I whipped around. “Greek? You know they’re Greek?”
He leaned over the sill. “Yeah. We labeled different sections of Cyclopsville in Greek to make it look authentic. I recognize some of the letters.”
“What does it spell?” I asked.
Tyler shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s Greek to me. Hey, why are you in the closet?”
“Uh . . . Jax wants to break into the safe,” Ethan said.
“Break into the safe?” Tyler’s face went pale. “Now that’s definitely going to look bad on your high-school transcript.”
I was ready to plead, beg, throw myself at my cousin’s feet if I had to. “Tyler, I need your help. Please. How can I figure out the combination?”
“Math,” he said. “Math can solve everything.” He climbed into the room, pushed us aside, then lay on his stomach in front of the safe. I almost reminded him that he was now officially breaking and entering, but I didn’t. “There are thirty-five input options on the dial, and it’s a three-tumbler lock. So that means it’s thirty-five to the third, which is forty-two thousand eight hundred seventy-five possible combinations. So, let’s assume that I can do roughly seven combinations in a minute. I divide forty-two thousand eight hundred seventy-five by seven and I get six thousand one hundred twenty-five, which is the number of minutes it would take. Then I divide that by sixty to get the number of hours, which is . . . one hundred two.” He smiled proudly. “Basic stuff.”
“One hundred and two hours?” I asked. “Are you kidding me? You said math can solve everything.”
“It can, but I didn’t say how long it would take.” Tyler spun the dial.
“Forget math,” Ethan said. “Give me my knife.” I did. “This is a cheap safe. It’s got hinges on the side.” With one of the knife’s tools, he pushed out the hinge pins and—voila—the door fell open. Ethan to the rescue! Relief, cool and crisp, flooded my body. Is this what it felt like to have Gatorade poured over your head after the Super Bowl? Victory was mine!
“You’re brilliant,” I told him. I squeezed between my cousins, reached in and grabbed the box. It wasn’t as shiny as before. The Camels had smudged it with their evil fingerprints. But the surface was still warm.
“I was going to suggest the hinges,” Tyler said sheepishly.
While I hugged the box to my chest, a satisfied feeling filled me from the tips of my feet to the top of my head. It was safe. It was back in my arms. Then I looked worriedly at Ethan. “Now how do we save Juniper?”
“Save?” Tyler asked.
I explained. “The Camels are holding her hostage. They have her tied up somewhere. They can’t figure out how to open the box so they’re going to force her to tell them. They’ve even threatened to hurt me, if she won’t tell them. They said the box contains powers beyond belief. Once they’ve gotten whatever’s inside, they’re going to leave the country with fake passports.”
“Jeez,” Tyler said. “I hate to admit it but maybe my little brother is right. Maybe we should—”
“No,” Ethan interrupted. “Don’t call the police.”
“Huh?” both Tyler and I said.
Ethan began to pace. “Look, we need to help Juniper, right? And we need to keep Jax safe.” A plan was spinning in his head. We’d suddenly reversed roles. He was scheming, I was waiting to be told what to do. “If those Camels come back and see a police car sitting outside, they could panic and take off. We might never see Juniper again, and Jax will still have to worry about the Camels coming after her.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. I had enough trouble shutting off my thoughts at night without adding in the fear of George and Martha Camel kidnapping me. “What do you think we should do?” I asked Ethan.
“Here’s what I think,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically brave. “You’re not going to like this, Jax, but we can trade the box for Juniper. We have it. They want it. And we can tell them how to take the readings and make the circles. Then they can leave the country and we can go home and never see them again.”
“Are you serious?” Tyler asked. “After all this, you want to give up the box?”
I ran my hand over the LCD screen. Of course that’s what we’d do. We’d trade the box for Juniper. She was our great-aunt and her life was more important than a puzzle box, no matter what was inside. That was the right thing, the only thing to do. But my head felt thick all of sudden, and that tugging feeling was back. I really wanted to keep the box, and the idea of letting it go made my stomach clench. “But what if . . .” I hesitated. Ethan would think that what I was about to say was ridiculous. “What if it does have powers? Powers beyond belief?”
“Uh . . .” Ethan cringed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, just listen to me.” I sat on the edge of the bed and set the box on my lap. My face was reflected back up at me. “I have this weird feeling, and I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like the box and I belong together. Like I’m supposed to hold on to it. I need to see what’s inside.”
Ethan let out a long sigh. “Jax, it doesn’t matter what’s inside. What matters is Juniper’s safety and your safety.”
“It does matter what’s inside,” I insisted. “That’s the whole reason for this trip. The whole reason why Juniper was kidnapped. The whole reason why the Camels are willing to come after me. What if it’s something dangerous? Something with power? Some kind of weapon? We can’t give it to them. They’re horrible people.”
“I’m with Jax,” Tyler said. “We can’t give the box to the Camels.” He was standing in front of the strange symbols, staring at his phone. “I just looked these symbols up in the Greek online dictionary.” He held out the phone. One word was on the screen.
Pandora.
Sunny Days Motel
* * *
To George and Martha Camel,
We have the box. You have our great-aunt.
We will meet you in Washington, DC, tomorrow at noon, in front of the White House. There will be lots of people around so don’t try anything. We will give you the box in exchange for Juniper. Do not hurt her or you will never see the box again.
Signed,
Your worst nightmare
PS: Bring cash to pay for my car window!!!
19
Ethan
FACT: The D in Washington, DC, stands for District. It’s called that because it’s not a state, but it’s still part of this country so it needed to be called something. The C stands for Columbia, named after Christopher Columbus. People used to be taught that Columbus discovered America and so Columbia was a name used for our country in songs and in poems. Funny how you’re taught one thing and it turns out to be a lie. Like a certain man discovering America, or a certain great-aunt not existing.
We were on our way to the Madison Hotel in DC. Jax’s mom called during the drive. Then my mom called. We didn’t have to lie too much. We said we’d made a lot of stops along the way and that we were almost there. My nose tingled after each conversation, but I made it through. Good thing I wasn’t Pinocchio.
During the ride from the Sunny Days Motel, I sat in the front seat so I could help with directions. Even with Tyler’s weird music, which now sounded like monks chanting, Jax managed to fall into a deep sleep in the backseat. She kept a tight grip on the box the whole time. This had been the craziest day ever.
What we’d decided was this—we’d trade the box for Juniper, the empty box. Jax and Tyler were determined to keep whatever was inside. So we just had to be a bit sneaky, and not let them know the box had been opened until Juniper was safe.
“It doesn’t exist,” I said.
Tyler chewed on an apple core. “What are you talking about?”
“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about the word on the wall. You’re thinking about Pandora’s box. But it’s not real.”
The monks stopped chanting. I knew the song had ended but it seemed like they’d paused the music so they could listen to our conversation.
> “Of course it’s just a story.” Tyler glanced warily at me, then we both looked quickly over our shoulders at the metal box on Jax’s lap. A whining sound arose as Tyler’s car veered over the yellow line. He cursed and quickly turned his attention back to the road. “But haven’t you heard that fact is often stranger than fiction?”
I know about facts. They clog my brain. They are real. Pandora wasn’t any more real than Santa Claus.
As twilight fell over the city, we finally reached the Madison Hotel, which was four blocks from the White House. I’d chosen the White House as the location for our “exchange” because I figured there would be lots of security guards around and we’d be safe. I nudged Jax until she woke up. Tyler pulled up to the entrance and a valet took the car keys. This had been one of the instructions during Mom’s lecture that morning. “Have the valet park the car. There’s a lot of crime in our nation’s capital and the valet will put the car in a secure garage.” And, as Mom knew, with the valet helping, Tyler wouldn’t have to parallel park.
We checked in at the front desk, then carried our backpacks so we wouldn’t have to pay a bellhop. Jax was still groggy as we rode up in the elevator, but the moment we stepped into the room, her eyes widened. “Wow,” she said. “This is amazing.”
Tyler and I had done a lot of traveling with our parents, so we’d seen our fair share of hotel rooms, but this was super nice, not because the two queen beds had satin covers or because there was a vase of fresh flowers and bottles of chilled water, but because the flat-screen TV was double the size of our TV at home.
Tyler immediately claimed the desk, set up his laptop and gaming mouse, and logged into the hotel’s wireless.
“Look at the bathroom,” Jax said.
One bathroom wall was totally covered in mirrors. A basket stuffed with mini shampoo bottles, lotion, soap, and shower caps sat on the marble counter. And the toilet was one of those Japanese toilets I’d read about in Wired magazine, that squirts water and then blows hot air to dry your butt. “Cool,” I said.
“I love these towels,” Jax said, running her hands over one. “They’re so fluffy.”
The bathtub was big enough for two people. Not that we were going to take a bath together. We hadn’t done that since we were babies. How many times had Mom embarrassed me with those photos?
Tyler opened the mini fridge. “Look at all this stuff. Cheese, pâté, candy—there’s even wine and beer in here.” He grabbed a package of crackers. My stomach growled but I first had to call Mom. “We’re here,” I told her. I assured her that Tyler had driven safely, no speeding, and that the hotel was nice. Then came the part I hated—the lying. “We’ll check into the geocaching event tomorrow.” Jax was resting on the bed, her eyes closed, the box nestled on her lap. I turned my back to her and whispered into the phone. “Mom, do you know if we have any . . . terrorists in the family?”
“What?” Mom asked.
“Uh . . . anyone who builds or trades weapons?”
“Those are very strange questions, Ethan. And why are you whispering? I can barely hear you.”
“I’m just wondering if . . . well, if we have anyone in the family who might be . . .”
“Are you asking about Juniper again?”
“No.” The lie felt heavy on my tongue, and when I swallowed, it felt like I’d swallowed a boulder.
Mom’s voice tightened. “Your Aunt Lindsay told me that Jax got a birthday present from Juniper. The present was taken away for good reason. I don’t want you to ask any more questions about her. It would make your Aunt Lindsay very upset.”
“Okay.”
What had begun as a simple plan to open a birthday box had turned into something dangerous, with sinister overtones. It felt more like a movie than real life. Mom, Dad, and Aunt Lindsay knew things about Juniper, things that might help us deal with the Camels. Things that might help us figure out what was inside the box. I glanced over at Jax. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. “Mom,” I said. “Can you call Aunt Lindsay? Jax is real sleepy from the drive. Can you tell her we’ve checked in and we’re okay?”
“Sure. Give your brother a kiss for me.” Tyler was online, his butt firmly glued to the hotel chair, his headphones in place. He’d kicked off his shoes and socks and a sour odor had already begun to fill the room.
“I’m not giving Tyler a kiss.”
“I don’t know why you two can’t be nice to each other. One day, when your father and I are long gone, you’ll appreciate having a brother.”
“I’m still not giving him a kiss.”
“Fine. Call me in the morning. Bye.”
I kicked Tyler’s disgusting shoes and socks into the closet, then I ordered room service—cheeseburgers, fries, and lemonades. They arrived on big trays with miniature ketchup bottles and tiny salt and pepper shakers. The smell of toasted bun and melted cheese woke up Jax. Tyler grabbed his plate and set it next to the computer. I took all the green stuff off of Jax’s plate before handing it to her.
“They’ve probably found the note by now,” I said as I sprinkled salt on my fries. “Do you think we did the right thing?”
“Yes,” Jax said. Her eyes were puffy. She looked like she hadn’t slept in ages. “We have the box. It’s going to be okay.”
I nodded. Of course, I wasn’t so sure. I’d never done anything like this before. And a big question was nagging at me—what would happen if we opened the box and discovered something dangerous?
After tossing my baseball cap aside and slipping off my Converse shoes, I sat cross-legged on the bed. Jax sat cross-legged too, the plates between us. That’s the cool thing about staying in a hotel room without your parents—if you get ketchup on the bedspread, they can’t yell at you about it.
“Juniper was smiling at me in that photo, the one where she was holding me when I was a baby.” Jax thumped the ketchup bottle. The puzzle box was wedged between her and a pillow. “She looks like a nice person.”
I hoped she was a nice person, because a nice person wouldn’t put something dangerous into a box and mail it to her niece. Tyler jammed fries into his mouth and mumbled something at the screen. My eyelids had begun to feel heavy but the food reenergized me. It had the same effect on Jax. She crammed her cheeks like a chipmunk and her eyes brightened.
“I say we press the button,” she said after gulping the last of her lemonade.
“Here? Are you sure? We can only push the button two more times.”
“We’re in the center of DC. This is as good a place as any. Besides, we’re kind of running on luck now.”
Tyler was wearing his headphones, so he had no idea what we were talking about. “Ambush!” he cried as the screen lit up with bursts of weapon fire. His fingers danced across the gaming mouse as he perched at the edge of his chair.
I expected Jax to tell Tyler what we were about to do. But she didn’t. “Just you and me,” she said.
Nice to know I was still her partner.
After getting the map, ruler, and protractor from my backpack, I followed Jax out onto the balcony. Evening had bled into night. The city was all lit up. A bar was playing loud music. We could see into the windows where people were laughing and dancing. The day’s heat had faded but it was still warm enough for shorts. Below the balcony, headlights glided like lanterns on a river. Jax held the box up to the sky. “I want to make sure I get a good signal.”
“Uh . . . what if we’re wrong?” I asked. “What if the right spot isn’t in DC but it’s in the middle of Lake Oneida? What if we came all this way and—”
“We’re not wrong,” Jax said. Then, with a smile, she pushed the button. Light arose from the screen. She lowered the box so we could read.
Attempt 9 of 10.
1.8 miles from the right spot.
Good-bye.
“We’re soooo close,” she whispered. “So, so, so close.”
“Great,” I said, only somewhat happy. Part of me had wanted to fail, so we could go home and be done wit
h this.
The map I’d brought wouldn’t help us because it didn’t show enough detail. So I found a DC city map in a stack of tourist information in the room. We sat side by side on the balcony, the map spread out. After marking our location at the Madison Hotel, I measured the radius of 1.8 miles, then drew the circle. The circle ran through streets, parks and buildings. “It could be any of these locations,” I said.
“I don’t think Juniper would choose just any old place. Think about it. She’s an archaeologist so she’s all about relics and treasures.” Jax’s finger traced the circle. It clipped the edge of the Museum of Natural History. “That’s a possibility,” she said. The circle crossed roads and parks, then went straight through the center of a building.
“The Lincoln Memorial,” I said.
Jax’s eyes widened. “Hello? That has to be the right spot. That photo showed Juniper and me at the Lincoln Memorial.”
I nodded. It made sense.
“I have a good feeling about this,” Jax said. “And it’s important to listen to your feelings.”
“Uh . . . you mean like when I had those feelings that we should call the police? You didn’t listen to those.”
“That’s because they weren’t my feelings.” She gave me a teasing smile. Then she looked up at the night sky. “We can’t go now, it’s too late.” I sighed with relief, because I’d thought for sure she’d make us go out in the dark and trek through a city known for its monuments and its crime. “We’ll go first thing in the morning.”
Using her sleeve, she began to polish the box. I could understand why she wanted to keep it. The design was amazing. The seams weren’t visible, and the LCD screen was so perfectly placed, it looked like it melted into the shiny metal. “Do you remember the Camels saying that someone named the Locksmith built the box?”
“Yeah, I remember. They also said that no one knows where he is.” Jax’s face suddenly went dark and she stopped polishing. “Do you think she’s afraid?”
The Secret Box Page 12