“Guys, it’s five minutes before the bell rings and school’s over. If we just head straight into the woods from here, we might lose Blackbeard.”
“Brilliant idea, Brady,” Wiki said as we tiptoed down the high school stairwell. “However, we need to devour every book written about Blackbeard and pirates. And we’re right next to the best place in town to do that.”
“Then let’s make a run for it,” I said. “Now!” We dashed down one hall, took a left, and then caught our breath as we walked calmly into the high school library.
14
Finistere’s library is massive and windowless, with walls made of stone and ceilings so high you can’t see them. It’s a cross between an endless cave and a sorcerer’s basement. The bookshelves aren’t exactly kid-friendly either—there must be fifteen rows of books on them, and I can only reach the first three, maybe four, on my tippy-toes. Otherwise you have to ask Mr. Bottom the librarian to bring over his ginormous iron ladder, which makes an ear-piercing squeak whenever he wheels it around. And yeah, his name is Mr. Bottom. We called him Mr. Butt behind his back for a few weeks when we first met him, but he’s way too nice, so we stopped.
“Might I be of assistance, Master Green?” Mr. Bottom asked as we walked past the front desk toward the stacks. Mr. B had a thick British accent and talked and dressed like an English prince from the olden days. He knew Wiki super well because Wiki basically lived at the library after school.
“Hi, Mr. Bottom. I need to do some research on pirates. I’m guessing the Dewey Decimal Number is in the low nine hundreds?”
“Nine hundred and ten, to be precise. Well done! I imagine that you’ll be wanting primary sources only, per usual?”
Wiki nodded. “Translation, Wiki?” Brady whispered.
“I want the original books written about pirates, not the kiddie stuff that summarizes it.”
Brady rolled her eyes. Mr. B took us through a few tall shelves toward the back wall of the library. The back of the library was kind of spooky, because there were fewer torches, and it got pretty dark and dank. You could barely read the names of books back there. If Mr. B was with you, it didn’t really matter though, because he’d basically memorized every single book in the library. And there must have been a million books.
The iron ladder was only a few shelves away, so Mr. B wheeled it over and then climbed to the very top. Wiki explained that most of the old books in the library were hidden away at the top shelf where only Mr. B could access them. It can’t be normal for a school library to have ancient books, but at Finistere it didn’t even surprise me.
“Hmmm…book…book…my kingdom for that book… Aha! Here is the very tome I’m looking for.” Mr. B pulled out a tome, and even in the darkness I could see the dust flutter around it. He climbed down the stairs and presented it to Wiki like it was treasure. “Master Green, may I present you with the classic text, A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates.”
“Hmm,” Wiki said. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I haven’t read this one.” Brady rolled her eyes again.
“An interesting tidbit, then. Most of our knowledge of pirates comes from this single source. One book to explain such a rich and riotous period of our history—it boggles the mind, no?”
Wiki nodded as he flipped to the first page. I looked over his shoulder and it read:
As the Pyrates in the Weft Indies have been fo formidable that they have interrupted the Trade of Europe into thofe parts…
Was this even in English?!
“Mr. B,” I said, raising my hand for some reason. “Can Brady and I read the kids’ pirate books?”
An hour later we were the only ones in the library, huddled over a few books that we’d laid out on one of the desks next to the shelves. Wiki read lightning fast, so he’d made it through most of his old book and part of another one while Brady and I were just finishing the Blackbeard chapter of our pirate books.
“If we’re looking for his kryptonite, I’m not really seeing much,” I said. “Honestly, I’m just a thousand percent more scared now that I know what this guy was like back then. He used to light his beard on fire before attacking a ship! And in Mexico they called him El Gran Diablo—The Great Devil.”
“Unfortunately, this text isn’t helping much either,” Wiki said, finally looking up from his book. “Not a lot is known about Blackbeard himself, only his dastardly acts. Here’s what I jotted down. What have you got?”
After comparing notes, this is what we knew:
1. Blackbeard was no dummy. Historians were pretty sure he was well-educated and a big reader. There were tons of books found on his ship.
2. The dude had no fear. Beardo got his reputation in less than a year of piracy because he took over harbors, set ports on fire, and hijacked ships that were way bigger than his.
3. And what a reputation! Freakbeard was America’s nightmare. He scared colonial Americans more than anyone else in existence. Even more than a comet, one writer from back then said. (I guess comets were super scary in pirate times.)
4. He preferred intimidation to violence. Apparently the scariest guy in the world didn’t love killing people as much as scaring the pants off them.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Brady said after Wiki revealed that last point. “So he’s all bark and no bite? What are we afraid of then? I’m all bite and no bark!” Brady started looking for something to roundhouse kick.
“Don’t get cocky,” Wiki said. “He’s got plenty of bite. Pirates were constantly taking over ships, but attacking a ship meant you’d ruin it before you stole it. Intimidate your enemy and the ship stays good as new. Intimidation was a smarter tactic.” Wiki let out a long sigh. “Honestly, I’d rather he was more bloodthirsty and violent. He is far more cunning an opponent than I imagined. The way he charms his enemies and then backstabs them is particularly alarming.”
“Well, you heard the principal,” I said. “He’s pretending to be Mr. Smiley Nice Guy Pirate to the teachers while he’s Mr. Stabby Murderfest Pirate to us. And so far the teachers seem to be buying it.”
“Shh!” Brady said. She walked forward a few steps and peered down a long line of shelves. Then she motioned to us.
Standing in front of a desk, reading a huge map laid out on it by torchlight, was Mr. Teach himself. Mr. B was standing next to him and answering his questions. Blackbeard kept pointing to different areas as Mr. B spoke and nodded. He had his hand on Mr. B’s shoulder, in full Friendly Pirate mode.
“What’s he up to?” Brady whispered.
“I’m not sure,” Wiki whispered back. “But he’s definitely learning all he can about the modern world.”
“And how to take it over,” I added.
At that, Blackbeard looked up and we scrambled all the way home in a full sprint.
15
Someone knocked on our door around 8:00 p.m., and when I looked through the peephole, I was almost positive I’d see Beardo with his sword pointed straight at me. Dad and Brady were in their rooms, so I was bracing myself for death. Instead it was Aunt Nancy, and for a second the world was lollipops and rainbows.
“Why, good evening, Javier. Is Wiki with you?” she asked sweetly (though she always wore an impish smile).
“Hey, Aunt Nancy. We were at the library until late. I think he said he was going straight home after that?”
She nodded. “Oh, that’s right, that’s right. I think his mom mentioned that. Thanks, Javi.” She waved and turned to go, but as I was closing the door she pointed a finger to the air.
“Ooh, I just remembered—I’ve been meaning to get that mofongo recipe from you. I’m thinking of making it for a little get-together tomorrow. Would you mind writing it out for me?”
Think about cooking instead of bloodthirsty pirates gutting me? Yes, please. I opened the door wide and motioned for her to come in. “My absolute p
leasure, Aunt Nancy.”
We walked to the kitchen, and I dug through the kitchen drawers for a pen and pad while she took a nice, long look around the living room and kitchen.
“There’s something different about this house,” she said, her eyes going from the couches to the bookshelves to the kitchen table. “Aha!” She patted Andy, and Andy purred.
I dropped my pen and looked over at her nervously, but she didn’t seem to hear it.
“This is a magnificent piece of furniture,” she said as she inspected the patterns carved into Andy’s sides. She shook the table. “Solid too. Where did you acquire this beauty?”
I plopped on the chair next to her to write the recipe. “Oh man, Dad takes us to so many antique stores and flea markets, I lose track. This one was far away, kind of in the middle of nowhere.”
Aunt Nancy was lost in thought for a minute. I scribbled down the ingredients. “How many people are you cooking for?” I asked.
“Hmm? Oh, just four of us.” She tapped on the recipe as I scribbled. “Remember the version of mofongo we had a month ago? You experimented with some spices on it. That’s the one I want to make.”
“Oh yeah! That might have been my all-time best. What spice was that?” I got up to check the spice rack as Aunt Nancy kept studying the table.
“Javi, I think you finally have a table worthy of your skills,” she said. “That’s an important step in any chef’s journey.”
She walked over to the spice rack but stopped in front of the fridge where Dad had posted my A++ essay. She picked it up and skimmed it as I went from spice to spice. Not coriander…not nutmeg… I used garlic in everything…
“It makes me happy to see you write about something so passionately,” she said.
“Ginger! It was just ginger. But next time I’m planning to mix the plantains with yuca. I’ve heard that’s a killer combo. You could try that too.” She smiled and nodded and then I realized she had complimented me. “Oh, thanks.” I blushed. “Probably the first time Javi the Stomach gets a decent grade in all of sixth grade.”
She furrowed her brow, walked up to me, and looked me straight in the eye. “Hmmm. You don’t yet see it, do you?” She lifted my chin up to really study my eyes. It felt like she was rummaging around in my soul.
“See what?” I yelped.
“You will soon,” she said, turning to the table, grabbing the recipe, and making her way to the door. “You will soon.”
As she opened the door to let herself out, she held up the recipe. “Ginger it is! Bring over some of the yuca mofongo when you make it. Or invite me over to dine on your distinguished new table. I’m glad you found one worthy of your talents.”
She closed the door behind her, and for some reason everything in my life felt good for a solid three minutes.
16
I had some pretty weird dreams that night. I was the captain of a giant rubber duckie I’d named Quacky’s Revenge, and I was sailing it through the Sea of Tubbé (which I’m pretty sure was just a giant bathtub). Then Blackbeard showed up in an enormous pirate ship built of beard hair and poked my duckie with his sword, deflating it. “Quacky, noooooo!” I yelled as we sank to the bottom of the sea and got sucked down a giant drain.
“Quacky!” I screamed as I shot up in bed the next morning.
“Quacky?” Brady asked, poking her head in my door. “You get weirder every day.” Then she went downstairs.
“Great start to the day, Javi,” I mumbled to myself as I got out of bed. “Fantastic start. A+.”
Then I noticed the voices downstairs. Women’s voices. For a second I thought Mom had come home early, but none of the voices were even semi-recognizable. I walked to the dining room slowly, not sure what to expect, and when I made it there I saw one of the most bizarre scenes I’d ever witnessed.
Sitting around the table were Brady and two other women, chitchatting as they ate scones and drank tea. They were clearly summoned by Andy, because neither looked like they belonged in our century. One of them I was unsure about, but the second one was obviously—
“Cleopatra,” Brady said, “Rosa Parks, this is my brother Javi. Javi, these are the two awesomest women in history.”
They must have nodded hello, but I was too busy yelling, “Brady! Are you bananas?! We’re not supposed to—”
“Use Andy? Relax, bro. I’m not inviting pirates and murderers. You got to invite your three favorites to dinner, I just thought I’d invite my three to breakfast.”
Three? I only saw two. Then I noticed that Brady was petting something under the table. A dog. Why did that dog look so familiar?
“Brady, is that…”
“Fluffers? Yep. Isn’t he even fluffier than he seems on TV?”
“That’s Fluffers?” I asked, my eyes saucers. “As in the president’s dog, Fluffers. You stole the president of the United States’ dog?!”
She glared at me. “I invited him, Javi. He’s a guest. The fluffiest guest ever, aren’t you, Fluffers? Aren’t you?” she cooed, tickling his chin. Then she glared at me again. “It’s just for an hour. Also, you don’t think Cleopatra and Rosa Parks are more impressive than a pet? Do you know what our lives would be like if Rosa Parks hadn’t existed?”
“You let your brother talk to you like this?” Cleopatra asked, scowling at me.
“Not usually,” she said. “Don’t worry, he’s afraid of me.”
“Good,” she said, smiling regally. “Remember what I told you, Brady. You are a queen. I know a queen when I see one. And you are a queen.”
“That’s for sure,” Rosa Parks said. “Want some scones, Javi? There’s plenty to go around.”
I scratched my neck awkwardly. “Um, thanks, but I’m good… Nice to meet you both, by the way. Hey Brady, we’re going to be late for school.”
“Education is the most important thing,” Rosa Parks said.
“Especially for a future queen,” Cleopatra added.
“Ugh, fine, Javi. Well, I’ll invite you ladies for a follow-up lunch soon,” Brady said brightly. “Thanks for hanging out.”
I walked back upstairs as they all said their goodbyes, and then I heard the bell ring. Wow, would Wiki be furious if he found out. No way I was telling him.
I went to my room to get dressed, and when I shut the door I saw it for the first time. A big, dirty knife was stabbed into the inside of my bedroom door. It was holding up a note that said:
Your uniform today. OR ELSE.
Behind it were the rubber duckie pj’s Abuela gifted me for my bday.
“Brady!” I yelled. “This is a truly sick prank!”
She walked into my room. “Prank? I wish I’d played a prank on you—I can’t believe how rude you were to my guests.” She glanced over at the knife, then walked up and took a long look at it. “No, that’s definitely Blackbeard’s knife. I recognize it from dinner. He’s got pretty fancy handwriting for a pirate, don’t you think?”
I screamed so loud I should have fainted.
“Javi, relax!” Brady yelled. “Deep breaths, okay? We’re going to be late for school. Wiki’s going to be here any minute, and we have a lot to talk about.”
“Like the fact that Blackbeard broke into my room last night?” I asked, between screams. “Guess who’s never sleeping in their bed again? This guy.” I poked my finger into my chest.
“If he’d tried to sneak into my room”—Brady muttered, balling her hands into fists—“this whole thing would’ve been over. Bam!” She did a few karate punches while I pulled the knife out of the door.
I picked up the pj’s from the floor. They were even more humiliating than I remembered. Today was going to be the worst.
* * *
“So there are no signs of a break-in?” Wiki asked as we walked to school that morning, worried but also trying his best not to laugh at me.
“None,” said Brady, also snickering. “He didn’t touch Andy, and the bell is safe. Honestly, if he hadn’t planted his knife in the door, we wouldn’t even know someone had been in there.”
“He truly is the king of psychological warfare,” Wiki said, clearly impressed. “I can’t imagine a worse thing to do to a middle schooler.”
“Thanks, Wiki,” I grumbled.
“You could’ve worn your normal clothes,” Brady said. “He would have just challenged you to a friendly duel at recess. To the death, of course.” She and Wiki broke into hysterical laughter. I’d like to say that it was nice to hear them laughing after so many serious days, but it wasn’t. At all. I just gritted my teeth and soldiered on.
School started exactly like I expected it to. First period Spanish was the worst. Buddy Grimes called me El Ducko the whole time, the class couldn’t stop laughing, and Señor Q didn’t even do anything to shut him up. To add to the nightmare, my secret crush, Sarah, was in that class. She didn’t full-on laugh at me, but she did grimace a few times. Once we started our assignment, Señor Q asked me to come to his desk.
“Ese no es un nene, ese es un monstruo, Javier,” he said. (“That’s not a kid, that’s a monster.”) He liked that we could talk Spanish to each other, and usually that would mean we’d have a classic teacher-student friendship, but Q was strange even by Finistere’s standards. Saying that he had an active imagination would be putting it mildly. “You need to put on your armor, grab your sword, and defeat the monster,” he said very seriously in Spanish.
You would think that’d be a good pep talk, but Q wasn’t trying to tell me to be brave. He literally thought I owned armor and a sword and I should wear them. And he probably believed that Grimes was a bona fide monster. “Um, okay, Señor Q. I’ll bring my…armor… next time.”
“Buenisimo,” he said, clapping me on the back. “Mi heroe.” Yeah right, like I was anyone’s hero.
Ms. Vlad was next, and it wasn’t an improvement. She raised an eyebrow when I walked into class two seconds after the bell, and everyone noticed my getup and laughed. Then, while she went to the printer room to get our homework, Grimes stood on his chair and said, “I vant to suck your ducks!” in his best Dracula impression. The class went into hysterics, and even though I should’ve been embarrassed, I was actually terrified. Everyone always made fun of my Vlad vampire theory, but not in the middle of class. I was 95 percent sure Vlad was going to chomp Grimes’s neck in a vampiric rage and turn him full bloodsucker in front of all of us. But the class had settled down by the time she returned.
Time Villains Series, Book 1 Page 6
