Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3

by Karen McQuestion

  After that there wasn’t much more to see. It was nearly dinnertime when I got back to my house. Carly’s car was in the driveway and Frank was sitting on the front porch, a ball and glove at his feet. When he saw me he bounded to his feet and yelled through the door. “He’s here, Grandma! Russ is back!”

  That was the first sign something was up. The crepe paper and balloons in the kitchen clued me in even more. Turned out we were belatedly celebrating my birthday with a family dinner, but no one had bothered to tell me.

  “I thought it would be a nice surprise,” my mom said when we were all finally seated around the table. My dad had grilled steaks, while Mom had prepared a salad and rolls. A decorated cake and several wrapped presents sat waiting on the kitchen counter.

  “Yeah, and then you ruined it by disappearing,” Frank grumbled. “I thought we could play catch while Grandpa was grilling. I wanted to call you, but Mom wouldn’t let me.”

  “My birthday was more than a week ago,” I pointed out. “And I didn’t disappear. I had no idea you were doing this.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware that your birthday was more than a week ago.” Mom passed the salt to my dad. “I was there for your first one, if you recall. But you were in Miami so we didn’t get a chance to celebrate it.”

  “Okay, well thanks.”

  The meal was almost ruined when Carly mentioned that she’d lost her job earlier that week. This was a fairly common occurrence for her, but it still upset my mother. “What are you going to do?” Mom asked, worried.

  Carly speared a chunk of steak and dipped it into sauce. “What I always do. I’ll get another job. Hopefully a better one. That one sucked. I was just about ready to quit when they eliminated my position. How lucky was that?” She laughed and shook her head. “They saved me the trouble of giving two weeks’ notice.”

  My mother’s lips pressed together the way they did when she was about to lay it all out there. “Carly, aren’t you getting a little old to be flitting from job to job? I mean—”

  My dad held out his hand to make Mom stop. “I’m quite sure,” he said firmly, “that Carly will be just fine. She’s a big girl and has been supporting herself and Frank for a long time. Let’s just have a nice dinner, okay? Russ’s birthday, remember?”

  My mom closed her mouth, but it was clear to me that she still had a lot to say. My dad had been slipping Carly money since Frank was born, and we all knew it. But talking about it wasn’t going to change things.

  It was after I’d opened the presents (a lot of gift cards, clothes from Mom, and a stack of comic books from Frank) and we’d eaten cake that the doorbell rang. My mother, who was clearing plates from the table said, “Russ, why don’t you get that?” She and Dad exchanged a sly look that told me they were in on something. I raised my eyebrows questioningly at Carly who shrugged. Whatever was going on, she wasn’t part of it.

  My dad diplomatically herded Frank up to my room to play games. Frank bounded up the stairs eager to decimate his grandfather. This was the one area where Frank could come out ahead against my dad. He was so happy to have one-on-one time that he didn’t even seem to realize that he was being banished upstairs to get him out of the way.

  One minute later, Mallory, her mother, Jameson and his dad stood in my front entryway as if they'd been invited, which I guess they were. Mallory threw her arms around me and then wished me a happy birthday. "What's going on?" I asked her.

  "Haven’t a clue," she whispered. "My mom just said we had to come over to your house." All four parents exchanged pleasantries about the weather as if this were a normal social occasion. My mom directed everyone to sit in the living room and when I asked what was up, she answered with a mysterious, "Just wait. You'll see."

  And then it hit me. This was the meeting Nadia had mentioned, the one she wouldn't be able to attend. Something about this said Praetorian Guard to me. Carly had a stricken look on her face, making me think she'd figured out the same thing. She opened her mouth and I knew she was just about to question my mom when the doorbell rang again. "Carly?" Mom said. "Would you lend a hand and get that?"

  I could tell Carly's heart wasn't in it, but she did as asked, and when she returned she was accompanied by two men I’d never seen before. Following in their wake was Rosie, everyone's favorite from the local diner. The men in their dark pants, white dress shirts, and diagonal-striped ties were a little overdressed for a teenager’s birthday party, but they were perfectly attired for a Praetorian Guard convention. One of them held onto the handle of a large leather case almost as big as a card table. I held my breath and looked at Carly, whose stony expression told me she was clearly thinking the same thing. “Happy birthday, Russ!” Rosie said with a wide smile. “Sixteen, huh? What a great age. Enjoy it, the years go by fast.”

  “Thanks,” I said, looking at the two men expectantly. Everyone in the room was quiet until Jameson stood up and extended his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “Will Patterson,” said the first man, the younger of the two. “Mitch Gilbert,” said the other one. Each one had the good looks of a film actor, but there was nothing distinctive about either of them. If they left the room and I had to describe them I’d have to say one was a white guy and the other one was African American. They were both clean-cut, of average height and build. And that would be it. Nothing stood out.

  Jameson was a pro at this, giving his name and then introducing his father. Everybody except Carly joined in the round of introductions and then my mother, unable to contain herself any longer, blurted out, “This is a big surprise for all of you kids. Wait until you hear. You’re going to be so excited.” She gestured for Rosie to sit down, and then joined her on the couch. “Okay guys, take it away.”

  Mitch and Will stood across from the rest of us and set to work as if they’d done this dozens of times. The black leather case held a collapsible stand and a screen almost as big as our television. When everything was in place, the two men stood on either side of the screen with self-satisfied smiles on their faces. Their expressions reminded me of the guys who sell the specialty knives in the tent at the State Fair—the knives that can slice through anything. A person could get so caught up in the hype that they’d wind up buying a knife like that and be all the way home before they realized they’d probably never have a need to slice through tin cans.

  “First of all,” Mitch said, “we want to thank all of you for gathering here today. We appreciate your time and attention.”

  “And happy birthday to Russ, too,” Will added with a nod of his head.

  “Yes, happy birthday, Russ! Turning sixteen, that’s awesome. I predict you’re going to have a memorable year,” Mitch said, grinning broadly in my direction. “Now to get down to business. I’d like to start by saying we represent the National High School Student Initiative, one of the most prestigious organizations in the United States. We’ve been in existence for decades honoring top students and giving them very special opportunities, the kind few young people ever get to experience. If you’d bear with us for a few minutes, we’d like to show you a short video.”

  Will leaned over and adjusted something on a remote and the room filled with the sounds of a choir singing God Bless America. A second later, the screen displayed an American flag. From there, the video launched into the history of the NHSSI, followed by explanations of the service projects and internships they’d sponsored as well as scholarships they’d funded. We were told that high school students associated with the organization went on to be awarded full-ride scholarships to prominent schools. Names like Harvard and Princeton were mixed in with names of universities located overseas. Former high school students who had benefitted from the organization included senators, esteemed scientists, Supreme Court Justices, famed mathematicians, New York Times bestselling authors, and one Pulitzer Prize Winner.

  Various scenes of kids who appeared to be about our age flashed on the screen. All of them were good-looking and self-assured. No lack of confiden
ce here. According to this clip, these teenagers helped to engineer and install water purification systems in Guatemala, tutored disadvantaged kids in Chicago, and assisted researchers doing important work in top secret medical facilities. They learned to program software for NASA, and joined expeditions working to recover sunken ships. In short, there was nothing these kids couldn’t do.

  Across the room, my mother leaned forward in her seat, eyes shining with excitement. In contrast, Carly, leaning back with crossed arms, couldn’t have looked less enthused. The look on her face was like she’d just bitten into something nasty.

  When the video was over, Mitch switched off the power and turned to face us. “What does this have to do with the three of you?” he asked, flashing a cheesy grin. “Well, I’ll tell you. The kids you saw in the video, the ones who were chosen to take part in these incredible opportunities and then went on to be awarded full-ride scholarships? Soon, the three of you will be joining their ranks.”

  I could tell from everybody’s stunned expressions that Mom was the only one who knew this was coming. She leaned forward and beamed at the other parents. “Can you believe it? Aren’t you proud of our kids?”

  Mitch continued. “Yes, I’m talking about you, Mallory, Russ, and Jameson. The NHSSI has been very impressed with your test scores, grades, and performance at the Miami academic decathlon. We only select students who test well enough to be considered geniuses, and the three of you are no exception. I extend my personal congratulations to all of you. Being chosen is a great honor and believe me when I say it’s an honor for me to give you this good news. I’m proud to be able to say I know you.”

  There was a moment of silence before Mallory said, “What does this mean for us, exactly?”

  Mitch rubbed his hands together. "I'm so glad you asked, Mallory! As a member of our organization, you'll be invited to participate in exciting projects geared for your specific talents and strengths. Besides the wonderful experiences you’ll have, you'll also gain valuable contacts. Your mentors will be instrumental in writing recommendations for your college applications and the scholarships you'll be receiving."

  "That's it?" Jameson said. “We don’t get a pony or anything?”

  Will didn't seem to catch Jameson's sarcasm. "I like to think of it as a chain of success, Jameson. People often think that those who achieve great things get there through hard work and talent, but that's not entirely true. Connections are essential for becoming successful, and we're giving you a chance to connect in a big way."

  Mitch said, “We’re excited to tell you, Russ, Mallory, and Jameson, that the three of you have been chosen to spend five days in Washington D.C. as student ambassadors. The program we have set up is very much like the internships that university students participate in. You’ll have access to areas not open to the public and get a real feel for how our federal government is run. I think you’ll find this to be the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “One of the functions you’ll be attending will be the Presidential Black Tie Bash,” Will said. His wide smile easily matched Mitch’s. They were the perfect salesmen to give this pitch.

  Mallory’s hand flew over her mouth. “The Presidential Bash?” She couldn’t contain her excitement. “We’ll get to go?”

  “So you’ve heard of it?” Mitch teased.

  Duh. Everyone knew about the Presidential Black Tie Bash. It was like the Academy Awards of the White House. Only four hundred or so people were invited, which made it large enough to be exciting, but small enough to be exclusive. All the biggest celebrities went, as well as the most important people in government and business, and even though security was tight, the celebrity shows always had footage of the guests coming and going from the event.

  “Of course I’ve heard of it!” Mallory said, grinning. “Last year I heard that Kyle Sternhagen got totally drunk and was dancing on top of the bar.” In middle school all the girls watched a cable show starring Kyle Sternhagen and they talked about him all the time. Personally, I never saw it, but I wasn’t the show’s target audience.

  Mitch continued. “As usual, the Bash will also be a celebration of the president’s daughter’s birthday. As you may know, Layla will turn nineteen this year.”

  Mallory’s eyes lit up and her hand shot up. “Are we going to get to meet Layla?” she asked.

  Layla Bernstein was as skinny as a model, and known for her clothes, which were all designer this and one-of-a-kind that. Two years ago, there was some kind of big ruckus about her nose. All of the magazines had before and after photos, saying she’d had a nose job. For weeks, the gossip magazines went on and on about it, printing unofficial statements from “a good friend who would like to remain anonymous,” saying that Layla had hated her nose and the surgery was a birthday present from her parents. The official statement from the White House was that she’d had surgery for a medical condition—a deviated septum.

  The clothes and the nose. That’s basically all I knew about Layla Bernstein, although there were girls in my school who knew every detail of the girl’s life. Some thought she was stuck-up, even though she was often photographed visiting kids in hospitals and doing other charity work that involved smiling and accepting bouquets of flowers. Me, I didn’t have an opinion one way or the other. Layla Bernstein’s world might as well be Planet Neptune for all it had to do with me.

  “Yes, you will meet Layla,” Will said. “In fact, all three of you will be sitting with her as her personal guests.”

  “Isn’t this incredible?” my mother said, looking around the room. “What an opportunity!” Mallory looked like she was ready to pack now, and even Jameson looked impressed.

  “So, what do you think?” Mitch asked. “Is everyone on board?”

  Jameson's father stood up and crossed his arms. He hadn't said much since arriving at my house, but I saw now that the guy didn't need to say much. He was as tall as Jameson but his shoulders were twice as wide. The man was a presence. "What commitment is required on our end? Will there be some kind of fee involved?"

  "No sir," Mitch said. "No financial commitment is required from the families. We'd be honored to have your son involved in our program at no cost to you."

  Knowing he didn’t have to pay for it seemed to be enough for Jameson’s dad. He nodded and sat back down.

  “So who does pay for all this?” Mrs. Nassif put a protective arm around Mallory’s shoulder. “The money has to come from somewhere.”

  “Our programs are completely funded by private donations. Many of our donors are past recipients who simply want to pay it forward.”

  “So am I right in assuming the kids would miss out on a week of school?” Mrs. Nassif asked. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “I can assure you they won’t have to make up any work. We have an understanding with your daughter’s school. Both she and Russ will receive A’s for all the assigned work and tests given during their absence. The school agrees with us that this trip will be far more educational than any classroom work ever could be. Sitting at a desk listening to a lecture just can’t compare to real life experience.” Will said this with a knowing smile.

  “Remember, your achievements reflect well on your school too,” Mitch added. “They’re happy to help make this happen for you. It’s a point of pride for them.”

  “I’m homeschooled,” Jameson observed. “Can I just give myself A’s too?”

  “If you’d like,” Mitch said, smiling. These guys really didn’t get Jameson’s sarcasm. “What the heck. Give yourself an A plus if you want. You deserve it.”

  “Maybe I’ll make it A plus plus,” Jameson said. “Why not? I deserve it.”

  My mom got up off the couch with an excited little leap. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I think this is an excellent opportunity for our kids. I know that I’m very proud of Russ. In my opinion he was always in the top one percent, but it’s nice to hear that other people see it too.”

  Through all of this I kept sneaking glances at
my sister Carly. When the guys first started talking she just looked wary, and then her expression evolved from wary to outright irritation. Now she looked like an explosion waiting to happen. Her face had that pissed off look that I remembered from her fights with my parents years ago. As a little kid I used to hide in my room at the first signs of trouble. I hadn’t seen her like this in years, but I could tell she was right on the edge of losing it.

  “Let me get this straight,” she said, her tone icy. “You match these genius students with the right projects based on their specific talents and strengths, is that right?”

  Mitch gave her a forced smile, while Will found something fascinating to look at down by his toes. Mitch said, “That’s correct.”

  “So can I assume that since all three of them are going to be taking the same trip—” She pointed at Mallory, Jameson, and me. “—that all of them have the same talents and strengths?”

  He cleared his throat. “That’s right.”

  “And what would those talents and strengths be?”

  My mother said hurriedly, “Carly, I think you’re putting these gentlemen on the spot. There’s no need to be rude.”

  “No, it’s okay, Mrs. Becker,” Mitch assured my mother. “We welcome questions.” He took a step closer to Carly. “In this case, all three of these students demonstrated talents for quick thinking, logic skills, and discretion. The last one is imperative for this project because they may be working near classified material and we need to know that they can be trusted not to divulge private information.”

  Now Carly was the one moving closer. “So you can trust them, but can we trust you? Can you guarantee their safety? After your five days, will my brother come home exactly the same person he is now?” Everyone in the room felt her anger. To the parents it must have seemed kind of random.

  I had almost forgotten Rosie was in the room until she spoke up. “I know where you’re coming from, Carly, I really do. It’s always a concern when loved ones are away, particularly when we’re talking about teenagers. The world can be a scary place. But I promise you, all three of these young people will be surrounded by security at all times. And I myself will be serving as a chaperone for this trip. I give you my personal guarantee that Russ will be safe.”