The Mysterious Benedict Society (31 page)

Sticky closed his eyes.

When several moments had passed, however, without his being sent, flung, or crushed, Sticky opened one eye. The color had faded from Mr. Curtain’s face so that it no longer looked like an eggplant with glasses; only the tip of his lumpy nose retained a crimson hue. And he had begun drumming his fingers again. “George,” Mr. Curtain said, more calmly now, “why are you looking at me with one eye?”

Sticky quickly opened his other eye. “I… I…”

“Never mind,” said Mr. Curtain. “Now explain yourself. Are you telling me a Messenger made you cheat?”

“I’m sorry to say so, sir. It made her furious that Reynie and I were doing so well. She couldn’t believe we already knew more than she did. She humiliated me in class, and later she told me she’d keep doing it — or even worse — unless I agreed to help her. The quizzes were so much easier if I just gave her the answers, she said. And if I did, she would make it easier for
me
— by not tormenting me.”

“You are speaking of Martina Crowe,” Mr. Curtain said.

Sticky nodded.

“Hmm. I shall have to look into this. Your cheating doesn’t trouble me much, I must say, so long as I understand the situation. The secret is control, do you see? I simply wish to know the circumstances so that I can manipulate — that is, so that I can
manage
them. No matter what the circumstances, George, so long as they are controlled, we may have harmony. Do you understand?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“Very well. I’m sorry you had to wait to speak with me on this matter. I understand it is an unpleasant thing to wait. Unfortunately there’s no help for it sometimes — I’m quite busy. The good news is that you will not be punished.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sticky said humbly.

“And George?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You
are
doing rather well, aren’t you?”

“Apparently, sir.”

Mr. Curtain was looking Sticky up and down and nodding to himself, as if appraising a fine new piece of machinery that would come in handy.

“Nice work,” said Constance. “You’re a natural liar.”

It was less diplomatic congratulations than he’d received from Reynie and Kate — who had cheered and clapped him on the back — but Sticky was too relieved to quibble.

They were on their way to lunch, trailing well behind the rest of the students so that they could speak privately in the corridors. They were all pretty pleased with themselves — not least because Martina Crowe was in hot water. And now, as they approached the end of the corridor, they overheard Jackson and Jillson talking in an empty classroom. Looking at one another in silent agreement, they stopped walking to listen.

“— finally caught who was spying in the gym,” Jackson was saying. “A waste, though. He was a good Messenger. And a special recruit, you know. Mr. Curtain would probably have kept him on, trained him into an Executive one day. I guess now he’ll be retrained as a Helper.”

“Too bad,” Jillson said. “Shouldn’t have been so average-looking.”

“What he shouldn’t have been was so
curious
,” said Jackson. “The nerve of that kid! Always asking questions — it’s what got him sent to the Waiting Room last time, you know. I thought he’d learned his lesson.”

“Apparently not,” said Jillson. “Any word on the accomplice?”

“His partner in crime? Not yet. Personally I can’t see what there is to worry about, but you know Mr. Curtain. Can’t be too careful, he says. We’re supposed to be extra vigilant, keep an eye out.” Jackson grunted. “And I guess you heard he’s changing the door codes.”

“No! Again? I
hate
learning new codes!”

“Tell me about it,” Jackson said. “Would have saved us some trouble if the kid had ratted on his partner, but he denied everything to the end. Like I said, it’s a shame. Probably would have made a good Executive.”

“Quiet,” Jillson said. “Did you just hear something?”

In the corridor, the children’s eyes widened. They held their breath.

“Only my stomach growling,” Jackson said. “Get your stuff together, won’t you? Let’s go eat.”

That was the children’s cue to move. With relieved expressions, Sticky, Kate, and Constance hurried quietly on down the corridor. Reynie followed behind, trying to calm himself. Jackson’s news had quite upset him.

After they’d safely rounded the corner, Kate said, “Can you believe it? That’s two narrow escapes now! First Sticky got off the hook for cheating, and now you’re off the hook for spying, Reynie!”

“Yeah,” said Reynie, his face flushed with guilt. “It’s… it’s great news.”

“And now Martina’s
on
the hook,” Constance said. “This might actually be a good day.”

By supper the rumors were flying. Martina Crowe had not been in any of her classes. Some said she was enjoying a long session of her special privileges — whatever those were. Others argued that the secret privileges never lasted this long. More likely, someone said, she’d been sent to the Waiting Room — a student had seen Jackson and Jillson escorting her across the plaza. Martina Crowe? Going to the Waiting Room?
Who
had seen that? For this no one had an answer, so maybe it was just a rumor.

Reynie had begun to feel rather ill. It was starting to seem everything he did got someone hurt. First he’d suggested they cheat, which landed Sticky in the Waiting Room. Then he’d spied through the gym window, for which some poor, average-looking kid was paying the price. Now there was this plan he’d put into effect — the plan to get Martina bumped from the Messenger list. It had seemed clever at the time, but was he sure about that? For all his caution and wits, he was turning out to be a dangerous person to be close to. He looked at his untouched meal with distaste. He shoved it away and put his face in his hands.

“Reynie?” Kate said. “What’s the matter?”

“It was my plan,” Reynie mumbled.

“Hey, if anybody deserves the Waiting Room, it’s Martina.”

“If anyone deserves it… ,” mumbled Sticky, who felt every bit as bad as Reynie. He
knew
how terrible the Waiting Room was — at the very mention of it he had broken into a cold sweat — and he had been the one to condemn Martina with a lie. It didn’t matter how cruel she was.
No
one deserved the Waiting Room, not even Martina.

To make matters worse, at that very moment a hidden message broadcast began.

“It’s that boy Harold Rockwell,” Constance grumbled to herself. “Shut
up
, Harold.”

Reynie gave Constance a bleak look. It had occurred to him to wonder what would happen to her when Mr. Curtain boosted the signal power all the way. If Constance could hear voices
now
, what would it be like for her
then
? What would it do to her? Had she thought to wonder about this herself? For her sake, Reynie hoped not. If he were in her shoes he’d be terrified.

This day had gone from good to bad to worse. And from there to
worse
than worse.

“Watch your toes, everyone,” Kate murmured.

S.Q. Pedalian was squeezing between two nearby tables, where students were wincing and crying out as he passed. Reynie tucked his feet safely out of reach. S.Q. came up and looked appraisingly at them. “Why the long faces, kids? Everything all right?”

The children tried to appear cheerful so he would leave them alone, but for once S.Q. judged correctly. “You can’t fool me. I know downtrodden faces when I see them. I’m surprised at you! Here Stick — I mean, here young George has got off clean and easy, you’re doing great on your quizzes, and yet the whole lot of you sits around like the cat got your pudding. Er, the pudding… no, got your tail….”

No one felt like helping him, and after a moment S.Q. gave up. He adopted a shrewd expression, which, on S.Q., looked rather as if he had severe indigestion. “Now don’t tell me you’re fretting about not making the Messenger list yet! Is that it? Listen here,” he said confidentially, leaning in close to them, “I’ll tell you a secret, because you’re good eggs. You’re closer than you think!”

Reynie nodded glumly. “Is it because Martina’s not a Messenger anymore?”

S.Q. cocked his head. “How could you possibly know that?”

“
Everybody
knows,” said Kate.

This surprised both S.Q. and Reynie, who said together, “They do? How?”

Kate pointed across the cafeteria, where Martina had just come in, escorted by Jillson and Jackson. She wore her tunic and sash as always, but not the typical striped pants of a Messenger. No, her pants were solid blue, and as the other Messengers cheered and clapped, her face shone simultaneously with malevolence and triumph.

Martina had been made an Executive.

T
hat evening, at precisely 10:01, S.Q. Pedalian knocked on the boys’ door. He knocked first with his feet, by accident, and then with his knuckles. Getting no response, he opened the door and peered in. In the dim room he saw the boys lying on their bunks in their pajamas. Something caught his eye, however, and he looked upward. Only shadows on the ceiling.

“S.Q.? Is that you?” Reynie asked in a sleepy voice.

“Sorry, boys,” S.Q. said, snapping on the light. “I didn’t think you’d be asleep so early — it’s only just now lights-out. Mr. Curtain wants to see you. Hop up now, both of you, and get dressed. You know, I could have sworn I saw one of your ceiling tiles move.”

“Probably just a shadow,” Reynie suggested, fumbling with his trousers and shoes.

“Or a mouse,” said Sticky in a cracked voice. His mouth had gone very dry.

S.Q. scratched his head. “A mouse, hm? That’s probably it. A lot of students have complained about mice in their ceiling lately. I suppose we’ll have to put out some traps.” As Reynie made a mental note to tell Kate to look out for mousetraps, S.Q. ushered them from their room.

Both boys were in a state of high alarm. Obviously Martina had convinced Mr. Curtain she hadn’t cheated, for how else would she have been made an Executive? Thus Mr. Curtain must know that Sticky lied, and no doubt Reynie had been implicated as his accomplice. Which was as it should be, Reynie thought miserably. It was his plan that got Sticky into this mess — twice.

At the entrance to the Institute Control Building, S.Q. stopped. With a sympathetic expression, he knelt down and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “I imagine you two are wondering what Mr. Curtain wants to speak with you about.”

“Oh, yes!” cried the boys together, and Reynie’s heart leaped. If he had a moment to
prepare
, maybe he could think of something to say, something that…

“I wish I knew,” S.Q. said, shaking his head. “I hope it’s nothing bad.”

Sixty seconds later the boys were alone with Mr. Curtain in his office. Trying to breathe evenly (and mostly failing), they waited for him to speak. Mr. Curtain had put down his journal and rolled out from behind his desk. But instead of his usual zooming about, he was inching toward them, very, very slowly, contemplating the boys in a way that gave them the impression of a predator — a wolf spider came to mind — seeking just the moment to pounce upon its prey. They had to fight the urge to recoil.

“No doubt,” said Mr. Curtain as he drew near, “you are wondering why Martina Crowe was made Executive. After all, according to you, George, she was a bully and a cheat. Isn’t that right?”

Sticky reached for his spectacles, checked himself, and thrust his hands into his pockets to still them. “Yes, sir.”

“It’s true, Mr. Curtain,” said Reynie. “We
were
wondering that.”

“Yes. I know. And now I shall tell you why. Do you remember what you said to me the other day, Reynard, when we discussed Miss Contraire? You said the best way of dealing with those you don’t trust is to keep them close. I agreed with you then, and I agree with you now. Of course, had Martina Crowe not been such an excellent candidate for Executive, I would have sent her packing at once. But she has always been useful, and as I told George, the cheating itself doesn’t trouble me, so long as I understand the situation. At any rate, the situation has been rectified. Miss Crowe and I had a brief discussion of the matter (she denied the cheating, I might add), and ultimately she was promoted. Everything is settled.

“Everything, that is, except for
your
situation,” Mr. Curtain went on. “Which is why I have sent for you.”

“Our… situation?” said Reynie. He could hear Sticky trying to swallow.

“Indeed,” said Mr. Curtain. “For as of this moment, you are both made Messengers!”

The boys were stunned. Here they’d been afraid something terrible was in store for them — instead, their mission had leaped forward! Messengers at last! Their faces broke into huge grins.

“Oh, thank you!” Sticky cried, hoping he sounded more grateful than relieved.

“We won’t disappoint you,” said Reynie.

“I should hope not,” said Mr. Curtain. “I have two new Messenger slots to fill, and as a matter of urgency I am promoting you a day earlier than planned. Here are your new uniforms.”

Returning to his desk, Mr. Curtain produced two white tunics, two pale blue sashes, and two pairs of striped trousers. “Wear them with pride. And then… who knows? One day you may forego those striped pants for solid blue ones, just as Martina Crowe did today!”

When S.Q. had finally left off slapping the boys on the backs in painful congratulation and lumbered away down the corridor, Reynie and Sticky exchanged relieved glances and closed their bedroom door behind them. The door’s closing revealed the silhouette of Kate Wetherall pressed flat against the wall behind it. She switched on her flashlight and whispered in an exasperated tone, “You didn’t even knock!”

“It’s our own room!” Sticky replied.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear us in the corridor,” Reynie said. “S.Q. was patting us on the backs so hard my teeth were clacking together.”

“To tell the truth,” Kate said sheepishly, “I was asleep until I heard the doorknob turn. I only had to time to leap across the room and hide.” She jerked her thumb toward the lower bunk, where Sticky’s covers and pillows were in lumpy disarray. “And first I had to throw the covers over Constance. You were gone so long, she fell asleep on Sticky’s bed. I meant to keep guard, but I guess I nodded off.”