The Secret Box (4 page)

7
Jax

Sunday

 

“B
ye,” I hollered as Mom backed the car out of the driveway. She was leaving early because Sunday was the busiest breakfast day at the Chatham Diner. She waved.

I ran upstairs to check on the metal box. It was still sitting in the back of my closet, underneath my winter coat. I gave it a little pat and said, “Don't worry, you'll be safe.” I know it's weird to talk to a box. I'd checked it umpteen times during the night. I didn't usually worry about things getting stolen. Why was I so worried now?

After munching a couple handfuls of Cheerios, I jumped on my bike and rode to Ethan's. The streets were pretty empty. I passed a few joggers. The house where the two annoying dorkies lived was next. Dorkies are half dachshund and half Yorkie. They raced from their front porch, snarling like rabid hot dogs. “Oooh, I'm really scared,” I taunted. “You guys are totally terrifying.” They yapped and lunged, but I managed to swerve around them without causing an accident scene.

Ethan's neighborhood was so much nicer than mine. The houses were twice the size and the driveways were paved. His parents were just getting into their BMW when I reached the house. “Hi, Jax,” Aunt Cathy said. She'd cropped her hair super short and wore a new pair of red glasses. Cathy was Mom's older sister and, from what I'd figured out, she'd been the “good” girl growing up while Mom had been the “difficult” girl. Cathy went to college and graduate school and got married, while my mom traveled and worked odd jobs and had a baby out of wedlock.

Uncle Phil tossed his briefcase into the car. He'd balded early so all he had left was a narrow strip of hair that wound around the back of his head. But he was still pretty handsome—for an old guy. “What do you and Ethan have planned today?” He looked at me suspiciously.

“
Moi?
” I said with a shrug. “Just hanging out. Where are you going?”

“We're meeting some clients from China. They've developed a robotic toy dog. Unfortunately, they don't seem to care that it's Sunday.” Aunt Cathy smiled. “Be sure to eat that barley salad I left in the fridge. It's healthy.”

Sure, I'll eat the barley salad . . . if it's the very last edible thing left on earth.

As they drove away, I leaned my bike against the shed, then went into the house. Ethan was eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table. Tyler, wearing only a pair of boxers and socks, was standing in front of the refrigerator, staring at the shelves. “Hey, Tyler, whatcha doing?” I asked, trying to sound super cheerful. It's best to attract the wasp with honey, not vinegar, as the saying goes.

“Sustenance,” Tyler mumbled. He splurted mustard onto a cold hot dog, then shoved half of it into his mouth.

“You can get sick if you don't heat those things,” Ethan said. “You can get listeriosis.”

“That's a super-duper interesting factoid,” Tyler said before shoving the rest of the dog into his mouth, “However, what you didn't take into consideration is that this hot dog is soy, dipstick.” He popped open an energy drink and chugged the whole thing. I hate that stuff. I'm bouncy enough without pouring caffeine and sugar down my throat.

Clearly my older cousin didn't care anything about his appearance. Though he had a somewhat cute face, it was covered in stubble and his nose was pimply. He didn't even bother to wipe the mustard drip from his boxers. And the socks had holes in the heels. “Well, nice chatting with you two dorks,” he said, followed by a burp. “But I gotta get back to the campaign. We're designing a horde of invading Harpies to battle the Cyclops king.” Tyler slammed the refrigerator shut.

And he called
us
dorks.

“Hey, Tyler,” I said. “We have something to show you.” I held out the flyer.

He glanced at it. “So?”

“We thought you might want to register. There's a trophy.” I said the word
trophy
real slow. “You could probably win. I mean, how hard can it be? You're the smartest guy I know.” I almost gagged. Where was my pride? I was practically kissing his feet.

He took the flyer, his gaze scanning it with the quick-fire precision of a gamer. “Registration is tomorrow, in Washington, DC,” he read. “Teams of two or more.”

“Ethan and I talked it over,” I said. “We can go as a team.”

Tyler curled his upper lip. “You two?”

Ethan had been watching the conversation, his spoon held in midair, milk dripping down the handle. I elbowed him. “Uh . . .” He cleared his throat. We'd rehearsed this line last night over the phone. “You know Mom and Dad won't let you go with your friends. But they might let you go with us.”

“The parental units are total drags about my friends.” He scratched his fuzzy chin. “Does that mean you'll want to share the trophy?”

“It's all yours,” I assured him. “We just want out of Chatham. It's so boring around here. We won't bug you once we get there. We'll pretend to be on your team but we can do something else. You don't even have to see us.”

“I don't have to see you?” Tyler read the flyer again. “Okay, if you can convince the units, then I'm in. But I'm not paying for the gas and hotel.”

“I bet Mom and Dad would pay,” Ethan said.

“Then it's settled.” He smashed the can and tossed it into the recycle bin. “Gather your field-trip permission forms, little dweebs. The quest for the geocache treasure will begin at dawn.” He grabbed a loaf of bread, then strode out of the kitchen.

He didn't look like someone setting out on a quest, not with his buttcrack peeking out the top of his boxers.

“Correction,” I whispered to Ethan. “The quest to open the
secret box
will begin at dawn.”

8
Ethan

Here are some interesting facts about toys: Twister was originally called Pretzel and the teddy bear was named after President Theodore “Teddy” Roosevelt, who liked to hunt bear. And Mr. Potato Head used to smoke a pipe but doesn't anymore because it's not politically correct.

I
know these things because my parents own Rainbow Product Testing. Their specialty is children's toys. If someone invents a new toy for kids, the inventor can send it to Rainbow to make sure it's safe. They started the company when I was four years old. Dad was sick of teaching at the university and Mom was sick of staying at home, taking care of two boys. She said we acted like wild savages most of the time. I remember Tyler drawing a bull's-eye on my forehead with Mom's lipstick, then throwing things at me. I remember him convincing me to flush our entire supply of Costco toilet paper down the toilet until it wouldn't flush anymore and the bathroom became a lake. I remember the two of us taking all the food out of the refrigerator and putting it on the lawn to see how many raccoons showed up. Eight, as it turned out. And three dogs. Who could blame Mom for wanting to get away?

When a toy comes to Rainbow Product Testing, it first goes to the laboratory. The lab is my dad's territory. He holds a PhD in chemistry. The toy undergoes a series of tests to make sure it isn't made with toxic materials. No lead or radioactive leakage, no biological hazards that might make kids sick. Small parts have to be measured because they might cause choking. Kids eat toy parts all the time. I don't get that.

If the toy passes inspection, then it goes to my mom. She runs the marketing department. Mom has a master's degree in psychology. She helps the client figure out how to package the toy and decides the appropriate age group. Sometimes she brings in kids from the neighborhood to play and she observes them. She used to bring me and Tyler when we were younger, but she stopped bringing Tyler when she realized that he wasn't the same as other kids. He'd piece together a puzzle in less than a minute while the other eight-year-olds were still listening to the directions.

I pushed my bike into the lobby and leaned it against the counter. Since it was Sunday, there was no receptionist to tell me to put the bike outside. Jax had decided that it would be best for me to deal with my parents and she'd deal with her mom. She thought they might get suspicious if we presented ourselves as a team. She was probably right about that.

The lobby walls were covered with images of some of the famous toys my parents had worked with. As I walked toward the laboratory, I yawned. I'd had trouble falling asleep, not just because Tyler had beheaded Cyclopses all night, but because I was worried about Jax's latest plan. Tyler would eventually figure out that we'd changed the date on the flyer. And he'd make summer miserable for us. Well, for me, mostly. It's easier to retaliate if the victim's bedroom is right across the hall.

Whatever was in that metal box had better be amazing.

I put on a protective white smock and goggles before entering the lab. The lights were bright and the noise from the various machines made my head hurt. Dad was talking to the group from China. “We have complete facilities for both biological and chemical testing,” he explained. “Our equipment includes soxhlet extractors, heating block digestors, ion chromatographers, and a flow injection mercury system.” Dad waited for their translator to do her job, then he continued. “This allows us to test plastic, metal, paint, adhesives, fabric, and fillers, along with—” He noticed me and waved. “Excuse me for a moment,” he told the guests. As the translator spoke to the group, Dad hurried over. “What's going on, Ethan?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is it an emergency?”

“No.”

His expression relaxed. Who could blame him for feeling relieved? I hadn't been the easiest kid lately. There'd been a serious conversation a while back about making bad choices. Jax and I had gone to a movie and when it was over, she'd convinced me to sneak into another movie down the hall to see if her friends were inside. We got distracted by a car chase scene and got caught by a manager. Then we went to a sporting goods store and Jax talked me into riding double on a skateboard. We lost control, toppled a kayak, and crashed into a fishing pole display. Mom called a family meeting that night. Tyler suggested that I stop hanging out with Jax. Mom said we needed to be gentle with her. She said Jax made poor choices because she wanted attention. “It's not easy for a young woman to be without a father.” Dad promised that he'd try to pay more attention to Jax. And I promised to speak up for myself more often. I could still hang out with her, but I didn't have to do everything her way.

I didn't do
everything
her way. Just most things. Look, if I didn't hang out with Jax I'd be totally alone most of the time. Or worse, I'd be stuck going to the movies with . . . my mother.

But there was something else. I went along with Jax because I figured she'd be safer with her loyal sidekick looking after her. She'd looked after me plenty of times. Like when, in the second grade, she'd knocked Jeremy Bishop off his feet because he'd been throwing dodge balls at me. And we weren't even playing the game.

“Would you like me to introduce you to our guests?” Dad asked.

Whenever my parents introduced Tyler, there was always a long list of accomplishments that followed his name. “This is our son Tyler. He's a this and a that and he's won this and won that.” But with me it's simply, “This is our son Ethan.”

“No thanks,” I said, staying next to the door. The sooner I got out of that noise, the better. I avoided my father's trusting eyes. “Jax and I want to go to Washington, DC, to help Tyler with a geocaching competition.”

“Uh-huh.” Dad reached out and fiddled with a beaker that was full of greenish fluid. Then he wrote something on a clipboard.

“So? Can we go?”

“Go?” He continued to write.

“Dad?” I asked. He got distracted easily.

“Oh, right. You and Jax want to go somewhere.” He set the clipboard aside, then put a hand on my shoulder. “Is everything okay with Jax? It's been a few weeks since I checked in with her. Do you think she needs to talk about anything? Anything in particular? Boys, maybe?”

I cringed. Dad was trying to pay attention to Jax, just as he'd promised. But he never knew quite how to do it. He'd never once offered to talk to me about girls. And I was a year older than Jax. Did he think I was so shy I'd never get a girlfriend?

“Dad,” I said. “Jax doesn't need dating advice. We want to go to Washington, DC.”

The Chinese translator interrupted us. “Doctor Hoche, my employers have a few more questions for you.”

“Yes, of course,” Dad called. He adjusted his safety goggles. “Can you work this out with your mother? I'm okay with whatever she decides.” Then he joined his clients.

After leaving the goggles and coat in the dirty laundry bin, I headed down the hall to find my mom.

Mom's section of the company was totally different from Dad's. No beakers here. Just a big bright room with tables and kid-sized chairs. When I was little, I usually sat in the green chair. Mom would sit in the corner, observing, taking notes. She never included me in her testing groups because if there were other kids around, I'd refuse to play with the toy and I'd hide under the table. So she'd bring me in alone. And she'd ask questions like, “Do you like the way the stuffed bear smells? Which color car do you like better?” She'd actually encourage me to taste the toys. For a long time, I thought all parents took notes while their kids played.

“Hey,” Mom greeted. “I need your opinion.”

She stood at a counter in her lab coat, a robotic dog perched in front of her. She handed me a remote control. “What do you think?” I pushed a button. The dog stood. I pushed another. The dog walked forward. I could make it sit and bark. I could even make it wag its tail. “Would you play with this?”

“I'm thirteen,” I reminded her.

“Oh, so you're too old to play? That's the trouble with our society,” she said, taking back the remote. “We think play is something only little kids should do. But it's just as important for adults—maybe more important.” She tucked her short hair behind her ears. Even without her high heels, she was still taller than me. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Uh . . .” I could practically hear Jax's voice in my head. She'd made me memorize some of the lines. “Tyler wants to enter a contest and he said that Jax and I can be on his team. He said he'll drive.” I held out the flyer.

“Geocaching?” She read the flyer. “It looks like fun but I'm confused. Why would Tyler want to take you and Jax? You don't exactly get along with him.”

I pointed to the word
trophy
.

Mom smiled. “Oh, I see.” She set the remote aside, opened a small fridge, and handed me a container of orange juice. “It all started with that first trophy in kindergarten. He built a working catapult out of Legos. The teachers couldn't believe it. They thought we'd helped but I assured them we hadn't. He did it all himself.” She stopped abruptly. Then she smiled at me, her
other
son. “You made amazing things for the science fair too.”

“Amazing?” I nearly snorted orange juice out of my nose. “I did the same potato electricity project five years in a row.” Why? Because whenever the science fair rolled around, Tyler's experiment took over our house. Dad special-ordered supplies off the internet. Mom cleared the dining-room table, where Tyler toiled like a mad scientist. My parents always asked if I needed help with my project but I always said no. I could never compete with Tyler, so why try? I'd grab the old wires and a new potato. Kids started calling me Mr. Potato Head.

“Can we go to DC?” I asked.

“Hmmm.” Mom pursed her lips. “How many nights?”

“We'll leave tomorrow morning and stay one night. That's it.”

She slid her red glasses up her nose. “Did you ask your father?”

“He said it was up to you.” I drank the rest of the orange juice. Mom hadn't made up her mind but the way her eyes were narrowed, I knew she was on the brink of a decision.

Jax's voice rang in my head. She'd come up with a pretty good argument. “Tyler's just going to sit in his room. This trip will get him out of his cave for a couple of days. Into actual sunlight.”

Mom's eyes relaxed. “Sunlight? I didn't know his kind could venture out into sunlight. He'll need sunglasses.”

“And sunscreen,” I added. We both laughed.

“Okay, I'd better stop making fun of your brother. I think it's a great idea. It's summer and you need an adventure. And Tyler definitely needs a reason to get away from his computer.” She smiled and kissed my cheek. “Okay. Tell your Aunt Lindsay that we'll cover the hotel and gas.”

“Thanks,” I said. Things were falling into place. Maybe everything would work out. We'd go to DC, the box would open, and Tyler would believe that the person in charge of the Geocaching contest had printed the wrong date on the flyer.

Maybe.

I tossed the empty juice container into the bin and headed for the door. But then I remembered something Jax had wanted me to ask. “Hey, Mom, who is Great-Aunt Juniper?”

Mom frowned. “How do you know about Juniper?”

I fiddled with the doorknob. “Well, Jax got a present in the mail and Aunt Lindsay took it away. Jax said the return address was Juniper Vandegrift. And Tyler said she's our great-aunt.”

Mom sighed. “Look Ethan, just because a person is related to you by blood doesn't mean that person is family. Juniper is not someone you or Jax or Tyler need in your lives. She's not someone you should think about. “

“Did she do something wrong?”

“Her mistakes have nothing to do with you children. But please, don't bring this up with your Aunt Lindsay. It will only upset her. Just forget you ever heard the name Juniper.” She hugged me. “Now go pack your bag for DC, and I'll make the hotel reservation. This will be a great way to start the summer.”

As I stood outside Rainbow Product Testing, a familiar sensation tickled my nose. I leaned my bike against the building, then tilted my head back as the blood began to flow. Luckily it was a small bleed and stopped after a few minutes. The Kleenex I always kept in my pocket was all I needed.

I fished out my phone and called Jax. “I feel bad. We're lying about everything.”

“We're not lying about
everything
,” she said, the connection a bit fuzzy. “The part about going to DC isn't a lie. And the part about Tyler driving us and—”

“We're liars,” I said, wiping my nostrils. “No matter how you try to spin it, Jax, we're lying.”

“Do you see another way to figure out what's in the box?”

“Uh . . .” I said. “No.”

“Stop worrying. It'll be fun. And you can have half of whatever's inside. But first we have to go to DC and open it.”

“And then what?”

She chuckled. “If I had an answer for
Then what?
it wouldn't be an adventure.”