“What’s he doing?” Clarisse asked, leaning forward over the rail, straining to see.
Raphael handed her the binoculars. “It’s a divining rod. Back in the day, people believed if you walked around holding a Y-shaped twig or branch like that, it would dip down if there was underground water beneath you. That’s how they knew where to dig their wells. Some people still do it, I think. That’s a pretty fancy one.” He wondered if it worked better than a simple wooden stick.
“You think they’re looking for water?” Nass asked.
Raphael shook his head. He didn’t know what they were looking for, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t water. “Nass, I want you and the guys to take shifts watching this building. As soon as they leave, as soon as it’s unguarded, we’re going in. We need to find out what’s going on in there.”
As she waited for history class to begin on Monday afternoon, Aimee struggled to stay awake. She’d hoped the school would be closed today—maybe when the gym wall collapsed there had been structural damage and they’d get to stay home for a while, she’d thought. But there was no such luck, her dad informed her over breakfast. The building inspectors had been at Middleburg High on Sunday. Gym class would be cancelled for a couple of months, but aside from that, school was proceeding normally. It was depressing. To make matters worse, everyone around Aimee was still talking about homecoming, Rick and Maggie getting king and queen, a fight nearly erupting, and the wall crashing down. To Aimee, it seemed like it had all happened a lifetime ago, her weekend had been so emotionally and physically exhausting. And she had no interest in rehashing the drama.
She yawned and let her head slump onto her arms on top of her desk, not even trying to pay attention as she allowed her thoughts to drift to Raphael. She had to find a way to see him despite her dad’s threats, but how? Sleep almost came before an answer did. Just as she was drifting off, the staccato clack of high heels announced Mrs. Dupris’s arrival. The conversations dwindled, and Aimee hoisted herself upright in her chair and managed to open her eyes. Only, the woman standing at the front of the classroom wasn’t Mrs. Dupris, who was short and wide, with straight, almost colorless blond hair and a broad, plain face, and who was also very pregnant.
The woman standing in front of the class now was quite a contrast. First of all, she barely looked old enough to be a teacher. She had short, curly dark hair, bright, playful eyes and the upright, lithe carriage of a dancer. She was wearing a cute gray knit dress and a pair of beautiful black leather boots. Aimee loved the outfit, but she doubted she could pull it off the way this woman did.
The new teacher waited patiently while the last conversation wound down to silence, and then she smiled.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said. “My name is Miss Pembrook. Mrs. Dupris had her baby yesterday—a healthy little girl, I hear—and she’ll be on maternity leave for the rest of the year. So you guys are stuck with me.”
There were a few whistles and catcalls and two boys sitting in the front of the class exchanged a high-five. Everyone laughed and Miss Pembrook smiled graciously and continued.
“A little about me: I’m a graduate student at DePaul, in Chicago, with a degree in education. I’m going for a doctorate in history. My thesis is on the history of this region with an emphasis on Middleburg. I don’t know how much you know about this charming little town, but I can tell you it’s fascinating. You live in a truly unique place.”
“Yeah, uniquely boring,” somebody mumbled, and everyone laughed again.
“Only boring people get bored,” Miss Pembrook countered, which elicited another round of laughter. Aimee could tell they liked her. She liked her, too.
“I assure you,” the teacher continued, “the history of this town is extraordinary, and there are pieces of the story that haven’t been uncovered yet. Trust me, we’ll be talking a lot in this class about Middleburg’s past and by the end of the year, I guarantee you won’t find it boring.”
Oh, it’s anything but boring, Aimee thought. We have secret tunnels running under the whole town, our very own terrifying monster and a passageway to some kind of alternate universe. Not boring at all.
“Which brings me to my next point,” Miss Pembrook was saying. “I could use some help in my research, so if there are any history buffs in here, I’m thinking of starting an afterschool history club.”
A few people groaned—obviously, studying history after school was their idea of torture—but Aimee felt as if the stars had just aligned. She needed a reason to get out of the house and a way to meet up with Raphael, and this was it. Her hand shot into the air.
Miss Pembrook looked at her, that warm smile of hers deepening. “Yes?”
“I’ll do it,” Aimee said. “I’ll do the club.”
Several of her classmates, including Maggie Anderson, looked at her as if she were nuts. It was understandable. In the three months since she’d returned to Middleburg High, Aimee had hardly uttered a word in class—until now.
Miss Pembrook looked surprised, too, but pleased. “Great,” she said. “If anyone else would like to volunteer I’ll have a sign-up sheet after class. Meanwhile, let’s get down to business, shall we? If you would please open your books to page 343 . . .”
Aimee felt a little pang of dread as she flipped through her book, looking for the right page. She might’ve just signed up for a lot of excruciatingly boring afternoons, but if it allowed her just a few moments with Raphael, it would be worth it.
Monday after school, Raphael opened his locker and found a note from Aimee stuck inside. Instant relief. He hadn’t talked to her since their near-disastrous detour into the future, and he hadn’t seen her in school all day. He’d been worried that her dad had already shipped her off to Montana. When he opened the note and saw her handwriting, he felt like he could breathe again.
Call me. Block your number.
LUE
Raphael smiled. L.U.E. Love you eternally. He’d said it to her one night on the phone and the phrase had stuck; now they said it to one another all the time. It was the perfect way to sign a note like this, too. If Rick or somebody got a hold of it, there was no way they could prove Aimee wrote it.
Grabbing his coat and cell phone from his locker, he hurried out of the school. When he stepped outside, the frigid wind bit into him but he pressed onward, out into the courtyard beneath a canopy of gray clouds that were heavy with the threat of snow.
Aimee was standing on the other side of the courtyard, smiling at him. As soon as he saw her and nodded to acknowledge the smile, she looked away, in case anyone was watching. He also turned away and, after he’d blocked his i.d., he called her. She picked up instantly.
“Raphael,” she said, soft and low. He loved the way her voice got a little catch in it when she said his name.
“Hey beautiful—I was starting to think I’d have to go and rescue you from Montana.”
“No, not yet. They have to wait for a bed to open up.”
“That’s good news.” Raphael was leaning against the brick wall of the school, and he tilted his head back in silent thanks. “Let’s hope it takes forever.”
Aimee laughed. God, how he loved the sound.
“Also, I’m going to be doing a history club thing after school. I can use it as an excuse to get out of the house.”
“I could join too, maybe,” he offered, but across the courtyard he could see her shaking her head.
“Too obvious. We got away with that during the play. There’s no way my dad will stand for it this time.”
“You’re right,” he agreed.
“The history thing will be my cover, so we can meet up. And maybe go look for my mom again?”
Raphael was hoping she would let that go. “About that,” he said. “I don’t want you using the Wheel with me anymore.”
He was
pacing now, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Aimee frowning.
“What do you mean? We have to find my mom.”
“We will,” he promised. “But first I need to learn more about how to use the thing. There are infinite, different points in time that it could take us to, and we have no idea which one your mom is in or exactly how to get there. It’s too dangerous, Aimee. I’m not going to risk you getting eaten by a saber-toothed tiger or falling into a primordial volcano or caught up in a civil war battle or something. We just found each other. I can’t lose you.”
“I can handle myself.”
“Like you did with skeleton boy and his wind board—when you were supposed to keep down and out of sight?”
“I was trying to help,” she said solemnly. “If something happened to you, Raphael, I couldn’t stand it. I can’t lose you, either.” He could hear frustration rising in her voice. “And I can’t lose my mom. If there’s even the ghost of a chance she’s in those tunnels somewhere—I have to find her. And I don’t care who or what I have to fight to do it.” A tense silence hung between them for a moment.
This could easily turn into their first fight, Raphael realized, and he wanted it to be their last. It gave him an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. But he’d thought about it a lot and it was just too dangerous to keep taking her through the Wheel. Somehow, he had to convince her.
“You can’t fight,” he said finally. “You don’t know how.”
“Then I’ll learn,” she said, and she sounded pretty determined. “I’ll learn how to take care of myself and fight at your side. I’ll go ask Master Chin to teach me.”
“It’s not that easy,” Raphael warned her, but he couldn’t help smiling.
“Why, because I’m a girl? You don’t think I can learn to fight?”
He chuckled. “I like it when you get all spunky on me like that. It’s pretty hot.”
“Stop it. I’m serious.”
“All right. First of all, you should know that Master Chin never takes on new students. Zhai and I are the only ones he’s had since—well, since I can remember. And even if he did take you on, it takes years of hard work to get really good. I’m sorry, Aimee.” And he was. He hated to see her disappointed in any way. “It just won’t work. Let me find out more about how to use the Wheel, and then I’ll go in and find your mom. Me and my crew. You have to trust me on this.”
Raphael glanced across the courtyard. Aimee was looking directly at him. It was a risk, he knew, but he looked into her eyes, too.
There was pain in them, a pain he understood all too well. He’d also lost a parent, and he knew exactly what that agony was like. She had the opportunity to get hers back, and he understood why she would be willing to do whatever it took, even if it meant she might die in the process. He understood completely—but there was still no way he was going to let her risk her life.
“I know it’s hard,” he said. “But please, just be patient.”
“I can’t,” she said softly.
A few snowflakes drifted down between them. He wanted more than anything to jump over the picnic tables that separated them, run over to her, wrap his arms around her, and hold her as close as he could. In front of everybody.
And someday he would.
“I’d better go,” Aimee said. “Rick will be looking for me.” The distance that had crept into her voice impaled him like a blade of ice.
“LUE,” he said softly, but she’d already ended the call. He watched as she turned away from him and headed inside, leaving him alone with the slowly falling snow.
Chapter Nine
Zhai sat at his customary table in Spinnacle, stirring the ice in his cranberry juice with his straw. Almost the whole Toppers crew was present, even Maggie and her friends.
She sat next to Rick, looking, Zhai thought, tense and a little tired. She was as beautiful as ever, except for the shadows under her eyes and the anxious look in them. Lisa Marie sat next to her, telling some elaborate story about a shopping trip she and her mom had taken to Chicago. Michael and Dax listened intently and nodded in all the right places. Bran looked on, a pleasant but distant smile on his face, his mind clearly elsewhere. D’von and Cle’von Cunningham sat at the far end of the table, engrossed in a flirtatious conversation with the waitress, and Rick sat brooding next to Maggie. Occasionally, he would let go of her hand and rub the shoulder of his broken arm. He stared down at the white, linen tablecloth with a lethal look in his eye, as if he were trying to set the fabric on fire with his mind. And Zhai wondered why he’d even thought that. Rick was a bully and he was big and mean and strong—but there was no way he had any of the raw magical power Zhai had experienced on Halloween night, and that he’d seen in Raphael, as they had battled each other on the tracks.
The news that he was out for the rest of football season had to be a terrible blow to Rick, Zhai knew, especially since Middleburg was ranked first going into the post-season. Michael Ponder would be taking over the role of quarterback, but everyone knew he wasn’t half the athlete Rick was. Rick had taken the news hard. Like a huge, fiery star collapsing to form a black hole, Rick’s rage seemed to have condensed to form something darker and deeper, Zhai thought, but perhaps equally dangerous. But certainly not supernatural.
“And I was like, seriously, you have got to be kidding. I am going to murder you!” Lisa Marie said shrilly. Michael and Dax, who had actually been listening to the story, laughed, and everyone else took that as their cue to laugh too. Zhai glanced away from their table into the bar area, and he was shocked to see the two Chinese guys who’d been to the house earlier to visit his father.
The shorter man finished his drink, and the taller one took out his wallet and put some bills on the table, and then they both stood and headed for the door. If either man noticed Zhai staring at them, they gave no indication. The minute they were gone, Zhai rose to his feet.
“Whatsa matter, Kung Pao?” Rick drawled, using his own little nickname for Zhai. For the first time, it bothered Zhai. “You leavin’ us already?”
“Yeah, for a few minutes. I, uh—forgot something. Hey, can I borrow your ride?”
Wordlessly, Rick dug into his pocket and tossed Zhai his keys.
Zhai stepped into the parking lot just in time to see the white Cadillac pulling out of its parking space. Trying not to be seen, he moved quickly down a row of cars toward Rick’s silver Audi SUV, then he opened the door and jumped into the driver’s seat.
Carefully keeping his distance, Zhai followed the Caddy down Golden Avenue. It went left on Main Street and then right on River Road before pulling off onto a rutted trail that led down to the locomotive graveyard. Following them into the woods in Rick’s SUV would be way too obvious, so Zhai pulled to the side of the road and got out. On foot, he waded into the deepening, late afternoon shadows of the forest. The leaves had long since fallen, leaving the trees gray and barren. The ground was brown and parched. Even the sky looked depleted, its customary blue faded almost to a dull shade of nothing. As he moved cautiously up the trail, he heard the sound of distant voices. Ahead, he saw several parked cars including the white Caddy and two Shao construction trucks.
What are my dad’s workers doing in the train graveyard? Zhai wondered. And what if they find Kate?
There were plenty of decomposing old train cars there, but as far as he knew there weren’t any houses in need of renovating, no concrete slabs that needed to be poured. He passed the cars and hurried forward, taking a winding, narrow trail that sloped first up, then down, into the train graveyard itself. Too late he realized the terrain was covered in sticky, slick mud. He groaned as he looked down at his shoes—a pair of fairly new Lacoste sneakers, now covered in sludge.
He finally reached the end of the trail and stopped, leaning against a tree. From here, he could look down and see much of the huge junkyard full of abandoned rail cars. An
d what he saw perplexed him even more. There were two construction workers there carrying around a strange device that looked to Zhai like one of the big, round, flat radar antennas from his dad’s yacht, turned upside down. The two workers were walking together, sweeping it over the ground while one of the men who’d paid a visit to Zhai’s father looked at a flat monitor. It has to be some kind of sonar device, Zhai thought. They were looking for something buried underground. But what?
He wondered what his dad knew about this.
And, he wondered with sudden alarm, Where’s the other one? Where is my father’s other Chinese guest?
“You are curious, I see.”
The thick accent told Zhai that his question had been answered.
He turned around slowly, bracing himself in case the man rushed him. It was the shorter of the two Chinese visitors, and he stood a few yards away, gazing calmly at Zhai.
“You’re Cheung Shao’s boy, aren’t you?” His voice held no expression.
“Yes, I’m Zhai. I saw the Shao Construction trucks. What’s my dad’s company doing back here?”
“Oh,” the man said, faintly mocking. “Your dad’s company?”
Zhai nodded. He had no idea where this was going, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be good.
The stranger’s voice took on a darker, deadlier tone. “Did your father send you to spy on us?”
“Of course not.”
“How much has he told you about the project his company is working on?”
“Nothing,” Zhai said.
“Really,” the man sneered. “He was always a clever man, your father, and ruthless. I wouldn’t like to think he is ruthless enough to risk his own son.”
“I should be getting back,” Zhai said quietly as he struggled to understand what was happening. He was starting to think he was in trouble.
GHOST CROWN: THE TRACKS TRILOGY - Book Two Page 15