Saving the Statue of Liberty

by Andrea Jo Rodgers

  “My mom’s taking my grandmother out for dinner to her favorite restaurant. They haven’t been there since Grandma had the stroke. I hope they can manage getting in and out okay with the wheelchair.”

  “How about you, John? Did your parents land in Tanzania yet?” Annabelle asked.

  “Not yet. Hopefully, I’ll hear from them soon,” he replied. “They missed their connecting flight, so they had a delay.” Before he knew it, the train pulled into the station. From there, it was just a short walk to the beach. How strange to be back in New Jersey so soon, and yet it feels so long ago that I left here. It’s weird to be here without my family.

  The next several hours passed in a pleasant blur. Puffy white clouds dotted a brilliant blue sky. A gentle sea breeze tempered the hot sun.

  John gave each of them a surfing lesson, though Annabelle and Raphael decided they preferred boogie boarding. And then, just as they prepared to leave, John caught the perfect wave. A wonderful ending to an exciting day.

  “I got a text from Mr. Jorgenson. He wants us to meet with him tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”

  “Sounds good. Do we have another mission?” Shaniqua asked.

  “Maybe, but he didn’t say for sure. The school might be still trying to figure that out.”

  An hour later, after enjoying pizza, salad, and fruit smoothies, they caught a train and ferry back to the CRRNJ terminal at Liberty State Park. They slipped back into the utility closet and gathered in front of the portal. Together, they traveled back to the hallway at St. Michael’s. John said goodbye to his friends and soon found himself back in Aunt Martha’s antique-filled garage.

  John thought about his great-great-great-uncle George’s journal. I want to see what happened next to Uncle George and his family. Carefully John pulled out the journal and flipped to the page where he’d left off.

  Papa said it was a true miracle that no lives were lost and no one was seriously injured. We found out that the fire started in an electric light wire in the statistician’s office in the main building.

  Our ferry boat began its trip to New York City. Imagine my delight at getting a closer look at one of the most famous symbols of freedom: the Statue of Liberty. I admired her beautiful torch and crown. I felt like she was watching over us in our new beginning in this place we now call home. In that moment, I knew everything would work out.

  What a way to start in our new country. Mama said that even though we lost most of our belongings in the fire, we are fortunate to be alive. I’m so excited to be here, and I’m looking forward to many exciting adventures.

  John closed the journal. What an amazing coincidence that Uncle George and I both had adventures at Ellis Island. Could he be my guardian angel? With all the crazy adventures he’d been involved in the past few days, he could use one.

  His cell phone beeped. He pulled it from his pocket and discovered he had a text from his parents.

  It’s not going to be as easy as we thought to set up a video chat. We’ll set one up as soon as we can. Internet is sparse here, so it may be tough to text too. By now Aunt Martha must have explained to you all about St. Michael the Archangel Academy. Sorry we didn’t tell you, but we wanted it to be a surprise. Love, Mom and Dad

  I can’t believe they knew about the academy all along. He’d rather his parents told him about the academy beforehand so maybe he could have somehow prepared for it.

  His aunt Martha’s voice jarred him from his thoughts. “I thought I heard a noise out here. Welcome home,” she said, giving him a hug.

  She took his hand and led him toward the house. After filling his aunt in on the day’s adventures, John said good night to another action-packed day.

  CHAPTER 17

  Mr. Jorgenson removed his glasses, wiped them with a small dustcloth, and slipped them back on. “Team, you did a fine job yesterday. By foiling Team Mischief’s plan to set off the stink bomb in the Statue of Liberty, you prevented a lot of turmoil and heartache.”

  “But they got away,” Annabelle pointed out.

  “They may have gotten away for now, but security cameras caught some excellent images of them inside the crown. They won’t get away with what they did for long.”

  “But it would have been nice to catch them,” Raphael said. “We were close.”

  Mr. Jorgenson tapped his pen on the table. “Mr. Jenkins…”

  Uh-oh. John sat up taller in his seat. Usually when a teacher started by using his last name, it meant he was in trouble. He held his breath.

  “I understand you demonstrated courage and skill when you rescued Malicia Stone yesterday. I’m going to use that to put in a good word for you with Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston.”

  John’s pent-up breath rushed out.

  “But I let her get away,” he said. “Maybe I could have done more to stop her.”

  “As a probationary student on only his second mission, I would not have expected that of you. Now, Mr. Perez…”

  Raphael clenched his fists. .

  “I understand from the park rangers at the Statue of Liberty that a small brown monkey played a key role in getting the stink bomb down from the ceiling. I’m quite sure you wouldn’t know anything about that monkey, would you? Wait. Don’t answer that question. I don’t think I want to know the answer.”

  “Speaking of questions, I have one.” Annabelle jumped to her feet. “The other evening, we overheard you on the phone when you were talking about a security breach. Can you tell us about it? Did it affect the mirror portals?”

  “That evening, our intelligence learned of a possible security breach. The next morning, the portals didn’t work. Our investigation revealed someone tampered with them. We came up with a patch for the breach but need to develop a more permanent solution so that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Who do you think is responsible?” Shaniqua asked.

  “We have an adult team looking into it. Nothing for you children to worry about.”

  “Do you think it could be someone related to Maleficus Academy?” John asked.

  Mr. Jorgenson pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “It’s a very real possibility. But, for now, I don’t have a definite answer for you. Just keep doing what you do best, and leave that issue to the grown-ups.”

  “Speaking of what we do best, do you have a new mission for us?” Annabelle asked hopefully.

  Mr. Jorgenson took a sip of water. “Our intelligence reports have revealed that Team Mischief may be traveling south. Our theory is that they may be targeting a historical region.”

  Team Liberty exchanged smiles. “We’re ready.”

  ~

  Did you miss the first book in this series?

  Read on for a sneak peek at

  SAVING MOUNT RUSHMORE

  CHAPTER 1

  “There’s been a change in our summer plans. We’re going to Africa.”

  Upon hearing his father’s words, John Jenkins’s jaw dropped, and he nearly tipped backward off his kitchen stool. Struggling to regain his balance, he lurched forward and grabbed onto the edge of the granite countertop. “Really? Africa?” He’d be the envy of all his classmates.

  “I’ve been offered a terrific opportunity to spend the summer at a dig site called Olduvai Gorge in Tanzania,” John’s father, an archeology professor, explained as he pushed his glasses farther up onto the bridge of his nose.

  John’s mother, an emergency room physician, placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “And I’ve decided to go with him. There are many people in Tanzania who need medical help. The hospital has agreed to let me take a leave of absence, and they’ve donated a bunch of medical supplies for the cause.”

  “Awesome. I want to help, too,” John said. “I know CPR, and I took a basic first aid course at school a few months ago.”

  John’s mom gave him an “isn’t-that-so-sweet-of-you-to-offer” smile as she pulled her long, dark hair back into a ponytail. “Actually, I’m bringing Kaycee to help.”

  Kaycee was sixtee
n but acted like she was already eighteen. She flashed him a superior look. “You’re way too little to go on a mission trip. Mom and Dad are sending you to stay with Great-Aunt Martha in South Dakota.”

  Kaycee was a big-time eavesdropper. She didn’t seem surprised by their parents’ announcement, so John figured she must have previously overheard them discussing it. He glared at her. “No, I’m not. I’m only three years younger than you. I haven’t even seen Aunt Martha in ten years,” John protested. “Why send me there?”

  Kaycee shrugged. “They’re sending Wyatt to spend the summer at Grandma and Grandpop’s house in Maryland.”

  At the sound of his name, Wyatt paused from playing with his toy trucks. “Hurray! Grandma and Grandpop’s house.”

  “Why does he get to go to Grandma and Grandpop’s?” John frowned as he sprung to his feet. It didn’t seem fair that his four-year-old brother would get to visit his grandparents, while he was being sent to a state more than halfway across the country.

  “Now Kaycee, that’s enough. John, you know Wyatt still wets his bed. I’ll have to remember to senda mattress protector with him.”

  “Why can’t I go with him?”

  “Your aunt really wants to see you. She said she has big plans for you.”

  John eyed his mother suspiciously. “What kind of plans?”

  “Oh, you know, this and that,” his mother replied vaguely as she began unloading the dishwasher and putting dishes away.

  “You’re going to fly to South Dakota with me, right?” John had never traveled by himself before.

  “I’m really sorry, but your father and I are busy with work, so we don’t have time to fly all the way to South Dakota and back. We need to tie up a bunch of loose ends before we can travel.”

  “I’m only thirteen. I can’t go on a plane by myself.”

  “You’ll be what’s called an unaccompanied minor. It’s a special program for kids ages five to fifteen. We’ll drive you to the airport and get you safely on the plane. A flight attendant will help you with whatever you need.”

  “So, he’ll have a babysitter,” Kaycee said, obviously relishing the discussion.

  John ignored her. “If you take me with you, I promise I won’t get in the way,” he said, clinging to the hope that he could somehow change their minds.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s all settled. Like I said, your aunt needs you.”

  John highly doubted this statement. Why on earth would Aunt Martha need me? John loved his parents. He really did. However, because of their careers, they were always busy. As the middle child, sometimes he felt downright invisible.

  “Can Ranger go with me to Aunt Martha’s?” John asked. Ranger, a jet-black Belgian Shepherd (one of the smartest dogs to ever live, in John’s opinion), went with him everywhere.

  “I’m sorry, but no,” Mr. Jenkins replied. “It’s too hard to put a dog on a plane. We’re sending him with Wyatt to your grandparents.”

  “And anyway, dogs aren’t allowed to travel with unaccompanied minors,” Mrs. Jenkins added.

  On the morning that they were supposed to drive him to the airport, his mother was called in to work at the hospital. “I’m really sorry, but it’s an emergency. Your father is going to bring you to the airport. He’ll take you all the way to the gate.” She kissed him on the forehead and hugged him goodbye. John’s stomach sank to his toes as he watched her disappear out the door.

  He plopped down onto the kitchen floor next to Ranger and scratched him behind his ears. John felt queasy at the thought of spending the summer at his Great-Aunt Martha’s ranch in Middle-of-Nowhere, South Dakota. What would he do without his buddies, Chloe Armstrong and Jackson Miller? The three had had big plans to go surfing at the New Jersey beaches and visit the boardwalk amusements parks, just like they did last summer.

  “I’ll miss you,” Wyatt said, interrupting John’s thoughts.

  “I’ll miss you too, buddy,” John replied, patting his brother’s head. He found a small lollipop stuck in one of Wyatt’s red curls and pulled it out with a gentle tug.

  “Time to go,” Mr. Jenkins said, but then took a work-related phone call just as they were about to depart. That made them leave twenty minutes later than they planned, so then it was rush, rush, rush. John hated every second of the ride. No Mom. No Chloe or Jackson. No Ranger. Just the prospect of what promised to be a long, boring summer with nothing to do on an out-of-the-way cattle ranch.

  His dad seemed pre-occupied with whatever he’d talked about on the phone call and with the heavy traffic. As they got closer to the airport, he turned down the radio and said, “Don’t worry. We’ll get you there on time.”

  John wasn’t worried. He wouldn’t mind missing his flight. Maybe then his parents would change their mind and take him to Africa after all. But no such luck.

  Mr. Jenkins, tall and lean, used to run track in high school. Now, as they rushed through the airport, John had to practically run to keep up with his father’s long, effortless strides.

  They passed through airport security, and before John knew it, they were standing at the departure gate. His dad waited until it was time to board the plane, and then gave him a rib-cracking kind of hug. “I love you, and I’ll miss you. Be good for your Aunt Martha.”

  John nodded, too choked up to speak. He watched as his father’s narrow shoulders disappeared from view as he melted into the crowd.

  A kindly flight attendant escorted John to his seat, which was next to a window. After listening to various safety instructions, they flew high up in the sky. He enjoyed gazing out into the clouds and watching as the buildings and cars grew smaller and smaller until they were just distant specks. He passed the time by watching a movie until the pilot said it was time to land. As the plane approached Rapid City Regional Airport, John felt like his stomach was flipping and flopping. What if I get lost? What if Aunt Martha forgets to pick me up today?

  * * * *

  As it turned out, John didn’t need to worry after all. Aunt Martha’s ranch foreman was standing at the airport arrival gate, holding a sign that read, “Welcome, John Jenkins.” Dusty Furman was a true-blue cowboy from his wide-brimmed Stetson to his dusty leather boots. He tipped his cowboy hat, firmly shook John’s hand, and simply said, “I’m Mr. Dusty. Welcome to South Dakota.”

  “Thanks,” he replied. The airport was bustling with people walking in many different directions. Dusty led him through the crowd to the luggage terminal and effortlessly grabbed hold of John’s new gray suitcase and duffel bag. He couldn’t help but notice it would take about four or five of his arms to equal one of Dusty’s.

  As soon as they climbed into Dusty’s big brown truck, John texted his parents. Landed safely. Love you. After a half-hour drive from the airport, Dusty pulled into a long tree-lined driveway. A wooden sign with the name “Winding River Ranch” hung near the entrance.

  Now, John found himself gazing up at his aunt’s large, sprawling white farmhouse. It had a big, wide front porch with a neat looking wooden swing on the right side. There were large green fern plants hanging from the porch ceiling and lots of flower pots with colorful flowers lining each side of the porch steps. Just to the right of the bottom step was a large bronze statue of St. Michael the Archangel. An American flag, anchored on one of the porch columns, waved proudly in the breeze.

  There were several outbuildings, too, like a white garage with black shutters, which matched the ones on the house. Just a short distance away was a red barn with white trim work. Next to the barn was a chicken coop with a bunch of brown chickens strutting around and pecking at the ground. Overall, the ranch seemed warm and inviting.

  Martha Jenkins rushed down the walkway toward John, reminding him of a battleship moving swiftly through ocean waters. “Why, just look at you, John Jenkins. Aren’t you a scrawny little thing,” she exclaimed, engulfing her great-nephew in a giant bear hug until he gulped for air. “The last time I saw you, you were only knee-high.” She flashed a brilliant smile, h
er white teeth contrasting sharply with her very tan, extremely wrinkled face. Ever since her husband died a few years ago, Martha ran their small South Dakota cattle ranch on her own, with help from Mr. Furman.

  John hated to admit it, but he was rather scrawny. At his home in New Jersey, he was the skinniest boy in his class and the second shortest, too. He figured he probably wasn’t any taller by South Dakota standards. Other than his underwhelming stature, he was an average kid. He had short brown hair, brown eyes, and a bunch of freckles on his nose, which he hated. Last year, in what he liked to describe as a “science experiment,” he’d tried to scrub them off with bleach spray. It hadn’t worked, he wrecked his favorite T-shirt trying, and his mother had an absolute fit when she found out. She’d taken him straight to his pediatrician, Dr. Hornsby, who’d made him wear a Band-Aid on his nose for an entire week.

  Four horses from a nearby corral came to the split-rail fence and nickered. “Always looking for a hand-out.” Aunt Martha laughed, pulling a few carrot pieces out of her floral apron pocket. She handed one to John, and he promptly fed it to a brown and white horse that nuzzled his forearm. “Cosmo’s a paint horse,” Aunt Martha said. “I think he likes you. Of course, the carrots might have something to do with it.”

  John tentatively reached out and rubbed his neck. Although he’d taken a few riding lessons, he was more used to surfing waves than being around horses.

  “Okay, I’ll see you two around supper time,” Foreman Dusty said, swinging John’s suitcase, duffel bag, and navy-blue backpack out of the rear of the pick-up truck. “There’s a fence that needs mending in the far pasture,” he explained, waving one of his big, burly arms in the general direction he was heading. “We sure are pleased to have you visit, John.”

  “Thanks,” John managed to say as he took hold of his bags. Suddenly, it hit him how very far away he was from home. He knew he could text his parents with his cell phone. They had even bought him a laptop so they could have video chats, but it wasn’t nearly the same as being with them in person.