by Dan Jolley
Gabe’s teeth ground together as Steven Conway appeared at the far end of the hall.
Uncle Steve was tall and built like an Olympic swimmer, with wavy silver-blond hair that fell to his jawline. If you’d dressed him in Robin Hood clothes and given him a big fancy bow, he would’ve looked right at home on the cover of a fantasy novel . . . except for the prosthetic leg, its metal visible between the hem of his pants and his shoe.
“How could you?” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. Uncle Steve had perfected a tone that made your skin crawl and left you feeling kind of queasy. Usually it also made Gabe drop his eyes to his feet and stumble through an apology, but tonight, to his own surprise, it just irritated him.
“How could I what?” Gabe shot back, even though he knew good and well what.
Uncle Steve took a few steps closer, eyes narrowing. He had quite a few permanent lines on his face, but a special one showed up, right between his eyebrows, whenever he got angry with Gabe. “You went into my office. I don’t know what you took, but I know someone went through those boxes. You know you’re not supposed to interfere with my research.”
Gabe couldn’t help it: he rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Oh yeah, your superimportant hocus-pocus research.”
Uncle Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Gabe, listen to me. Apart from protecting years of work, I keep the items in my office locked up for a reason. They’re dangerous.”
“Dangerous. Yeah, sure. Bunch of books and papers. Scary.” Gabe had never talked back to his uncle like this before. He’d never really told him how he felt being constantly moved all over the country for this imaginary garbage. “I only went through your stuff so I could have one last adventure with Brett and Lily and Kaz. I’m never going to see them again after next week, remember? Because of you! The first time in my life I’ve ever had real, actual friends, and do you let me keep them? No! Of course not! We’ve got to move again, for no good reason!”
A cloud passed across Uncle Steve’s face. So quietly Gabe could barely hear him, he said, “No good reason.”
But Gabe didn’t stop. He felt a searing wave building inside him, the kind of anger that Uncle Steve had always told him needed to be corralled, controlled, and gotten rid of. Losing control of oneself never helps anything, and it will certainly never help you. Gabe couldn’t remember how many times he’d heard Uncle Steve say that.
But right now Gabe wanted to lose control. He wanted to wad up all the stuff his uncle had ever taught him and throw it back in his face. “Everything we do is about you and your stupid research! What about what I want? Did you ever think to ask me if I was totally miserable? No! ’Cause you’re always so wrapped up in all this junk! You never do anything for anybody except yourself!”
Uncle Steve’s blue-gray eyes went wide. He took a breath to speak, but stopped and closed his mouth again. That gave Gabe such an intense jab of satisfaction—I left him speechless!—that he was immediately ashamed.
But not ashamed enough to back down.
Uncle Steve ran a hand through his hair. When he spoke, he sounded kind of— Gabe wasn’t sure exactly. Stunned? “Gabe, this is all for your own good. Everything I do, every bit of it, is for you.”
But Gabe was done listening. He spun to his left and started climbing the stairs, very deliberately not looking back. Uncle Steve limped after him, his prosthetic leg thumping on the old, polished wood of the staircase, but Gabe was much faster and was almost at the top landing before his uncle spoke again.
“Gabe, wait. I’ll explain if you give me a chance to. Let’s talk about this.”
Gabe reached the top of the stairs. “You talk, I listen, right? No thanks.” He lifted one foot, about to start down the hall to his room, but after a lifetime of conditioning, he couldn’t overcome the Uncle Steve Tone when it was turned up to full strength.
“Gabe. Stop.”
He stopped. Turned and looked down at his uncle.
Uncle Steve sighed. “You’re grounded. From now until we leave, the only place you’re allowed to go is school.” He didn’t even sound angry anymore, just tired.
Gabe didn’t care. “So you’re gonna make my last few days here as lonely and depressing as possible?”
Uncle Steve shrugged. “You brought this on yourself. You knew my office was off-limits, and you deliberately broke the rules. Actions have consequences. Now go to your room, and we’ll talk in the morning.”
Gabe couldn’t form any words. He just made a sort of growling sound in his throat, stomped down the hallway past the locked door to his uncle’s office, and slammed into his room. He thought about shoving his massive, antique chest of drawers in front of the door—if he couldn’t go out, he’d make it so that no one could come in, either. But in the space of a heartbeat, all the loneliness and anger and outrage, all the walking and climbing, and the incredibly late hour all piled on top of him at once, and the only thing he felt was exhausted.
Gabe skirted another stack of packed-full cardboard moving boxes in the middle of his bedroom floor and fell face-first onto his bed. He would have been asleep thirty seconds later if his phone hadn’t buzzed in his pocket.
Group texts stacked up one after another.
The first was from Brett: AWSM FIELD TRIP 2NIGHT!
Then one from Lily: 2nite was grrrr8! U guys r the best!
Finally Kaz chimed in: I think I might have black lung
Gabe couldn’t hold back a smile. But it was a sad smile, realizing how little time he had left with these guys. Especially now that he could only see them at school.
Part of him wanted to unload on them and stay up texting about what a jerk his uncle was. But it was so late. And it wasn’t like it would change anything.
With the phone two inches from the end of his nose, Gabe poked at the keyboard with one finger, too tired to put forth the effort of using both thumbs: Im grounded. Worth it tho. C u @ school, guys. Nite.
He dropped the phone on his bedside table and drifted off to sleep while it buzzed and rattled against the wood.
When hazy morning sunlight invaded his room, Gabe squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the covers over his head. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to go to school. And he especially didn’t want to face Uncle Steve. He felt a little bad about what he’d said last night, but he was still angry. He knew his uncle had an early class today, and Gabe hoped that he’d already left.
No such luck. Gabe heard the door to his room swing open. Traces of the Uncle Steve Tone still lingered in his uncle’s voice, but mostly he just sounded sleepy. “All right, I’m off to work. Nothing’s changed since last night, though. You’re still grounded. I trust you can get to school on time?”
Gabe groaned. He knew Uncle Steve wouldn’t leave until he got the answer he was looking for. “Yes,” he said, his voice muffled by the blankets.
“Good. And I meant what I said about us having a talk later.”
Gabe groaned again.
“This should go without saying, but until then my office is off-limits. Strictly off-limits. Understand?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Gabe muttered.
His door clicked shut, but it took another solid minute before he tossed back the covers and got up.
By the time he’d stood in the shower, pulled on some clothes, and gotten downstairs to scarf some breakfast, Uncle Steve was long gone. Gabe peered at the clock: seven thirty-six. Too early for humans. School should start around ten thirty. Maybe eleven. He had just put his cereal bowl in the dishwasher when the chime of the doorbell echoed down the hallway.
Gabe opened the door to reveal Brett, Lily, and Kaz standing there, all dressed for school, backpacks strapped over their shoulders. Lily gave him a brilliant smile, and Brett and Kaz both tried to look cheerful, but Gabe just couldn’t bring himself to grin back. He motioned them inside. “Since when do we walk to school together?”
“Since it might be the only time we have to talk! We couldn’t just ignore your text from last night!”
Lily said.
“Even though you did a great job of ignoring all of ours.” Brett playfully elbowed him in the ribs. “You can’t expect to drop a message like ‘I’m never going to see you again! Good-bye, cruel world!’ and not expect us to check up on you.”
That almost raised the corners of Gabe’s mouth. “That’s not exactly what I said.”
Brett peered up the stairs. “Yeah, but we barely have any time left as it is. If you’re grounded, we really have to make the most of it. Is your uncle here?”
“Nah, he had an early class. Gotta teach all those college students about make-believe and mumbo jumbo.”
Kaz pulled his thermos out of his backpack. “I brought you some more tea,” he said. “Figured you might want to get in as much as you could.”
Gabe took it. “Thanks. This’ll go great with lunch.” At Kaz’s grin, Gabe said, “We should probably get to school. Even though I really don’t feel like going today.”
Brett threw a couple of brief but meaningful glances at Lily and Kaz. “Well, then . . . why don’t we just not go?”
Gabe paused. “You mean skip?”
Brett chuckled. “It has been known to happen, from time to time.”
Gabe furrowed his brow at Kaz and Lily. “Are you two okay with this? You, Kaz?”
“Just thinking about it is giving me hives, to be honest,” Kaz said, absently scratching his neck. “But I’d rather have hives than not give you a proper send-off.” Kaz wore his nervousness on his sleeve, but at his core he was as solid as a rock.
“Me, too,” Lily said.
Skip school? It was crazy. He was already in big trouble with Uncle Steve. But the longer he thought about it—over the course of a whole six or seven seconds—the more it appealed to him. Hadn’t Uncle Steve sort of put him in this situation? It shouldn’t surprise him that if he cut Gabe off from his friends, Gabe would do anything he could to spend more time with them. Plus, Gabe could tell that his friends had discussed this before they got to his house. None of them were the type to play hooky, but if they were all willing, well . . .
“It’s not like it would even matter if I got caught,” Gabe said, thinking aloud. “I’d get even more grounded, sure, but grounded in Philadelphia, where I don’t know a single soul. So . . . yeah. Yeah! Forget school today! Let’s do something fun!”
Kaz cleared his throat. “Um, I was thinking. We might not get caught if the school got some sort of note from a parent.”
Gabe grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Parent or guardian, right? Come on. I’ll send an email from Uncle Steve’s computer and tell them we all got food poisoning. Follow me!”
The four of them tromped up the stairs and clustered outside Uncle Steve’s office, which sported a shiny new lock now. Gabe rolled his eyes. Why not just say “I don’t trust you, Gabe?”
“Okay, who here knows how to pick locks?” Gabe looked from face to face, but his friends all just stared at him.
“It’s not like we’re hardened criminals,” Lily said wryly.
“Oh, come on.” Gabe rattled the knob. “People pick locks all the time on TV! How hard could it be?”
Kaz slid his tablet out of his pack and timidly raised a hand. “I think I can help. I’m sure there’s a tutorial on YouTube.”
Brett clapped Kaz on the shoulder. “Now we’re talking! Pull us up some instructions!”
Fifteen minutes later, following several viewings of a short video called “Lock Picking and You” and a house-wide search for a pair of paper clips (“It’s not my fault Uncle Steve keeps the paper clips inside the office!”), Brett and Gabe were crouched in front of the door, trying and repeatedly failing to open the new lock.
Lily watched, hands on her hips and one eyebrow cocked. “A pair of criminal masterminds you are.”
Brett didn’t look up. “I don’t see you picking any locks.”
She scoffed, “Get out of the way, and I’ll show you how it’s done!”
Behind her, Kaz leaned against the wall, watching more videos on his tablet, apparently unconcerned with their progress or lack thereof. More or less talking to himself, he said, “Whoa, this ferret’s riding a really small bicycle!”
Gabe was too focused on the task at hand to talk. He knew he was supposed to use one paper clip to disengage . . . something. And then Brett was supposed to use the other one to . . . He actually wasn’t entirely sure. He glanced at Brett. “Maybe we should watch the video again.”
Kaz burst out laughing. “Guys, come look at this ferret!”
Brett’s paper clip slipped and stabbed Gabe’s finger like a tiny ice pick.
Gabe yelped and jumped up, shaking his finger. He stuck it in his mouth and talked around it, glaring at Brett. “Dude, watch what you’re doing!” he cried, except it came out more like “Oo, wash wha oor ooing!”
Brett stood up, shaking his head. “Well, we’ve done it now.” He pointed at the lock. Gabe peered at it, still sucking on his wounded finger, and his heart sank. The paper clip he’d been using had snapped off cleanly, lodged in the lock with no hope of being dug out. Brett went on: “Actually, to be accurate, we haven’t done it. That lock is ruined. Sorry about your finger, Gabe. Kaz’s hyena laugh startled me.”
Gabe wrapped his wounded digit in his shirt and squeezed, hoping the pressure would halt the bleeding. He squinted sourly at Brett. “Yeah, you sound sorry. What’re we going to do now?”
Brett looked around at all three of them before he spoke. “Look, Gabe, your uncle is going to know we tried to break in. The lock will tell him that much.”
Lily frowned. “So?”
Brett thumped his fist on the office door. “So, we don’t really have anything to lose at this point. Let’s just break it open.”
Kaz’s jaw dropped. “What, like we’re in some action movie? Tell me you’re joking.”
Brett gave Kaz his most charming grin. “C’mon, Kaz! Haven’t you ever wanted to be a bad boy?”
Those words echoed in Gabe’s ears. Wasn’t that what Uncle Steve thought he was? Bad? Well, this’ll be exactly what he expects from me, won’t it?
Before Kaz could answer, Gabe said, “Brett’s right. Let’s do it.”
“Guys! Stop!” Lily put herself between Gabe and the door. “Come on, Gabe. Literally breaking down the door? It’s not worth it! Think how much trouble you’ll be in!”
“Exactly the same amount as I’m in now,” Gabe said, somewhere between glum and sullen. He knew that, as always, Lily was just looking out for him. But she wasn’t going to have his back forever: Gabe’s remaining hours with her and the rest of his friends were numbered. If he got into Uncle Steve’s office and emailed the school, he’d be able to squeeze in a few more. That alone made breaking down the door worth the consequences. “Will you move over, please?”
Lily shook her head, but she stepped aside. Gabe nodded to Brett. “On the count of three.” At the end of the very short countdown, Gabe and Brett rammed the door with their shoulders at the same time, and the door sprang free of the wood frame with a splintering crack.
The office was meant to be a bedroom, so it was basically the same size and shape as Gabe’s room. Ordinarily it was a treasure trove of strange and bizarre items. Ancient scrolls, polished glass skulls, ornate candlesticks . . . and books. So many books. Books of all shapes and sizes, every one of them as old as dirt, and almost none of them written in English.
But now the office had been packed up, stored in Uncle Steve’s thoroughly taped, neatly labeled cardboard boxes. The only things left unboxed were the computer sitting on his uncle’s desk and half a dozen empty bookshelves. Gabe immediately sat down at the desk and woke the computer. “This won’t take long,” he said to no one in particular. “I figured out his email password years ago.”
Gabe0627. My name and birthday. For just a second Gabe let himself stop and think about what it meant that his uncle had chosen that password. But then he pushed the thought away.
Kaz hovere
d anxiously in the wrecked doorway and Lily leaned against the wall, arms crossed, but Brett wandered the office, looking around. That was how they’d found the Golden Gates map: Brett wandering and looking.
Gabe had just about finished composing the email on Uncle Steve’s computer—being careful not to use his right index finger for fear of getting blood on the keys—when Brett, standing at the corner of the desk, cried out in surprise. “Whoa! Guys, look at this!”
Gabe glanced up to see Brett holding a strange book.
Gabe had never seen it before. The book’s cover looked as if it was coated in gold dust, and a slender crimson ribbon was wrapped around it top to bottom and side to side, tying it closed. As Brett turned it in his hands, Gabe spotted several odd runes stamped into the gold. “Where’d you get that?”
Brett pointed at the side of the desk. “It was right here! Behind this paneling.”
As Lily and Kaz crowded forward to see the book, Gabe got up and looked at the spot where Brett had pointed. Sure enough, a wood panel on the side of the desk had swung out, like a little secret door. “How the heck did you even find that?”
Brett wasn’t listening. He and Kaz had started trying to open the book but weren’t having any luck. “What is up with this ribbon?” Kaz said, annoyed. “Is it glued down or something?”
Lily said, “Maybe you shouldn’t open it, guys,” but Brett ignored her, too. He shoved the book at Gabe.
“Here, maybe you’ll have better luck.”
Gabe peered at the book. There was something weird about it. He cocked his head, looking closer. In the morning sunlight, the shadow of Brett’s arm stretched across the floor of the office. But the shadow . . . ended too soon?
Did the book not cast a shadow?
Gabe shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. That’s ridiculous. Keep it together, Gabe.
“Yeah,” he shot back, “or maybe I’ll put it back where it came from.” Gabe was going to say something more, about Brett’s snooping around and how he maybe shouldn’t be doing so much of it, but then his outstretched hand made contact with the book.
Pain shot through his injured finger, and a little smear of blood traced across the cover’s surface.