The Lost Lullaby

by Jason Segel

  “I bet everyone was happy to hear that,” Charlie said sarcastically.

  “They tried to bust down the door and get the two girls. But in case you haven’t noticed, this place is a fortress. The door wouldn’t give, and they couldn’t find another way inside.”

  “So what happened?” Charlie asked.

  Mr. Pike shrugged. “It got dark and cold, and everybody went back to town and planned to come back the next morning. But when morning came, they had bigger fish to fry. See, there used to be a huge flock of sheep in the field below the castle. That night, the Limeys set them all free. Hundreds of animals escaped, and everyone in Orville Falls had to help round them up.”

  That meant they were definitely the sheep from ICK’s dream! Charlie thought. He was one step closer to solving the mystery.

  “I was just telling Charlie that story on the drive here,” Andrew Laird said. “But I didn’t know the part about the girls.”

  “It was a nightmare, that’s for sure,” Mr. Pike said. “They never did find all the sheep. And by the time the townsfolk made it back to Kessog Castle, they were informed that the girls were gone.”

  “Gone? Where did they go?” Charlie’s dad asked.

  “Home to England, I suppose,” said Mr. Pike. “It took them a year of terrible behavior, but they finally got their way.”

  “Well, good riddance!” Josephine said. “But I have to say, Mr. Pike, this is going to make an amazing story for the paper. I wonder if the Limeys are still alive. We might be able to find them in Britain.”

  There was no point in looking for the girls in Britain. Charlie knew the true end of the story—and it was much darker than anyone in the room suspected. Alfred Kessog hadn’t shipped his nieces home. He’d sent them to a cold, dreary lighthouse on a desolate strip of coast in Maine. No wonder they hated him so much, Charlie thought. He would have despised Alfred Kessog too.

  Charlie went to bed early. For the first time in days, he was looking forward to going to sleep. He wanted to ask ICK about the chemistry set and Mr. Pike’s tale. He believed the old man’s account—apart from its conclusion. ICK and INK’s chemistry crime spree hadn’t ended with a trip home to Britain. Cruel Alfred Kessog had sent his naughty nieces away to live in a lighthouse instead. That was bad enough, but Charlie suspected he was still missing an important part of the twins’ story. Something must have happened to the girls the night they set the sheep free—something so terrible it had inspired a nightmare that had lasted for eighty years.

  Charlie had just closed his eyes when a shrill scream rang through the night. In an instant, he was out of his bed and at the window. The scream seemed to have come from one of the houses below the purple mansion’s hill, and it sounded like that of a very young girl.

  Jack burst into Charlie’s room. “Was that you?”

  “Are you saying I scream like a five-year-old girl?” Charlie asked.

  “No comment,” Jack said, joining his brother at the window. “Is something going on down there?”

  A second scream answered his question. This one clearly belonged to a woman. Charlie scanned the roofs of Cypress Creek for any sign of disturbance.

  “Look,” Jack said, pointing to a house less than a block away. A cloud of smoke was rising through the trees in the house’s backyard. “That’s the Hendersons’ place. But their house looks fine, so what’s burning?”

  Voices were suddenly shouting, but Charlie couldn’t make out any of the words. “Come on,” he said, nudging his brother with his elbow. “Let’s go check it out.”

  They charged down the stairs in their pajamas.

  “Dad! Charlotte! Dad!” yelled Jack as they raced toward the front door.

  Andrew Laird stepped out of the library. “What the heck is going on?” he asked.

  “The Hendersons’ house!” Jack shouted over his shoulder. “Call nine one one! Their backyard is on fire!”

  Within seconds, Charlie and Jack were standing at a picket fence, their excited faces lit by the glow of flames. Eight-year-old Olivia Henderson’s incredible playhouse—the envy of Cypress Creek elementary—was in flames. Designed to resemble a palace—complete with turrets, towers, and spikes on which to mount the heads of Olivia’s enemies—the playhouse was far fancier than the house the Hendersons called home. Now flames were dancing in the playhouse’s windows and pouring out the doors. Little Olivia, dressed in the frilly black dress of an evil queen, watched the disaster from her parents’ porch. Her arms were crossed and her jaw was clenched, and—knowing Olivia—she was probably imagining terrible punishments for the person responsible. Charlie rested his chin on the fence and gazed at the fire. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but there was something about the blaze that wasn’t quite right.

  “It’s been burning for a while now. Why hasn’t the playhouse turned black and fallen down?” Jack asked, hitting the nail on its head. There were flames, but the wood didn’t seem to be burning.

  “Maybe it was treated with a fireproofing chemical,” said Andrew Laird.

  Charlie spun around to see his dad and stepmom standing behind them. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  His dad looked bemused. “We came to see the fire. Is that all right with you, Mr. Laird?”

  “What about the security system?” Charlie asked. “Did you turn it on before you left?”

  Andrew Laird glanced over at his wife and shook his head. “It’s eight o’clock at night,” he told Charlie. “No one’s going to—”

  Charlie didn’t let his dad finish the sentence. He was already sprinting back up the hill to the mansion, where he found the front door standing open. Charlie crept into the house and up the stairs to the second floor, taking special care to avoid all the squeaky steps. By the time he’d reached the landing, he heard two soft voices with familiar English accents. Charlie could have kicked himself. After everything he’d heard in Orville Falls that afternoon, he should have known that the playhouse was just a ruse to draw the Lairds out of the purple mansion so INK could get inside without activating the security system.

  “Are you messing about with a bobby pin?” asked a muffled voice. It was clearly ICK’s, coming from behind the closed door. Charlie stopped and crouched on the stairs.

  “Certainly not! I’m using acid,” replied INK. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  ICK grunted. “So why is it taking so long?” she demanded skeptically. “Are you certain you’re really trying?”

  “Of course I’m trying!” INK scolded. “There are quite a few locks here!” Charlie peeked around the corner and saw INK using a dropper to fill a lock’s keyhole with a clear liquid. A puff of smoke emerged from the hole, and the lock popped open. “While I’m working, I have a question to ask you. When Father made the formula, he used a Soxhlet extractor, didn’t he?”

  “I’m not interested in talking about Father’s formula, India” was her sister’s reply. “If we must make pleasant chitchat, I’d rather discuss our lighthouse, my dear. And why you chose to burn it down.”

  For a few seconds, all noises stopped. Then Charlie heard INK take a deep breath. “How do you know about that?”

  But the answer was drowned out.

  “CHARLIE! WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT’S GOING ON?” It was Jack, shouting into the house from the front door. His cover blown, Charlie sprang to his feet. But as soon as he took his first step, he was knocked over by a girl barreling down the stairs.

  Charlie followed her, but he knew there was no time to catch her. “It’s INK, and she’s heading your way!” Charlie shouted down at Jack, who was still standing in the doorway. “Stop her!”

  The girl was rushing toward Jack at an impressive speed, and Charlie prayed she wouldn’t ram straight into him. But as it turned out, there was no cause for worry—because as INK rushed at him, Jack simply stepped to the side and let her go past. Within seconds, the twin had vanished into the night.

  “What are you doing?” Charlie shouted at his brother as he storme
d down the stairs. “You just let that pyromaniac get away!”

  “Indy’s not a pyro…” Jack got stuck in the middle of the word. “What is that, anyway?”

  Charlie shook his head at his brother’s ignorance. “It’s someone who likes to set fires,” he growled. “Like the one we were just watching.”

  “Indy’s not a pyro-whatchamacallit. And that wasn’t even a real fire,” Jack told him. “It was some sort of chemistry experiment. No one got hurt. The playhouse didn’t even burn down. The fire department said it was all just a prank.”

  “Just a prank?” Charlie was fuming. “Do you know what kind of pranks ICK and INK used to pull? The kind that get people killed.”

  Jack crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah? Like what?” Jack demanded.

  “Like destroying the town square in Orville Falls! Ever wonder why the girls got sent to that lighthouse in Maine?” Charlie snarled. “Dad and I met an old man today. He said he knew ICK and INK when they were real kids. He told us the twins thought it would be a hoot to bomb the fountain in front of the courthouse. They killed the mayor’s dog!”

  “Maybe ICK bombed the fountain,” Jack said stubbornly, though he looked a little less certain. “Indy would never do something like that.”

  “How do you know?” Charlie spat.

  “Because she’s my friend,” Jack said. “And I trust her.”

  “Just like you trusted those ogres who all turned against you a few months ago?” Charlie asked. “When are you going to learn your lesson, Jack?”

  Jack shrugged. “Probably never,” he said. And walked away.

  The next morning, Cypress Creek Elementary was abuzz. A crowd had gathered outside the cafeteria doors, and Charlie was pretty sure it wasn’t for a taste of the scrambled “eggs” the cafeteria ladies whipped up from powder. At first he thought everyone might be talking about the fire at the Hendersons’ house. But then he pushed his way through the mob of students. As an eighth grader, he was taller than most of the kids, and he could see what had drawn the spectators before he made his way inside. And Charlie had to admit—it was truly spectacular.

  The walls of the cafeteria had become the canvas for a remarkable mural. Likenesses of each of Cypress Creek’s lunchroom ladies graced the walls. Dressed as goddesses, they represented four of the food groups. There was Dairy in a snow-white apron, sitting astride a lovely cow and pouring fresh milk from a jug into a bucket held by a plump little cherub. Meat (standing at a respectful distance from Dairy’s cow) wore a necklace of sausages, a crown of meatballs, and a belt that looked like it might be made of bologna. The raven-haired goddess of Grains, meanwhile, was nuzzling two big bunches of wheat and wearing bagels as bracelets. And last but not least was the elderly goddess of Fruits and Vegetables, skipping across a wall with a rainbow of tomatoes, mangoes, lemons, artichokes, blueberries, and eggplants trailing behind her.

  Charlie watched in amusement as the furious principal of Cypress Creek Elementary burst from the kitchen, flanked by four very happy employees. “Who is responsible for this…this…?”

  “Masterpiece?” asked one of the cafeteria ladies.

  “Tour de force?” offered another.

  “Act of vandalism!” the principal corrected them. “Who did this?”

  Everyone in the school under the age of thirteen knew exactly who the artist was, but no one was prepared to name names.

  Charlie heard someone snickering beside him. He looked over to see Ollie Tobias enjoying the chaos he’d created.

  “Nice work,” Charlie whispered.

  “Thanks,” said Ollie. “I’m proud of this one. I even signed it—though it may take them a few days to find my signature.” He leaned toward Charlie and whispered, “It’s inside Dairy’s left nostril.”

  Charlie chuckled as the principal shouted in the background. “As impressive as these paintings may be, the walls of this cafeteria are the property of the state! I demand to know who’s responsible!”

  “Let’s see if she figures it out,” said Ollie. “If not, I’ll come clean tomorrow.”

  “You’ll be expelled,” Charlie warned him.

  “Doubt it,” said Ollie. “My mom has a black belt in check writing.”

  Suddenly Charlie felt fingers grip his forearm. “Come with me,” ordered a familiar voice, and Charlie found himself being dragged down the hall and into Ms. Abbot’s classroom. The door slammed behind them, the lock was flipped, and Charlie was suddenly released.

  “What was that for?” he asked, massaging his arm where Ms. Abbot’s fingers had squeezed it.

  She stood before him now, hands on her hips. Dirt was caked under her fingernails, her lipstick was smeared, and Charlie was pretty sure she was wearing the same dress she’d had on the day before.

  “I thought I could trust you!” she hissed, keeping her voice low. Charlie couldn’t be sure, but Ms. Abbot sounded as if she might burst into tears.

  “I have no idea what—”

  “Charlotte knew how important this was. She said you were good at keeping secrets.”

  “I am,” Charlie told the teacher. “Is this about your poison garden? Because I swear, I never whispered a single word to anyone.”

  Ms. Abbot must have seen he was telling the truth. “Then Paige must have.”

  “No,” Charlie said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Paige wouldn’t have said anything either. She thinks you’re the coolest lady on earth. She would never do anything to upset you.”

  Ms. Abbot collapsed into her desk chair, dropped her head into her hands, and groaned miserably.

  “What happened?” Charlie asked.

  “It’s gone,” Ms. Abbot said, choking back a sob. “The belladonna we planted. It’s gone. Someone broke into my garden and took it. Ripped it right out by the roots. I went out to the greenhouse last night and found the door open. The thief had melted the lock off with some kind of acid.”

  And Charlie knew exactly who the thief was. “She took the Atropa belladonna? You mean deadly nightshade?” Ms. Abbot nodded, and Charlie had to reach for a seat too. “So she only stole a single plant? She didn’t take anything else?”

  It seemed a little weird that INK would go through the trouble of breaking into the greenhouse only to remove one plant. But then again, deadly nightshade was no ordinary plant. Just one black belladonna berry could kill a full-grown human, and now INK had dozens.

  Ms. Abbot’s head snapped up. “Wait a second—you keep calling the thief ‘she.’ So you think it was Paige?”

  “Of course it wasn’t!” Charlie said. “For your information, it was India Kessog.”

  “The girl who disappeared after the first day of school?” Ms. Abbot asked, seeming completely confused.

  “India’s not really a girl,” Charlie said.

  “What are you talking about?” Ms. Abbot asked as if she were questioning his sanity. “If she’s not a girl, then what is she?”

  “Do you remember when Charlotte told you I was good at keeping secrets?” Charlie asked. “Well, India’s true identity is one of them. I can’t tell you any more right now, but you need to trust me. Did she take anything else from your house?”

  “Yes,” Ms. Abbot admitted. “Chemistry equipment.”

  INK was planning to make something. Her father’s formula—wasn’t that what she’d mentioned to her sister? If it was anything like ICK and INK’s last creation, Cypress Creek could be in terrible trouble. “And now she has all the poison and equipment she needs,” Charlie muttered to himself. What was Ms. Abbot thinking keeping all that stuff around anyway?

  “You think she’s going to do something awful?” Ms. Abbot asked weakly.

  “Not if I can stop her,” Charlie said. “But I need you to do me a favor. I need you to have me kicked out of school. Along with Paige Bretter, Rocco Marquez, and Alfie Bluenthal.”

  —

  Thirty minutes later, Alfie was down on his knees on the sidewalk in front of Cypress Creek Elementa
ry, his arms wrapped around Ms. Abbot’s shins. “I thought we were friends! How could you say that I vandalized the cafeteria? I swear I had nothing to do with that graffiti! I don’t even know how to draw! I’m all left brain! LEFT BRAIN, I TELL YOU!”

  Paige seemed torn as she watched Alfie grovel. She didn’t look like she was enjoying it—but she wasn’t exactly jumping in to help either.

  “Alfie, Ms. Abbot knows you’re innocent!” Charlie whispered between clenched teeth. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Charlotte’s Range Rover pulled up in front of school. She rolled down her window. “Get inside,” she ordered.

  “All of us?” Rocco asked skeptically. “What about my mom and dad?”

  “I didn’t call them,” Ms. Abbot said. Four kids had been suspended from school, but the teacher had only phoned one parent.

  “Get in!” Charlotte repeated. “All of you! And make it quick.”

  “Mrs. Laird! We’ve been wrongfully accused!” Alfie cried as the kids piled into the car. “We must fight this injustice! My parents will disown me if I don’t get accepted to Harvard.”

  “Close the door, Alfie!” Charlie ordered, and Charlotte sped off. Charlie watched out the rear window. As soon as he could no longer see the school, he turned back to face his friends. “I asked Ms. Abbot to suspend us.”

  “You did what?” Alfie yelped.

  “Charlie!” Rocco shouted. “They’ll kick me off the football team!”

  “No, they won’t,” Charlie assured his friends. “Ms. Abbot accused us of painting the cafeteria mural, but Ollie’s planning to take credit for his artwork tomorrow, which means we’ll all be proven innocent. So relax! Until then, we have a free day.”