by Wendy Mass
“Indeed it is, Mr. Dinkleman.” She pushed open the door, and they walked into the strangest house any of them had ever visited. Logan didn’t have much to compare it with, since he’d only been to maybe four other houses in his whole life, but he knew this was unusual. Philip hadn’t been inside many people’s houses, either, but he had stayed at a lot of hotels. Daisy and AJ were not easily surprised by anything, but even they couldn’t help turning in circles, trying to absorb it all. Miles literally had to hold on to a wall. His legs shook, and everywhere he looked, something amazing appeared. It was like the feeling he got when stepping into a bookstore, or a library, or a candy shop. Only multiplied by a hundred. He’d just stepped into a map-lover’s dream.
Maps of every size, color, and dimension surrounded them. Paper maps hung on windowless walls; three-dimensional maps and globes sat on shelves and tables, and others hung, suspended by wires, from the ceiling. Miles could see maps of countries, cities, mythological worlds with made-up names; of palaces, gardens, and underground tunnels. His eyes landed on a giant full-color map, spread on the floor, of someplace called Smoranthia. In the center of it, islands with jagged coastlines dotted an ocean so vivid that Miles felt like he could swim in those turquoise waters. He knelt before it, his finger almost unconsciously tracing a journey around the islands and toward a mountain peak that rose majestically from the water.
“Do you want to know how I made those islands?” a man’s voice asked from behind Miles. Immediately following the question, Miles heard his friends begin to talk all at once, almost shouting. But entirely unable to tear his focus away from Smoranthia, Miles made his head move up and down in response.
“An old pipe broke and left some water stains on the ceiling tiles in the basement,” the man said with a chuckle. “I took down the tiles and traced the stains.”
Miles stared at the coastlines of the utterly realistic islands, imagining them as simple water stains. “Brilliant,” he whispered reverently. He slowly turned around, expecting to see an older version of the man in the Opening Day photograph, the one who the computer couldn’t identify. Instead, he got another huge shock.
He was looking at Henry—a thinner, taller, glasses-free Henry. He realized why his friends had been reacting so strangely. He scampered backward, knocking into things and trying desperately to right them while still moving. His backpack softened the blow as he slammed against a wall.
“You’ll have to forgive the mess,” the man who was Henry—but not Henry—said. “I don’t get many visitors.”
Maggie chuckled. “That’s an understatement. I was the first visitor. You guys are the second. Before you ask why it’s so cold in here, it protects the maps.”
Daisy collected herself and stormed over to the man. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I thought you knew. I’m Frank Griffin.”
She crossed her arms. “Then tell me, Frank Griffin, why is it that you look just like our friend Henry Jennings? Well, minus fifty pounds.”
“Fifty pounds?” Frank said, shaking his head. “Henry should really cut down on those marshmallows.”
“That’s what I said,” Philip called out.
Daisy tapped her foot at the man. “Well?”
“Henry’s my brother. My younger brother, to be more precise. People used to think he was the older one, though. He always wants to take care of people, you know?”
“Yes,” Logan, Miles, and Philip said at the same time. Daisy ignored them and continued to look Frank up and down. Surprises on missions made her irritable. “Why the name change?” she asked. “Running from the law?”
“Daisy!” Miles admonished.
Frank chuckled. “That’s okay, it’s a fair question. When I was a kid and reading my fantasy books, I used to take on the names of the mythological creatures. I wanted a last name that would look cool on maps. Frank Griffin sounded better than Frank Pegasus.”
Miles thought Frank Pegasus sounded even cooler, but he didn’t want to be rude by mentioning it.
AJ stepped forward. “His change of name must be why the computer couldn’t find him, or Henry, for that matter. Maybe it couldn’t decide which was which. Plus neither of them got out much.” He looked around at the house. “Obviously.”
Maggie suddenly clapped her hands and said, “All righty! Not sure what any of you are talking about, but let’s get this show on the road. We’ve got a lot of work to do. Frank told me you need him to update a map of your town or something? A school project, was it?”
“Um…,” Logan said, stumped.
Frank jumped in. He put his hand lightly on Maggie’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off. We can continue cataloging the collection tomorrow.” He started leading her toward the door.
“But there’s so much to do,” she insisted. “I need to finish sorting the road maps, and the climate maps are a mess, and you still won’t tell me if you have more in the basement, and—”
“It’s all right,” he said, opening the front door. He grabbed her purse and sweatshirt from a hook on the wall and put them in her arms. “Thank you for your dedication, but it’ll all still be here in the morning.”
She stood there, clutching her stuff. “But the museum is expecting me to—”
He closed the door before she could finish. “She’ll be fine,” he assured them. “She works too hard anyway. Museums don’t pay nearly enough to have to deal with eccentric old cartographers like myself. Now, Logan, come, let me see you.”
Logan hesitantly stepped forward. Frank knelt down and peered at Logan carefully. This close up, Logan could see subtle differences between the men—Henry’s skin had more of a pinkish tone to it, while Frank’s was tanner, with more wrinkles. His white hair didn’t stand up in the air quite as much as Henry’s. But still, the resemblance was freaking him out. He made a mental note to talk to Henry about leaving out important details of his life, like the fact that he had a brother. At least his crying over the letter made a little more sense now.
“Are you and Henry in a fight or something?” Logan asked.
“Why would you say that?” Frank asked, still peering at him like he was a specimen in a museum.
“He was in the room when your box came, and when he saw it was from you, he started to cry. So I thought maybe you guys weren’t in touch or something. I don’t know. We’re confused about a lot of things.”
Frank shook his head. “Henry and I aren’t in a fight. He cried because of what the letter meant.”
“Didn’t it mean what it said?” Logan asked.
“Yes, of course. But it also meant what it didn’t say.”
Logan heard Daisy groan from the other side of the room. Her plan to let Frank explain things wasn’t going very well. Logan knew it wouldn’t be long before that plan went out the window. Before he could ask Frank to explain, Frank spoke again. “You don’t look as much like Sam as I’d heard.”
Logan didn’t know how to respond to that. He’d never thought he looked much like his grandfather in the first place. But of course he hadn’t known him as a kid. Logan remembered the wig and yanked it off, along with the cap. “Not really blond,” he said.
“Ah,” Frank said, clasping his hands together. “There’s my old friend!”
Logan couldn’t help gloating a bit. “See, Daisy? The disguise worked.”
“Nah, I knew it was a wig,” Frank said.
“You did?”
Frank nodded. “You three aren’t Scouts, either, I’d bet.”
“How do you know that?” Philip said. He looked down at the badges on the sides of the vest he wore. “I may have just earned my wood-chopping badge.” He paused and twisted the vest to see it better. “Or my outdoor-survival badge.”
“Did you, now?” Frank said. “Good! You may need that skill. Not the tree-chopping one.”
Daisy finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Speaking of trees, Mr. Griffin,” she said, “I know you all promi
sed never to reveal the location of the beans that Sam used to make the Magic Bar, but Henry tricked Philip into using the chocolate, and you sent that box to Logan, so we’re hoping that means you’re going to tell us.” She crossed her arms. “But you can start with how you knew we were coming here.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “Is she always this bossy?”
The question got a resounding yes from all the others in the room.
Frank got to his feet. “Let’s talk outside. It’s a bit stuffy in here.” He headed toward the front door. Miles lagged behind, reluctant to leave.
Frank noticed his hesitation. “I’m sure a budding cartographer such as yourself would have a keen interest in my home. But don’t you want to join your friends? Daisy might have exploded already.”
Miles wondered how Frank knew things about them. He did want to go outside and hear what Frank had to say, but his feet had become rooted to the spot. He’d never felt more drawn to a place in his whole life. He was afraid that if he walked out of this house and got swept up in whatever would happen next, he wouldn’t get back here. He couldn’t leave yet.
Frank held his gaze another second, then walked back to the door and called out, “Give us a few minutes in here to talk maps.” He grabbed the bag of sandwiches that Maggie had left on a front table and tossed them out to AJ, who was closest. “Have a snack. They were always meant for you.” He closed the door and turned back to Miles.
“I knew I wanted to make maps since I was a boy and my father read me Gulliver’s Travels and Treasure Island. I would stare at the maps for hours, days even, losing myself entirely in them.”
Miles nodded, wide-eyed. “For me it was the maps of Middle-earth in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. I’d like to make maps like that one day, like you do. Yours are amazing.” Miles stopped short of telling Frank about the prints of his hanging in his room. He was already fanboy-ing enough.
“You would think the maps I make for the fantasy novels would allow me more creativity than the regular geographic ones, right?” Frank asked. He began strolling around the room, straightening out one map, rolling up another. Miles kept almost tripping over himself as his feet went faster than his eyes.
As they neared the giant Smoranthia map, Frank continued. “That is not always the case. With the fantasy novels, authors usually have very specific ideas for how their imaginary worlds should look. My job is to try to make them look real, so the reader gets more immersed in the stories. But a traditional mapmaker still has great power. When drawing a map with limited space, it’s up to us to decide what to put in and what to leave out. Life is like that, too. We just hope we make the right choices as we go along.” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up just the way Henry’s did.
Frank seemed momentarily lost in his own thoughts, so Miles allowed his eyes to dart around again. His gaze landed on a small copper globe, and he stepped forward on shaky knees. “Is that the… Hunt-Lenox Globe?” He held his breath for the answer.
Frank nodded. “It’s on loan. I was hired to make a replica. I actually made three.” He chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone.”
Miles squinted to read the now-famous Latin words. In an awed voice, he recited, “Hc Svnt Dracones,” adding in the vowels so it sounded like hic sunt dracones. “Here be dragons,” he said reverently.
“Very good,” Frank said. “You know Latin?”
“I know a little. I like languages.”
“As do I,” Frank said. He gave the globe a gentle spin. “Imagine a time when mapmakers really didn’t know what was beyond the place they were mapping. Now we can get accurate maps of anywhere in the world from satellites, radar, and even sonar. Not many places remain truly hidden.”
“But some still are, right?” Miles asked.
Frank gave a small smile. “Maybe one or two. Are you ready to go outside now?”
Miles nodded, took one last wistful gaze at the globe, and let Frank lead him out. “Thank you for your time,” Miles said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
As soon as he stepped out the door, his friends came running from the side of the house, their faces flushed. Logan was holding the metal detector. Maybe they’d found something!
“Hi!” Miles said. “Did you find a meteorite? You guys won’t believe all the cool—”
“Hold that thought,” Daisy said. She turned to Frank. “We’d love it if you could tell us why we just watched our cat disappear into thin air.”
It took Miles a few seconds to process what she’d said. Aurora had vanished?
Frank let out a deep sigh. “Evy warned me about that possibility. Cats are never fooled.”
“Evy?” Daisy said, not expecting that answer.
Frank nodded. “Who else do you think could hide Paradise?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
A number of strange things had happened in the fifteen or so minutes when Frank left Daisy, Logan, AJ, and Philip out on the lawn while he talked all things maps with Miles. Daisy’s first reaction to being essentially banished from the house had been to be really, really annoyed. That was her second and third reaction as well. But calmer minds prevailed (Logan’s), and she eventually decided to be useful and distributed the sandwiches.
Philip, for one, didn’t mind the break. The clutter in the house had caused a vein to throb above his left eye.
They sat on the curb across the street so they could get a clear view of the door when it opened. To the left and right a few evergreen trees added a tiny bit of warmth and life to the place, but from what they could see of the sides and the backyard, it was just more dirt and patchy grass. It was the type of house you’d drive right by and barely remember having done so. The perfect place to live for someone not wanting to be noticed.
They ate their lunches and watched the door. For entertainment, they watched Aurora run across the lawn, chasing something only she could see. To keep herself from storming back into the house, Daisy stood up for a closer look.
“It’s like a ball of light or some kind of reflection,” she said as a tiny light winked out in front of her and then appeared again a little distance away. It took a minute, but they eventually figured out that when Philip turned his wrist, the reflection of the sun caught the face of his watch and bounced off it. They’d all seen this effect before, of course, with other reflective items, but the resulting beam of light had to hit a surface—usually a wall—in order to become visible. This wasn’t hitting anything.
“Maybe it’s doing that because of the meteorites that you said fell in the area?” Logan suggested to AJ. “Like, there are strange metals in the ground attracting the light? Or maybe it’s buried pirate gold! Can we take out the metal detector now?”
AJ glanced at the still-shut front door. “Not sure what Frank would think about us searching his lawn, but I’ll go get it. If we find buried pirate’s gold a thousand miles away from any ocean, we’ll split it with him.”
“No, we won’t!” Daisy called after him. Clearly she hadn’t fully recovered.
AJ brought the metal detector back from the RV and handed it to Logan. He also brought the stick map. If anyone knew about odd maps, it would be Frank.
Logan flipped on the switch and hadn’t even pointed the coil toward the ground when the screen started flashing and beeping. “Whoa.” The whole thing bucked like it was about to jump out of his hands! It turned sideways, toward the house. He felt like he was walking a very strong dog that was trying to catch a cat!
He looked to his friends for help, but they were running to the side of the house, in the same direction the metal detector was pointing. Surprised that they’d walked away, Logan’s grip loosened. The detector flew out of his hands and began slithering along the ground like an awkward metal snake.
Logan gathered up his strength. Too bad he didn’t have any Gummzillas with him. Wrestling with a sugar dinosaur and then eating it always made him feel powerful. He ran after the bucking and squawking detector, tackled it, and, after
fumbling for a few seconds, managed to switch it off. He picked it back up and joined the others. Out of breath, he asked, “Did you guys see that? This thing has a life of its own!”
In response, Philip pointed a shaky arm at a spot a few feet in front of one of the evergreen trees. At first Logan couldn’t tell what he was supposed to be looking at. He squinted. Aurora? The back half of Aurora? They heard her give one final woof-woof, and then she was gone. Poof. Empty space.
Random sounds flew from their throats as they all instinctively scrambled backward. Philip and Logan actually fell and sat there, stunned and breathing hard. Logan still gripped the metal detector in one hand. Holding something solid helped keep his brain from screaming.
Daisy started forward again. AJ grabbed her arm. “Don’t,” he said. “Not until we know what’s going on.”
“I won’t get too close,” Daisy promised. A good spy always tested her environment carefully before leaping into the unknown. She picked up a stone and tossed it in the direction where they’d last seen Aurora. Daisy didn’t want to throw it exactly where the cat had been, in case she was still there and just invisible. The stone landed with a plop on the ground. They all stared at it. “Hmm,” Daisy said, her mind buzzing as it tried to make sense of what was happening. “Okay, I’m done waiting. It’s time for Frank to answer some questions.”
AJ and Daisy helped a shaking Philip and Logan off the ground, and they half ran, half stumbled to the front of the house. That’s when they first heard Frank use the word paradise, but it wouldn’t be the last.
“I don’t know what you mean about paradise,” Daisy said as they rounded the corner of the house. “But we just watched an entire animal slowly disappear. Where is our cat? Is she all right? I don’t want to hear that it was just a trick of the light.”
“But that’s exactly what it was,” Frank said calmly. “A trick of the light. Only a very complex, well-thought-out, state-of-the-art trick of the light.” He took a breath. “Understand, I’ve never told anyone any of this. Not ever. In the beginning we were much more low tech with our camouflaging techniques. Planting fake foliage, putting up fences. We experimented with painting huge canvases, but they couldn’t stand up to the weather for long. Eventually, with the satellite technology these days, we knew we had to protect it from the eyes in the sky as well, so we had to get more creative.”