The League of Unexceptional Children--The Kids Who Knew Too Little

by Gitty Daneshvari

  “Who?”

  “The couple you tricked into stealing classified documents!”

  “Oh,” Glenda responded with a smile.

  “There’s no smiling in here!” Shelley snapped. “Hostages don’t smile!”

  “So that’s what this is about… and yet, I’m the only one here? What about Carol?”

  “We realized we only needed one of you, so what can I say? You lost the coin toss,” Jonathan covered. “Now, about my parents.”

  “Your parents are absolute dimwits,” Glenda told Jonathan. “We asked them to steal the SATs, not the STS!”

  “The SATs?” Shelley muttered.

  “The Scholastic Aptitude Test. You know, the college entrance exam?” Glenda explained.

  “There’s an entrance exam?” Shelley said, shaking her head. “What a bummer! I was hoping it was more of an educational buffet… learn as much or as little as you want, wherever you want.”

  “I love buffets,” Carl chimed in as he stepped forward.

  “Ahh! What’s that!?” Glenda screeched.

  “That’s Carl with a silent h,” Jonathan answered.

  “Why does he look like that?”

  “The same reason you look like you,” Shelley replied. “He came out that way.”

  Jonathan felt the situation slipping away from him, and jumped in. “Do you realize that my parents are facing life in prison, possibly even death, because you tricked them into committing treason?”

  “The end justifies the means. The Order of Merium cannot achieve its goals unless its members are in positions of great power. In order to get there, members must go to the right university, and in order to get in, a student must be more than great—he or she must be exceptional.”

  “Ohhh… that word,” Carl remarked. “That’s gotta hurt, since you’re members of the League of Unexceptional Children and all. Although I still think you should change it to something more direct, like the League of Super-Disorganized Spies.”

  “Carl!!!!!” Jonathan snapped.

  “What? Was I not supposed to bring up the League? I told you I’m not good with secrets.… It’s your own fault. I warned you.… Yet another sign you’re bad spies.”

  “If we’re lucky enough to make it out of this alive,” Shelley said, stepping closer to Carl, “I’d watch your back… and I realize you can’t actually watch your back… I just mean… I’m coming for you… not to physically harm you but to egg your house, dig up your plants, maybe even start a picket line across your lawn.…”

  “And to think I regarded Carmen and Mickey as the most utterly witless people I’d ever met… Little did I know you guys were out there,” Glenda remarked smugly.

  “Thank you,” Shelley said with a smile.

  “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  “Or so you think,” Shelley said. “I can turn almost anything into a compliment.”

  “It’s true,” Jonathan seconded. “Although I don’t know that it’s a good thing.”

  “So Carmen and Mickey actually believed that we were from the Alien Intelligence Agency. What utter dolts! Surely the US government can see that.”

  “Don’t call them dolts,” Jonathan barked.

  “Yeah!” Shelley added, “It might be true, but it’s a lousy thing to say!”

  “Listen to me, Glenda. You need to right this wrong,” Jonathan declared.

  “Right this wrong?” Glenda scoffed. “Who talks like that?”

  “Cowboys do… and Jonathan… Well, he’s not a cowboy.… I’m pretty sure he’s never even been on a horse.… He seems more like the donkey type, you know?”

  Jonathan lowered his voice, leaned toward Shelley’s ear, and whispered, “Was there a point to that?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. Words often come out of my mouth without any warning… or purpose.…”

  Jonathan sighed and turned back to Glenda. “My parents are good people. They don’t deserve this; no one does. And now you’re going to fix it.”

  Glenda shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Jonathan stepped closer, his face flooded with anger. “I’m not asking you—I’m telling you. You are going to write a letter explaining exactly what you and Carol did, how the two of you tricked my parents into performing an act of treason.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then we’ll be forced to act as both judge and jury for your actions and you’ll meet the same fate as intruders within the Order of Merium,” Jonathan answered.

  “You’re not going to off me over a letter. You’re not the type,” Glenda replied confidently.

  Jonathan narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure about that?”

  “FYI, my partner is a mentally unstable psychopath who has been known to off kittens and puppies just to prove a point,” Shelley said. “He’s totally toothless.”

  “She means ruthless,” Jonathan clarified.

  “No, I mean toothless, as in you’ve lost all your teeth in fights because you’re so tough… get it?”

  “But I have all my teeth, so that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Not your actual teeth, your metaphorical teeth.”

  “Metaphorical teeth? Do you even know what a metaphor is, Shells?”

  “Maybe… maybe not… but I know what teeth are… and I know you don’t have any… because you’re tough… you’re mean… you’re an animal who shouldn’t be messed with!”

  “Exactly, I’m ruthless!”

  “You might be ruthless.… I can’t say for sure until I contact my good friend the dictionary, but I do know you’re toothless… even though you have all your teeth.…”

  “Oh, enough! I can’t bear to listen to you two yammer on any longer! Just hand me the pen and paper,” Glenda interrupted. “I’ll do it. After all, what’s the harm? There’s no way you’re making it out of the Order alive. No intruder ever has, and no intruder ever will.…”

  NOVEMBER 1, 11:59 P.M. GARDEN. ORDER OF MERIUM

  Glenda sat tied to the chair, a piece of cloth covering her mouth.

  “We’re sorry to leave you tied up,” Jonathan mumbled, “but we can’t take the chance of anyone finding out we’re here before tomorrow, when everyone’s asleep and we can escape.”

  “Plus, you deserve a little punishment for what you’ve done,” Shelley added.

  “What if someone finds her before tomorrow morning?” Carl whispered to Shelley.

  “Then we’re in big trouble.…”

  Jonathan popped his head out of the shed, the cold night air greeting him. “Come on,” he said as he motioned for Carl and Shelley to follow him.

  “Don’t get mad, but do we have an escape?” Carl muttered hesitantly.

  “Yes, Carl, we have an escape plan,” Jonathan replied.

  “We’re going to hide behind those bushes until daybreak, when the Order goes to sleep; then we’ll build a ladder to climb over the wall,” Shelley answered.

  “That plan actually sounds okay,” Carl answered as he stepped in front of Jonathan, accidentally tripping him in the process.

  “Ugh!” Jonathan grunted as his left ankle turned.

  “I’m really sorry! It was an accident.”

  “I know… I know…” Jonathan mumbled, “but just to be safe, maybe you could stay five to ten feet away from me at all times.”

  “Sort of like a restraining order, only friendly,” Shelley clarified.

  “My mom thinks I hurt people to remind them that I’m here. But it’s not true! It’s all an accident. But ever since I burned down Grandpa’s house and broke the windshield on his Cadillac, she doesn’t believe me.”

  “We’re going to need details about these events before we move any farther,” Shelley replied as she motioned for them to follow her behind the shrubs.

  “Yeah,” Jonathan seconded. “Definitely going to need those details.”

  Crouching behind bushes with Jonathan and Shelley, Carl smiled. “Honestly, I think this stuff probably happens to people a
ll the time; they just don’t talk about it.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that,” Shelley said, motioning for the boy to continue.

  “I was in Grandpa’s kitchen cooking eggs, when a grease fire broke out… so I threw water on it… which apparently makes grease fires worse. Then I opened a window, hoping the wind would put out the fire, but wind has oxygen in it, which fed the fire. At that point, the smoke was pretty thick, so I grabbed the cat and waited outside.”

  “And the Cadillac?” Shelley asked.

  “I threw a brick through the windshield,” Carl said matter-of-factly.

  Brow furrowed, Shelley asked, “Why would you do that?”

  “Grandpa said he bought a super-strong windshield that even a brick couldn’t get through… so I decided to test it out.”

  “Mental note to Shelltastic: Never invite Charl over to your house.”

  Jonathan nudged Shelley. “He can hear you.”

  “Mental note to Shelltastic: Stop saying your mental notes out loud.”

  Waaa. Waaa.

  A siren cut through the garden, electrifying Jonathan, Shelley, and Carl.

  “What is that?” Carl asked as the trio looked up and saw a dome of black mesh close over the Order of Merium.

  NOVEMBER 2, 12:03 A.M. GARDEN. ORDER OF MERIUM

  “They’re locking us in,” Carl whimpered, staring up at the metal lattice.

  “They must have found Glenda, which means they know we’re here and they’re coming for us,” Jonathan said.

  Flashes of the Meriums’ red masks dashed through the night, momentarily paralyzing Jonathan. No, no, no, no, he repeated to himself as he stood perfectly still, perspiration running down the side of his face.

  “Johno? We need to move!” Shelley whispered, her voice strained and desperate.

  But Jonathan didn’t move. He stood still, repeating the word no over and over again in his mind. He simply couldn’t accept what had happened. They had failed. They had failed themselves. But more important, they had failed his parents. Without Glenda’s letter, Carmen and Mickey would languish away in a cell. And worse yet, they would think their son had abandoned them, turned his back on them when they needed him most. They would accept that he too believed they were traitors.

  “Johno!” Shelley repeated, this time her voice shrill bordering on hysterical.

  The boy again failed to react.

  “Is he dead?” Carl asked.

  “Have you ever seen a dead person standing up? I don’t think so,” Shelley snapped before turning to Jonathan and grabbing his hand, pulling him as she ran toward the castle.

  “Wait for me,” Carl called out, trailing behind, safely camouflaged by the trees and greenery.

  “There’s no way out, Shells,” Jonathan muttered as he staggered behind her, his ankle now throbbing.

  “There’s always a way out… or at least that’s what we need to believe… because even though I’ve never conducted a scientific study, my gut tells me that delusional people are more likely to survive a disaster, because they never give up.”

  “Oh, Shells, I’m going to miss you… when we’re both dead.”

  “Hey, Dougie? Dougie Downer? Can you press pause on your doom-and-gloom agenda, because I have an idea. If we can’t go over the wall, maybe we can go under.”

  “That’s a great plan… for gophers.… Unfortunately, we’re not gophers!”

  “I’m talking about the tunnels!”

  “The tunnels!” Jonathan responded, eyes widening as he remembered the model they saw in the study.

  “Occulta potentia in umbra…” voices carried through the garden as they ducked into the castle through a side door.

  NOVEMBER 2, 12:23 A.M. CASTLE. ORDER OF MERIUM

  Alone in the candlelit hallway, surrounded by frayed tapestries and rusted armor, Jonathan, Shelley, and Carl stopped to orient themselves.

  “I think the kitchen’s that way,” Jonathan said, leaning against the wall, the last remnants of his energy fading fast.

  “Guys, how would you feel about me sitting this one out?” Carl asked, his freckled face bright and cheery, seemingly unaware of the situation closing in on them.

  Shelley threw her hands up in the air and huffed, “You want to desert us now? We’re in the middle of… everything!”

  “Let him stay, Shells,” Jonathan replied, turning toward Carl. “Find a phone. There’s got to be at least one in this place. Call Hammett and tell him we need backup! We need help!”

  “Got it! Don’t worry, guys—you can count on me!”

  And just like that, the boy stepped back, fading into a wooden cabinet.

  “You think he’ll be able to do it?” Shelley asked Jonathan.

  “Guys, just so you know, I’m still here. Not that it should affect your answer…”

  “Good luck, Carl. May all the invisible letters of the alphabet be with you.” Jonathan sighed as he grabbed Shelley’s hand and started toward the stairs to the tunnels.

  NOVEMBER 2, 1:22 A.M. TUNNEL. BULGARIA

  Humid, sludge-covered walls surrounded Jonathan and Shelley as they scrambled through the tunnel. Jonathan lagged behind Shelley, his ankle swollen, his mouth parched, and his head foggy. He wasn’t well, but he wanted to escape, so he forced himself to keep going. He told himself that he had been through harder times before and he would get through this too. Never mind that it wasn’t true; he had told himself what he needed to hear, words that would fuel another step.

  “We have to keep going,” Shelley said. “It’s either that or rely on Charl!”

  Jonathan and Shelley both shook their heads and sighed—a long and heavy sigh. The kind reserved for such annoyances as school talent shows, lines at an amusement park, and teachers who give homework on Fridays.

  “The h is silent, remember?”

  Jonathan and Shelley jumped as a boy’s voice emerged from the darkness.

  “Did I just hear Charl remind us yet again that his name is pronounced ‘Carl’?!” Shelley barked.

  “Crazy running into you guys like this, right?” Carl said with the casualness one might expect in a supermarket or even the dentist’s office, but not an underground tunnel in Bulgaria.

  “Why are you here? You told us you were going to get help! Call for reinforcements!” Jonathan growled, his anger palpable.

  “Yeah, about that… looks like it’s not going to happen…”

  “Gee, you think?” Shelley scoffed.

  “I tried.… Actually, I didn’t try, I just followed you guys. So no one’s coming—well, except for the maniacs. They’re definitely coming.”

  “Occulta potentia in umbra. Occulta potentia in umbra. Occulta potentia in umbra. Occulta potentia in umbra.”

  “Charl, I hate you. I really do.”

  “You’re trying to use reverse psychology on me, aren’t you?” Carl said with a sly smile. “Good news: It’s working. I love you, Selley.”

  “It’s Shelley!”

  “You sure the h isn’t silent? It’s more common than you think. Carl, Fred, Jerry, Alex—”

  “None of those names have h’s in them,” Jonathan pointed out.

  “Or maybe the h’s are just invisible?”

  “Occulta potentia in umbra. Occulta potentia in umbra…”

  “We don’t have time for this!” Jonathan snapped.

  Shelley raised her hand to stop the others from talking. “Do you hear that?”

  “The sound of impending doom is kind of hard to miss,” Jonathan answered.

  “And on that note, I think it’s time for me to blend into the background,” Carl said, before adding, “But if you need me to relay a message or return a library book or something, just let me know.”

  Shelley balled her hands into fists and growled. “Stop talking and listen!”

  Thhhhhh. Thluck. Thhhhh. Thluck.

  “Water’s trickling down! That means there’s a drain nearby, a possible way out!” Shelley explained as she dropped to her knees and fra
ntically felt around the tunnel floor. Fleshy, phlegm-like lumps passed through her fingers as she searched for the cool touch of metal. “I found it, but it’s too heavy. I need your help, Charl!”

  “But I’m blending into the background to avoid being killed so that I can live… and return your library books.… What about Jonathan?”

  “Khaki’s almost dead! He can’t lift anything! Come on, Charl, do something right for once!” Shelley said.

  Almost dead? Jonathan thought. It was true that he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so depleted, so tired, so utterly devoid of hope. He imagined his skin gray and chalky, his eyes dulled, and his lips cracked with spots of blood breaking through. Maybe he was about to die.

  “Ugh,” Shelley grunted as she and Carl attempted to lift the drain.

  Jonathan’s stomach sank. This was it. This was the moment their unexceptionalness—specifically their lack of physical strength—was going to get them all killed.

  “Occulta potentia in umbra. Occulta potentia in umbra…”

  “Guys, there’s no way we’re lifting this drain,” Carl said nonchalantly as the chanting grew closer. “Which means this is the end of the road for you two, aka time to pick out coffins. Speaking of which, my uncle can get you a good deal. They don’t call him the King of Coffins for nothing.”

  “Occulta potentia in umbra. Occulta potentia in umbra.”

  “I’m not ready to die! Or maybe, I’m already dead? Is this… Did I fail heaven’s entrance exam? I knew I shouldn’t have cut the head off my sister’s doll!” Shelley rambled hysterically.

  Jonathan looked Shelley in the eye and noted the disappearance of her irrational optimism, that annoying quality that had always left him with a mixture of envy and irritation. She was unraveling right before his eyes. So he mustered every last ounce of energy he had and presented a self-assured, confident facade. “That doll deserved to have her head cut off.… Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

  “It did if you’re trying to sound like one of those crazy people who push strangers in front of trains,” Carl explained. “Which is one of my fears: death by train. I’m also afraid of death by hot dog cart, death by cat scratch fever, death by crazed maniacs in a tunnel.…”