To Hawaii, with Love

by Michael P. Spradlin

  Pilar and the boys were looking at me with stunned expressions.

  “Holy…What the heck did you just do?” Alex said.

  “She did what needed to be done,” said Pilar. “Just like last time.”

  “She just committed about sixteen felonies is what she did,” Alex said. “Do you realize how much trouble we’ll be in if we go through with this?” Now all of a sudden Alex was back to being Mr. Big Fraidy Cat.

  “I don’t care. If one of you wants out, tell me now. But if you’re in, say so. Brent, you can just nod.”

  Brent nodded right away. Pilar gave me the thumbs-up. Alex was back into his teenage macho act, and he clearly didn’t like my implication that he was being a wuss, but after a moment he mumbled his agreement as well.

  “Okay. We have work to do. We need to be at Mrs. Marquardt’s office at seven-thirty in the morning. The flight is scheduled for nine-thirty departure. Alex and Brent, you guys get the van ready. Brent, make sure you get a cell phone for each of us from the equipment locker, plus anything else you think we might need. Does anyone have any questions?”

  They didn’t. Alex and Brent started loading the van. I took the letter and note, put them into a file folder, and headed toward the stairs. Watch out, Simon Blankenship. Rachel Buchanan is coming.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Why Can’t It Be Easy?

  Things nearly blew up in our faces the next morning, thanks to Mrs. Marquardt. First of all, Mrs. Marquardt is kind of weird and disturbing. She keeps quiet and floats around the school like a ghost. You can be doing something perfectly innocent like walking down the hall and you look up and suddenly there is Mrs. Marquardt staring at you. She’s a middle-aged woman, but it’s impossible to tell how old she is—maybe in her forties, maybe in her sixties. Because she’s always lurking around, you get the idea that maybe she doesn’t like kids so much. I could see her as the villain unmasked at the end of a Scooby-Doo episode, saying, “I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids!” But for some reason, Mr. Kim thinks quite highly of her and seems to respect and trust her. So we must have been missing something.

  Mrs. Marquardt—an early riser like everyone at Blackthorn, the school where sleep is your enemy—was in her office when we all showed up carrying Academy duffel bags over our shoulders. As we approached from the hallway we started an animated conversation among ourselves: “Won’t this camp be cool?” “We get to stay right at Quantico like real FBI agents!” “I wonder if they’ll let us shoot guns?” and so on, like we were all so excited that we couldn’t wait to get there.

  Mrs. Marquardt gave us a stern look as we knocked and entered. She had the note on the desk in front of her. It was lying perfectly centered on her desk, and she peered over it, not touching it, like it might be poisonous or something.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Marquardt. We just stopped by to say good-bye before we leave.” I put an extra-cheery note in my voice. Me and Mrs. Marquardt, the best of buddies.

  “Good morning, children,” she said. Okay, here is a tip: If you want to get on a teenager’s good side, don’t ever refer to them as “children.” “I was just attempting to reach Mr. Kim on his cell phone, but he is not answering. He didn’t mention anything about you attending this camp. It’s highly irregular.”

  “Wow, that’s so weird. We set this up a couple of weeks ago. We’ve really been looking forward to it.” Pilar, Alex, and Brent all nodded enthusiastically and muttered things, like “Yeah,” “For sure,” and “Definitely.”

  “Mr. Kim doesn’t forget things like this. He is very responsible where the students are concerned. No one has ever left the Academy for something like this. Perhaps I should call Agent Tyler.”

  Uh-oh. Time for the sweat on the forehead and the clammy palms. Yeesh.

  “Oh man,” I said, “Mrs. Marquardt, I don’t know what to tell you. We really want to go to this. It’s going to be a great experience. Mr. Kim was excited that we’re going.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she stared at the four of us.

  “Really,” I said. Someone please kill me now.

  Mrs. Marquardt frowned down her long, pointy nose at me. Luckily, just then the phone on her desk rang.

  She answered, and from her conversation we could tell it was someone in the school loading dock. Alex’s job was working in the loading dock at the school. He was up to something. I looked at him, and he smiled and winked.

  “I’m sure Mrs. Clausen can handle it. Oh, she’s not in? Very well, I shall be there shortly.”

  Mrs. Marquardt hung up and returned to staring at me. Somehow I got the feeling she didn’t trust me. If she only knew.

  “I’m needed at the loading dock. You’re going to have to wait until I return so I can call Agent Tyler and get this straightened out.”

  “Wow. Mrs. M.” I thought maybe giving her a hip nickname like Mrs. M. might bring us closer, but she winced when I said it. Okay, so I need to work on my nicknaming skills. “The FBI van is supposed to pick us up in, like, five minutes. I’m sure once you get through to Mr. Kim, if he has any problem with it you can send someone to pick us up.” We all put on our best “trust me” and “look at our cute puppy-dog eyes” faces.

  Mrs. M. thought this over.

  “Well, all right. I’ll wait with you until the van arrives.” She stood up and started to step around her desk. Oh boy. Busted. This was where it was all going to end. Then her phone rang again.

  “Yes,” she said. “Tell the driver…no, don’t do that…no, he mustn’t…All right, I’ll be right down.” She hung up. “There is an emergency in the loading dock that requires my immediate attention.” She paused, clearly unhappy with the way things were going. I know I was nearly ready to pass out from the tension.

  “All right. You go to your camp. I will check with Mr. Kim and verify this. If there are any irregularities, you will be recalled.” She looked at us sternly. Who uses a word like “recalled” in normal conversation, I’d like to know?

  We didn’t waste any time saying good-bye. When we were safely out of earshot, we all gave Alex a high five.

  “How did you do that?” I said.

  “I made a little problem happen with the food shipment that comes in from Philly to the school each morning. I told Steve that it was all part of a practical joke and to call her at 7:30 and then again two minutes later just to make sure. But don’t worry. I really did mess up the shipment. She won’t realize that we’ve done anything. At least not until we’re long gone.”

  “That’s brilliant,” Pilar said. She beamed at Alex.

  “Yeah, well, always have a Plan B, I say,” he said. He beamed back at Pilar. Yeah, whatever. “Unfortunately, I think Mrs. Marquardt may be the easy part of our scheme. How are we going to convince a charter jet to take off with just us four kids unsupervised?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got a plan.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  And the Oscar Goes to Rachel Buchanan

  We made it to the Charter Office at the airport by nine o’clock. Alex parked the van at the back end of the parking lot so no one in the office would see us get out by ourselves. Before we had left I had dug through the stuff I’d brought from home, and in the van I put on all my rings and earrings and teased up my hair. I wanted to look as “Beverly Hills” as possible. I put my Ray-Ban sunglasses on to complete the effect. I strode into the office having a pretend conversation on my cell phone.

  “I don’t know what Tad could have been thinking! Taking Mitzi to Spago’s after Winter Ball in the Jaguar XL? That is so last year,” I said to no one.

  There was a middle-aged guy behind the counter. He looked up as I came in. I smiled and he smiled back, and I held up a finger as if to say I’d be with him when I finished my so-important call.

  “Listen, darling, I’ve got to go. When I’m home on break we will turn Rodeo Drive into a smoking hole in the ground. There is simply no place to shop here. I mean, the mall? Please.
Anyway, gotta run. Kiss kiss. Ciao!”

  I snapped my phone shut and launched into diva mode.

  “I’m Rachel Buchanan. My daddy has arranged for us to take a charter flight to our environmental conference in Hawaii. I assume you have our reservation?”

  He picked up a file folder on the counter and smiled.

  “Hello, Miss Buchanan. My name is Frank Hansen, owner of the company. I have all of your material right here.”

  “Good. Let’s get going. We have dolphins to save,” I said.

  That was when Mr. Hansen frowned. Uh-oh.

  “Don’t you have an adult going with you?”

  “No. Since Daddy made the reservation, and Buchanan Enterprises is paying for the flight, the school decided we could fly on our own. We’re being met in Hawaii by a representative from the conference.” I put a heavy emphasis on “Buchanan Enterprises” because I had a feeling I was going to need the full weight of Charles Buchanan pretty soon.

  “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. We can’t fly unaccompanied minors.”

  Like now.

  “Are you serious? I can’t believe this. My father—Charles Buchanan, I’m sure you’ve heard of him—is going to be so furious. Why weren’t we told this? Now we’re going to miss the conference and dolphins will die and it will all be your fault!” Mr. Hansen gulped and started looking through the papers in the file.

  “I’m very sorry, Ms. Buchanan…but our policy clearly states…”

  I held up my hand and reached into my pocket for the cell phone. I pretended to dial my dad.

  “Hello, Theresa, it’s Rachel.” I put a near-hysterical sob in my voice. “Is my daddy there?”

  Mr. Hansen looked a little nervous. He knew who my father was and he could see maybe this wasn’t going to work out so well for him. At the very least, he’d be out a huge fee for the flight. I launched into a full-fledged wail.

  “We’re at the airport and this mean man is giving us problems. Apparently he doesn’t want to take us because of some policy about unescorted minors. Daddy knows how important the dolphins are to me. I want him to fix it!”

  I covered the phone with my hand like I didn’t want “Theresa” to hear me and addressed Mr. Hansen again.

  “I don’t know what kind of operation you are running here, mister, but my father will have plenty to say to you. You could have gotten a lot of business from Buchanan Enterprises out of this, because my daddy loves me and wants me happy. And now the dolphins are going to die!” I started to cry. Pilar, Brent, and Alex just stared at me openmouthed.

  I took my hand away from the phone and spoke into it again.

  “I don’t care if he’s meeting with the governor, Theresa! There is a really mean man here and he’s not going to fly us and I want Daddy to fix it! Didn’t I tell you there are dolphin lives depending on this? Not to mention the poor humpback whales? I want you to make sure that Daddy never uses this company again, and I want him to get Marvin to file a lawsuit because I can’t get to the conference and the whales and dolphins…”

  “Miss Buchanan!” Mr. Hansen shouted at me and waved his arms. “Miss Buchanan, please, it’s okay. You’re all seventeen years of age, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Everyone nodded. “Well, of course we’re seventeen,” I said.

  “Great, then, we can fly seventeen-year-olds. Unaccompanied seventeen-year-olds are okay.” He stopped and rubbed his forehead for a minute. I felt bad jerking the guy around, but we had a supervillain to thwart and we were in a hurry. I starting chanting in my head: Don’t ask for ID, don’t ask for ID, don’t ask for ID or we’re screwed.

  “Are you sure? Because I can talk to my father. The governor won’t mind waiting,” I said.

  “No need, no need, we’ll get you to Hawaii. All the paperwork is in order and the flight has been paid for. Please, really, there is no reason to upset your father. We’ll get you on your flight.”

  “Never mind, Theresa, he’s taking us,” I said, and flipped the phone shut.

  Thirty minutes later we were airborne. The jet was small but comfortable. We sat in seats two by two, facing each other.

  “That was an epic performance,” said Brent, laughing. Brent, I decided, had a very nice laugh when he decided to reveal it.

  “Yeah, I’m a little out of practice playing the Beverly Hills brat. I have friends who are a lot better at it than me.”

  “Well, it looked good and it worked,” he said.

  Pilar was laughing, too. “I can’t believe you,” she said. “You certainly have guts, I’ll say that. I would never be able to bluff my way through things like you do.”

  I smiled at her praise. I thought to myself how funny it was that I grew up around people who acted like that on a regular basis. They were always using their parents’ influence or money to get what they wanted. I guess I just never really cared that much. I wasn’t interested in that whole “social strata” thing. Luckily I saw enough of that behavior to know how to use it sometimes.

  It was a long flight, and we spent most of it talking and catching up on our sleep. While we talked, Brent reached over and took my watch off my wrist again. He pulled a small tool out of his bag and started fiddling with it. Probably installing a laser or something.

  It turned out that Alex had a story like mine. Only, instead of coming from a rich family in Beverly Hills, he came from a poor family in a small town in South Dakota. Alex told us that when he turned thirteen he started to get into trouble. First it was fighting, and then he started shoplifting from some of the local businesses. His parents tried to crack down on him, but nothing they did worked. He got suspended from school a lot and brought home in a police car more than a few times.

  Then he blew up the Fourth of July parade.

  Well, more or less. His little town was the county seat, and every year they had a Fourth of July parade that wound through the small downtown. The first vehicle in the parade was one of the town fire trucks. While the parade was forming, Alex punched a small hole in the tire of the truck and the air slowly leaked out. It went totally flat when it was almost at the end of the parade route, so the entire parade, marching bands, beauty queens, and all, were at a dead stop in the middle of town. Meanwhile, Alex had climbed on top of a building nearby, and while the parade was stuck right below him and the bands were marching in place and everyone was milling around waiting for the truck to be moved, Alex set off his own fireworks display.

  He had managed to “borrow” most of the town’s fireworks that were supposed to be used in the fireworks display that evening. All of a sudden, rockets and streamers started exploding right over the middle of the town. People freaked and started running in different directions, and it was total chaos. Fortunately nobody got hurt, but one of the rockets landed on a building across the street and set the roof on fire. Of course, the fire department was right there and it got put out right away, but a policeman saw Alex up on the roof laughing and he was busted.

  He got into a lot of trouble. People in his home-town were really upset with him for ruining the Fourth of July, and the guy who owned the building that caught on fire was going to sue Alex’s folks unless they did something about their troublesome kid. His parents couldn’t afford to hire a good lawyer. He was headed for Juvenile Detention. So just like me, the judge sent him to Blackthorn instead. He’d been there a little over three years.

  It’s funny how people turn out. Looking at Alex now, seeing how serious he was all the time, and how devoted he was to Mr. Kim, I had a hard time imagining him being a little hellion in South Dakota.

  I turned to Brent and said, “So what’s your story? How’d you end up here?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Pilar and Alex look at each other and wince.

  “I don’t have a story,” he said.

  “What? Come on, we’ve all got a story. What’s yours?”

  “I don’t like to talk about it,” he said.

  “Oh, you’re among friends. I’d just li
ke to know—”

  Brent stood up. “You don’t know me, okay?”

  He moved to the back of the jet and sat down, a sad expression on his face. I looked at Pilar and Alex, and they both shook their heads like they were telling me not to push it. Hmm. Another mystery. He should know better.

  So while Brent sat in the back of the plane sulking and working on my watch, I was forced to sit there and listen to Pilar and Alex murmur back and forth to each other. Every so often Pilar would laugh at something Alex said or she’d punch him on the shoulder cutely. Ugh. After a while I moved a couple of rows away, because it was getting a little too sweet for me and, well, I still didn’t see what she saw in the guy. Geez.

  About an hour later Brent came back to the front of the cabin and took a seat next to me. He handed me my watch. It looked the same.

  “Did you do something to this?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Back in the situation room, I looked through some of the cabinets for stuff that might come in handy.” He took the watch from me and, using the small tool, took the back off again. He pointed to a small black dot in the inside of the watch.

  “This is a special microchip that emits a locator signal, which can be read on a special GPS unit that I also brought with me. If we get separated or lost, I’ll be able to find you. I mean, I’ll be able to find everyone. Because I’ll put one in everyone’s watch, of course, not just yours. So if we have to split up or something—you know, or can’t find each other…” He was stammering and even blushing a little, for some weird reason.

  “Neat!” I said. Actually it was neat. I was still new to all of the espionage stuff, and besides that I tend to get lost very easily. Knowing that someone could find me by pushing a button was reassuring.