The Secret Box (7 page)

She folded her arms and looked him right in the eye. “There is no geocaching contest. It was last week.”

Tyler cocked his head, his expression remaining calm. “What did you just say?”

“We changed the date on the flyer so you would take us to Washington, DC.”

“You changed the date?” His neck tensed.

“Yes.” Jax stepped back. We both saw it at the same time, that look in his eyes. The rage was right there, boiling in his brain, ready to spill forth.

“Here we go,” I whispered. During a flash flood, it's a good idea to hold on to a tree. During a Tyler tantrum, the best thing is to evacuate the premises. But what was I going to do, run across the parking lot and hide behind the fruit stand?

“Changed the date?” Spit flew out of his mouth. His eyes blazed, his breathing came fast and shallow. “Let me get this straight. You told me there was a geocaching contest and there's no geocaching contest? Just because you wanted a ride to Washington, DC?”

Jax fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “Yeah but—”

He shot a deadly look at me. “You knew about this?” I nodded. Why did he seem taller all of a sudden? And was he frothing at the corners of his mouth? “Do you know what you've cost me?” More spit. “I'm in the middle of developing the fourth level of Cyclopsville. You peons have wasted an entire day of work.
And
my car was vandalized. Vandalized!” With a sweep of his arm, he dismissed us, got into the car and slammed the door. All four doors clicked into lock mode. The engine roared to life.

“Wait. Tyler, listen.” Jax knocked on the driver's window. Tyler's hands gripped the steering wheel. “Juniper sent that box to me for my birthday.” The car chugged as Tyler put it into reverse. “She wanted me to solve the puzzle but I couldn't do it alone. I needed your help!”

He backed out of the parking spot, then turned onto the road and picked up speed, the tires squealing as if they were also pissed. And then he was gone. I had to give my brother some credit—he'd really showed self-control this time. No punching holes, no throwing food. Dad would have been proud.

Jax pushed a lock of hair from her eye. “He's not really leaving us, is he?”

“I told you not to tell him,” I said. Why doesn't anyone listen to Caution Boy? I sighed and walked over to the fruit-stand bench. Jax watched the road for a bit longer, then sat next to me.

“He'll come back,” she said. But then she scrunched up her face. “Won't he?”

“He'll come back. He just needs to burn off some steam.”

My brother wasn't my favorite person. He was rude and arrogant. He never showed any interest in what I was doing and often acted as if I didn't exist. But he wasn't stupid. Abandoning his brother and twelve-year-old girl cousin at a gas station would not go over well with the parents.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, the car pulled back into the lot and screeched to a stop right at our feet. Tyler got out. His eyes narrowed as he stared down at us.

“Tell me more about that box.”

12
Jax

I
told Tyler everything. How the package had arrived on my birthday, how Mom had grabbed it and how she'd thrown it into the car, forbidding me to have it. I told him how Ethan and I had followed Mom to the diner and how I'd intercepted the package from Michael the breakfast cook. How we'd opened it in the park, pressed the button five times, then went to Tyler's room to get help, where he pushed it the sixth time. “After you explained the geometry, we took the train and did the seventh reading. The right spot is either in Lake Oneida or in Washington, DC. I figured Juniper wouldn't make me stand in the middle of a lake so we tricked you into taking us to DC.”

Tyler listened, his arms tightly folded. But he didn't look at me the whole time I was talking. Just kept staring over my head. Ethan had slid to the end of the bench. I know he wasn't afraid of Tyler punching him, or anything like that, but Ethan doesn't like confrontation. He's sensitive that way. I'm different. If Tyler yelled at me, I'd yell right back. Maybe that was why Ethan and I got along so well—we were opposites.

“I couldn't get to DC without your help,” I explained. “That's why I lied to you. I was worried you'd blackmail me. It was my idea, not Ethan's. I'm sorry.” I tapped my feet, anxiously waiting for his reaction.

A car pulled into the station, another drove away. I could picture those stupid Hatmakers. Were they laughing about their great find? About how they'd sell the box in their shop? The box's smooth, warm surface was still fresh against my fingertips.

“It doesn't make sense.” Tyler narrowed his eyes and kept staring into space. “Why would Juniper send the box to
you
? I'm the brains in the family. She should know that. There've been six articles about me in the Chatham newspaper.” This wasn't the reaction I'd expected. He didn't seem angry—more like
insulted
.

“I don't know why Juniper sent the puzzle box to me,” I said. “But she did and here we are.” A wave of frustration rolled over me. It felt as if we'd been at that stupid gas station for days! “Why did I leave it in the car? I had a bad feeling about those people. You should never ignore a bad feeling. Never.” I usually listened to my instincts but I'd let myself down.

Tyler scratched his five-o'clock-shadowy chin. “I'm the one who figured out how to solve the puzzle. So I'm the one who should get to open the box, not those hat people.”

“Hatmakers,” Ethan quietly corrected.

“Whatever. The point is, this great-aunt of ours made a huge mistake sending the box to you. If she'd sent it to me, it would already be opened. And whatever is inside would be sitting on my shelf, next to my trophies.”

I should have been insulted. In Tyler's universe, his intellect reigned supreme. But a little ray of hope appeared. Maybe my “quest” wasn't over. “Tyler?” I said as sweetly as possible. “It's obvious that Juniper doesn't know you are the genius in the family. If we go and see her, you can tell her that she made a mistake sending the box to me. She lives nearby.” I pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket. It was the corner of the packaging with Juniper's return address.

“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “She should be informed.” He slid back into the driver's seat.

“Wait, what are we doing?” Ethan asked.

“This long lost aunt of ours needs to send all future puzzles to me,” Tyler announced.

I broke into a huge grin. Who cared about
future
puzzles? I only cared about this one. Nobody steals a birthday present from Jax Malone without a fight. “Woo-hoo!” I cried.

Ethan sat very still, his face tight with uncertainty. I knew he was coming up with all sorts of reasons why we shouldn't do this. I could practically see them streaming through the air. I sat next to him at the end of the bench. “We aren't expected home until tomorrow night. Everything will be okay,” I told him.

“What if she doesn't want to see us?” he asked.

“Why wouldn't she want to see us?”

“Because something happened and she's not welcome in the family.” Ethan chewed on his lip. “Maybe she doesn't like us as much as our parents don't like her.” It was a reasonable excuse, but I was better at arguing. I was going to join the debate team as soon as I got into high school.

“If Juniper didn't want to see us then she wouldn't have sent me a birthday present,” I pointed out. “And she wouldn't have included her return address.” I waved the piece of paper. “She'll tell us the exact spot where the box opens. Then we'll thank her and we'll still have time to get to Washington, DC, and stay in the hotel like we're supposed to.”

“And then what?” Ethan asked.

“Then we'll find those Hatmakers and demand the box back,” I said. I knew it wouldn't be that easy but what else could I do? I'd never wanted anything this much in my life. “Come on, Ethan, it'll be okay. What else are you going to do? Go home and read?”

Ethan grumbled something under his breath, then he slowly walked to the car and slid into the backseat. He never stayed mad at me for long. I wasn't worried.

As soon as I'd climbed into the front passenger seat and closed the door, Tyler smirked at me. A deal was about to be made.

“When the quest is concluded, I'll tell my parents that we got the dates wrong for the geocaching competition and that no one was to blame on one condition.”

This was expected. Tyler never did anything for free. “What's the condition?”

“That if we get the box back and if whatever's inside is worth a lot of money, then we sell it and I get half. I'm saving for a new gaming mouse.”

“Half?” I gulped. “But I promised half to Ethan.”

He snorted. “Why would you split it with Ethan? You own the box, I've got the brains. What's Ethan's role in all this?”

“Ethan's role is . . .” I paused, glancing over the seat. Ethan was slumped down low, his book propped in front of his face. “He's . . .” Ethan raised his eyebrows and looked at me over the top of the book. “He's my best friend and he fixed the window,” I said. “And I already promised half to him.”

“I'm okay with thirds,” Ethan said.

“Thirds it is.” Tyler smacked his hand on the steering wheel. “The quest to retrieve the secret box has commenced.”

As Tyler drove away from the gas station, Ethan gave me that look I knew so well—the
what are you getting me into
look. I smiled at him. “Don't worry. This is the
Then what?
part of the adventure. Remember?”

13
Ethan

FACT:
Alexander Graham Bell, the inventor of the phone, thought we should answer by saying “Ahoy.” It was Thomas Edison who suggested “Hello.” That's a pretty cool fact.

A
nother fact: The first mobile handheld phone was invented way back in 1973. It weighed two and a half pounds and had only thirty minutes of battery life. In those days Google didn't exist. If you needed to do research, you had to go to the library. The actual building. And if you needed a map, you had to go to a store or gas station and buy one. An actual paper map. Thanks to my new phone, it was easy to get driving directions to Juniper's house.

I typed the return address, which was in New Hope, Pennsylvania, and waited for the map to appear on the screen. Mom and Dad gave me the phone after I'd brought up my grade in English from C plus to B minus. My parents want me to get better grades. They never have grade discussions with Tyler, Mr. 4.2. But I get the lecture about once a month. “We know you're capable of doing more,” they always say. “We just want you to do your best. That's all we ask.”

What if my best is a B minus? Would the world come to an end?

There are all sorts of accolades for people who get As—clubs, awards, honors, scholarships, even trophies. But nothing is given to the B people. Statistically, there are more B people in this world than A people, but that argument never flies with my parents.

I'm not sure what my problem is, exactly. I read more than anyone I know, and the facts all stick to my brain like fruit flies to honey. But when I sit down to take a test I get nervous and start second-guessing myself. Mom says introverts often lack confidence. Dad says that some people aren't wired to be test takers. Tyler says I'm stupid.

I scanned the New Hope tourist site. “New Hope lies on the Delaware River,” I said from the backseat. Jax was sitting in the front seat. “It's the longest free-flowing river in the Eastern US. It starts in the Catskill Mountains and goes three hundred thirty miles to Delaware Bay. About five percent of the US population relies on it for drinking water. And—”

“How about giving us a factoid break?” Tyler said.

I sighed and finished the sentence in my head.
And it is fed by two hundred sixteen tributaries
.

Jax said something to Tyler, but I didn't catch it. The atmosphere had changed and I'm not talking about the weather. When I'd asked Jax why she was sitting up front, she'd said it was because she couldn't see very well through the plastic-wrap window. Maybe that was true but it felt like she'd deserted me. This had started as Jax and my adventure, but now we were splitting the prize with Tyler.

“Estimated time of arrival?” Tyler asked.

“We should be there by ten o'clock,” I grumbled. Jax turned around and looked at me.

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” I folded my arms and slid down in the seat. Guess sulking ran in our family.

Jax was squirming. She fixed her ponytail, then squirmed some more. When Tyler reached to turn on his music, she poked Tyler's arm. “How come our great-aunt lived in Greece?”

“I don't know.”

“Where do you think she got such a weird box? Did she stick the LCD screen into it or did it come that way? Is she married? Do we have a great-uncle too? Did she—?”

“What is this, Twenty Questions? Didn't you Google her?” Tyler asked as if we were too stupid to think of that. Jax darted around and looked at me, wide-eyed.
Google
, she mouthed. Then she glared at me as if it was my fault we hadn't done a search.

I wasn't about to admit to my brother that we had failed to do something so obvious. “We already did,” I told him. Jax watched hopefully as my fingers flew across the phone.

“And . . . ?” Tyler asked.

I held the phone low so he couldn't tell what I was doing. “And what?” I stalled.

“And what did you find? Jeez, are we speaking the same language? Maybe I should try Pig Latin. Atwhay idday ouyay indfay?”

“I found . . .” I tried another search engine. Juniper Vandegrift didn't appear anywhere. “I found . . . I found nothing.” I sat back against the seat and looked into Jax's eyes. “It's really weird but absolutely nothing comes up. Not a birth date, not an address, not a Facebook page. It's almost as if she doesn't exist.”

Jax frowned. “But she does exist. She sent me a package.”

“Widen the search,” Tyler said. “Birth records, college alumni associations, phone book records—she's there.”

“She's not here,” I insisted.

“Then she's living under an alias, or she's paid someone to remove her records,” Tyler said. “If she doesn't want to be found then it's possible the return address is fake.”

“Fake?” Jax said. “But it can't be fake. I have to find that box.”

Tyler followed my directions off the interstate. The scenery changed quickly. No more fast-food restaurants or strip malls. Everything was green and lush and in full bloom.

“Wow, the people around here must be rich,” Jax said as we passed sprawling estates with manicured lawns and huge winding driveways. “Do you think Juniper is rich? She must be if she lives out here. Really rich.” I could tell that Jax was building a huge story in her head about our great-aunt, just like the stories she'd built about her father. Hopefully, reality wouldn't be too disappointing.

We passed old stone buildings and smaller houses from the early colonial period. You see a lot of those around here. A few turns in the road and we passed a
Welcome to Historic New Hope
sign. Tyler pointed out that my estimated time of arrival was off by sixteen minutes.

New Hope was a weird place. Every other shop looked like an art gallery of some sort. There was a tie-dyed T-shirt shop, a bunch of craft stores, and a store that sold healing stones. A bunch of Harley Davidson motorcycles were parked in front of a stand selling roasted turkey legs. “Hey,” I said, pointing. “That's a medieval gallery.” A full-sized coat of armor hung in the window.

“Cool,” Tyler said. He slammed his foot, stopping right in the middle of the road. I was thrust forward against my seat belt. The car behind us honked, its brakes screeching.

“Whoa,” Jax complained, bracing herself against the dashboard. “What'd you do that for?”

“See any swords?” Tyler asked.

Tyler had a sword collection that wasn't allowed to leave his bedroom. Mom said someone might get hurt, even though the blades were dull because they were replica productions from some of his favorite movies. He had Glamdring, Gandalf's sword, and Excalibur, King Arthur's sword, and Luke Skywalker's lightsaber, to name a few. Actually, I think Mom was more worried about people making judgments. She wasn't trying to protect Tyler—everyone already knew he was a geek. I think she was protecting her own reputation. Her job was to make sure toys were safe, so she was totally opposed to toy weapons.

“No,” I lied, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don't see any swords.” The car behind honked again.

We drove a bit farther, until we reached West Ferry Street. “There's a spot,” Jax announced, pointing. It was a perfect spot, plenty of room, between a Chevy truck and a Volvo station wagon. Tyler slowed, eyed the space for a moment, then passed by.

“Not enough room,” he said.

Jax scowled. “But there was plenty of—”

“Not enough room,” Tyler repeated.

I tapped Jax's shoulder. “Remember what I told you.” After flunking the parallel-parking section of the driving test, Dad had tried to explain the technique in mathematical terms. Tyler had gotten so frustrated he overturned his cereal bowl and stomped out of the kitchen. It was a sensitive subject.

Tyler drove around the block, twice, then found a space in a church lot that didn't require parallel parking. Even though it was hot out, Jax grabbed her purple coat and slipped it on. She'd found it at a garage sale and had talked the woman into selling it for $1.50. She loved that coat because it sparkled. I can't say I've ever loved a piece of clothing. I don't even care what I wear, so long as it's comfortable and not sparkling purple. I used to wear hoodies, but Mom said I was always hiding beneath the hood. So she banned them. Then I got the baseball cap and even though I wear it every day, she hasn't complained. Yet. The brim shades me from the sun, and from people who try to look into my eyes when talking to me.

We had to walk a couple of blocks to Ferry Street. “We're here,” I said, checking the map on my phone. We stopped on the sidewalk, across the street from a bunch of identical houses. They were row houses—individual houses that share walls. A factoid popped into my head. The Europeans developed row houses in the sixteenth century as a way to fit more people into smaller spaces. I didn't share that info, however. It would have gone unappreciated in this group.

“Juniper's address is the one on the end,” Jax said.

While the other porches were decorated with flowerpots, the last porch was bare. And the curtains were closed. Was Juniper the person who lived in that house? A person who'd erased all her records from the internet. A person who'd been evicted from our family. A person we weren't supposed to think about.

Just then, Tyler's phone rang. “Is it Mom?” I asked, my heart doubling its pace. What would we tell her?

“It's Walker,” Tyler said reading the screen. “Hey, Skywalker, what's up?” Pause. “No way, dude.” From what I could tell, Walker was having some sort of gaming crisis. “Just go on the attack. If Doomringer's a noob, he'll try to hide behind the temple wall.” While Tyler launched a series of directions, his eyes darting wildly as if watching the action live, Jax pulled me aside.

“I'm kinda nervous about meeting her,” she said.

“Me, too.” A funny feeling had settled in my stomach. Maybe it was the pizza-flavored chips I'd eaten during the ride, combined with the mini doughnuts, but it felt like more than that. I was jittery, on the verge of turning around and heading back to the car. What if Juniper was living off the radar because she was some kind of crazy person?

“Let's go,” Jax said, then she hurried across the street.

Tyler, who was still commanding the attack on Doomringer, seemed totally uninterested in the real world at the moment. “Flank him!” he yelled into the phone. “Listen to me. You can't take down the temple without more life points. You have to kill Doomringer first. Use the Sword of Athena. And watch out for the Gorgons!”

I rolled my eyes. My parents worry about
me
?

Jax had already reached the door and was knocking. There wasn't much movement around the row houses. A man at the far end was mowing his little strip of grass. A few cars passed by. Tyler slashed the air with an imaginary sword as he continued to direct the assault. A jogger slowed and gawked at him.

I joined Jax on the porch. As I tried to steady my breathing, she knocked again.

“No one's home,” I said, totally relieved. “We can still get to DC and check into our hotel before Mom gets off work and calls to check on us.”

“Why are you so quick to give up?” Jax asked. “I'm not leaving until I find out about the box.”

“But if she's not here, we can't ask her about the box.”

“I have a feeling and I'm not leaving.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“Some feelings can't be explained. Besides, we came all this way.” This time she pounded on the door. It rattled, then creaked open about an inch. We both stepped back. “It wasn't locked,” she whispered.

“Why wouldn't she lock the door?” I whispered back. “Everybody locks the front door.”

Jax leaned close to the crack. “Hello?” she called. No one answered. “Hello?”

“Uh . . . doesn't it seem weird that someone who would lock a box with a secret code wouldn't lock her own front door?”

“Yeah, that does seem weird.” We kept whispering. “Maybe she forgot. I think we should go in.”

“That's trespassing,” I pointed out. “Trespassing is against the law.”

Jax narrowed her eyes. “Only if there's a sign that says
No Trespassing
. And I don't see a sign so it's not against the law.”

Her logic was flawed. “No one puts up a sign that says
No Stealing or
No Murdering
but it's still against the law.”

“Ethan, you're worrying about nothing.” Jax beamed a confident smile. “It's not trespassing because the door was open
and
because we're family.”

“But . . .” This place did not give off a friendly vibe. There was no welcome mat. The curtains were shut tight. At least the house next door had a little gnome statue out front. “What if it's a fake address, like Tyler suggested, and someone else lives here? Someone who might freak out if we go inside without being invited?”

“Hmmmm.” She pursed her lips. “Just in case . . . don't leave any fingerprints.” Using her elbow, she gently pushed the door open. Then she stepped inside.

I looked back across the street. Tyler was still caught up in his phone call, hacking his way through the Gorgons or beheading a Cyclops, I couldn't be sure. I waved at him, hoping he'd notice his brother and cousin as we disappeared into a strange woman's house, uninvited. But his back was to us. The jogger was gone and the guy on the lawn mower had driven around to the other side, out of view. I took a deep breath and followed Jax. Trespassing was trespassing, no matter how she tried to spin it.

Light streamed in through the front door. The living room was a disaster. “Now we know where Tyler gets his slob gene,” Jax said as she stood, hands on hips, scanning the mess.

But not even Tyler was this much of a slob. Furniture lay upturned, drawers were open, a lamp lay shattered. “It looks like someone broke in.”