“Let’s have a look.” He pulled my hand up to his face, my cell phone facing him. “Six oh eight,” he huffed.
We looked around the parking lot, but there was no sign of Mark whatsoever. Maybe he got cold feet. It was a lot to ask of him—bringing us with him to visit his mother who he hadn’t spoken to in months. But he did kind of owe us. If we hadn’t broken into Nova Power Corporation to find him last summer, then who knows what else his mother had in store for him. I shivered at the thought of needles, test tubes, and cold, sterile rooms with chilly, metal tables and even colder metal chairs.
“Hey. There he is,” Logan said, pointing above my head. I spun around to see a slouching Mark Masters walking down a hill.
“It’s really cool of him to do this,” I said.
Logan scratched the back of his head. “I hope it works.” Mark caught up to us. “Thanks again, man,” Logan said, shaking Mark’s hand. I giggled inside at his formality.
Mark stepped toward the prison entrance and then suddenly stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked.
Mark took a few steps backward. “I’m not really sure this is a good idea,” he said, shaking his head.
Sadness swept over Logan’s face. Mark was our only lead, even if a small one, to finding out what exactly happened to Logan’s parents. We had to get in.
“Mark,” I spoke cautiously, “we just need to see her for a few minutes. No more.” I smiled. “Promise.” I made the cross-my-heart motion with my finger.
I’m more afraid for me, Mark thought in return, his scared eyes meeting mine. Mark hadn’t been into the prison—not even once—to visit his mother. This poor boy had been through so much already; was this worth bringing back all those memories for him?
“It’s okay,” Logan said. I could tell by the pitch of his voice that he was disappointed. “We don’t have to go.”
Mark puffed out his chest, suddenly determined. “This is something I have to do,” he sighed. “I’m just glad I have you two coming along with me.”
Ugh. Poor Mark. In the past, I had been one of the many people to call Mark the nose-picking king of Nova (I kind of called him that earlier today), and I had at some points made fun of his … um … habit. What he was about to do—bring Logan and me with him into Nova Power Prison—that was something you did for true friends. Maybe Mark considered us his friends, which was nice considering I had been less than friendly to him in the past.
I smiled, watching Mark’s back as he walked up the steps and opened the front metal door. Logan locked eyes with mine and swallowed so hard I could see a part of his neck push out.
“This is a good thing,” I whispered to him, grabbed his hand, and squeezed.
The metal door clanked behind us as we walked into the prison. There was no turning back now.
Chapter Three
I had never before stepped foot in a prison, so all I knew about them was what I saw on re-runs of my dad’s favorite old-person show, Law and Order. Because it’s a television show, the scene in a jail typically takes place in some sort of visitation room where the inmate sits on one side of a thick plastic window, telephone in hand, while the visitor sits on the other. Then a conversation happens—a conversation that typically ends with a loud buzzer sounding the end of visitation time, one of the two people slamming down the phone and stomping away, or a person breaking down in tears and running away.
That’s what I imagined as the solid metal door shut behind us. But I saw none of those three things … not at first, at least.
There was, however, a low buzzing as we entered the waiting area.
A tiny woman with a pointy nose and glasses sat at a desk off to the left. “Name?” she asked without an ounce of emotion.
Mark stepped forward. “I … uh … ” he stuttered and looked back at me. I nodded once, urging him to go on.
“I’m here to see my mother. Mark Masters is my name.”
The lady looked up from her computer. “Hmm.” She eyed Mark from the top of his brown hair all the way down to his untied right sneaker. “She’s been asking about you,” the woman stated with pursed lips.
Mark swallowed. “What about?”
“Just wondering when—” The woman cleared her throat. “If you’d be visiting.” She opened her top desk drawer. “Your sister has been in a few times.”
As the woman shuffled through the top drawer of her desk, I read the nametag on her left shoulder—Martha. Martha pushed a clipboard with a pen attached across her large, wooden desk, then pointed to the first row of a black chart in the middle of the paper. “Name goes here, then date, and then time in.” She adjusted her glasses up to the bridge of her nose and snorted. “Now if any of you are weekdays, don’t even think about trying anything sneaky or weekday-ey.”
I gave Logan the side eye while Mark scribbled his information down.
“And that’s where you’ll write the time out,” Martha added, pointing to the last column.
Mark stepped back while the woman typed the information into her computer.
“Hey,” I whispered, gesturing for Logan to come here. “Look who’s visited somebody in Nova Power Prison.” I pointed to a name seven lines up.
“Mr. Salmon? That’s so weird.”
“And then who do we have here?” Martha asked, snatching the clipboard from my hands. She glanced down to where I’d written my information. “Hmph,” she muttered. She looked up, gave me a once over, and then her eyes lingered a little longer on Logan.
She’s a bit odd, Logan thought to me.
I knew she couldn’t possibly read our minds. Everyone in Nova knows only powerless weekends can work at a place like the prison. Less chance of getting in trouble using powers that way. I guess there was a place for weekends, after all. In fact, I’d imagine that Martha’s job was a much-sought-after one.
After Martha gave a final satisfied grunt, she reached under the table and pushed something. I assumed it was a button that alerted the prison guards of guests’ arrival, because not five seconds after that action, a man wearing a security uniform with a gun strapped to his side burst through the door behind us.
Martha stood up from her seat and introduced us to the man. “This is Officer Mucklebee. He’ll take you to the back,” she said through a squint.
Mark walked in front of us, his eyes on the ground, while the man escorted us to a smaller room where he directed us to take off our shoes and jackets. “And now remove all items from your pockets.” I grabbed my phone from my back pocket and set it in a gray bin labeled Prisoner #23. Mark and Logan did the same.
Officer Mucklebee explained that we had exactly ten minutes to visit with Mayor Masters. A bell would signal the end of our allotted visiting time. “Now, I need to give you a warning about something,” he said, his voice becoming more serious than it already was—if that was even possible. “She probably will seem a bit … well … a bit different than you remember her,” he spoke cautiously.
“What do you mean?” Mark asked what we all thought.
“Due to the potential breach of security using weekday powers, the inmates here must be sedated.” The man looked intently on Mark. “You understand, I’m sure.”
“Sure,” Mark repeated quietly as his eyes searched mine.
I reassured him. “It’s okay,” I mouthed.
I guess that made sense. A Tuesday could simply teleport out of here. A Monday could propel all sorts of objects across the room. Heck, a disappearing Friday could wreak all sorts of havoc with their weekday power. A little bit of sedation would go a long way for a person with weekday powers.
“Now, right through here.” Officer Mucklebee placed a key inside the keyhole—nothing high-tech a Wednesday could mess with. With a slight twist of his wrist, the door unlocked. As the door swung open, I noticed only three things. A table, a chair, and a person whose back was toward us.
“Mom?” Mark asked, but he barely choked out the w
ord. “Mmm … Mom? It’s Mark.”
The woman in the chair tilted her head slightly to the left, but she didn’t turn around.
“You may stand over there.” The officer gestured toward the other side of a long metal table. “And I will be right over here,” he said, stepping to the side. “Ten minutes,” he reminded us firmly as he took his place in the corner of the room.
“Mom,” Mark said again. “It’s your son.”
Mayor Masters didn’t look at all like the Mayor Masters we’d known. In fact, she seemed just as out of it as Mark was when we found him over the summer. Her hair was a matted mess of knots, and the already skinny Mayor Masters appeared to have lost even more weight—all skin and bones from her black shoes to the top of her orange jumpsuit.
I glanced over at Mark to see some tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. Maybe this would end like I’d seen in television, after all.
Mayor Masters sighed heavily and continued to stare straight ahead. Mark stepped closer to her and tried again. “Mom?” This time he touched her shoulder. Mayor Masters didn’t even flinch; she just looked ahead with eyes glazed over, the blacks of her pupils taking up most of her eyes.
Logan’s face fell. This was one of the only chances he had to get information about his parents, and clearly Mayor Masters was in no condition to talk, let alone explain where Logan’s parents could have gone. That is, if she knew anything at all.
Whatever they used to sedate her was obviously strong. But how else were they to keep the weekdays from using their powers? Suddenly I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach as the reality of Nova and our powers hit me hard. Yes, having powers is cool, but with the abuse of power comes consequences—major consequences. Mayor Masters was living out those consequences in a jail cell. I should be happy to see her getting what she deserved, but I wasn’t sure if anyone deserved a life like this.
“I don’t think we’ll even need the ten minutes,” Mark whispered. He turned toward the door and brushed a few tears away with the back of his hand. “This was a bad idea to begin with.”
Just as we opened the bulletproof door to leave, a weak squeak of a voice came from behind.
I pivoted around.
“What, Mom?” Mark asked, rushing to his mother’s side.
She just looked up at her son. Although she didn’t speak anything aloud, I heard her thought. He’s back. Her eyes widened and then focused back on the floor.
“He’s back?” I whispered. She must have been talking about Mark finally visiting.
“Time’s up!” Officer Mucklebee commanded as the shrill sound of the exit bell dinged. He ushered us toward the door.
We left the room in silence, and then in even more silence we gathered our phones from the storage bin and left Nova Power Prison with no more information than when we arrived.
Chapter Four
The next day at school was basically a replay of yesterday. After our pop-quiz, which I totally aced, Mr. Salmon droned on and on about equations while his hair bounced up and down with each step. I wonder what business he had at Nova Power Prison?
Hope, Lauren, and Margo continued to be as annoying as ever, asking me and Ellie to show them our cusp weekday powers. Ugh. And it was only Tuesday. Three more days of their annoyingness until the weekend. Sometimes I wished the cusper secret never got out.
As much as everyone harassing us should serve as a distraction, I just couldn’t take my mind off Logan’s parents, poor Mark, and Mayor Masters’ condition. She seemed to know all of Nova’s secrets. The only hope for Logan.
“Well, I, for one, think it would be in everyone’s best interest to just let the whole thing go,” Ellie said, pulling her nail file from her pink purse. She sawed away, her habitual after-lunch routine. “I mean, you weren’t even supposed to see the note from your parents to begin with, right?” she asked Logan. “At least not for a few more years, anyway.”
Logan’s face turned a shade just under beet red, and I could practically see the steam pouring from his ears. That was not the smartest thing to say to him. “You can’t find out your parents are alive and then just act like you don’t know, Ellie!” he spat.
Not a good move, Ellie. She obviously read my mind because she placed her nail file back in her purse.
“I’m sorry, Logan. I … um … ” she hesitated and brushed a few pieces of hair from her shoulder. “I just wasn’t thinking.”
Logan’s face had lightened to a dark pink. “I know, Ellie. You don’t sometimes.”
Not a second after Logan said that, Veronica put her tray down next to me and took a seat. “You don’t what?” she asked innocently.
After an awkward look from Logan to Ellie to Sam (a look I hoped Veronica didn’t notice), I spoke. “She just doesn’t ever stop playing with that stupid nail file.” I pointed to the nail file that had magically reappeared between Ellie’s fingers once again. Best friend or not, Veronica was still getting used to the fact we all had cusp powers, so there was no need to disclose the information about Logan’s parents. Plus, that’s Logan’s secret to tell anyway. Ugh … I wished I could tell her everything.
“You will never guess what I heard this morning,” Veronica said. Her overly-dramatic nature was up there with Ellie, so I was actually surprised they weren’t friends before. I giggled inside. “Well,” she went on, “Principal Wobble-Wible was telling Madame Brumbaugh he’s considering allowing weekday power usage back in school on a trial basis.” Veronica smiled so hard, her teeth took up her entire face.
“No way!” Ellie practically shrieked. “Then I can move things and read minds whenever I want!”
“Don’t you do that already, Ellie?” Sam said, scooting closer to her. We all laughed together. One big group of friends.
“I wonder why he’s allowing it, though?” Logan asked.
“Probably because Mayor Masters is hidden away, so there’s no need to overly protect her nose-picking son,” Veronica said.
I cringed.
That comment was almost as bad as Ellie’s earlier one about Logan’s parents. Sure, Veronica didn’t know even half of what Mark went through, and she definitely didn’t know about Mayor Masters’ current state of mind, but she still loved calling Mark out on his habit. His former habit. The nose-picking had calmed down to not-doing-it-at-all status.
“Well, that would be great if what Principal Wible said was true,” I said, attempting to break the tension. Poor Veronica had no idea why it became so tense, and hopefully she wouldn’t ask.
I let out a sigh of relief when she started talking about our first essay assignment for English—summer adventures. Boy, did I sure have a story to tell.
After the last (and worst) class of the day, gym class, where we played a riveting game of table tennis, Logan, Sam, Ellie, and I met up at Logan’s house. His grandparents were on the other side of Nova for an afternoon of BINGO and card-playing with another completely powerless couple. Without powers though, I imagined their game of cards was a bit more fun. I mean, if you’re going to cheat, it’s pretty easy to do so with telepathic abilities. When I was a little kid, my Thursday mom always won. Family game nights were anything but fun.
Logan’s house was just as I expected—old. With a kitchen that looked straight out of the seventies and a hand-made quilt that hung from the living room wall, it reminded me of my grandparents’ house. I think it’s funny how most older people’s stuff smells the same—a musty aroma with a touch of floral-scented perfume and window cleaner.
Even though Logan and I spent a lot of time together over the summer, this was the first time I’d ever been inside his house. His grandparents were just really weird about Logan having guests. Well, not about any guests. Guests of the opposite gender, that is. Totally old school all the way.
“What’s the plan?” Sam asked, pulling a round metal watch attached to a long gold chain from his pocket. That clarinet-playing, cowboy hat-wearing, karate-chopping boy always su
rprised me. “Because I have thirty minutes until Mom says I have to be home.”
“Let’s look around here tonight, and if we don’t find anything, then I say we take some time to think about what we want to do next.”
Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “What if somebody is just messing with you?”
“Or what if it’s a trap?” Sam added.
“A trap for what?” Logan laughed. “And if someone was just messing with me, that would be pretty heartless.”
“Where did you find this note anyway?” Ellie asked.
Logan motioned us toward the living room. “After we got back from Power Academy this summer, I really wanted to understand more about the origin of the powers.”
“I’m still confused about the whole thing, too,” Sam interjected.
“I think we all are,” I added.
Logan nodded and continued. “I know both of my parents worked for Nova Power Corporation, so I was hoping they left something … anything … behind before they died—” Logan stopped and looked toward the floor. “Supposedly died,” he whispered.
We watched in silence as he moved across the living room, coming to a stop in front of a set of built-in shelves. His hand shook as he reached for an old book. The one he pulled down had a tattered cover that was bound in red leather. He handed the book to me. The Secret Town of Nova was etched into the front. The edges of the pages were an aged yellow, and some of the corners were torn. I noticed a slight smile escape from his lips as I flipped through the pages.
“It was in there,” Logan spoke quietly. “I just opened up the cover, and the envelope floated to the floor.” He pointed to the Oriental rug just beneath our feet. “The envelope said, ‘FOR LOGAN.’”
We all looked toward the floor as if the note landed below us right then and there.
“Why don’t you ask your grandparents about it?” Ellie asked, breaking the quiet.
Logan shook his head. “They are frail enough. It’s obviously intended for me. Plus, I’d bet they don’t even know it exists.”
Poppy Mayberry, a New Day Page 2