by Angie Kelly
"It'll be okay," said Sister Catherine, putting an arm around Mia shoulders and handing her a tissue from her tote bag. "I've got a couple of extra museum passes. You guys won't have to sit on a hot bus."
I thought Sister Ruth had swallowed her tongue. She cleared her throat loudly to get Sister Catherine's attention and gestured her off to the side. They were arguing and I couldn't hear everything but caught the words irresponsible, punishment, and coddling. Finally, Sister Catherine walked back towards us with Sister Ruth, who was still fussing, practically stepping on her heels. She must have really wanted us to sweat back on the bus in the parking lot because when Sister Catherine handed us the museum passes, Sister Ruth's face turned bright red like she might have a stroke.
"You're just encouraging their irresponsible behavior, Sister. And you shouldn't have any extra passes. We don't have the money to waste on girls who can't take care of their belongings."
"It’s okay, Sister Ruth," she soothed. "I took the money out of your retirement party fund since you keep insisting you don't want us to do anything for you. I know you don't want all the money we've collected to go to waste, do you?" She gave her a big smile.
Sister Ruth's back was suddenly as straight as an ironing board as she stalked off in a huff without answering. All the girls were snickering and I was so happy Lily wasn't here. She'd tell me I was on an express elevator straight to you-know-where.
"Way to go, Sister Cat," said iPod girl, giving the nun a high five.
"And don't you dare tell her I was just joking," Sister Catherine told iPod Girl. "And you two make sure you don't lose those passes," she said before walking away.
"And the Academy Award for best actress goes to… Mia Cornell," Mia whispered. If you looked up the word smug in the dictionary, her picture would be there. "Don't I even get a thank you?" she asked when I ignored her.
"Thank you for almost getting us busted or thank you for causing a scene?"
"You know what? You've got a serious burr up your butt."
"Yeah, makes it hard to sit down," I snapped at her. I knew I was being mean. But I was nervous and worried, and I'm not exactly looking to make new friends.
"Good. The line's moving," said Mia, walking ahead of me. "Let's get this over with as soon as possible."
Finally, something we agreed on.
Chapter Nine
If Mia was acting like a tourist outside in the courtyard, it only got worse once we got inside. But who could blame her? The palace was Bling City. King Midas must have done the decorating. There was gold everywhere, trimming the paintings of the royals hanging on the walls and highlighting the frescos painted on the ceilings. Gold decorated the spines of the books on the shelves, as well as the fireplaces, and was even on most of the furniture, curtains, and bedding. The royal chapel was mostly marble, but there was lots of gold there too on the railings overlooking the first floor and the towering altar.
We toured the Hall of Mirrors, which was lined with not just mirrors and arched windows, but elaborate chandeliers and large gold candelabras decorated with chubby cherubs. There was hardly a square inch of the place left untouched. No wonder the peasants revolted. Mia and I made sure to hang at the back of the crowd from St. Albans. I was hoping they would all just forget we were there but old Sister Ruth kept watching us like she knew we were up to something.
"There are a ton of paintings in here," Mia whispered once she put her eyeballs back into her head. "How are we supposed to find what we're looking for?"
We were in Marie Antoinette's bedroom, which was just as blinged out as the rest of the palace, with gold and flowered designs all over the walls and the furniture. There was even a gilded railing in front of the bed. The tour guide told us the bedroom was a public space and all the members of the royal court were allowed to come in and watch the queen give birth like it was a spectator sport. Gross.
"Didn't you pay attention to anything we said outside? Forget about all the paintings we've already seen. We're looking for a picture of Marie Antoinette wearing a necklace and it's probably in her private apartments. These blazers are our ticket in there because it's not on the regular tour, remember?"
"Once we find it, we can leave, right? Because Sister Ruth is freaking me out. She keeps mean mugging us," whispered Mia, jerking her head towards the nun whose face was pinched like she just ate sour cherry candy, with a lemonade chaser.
"Yeah, once we get in there, keep your eyes peeled for any painting of Marie Antoinette wearing any kind of necklace. I'm going to take pictures of them all so we can get back to the others," I told her. Only she wasn't paying any attention. She was too busy staring at Sister Ruth, who for once was glaring at someone other than us.
"Now, what's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing. I was just wondering how long Mrs. T. had been a nun before she hooked up with Dr. Tarpley?"
"What are you talking about? Mrs. T. was never a nun."
"But I saw an old picture of her and Dr. Tarpley online, and she was wearing a habit," said Mia.
Mrs. T. a nun? Impossible. I heard Dr. Tarpley had been private and kind of weird. There were a lot of rumors about him and none of them were nice. But I'd never heard anything about Mrs. T. being a nun. Except for her being born in France and having been a whole lot younger than Dr. Tarpley when they got married, I didn't know much about her. She didn't talk about her past much. I figured something terrible must have happened to her and she didn't want to talk about it. I could relate. But I'm sure she would have told us if she'd been a nun.
"What picture online?" I asked.
"It was in Ancient Realms magazine. It said her name used to be Sister Madeline and no one knows where she came from." She crossed her arms and gave me a self-righteous look like she was reciting the gospel according to Mia.
"Ancient Realms?" I burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"Ancient Realms is like the Weekly World News. They do stories about two-headed alien babies and Bigfoot sightings at the Mall of America. You can't believe any of the crap you read in there."
"For someone who travels around the world through a garden labyrinth, I'd have thought you'd be more open minded. And for your information, I saw an old nun's habit hanging in her closet."
"What were you doing snooping through her closet? You had no business being in her room at all. None of us are allowed in there, not even Alex."
"Then how'd you know about what happened at my last foster home if you weren't snooping around in her room yourself? None of the others knew and now I know Mrs. T. didn't tell you, which means you went through my case file."
"I didn't go through your stupid file. Get over yourself. Why would I care about your lame life or what happened at your last foster home? You act like you're Oliver Twist. There are a lot of kids who've had it a lot worse than you, you know?"
"Like I'd believe anything you said," Mia sneered. "You're just a stuck-up little liar."
But I wasn't lying. Well, not exactly. I didn't purposefully go through her case file. It was lying open on Mrs. T.'s desk, and I just happened to see it when I was cracking the safe. But I wasn't about to tell Mia. I'm not a thief, either. I had to do it. I had no choice. A person's life was at stake.
"Ladies," said Sister Ruth, making us both jump. We were so busy glaring at each other neither of us had seen her walk up on us. "The two of you were so anxious get in here and now instead of enjoying the tour, you're off in a corner whispering. Now, what could you be talking about?"
"Sorry, Sister." I grabbed Mia by the sleeve of her blazer and pulled her after me.
Since there were too many of us to tour the private apartments together, we had to split into small groups of ten. Luckily, the group Mia and I were with went in first. We followed the rest of the group through a hidden door in the wall to the left of Marie Antoinette's canopied bed. The tour guide had opened it with a long, very old key. Once we were through the door, Mia shook me off and headed to the opposite side of the
room and as far away from me as she could get, which wasn't far. The room wasn't big. The tour guide locked the door behind us and we got busy looking for paintings of Marie Antoinette. Only there weren't any. None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Not in the Salon Dore', which, by the way, means gilded living room, or the powder blue and gold Meridienne, where Marie rested after partying all night, or either of the two libraries.
"Okay, now what?" whispered Mia.
"Just shut up and let me think," I said.
My stomach was in knots. Maybe we'd been wrong and the painting was somewhere in one of the main sections of the palace after all. Someplace we hadn't seen yet. The palace was practically a small city and it could be anywhere, including storage. We were in the Green library, the last room on the tour. I started to tell Mia we'd have to slip away from St. Albans once we got out of here and go looking someplace else. But suddenly she wasn't next to me anymore. She was standing in the middle of the library staring off into space. No, not off into space. She was actually staring at one of the bookcases like she was in a trance. The nuns and the other girls were just around the corner waiting for the tour guide to unlock the library door and let us out.
"Mia, come on," I whispered. She just ignored me. "Are you crazy? What are you doing?" I asked when she walked up to the one of the bookshelves and started tugging on the glass enclosing the shelves and protecting the books.
"Will you shut up and wait a minute." She kept right on tugging.
My jaw dropped when one of the locked glass panels popped open. I expected an alarm to sound but nothing happened. Mia reached inside and pulled out a book. It was blue and the spine was trimmed in… what else?… gold.
"Put it back before you get us in trouble," I pleaded. It was a miracle no one had noticed we were missing and come to see what we were doing.
"It's not a book," Mia said, holding it out for me to see.
She was right. It was actually a box disguised to look like a book. How'd she know? Mia opened the box and a faded piece of paper fell out in a puff of dust.
"Hurry up and put it back," I whispered, trying not to sneeze as I knelt to pick up the paper and shoved it in my blazer pocket.
"Okay, chill out." She put the book/box back on the shelf.
"What are you guys doing?" a voice asked. It was iPod Girl aka Daria and she walked up to us just as Mia managed to close the glass panel.
"Mia lost her earring in here," I said without thinking and Mia groaned.
"Who's Mia? I thought her name was Shannon?" iPod Girl's eyes narrowed. "And why are you guys wearing last year's uniform blazers?"
Huh? My eyes scanned iPod Girl's blazer until I saw what she meant. The crest on the pocket was different, with the words St. Albans stitched over the top of the school's coat of arms instead of underneath like on our blazers. Yet another thing I'd dropped the ball on. Way to go me.
"Well, Mia's my middle name," Mia blurted out to distract her. "No one calls me Shannon."
"You losers are so full of it and your ears aren't even pierced. What are you up to?"
Mia and I just stared at each other.
"I'm telling Sister Ruth."
"She didn't say earring," Mia said, stepping in front of her. "She said earwig. It's a cute bug with big pinchers on its head. His name is Erwin and I keep him in my pocket. Now he's gone! Have you seen… oh… don't move… he's on your shoulder!"
"What!" shrieked iPod Girl, swiping her shoulders.
"Now he's on your back," I said.
"Get it off me! Get it off me!" She spun around trying to see and reach her back at the same time then started hunching and jerking her shoulders forward in an attempt to throw off the imaginary Erwin like she was the world's worst charades player.
"Now he's in your hair," shouted Mia.
IPod Girl alternated between whipping her head back and forth, hopping around like firecrackers were in her pants, and shimming her shoulders. At one point she even rolled around on the floor. I'd seen two-year-olds with more composure.
"Wow. She seriously doesn't like bugs, does she?" commented Mia in such a deadpan voice I almost burst out laughing. Almost.
By the time prune-faced Sister Ruth came flying around the corner, followed by a few other students, to see what was going on, iPod Girl had ripped off her blazer, pulled her shirt out of her pants, and had run her fingers through her hair so it was standing on end like she'd been struck by lightning.
"Daria! What in heaven's name is wrong with you?"
"Bug!" we heard her wail as we slipped away unnoticed and managed to get out of the queen's private apartments just as the tour guide unlocked the door.
****
"What made you break into the bookshelf?" We had found a private corner to talk after making sure no one from St. Albans had followed us.
"And once again I get no thanks for saving our hides."
"So you're not going to tell me why you got all weird on me back there?" Mia wouldn't look at me.
"What's the big deal? Just forget it. Now, let's see what's on it."
The yellowed piece of parchment paper turned out to be a charcoal sketch of Marie Antoinette from the waist up. It was half the size of a piece of printer paper and unsigned. In it she was wearing one of those wigs with the hair curled and piled up on top of her head with one long curl hanging over her shoulder the same way she wore it in a lot of the paintings I'd already seen of her. She was wearing a gown with a plunging neckline trimmed in roses and around her neck was a pendant hanging from a thick neck ribbon like a choker. The pendant was diamond shaped and was covered with tiny beads, probably pearls, except for the center, which was square and had a familiar design.
"But it looks just like… " Mia's voice trailed off as we both gaped at the labyrinth ring on my finger.
The design in the middle of Marie Antoinette's necklace was a labyrinth exactly like the one on my ring. And I don't mean sorta kinda like it. I mean exactly as in down to the last detail. How was it possible?
"What's going on, Devon?"
"How should I know?" I snapped without meaning to. "Anyway, we need to let Alex and the others know about this." I pulled out my cell, took a picture, and sent it to Mrs. T. and the others.
"We should probably get back out to the gardens and wait for them," said Mia.
We were headed towards the nearest exit when my cell phone started vibrating. Finally, the call I'd been waiting for. My hands trembled as I pressed the talk button and held it to my ear. Mia walked on, not even realizing I'd stopped and was no longer next to her.
I took a deep breath and tried to swallow the huge lump in my throat. "Hello," I said into the receiver.
"Do you have what I want?" asked the person on the other end, with one of those weird computerized voices people used to disguise their real voice.
"Yes." My voice trembled. "Please, can I talk to—“ I didn't get any further because my cell phone was snatched out of my hand by none other than Sister Ruth.
"Give it back!" I shrieked, grabbing for the phone, which she'd put in her purse.
"You were warned about making phone calls in here, young lady. And what in the world did you do to Daria?"
To say I went ballistic is an understatement. It was a meltdown of epic proportions making iPod Girl's bug freak out look like the Hokey Pokey. The muffled sound of my phone ringing from inside her purse only made things worse.
"I said give it back! I need to take the call! It's important!" I tried to grab the old nun's bag, but she turned her back on me. I accidentally grabbed the back of her veil instead and almost yanked it right off of her head. A pair of arms encircled me from behind, pinning my arms to my side.
"Portia! Stop it this instant," demanded Sister Catherine, who was the one who'd grabbed me. She was freakishly strong. I couldn't get loose and soon we were on the floor. It pretty much went down hill from there.
"Get off me!" I screamed. "I need my phone! You don't understand!"
By the time Mia had come runni
ng back to see what was going on, not only had a large crowd formed while I rolled around on the hard, marble floor with Sister Catherine, but Daria the iPod Girl had shown up… looking for payback.
"Stop fooling around. Get up, Devon! We've got to get out of here," said Mia. By this time I was panting, sweating and lying on my stomach while Sister Catherine was sitting on my back pinning me like a pro wrestler. I was positive there must be some kind of commandment she was breaking.
"I knew it!" shouted iPod Girl who'd overheard what Mia said. "Her name is Devon not Portia. They aren't even St. Albans students. Look! They're wearing the wrong blazers and I saw them take something from the Green Library." She said it loud enough for the whole palace to hear.
"Way to go, Einstein," I spat out at Mia, who quickly clapped both hands over her mouth.
Mia tried to fade into the crowd but backed right into Sister Ruth who clamped her bony fingers around her wrist. "And just where do you think you're going?"
And when I saw security guards pushing through the crowd, I knew we were so busted.
****
"We were almost home free. I can't believe you had to stop and take a stupid phone call," whispered Mia.
We were sitting in the security office while the head of security, a skinny guy with slicked back hair, was on the phone verifying what we already knew: we weren't St. Albans students. The office was small and the only window was in the door. It smelled like cigars and onions. There was a cigar smoldering in an ashtray sitting near the edge of the desk, even though I'd seen a no smoking sign on the wall as we were escorted in.
"We need to get out of here. I need to get my phone back." I was still in panic mode.
"Good luck with that," said Mia sarcastically.
I wanted to run out the door and find Sister Ruth, but the door had been locked behind us from the outside by one of the head of security's minions. He was standing right outside the door guarding it like Mia and I were a danger to society. How in the world were we going to get out of here? I just had to get the phone back. Mia had already gotten us out of the last two jams. It was my turn to step up to the plate, especially since our situation was my fault.