and they also had to dig a pool or a pond for that water to fill. After the rising tide filled the pool, the channel was closed to trap the water—at a level ten feet higher than the low tide. Then about six hours later at low tide, the channel was unblocked to let water flow down out of the pool to rejoin the ocean. That falling water was directed to a water wheel, and the power from that spinning wheel could be used to run a loom to weave cloth, or spin a blade to saw wood, or turn millstones to grind flour.
Because of the mess with the flood at the school, Jill hadn’t texted the tide mill idea to anyone until late Sunday afternoon, and after she did, Tom Benton immediately texted everyone back.
Another grown-up . . .
Tom had been the janitor at the Oakes School a long time ago—he’d had the job before Mr. Keane. And it was Roger Keane who had recruited Ben to lead the Keepers . . . and then had died the very same day.
Also a grown-up . . .
Tom’s text said he recalled Mr. Keane once telling him about a wooden water wheel down in the basement of the school.
Right away, Ben had called Tom to ask for more particulars, but the man didn’t have much more to add—except for one very important detail:
We Hold These Truths Page 2
