Mr. Jorgenson glanced up to find Team Liberty hovering outside his doorway. “Listen. I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone, and his face took on a neutral expression. “Welcome back.”
“Is everything okay? We couldn’t help but overhear some of your conversation,” Annabelle said.
Mr. Jorgenson closed a bunch of windows on his computer. “Nothing that you need to worry about.”
Whatever’s going on, he doesn’t want us to know about it.
“We just wanted to fill you in about our progress today.” Annabelle explained about their run-in with Team Mischief in the Liberty Science Center.
Mr. Jorgenson frowned. “Raphael, how are your eyes?”
“Much better, thanks.”
“I want you to go straight to see the school nurse now,” Mr. Jorgenson instructed.
“Oh, I’m sure I don’t need a nurse. I’m all better,” Raphael protested.
Mr. Jorgenson pointed toward his door. “It’s better to err on the side of caution.”
Even though John had been at St. Michael’s for only a few days, he knew Mr. Jorgenson emphasized safety. He reminded him of his grandpa, who liked to use old sayings like “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”
Annabelle finished their meeting by summing up the rest of their day. “Tomorrow we’ll go bright and early to the Statue of Liberty.”
* * * *
After dinner, Aunt Martha, Mr. Dusty, and John sat on the front porch and gazed up at the stars. Mr. Dusty pointed out a few of his favorite constellations.
John’s thoughts drifted from the stars to his family. My parents are so far away they might as well be on the moon. Ranger too, for that matter.
Aunt Martha handed John a pair of binoculars. “Any word from Grandma? Hopefully, you’ll be able to talk to your parents tomorrow.”
Suddenly all John’s worries about Ranger that he’d kept bottled up inside burst out like soda after you shake the can. “What if Ranger’s really sick? What if he doesn’t get better? What will I do?”
“Well, tonight we’ll say a prayer, and we’ll see what tomorrow brings,” Aunt Martha said, patting his shoulder. “Now, it’s time for bed if you’re going to be getting up early tomorrow.”
Mr. Dusty winked. “Quite a few stairs up to the top of the Statue of Liberty, as I recall.”
CHAPTER 12
The next morning, John experienced an odd jolt when he stepped through the mirror portal into the hallway of St. Michael’s. He didn’t have time to dwell on it because Raphael stepped through right behind him.
“Morning,” John said.
Raphael turned pale. “Oh, hi. Have you seen Mr. Jorgenson anywhere?”
“No, but I just got here.” John studied his friend more closely. His normally neat-looking hair stood up at odd angles, and his shirt was untucked. Could his backpack be vibrating? A low whining noise came from behind him. Raphael tried to cover it up with a loud cough.
John raised his eyebrows. “Is Mr. Gibbons in your backpack?”
Raphael looked crestfallen. “How did you figure it out?”
“Just a lucky guess. What are you planning on doing with him?” John asked.
Raphael fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. “Somehow, he must have followed me here through our portal. Now that he’s here, I’m hoping he can go with us. You know, be a part of our team.”
“Oh.” John wasn’t sure what to say. He found it hard to imagine sneaking Mr. Gibbons anywhere. Especially into the Statue of Liberty. He figured Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston would most certainly frown on all this “monkey business.”
Raphael’s face grew pale. “What am I going to do? Can you think of anything?”
John recalled how Raphael had stood by him when Mr. Jorgenson wanted to throw him out of St. Michael’s. He decided to try his best to return the favor. “I saw a baby carrier with a doll in it in the supply closet. Maybe we could use the doll clothes and carrier to disguise him.”
“Great idea. I’m pretty sure I have the key to that closet.” Raphael fished around in the cargo pocket of his shorts before triumphantly pulling out a small gold key. “Let’s hurry.” He grabbed John’s arm and pulled him down the hallway in the direction of the closet. When they reached it, he looked left and right before unlocking it and pulling John in behind him.
“Quick! Shut the door behind you.” He rummaged through the rear shelves before holding up a lifelike baby boy doll strapped into a carrier.
“Yeah, that’s the one I saw the other day.” John knew all about baby carriers because of his little brother. His mom had sometimes used one to carry Wyatt around their house. “You can wear this kind in front of you or behind you.” He unbuckled the doll from the carrier and began removing his outfit, including onesie, bonnet, and booties. He handed them to Raphael.
Raphael lifted Mr. Gibbons out of his backpack and pulled his thumb out of his mouth. “Remember, no more thumb-sucking.”
The monkey screeched.
“Shhh,” Raphael scolded him. “We better hurry and get him dressed.”
John tried to put on one of the booties, but Mr. Gibbons bit his thumb. “Ouch.” He took a step backward.
“Oh, he only does that if he likes you,” Raphael said, snapping the buttons on the onesie.
John doubted that but nodded.
“Does he look like a real baby?” Raphael asked.
“Um, here.” John held up a pacifier. “This should help.”
Mr. Gibbons grabbed the pacifier and shoved it into his mouth.
When Raphael put the bonnet on Mr. Gibbons, the monkey yanked it off.
“Keep that on,” Raphael chided.
John had doubts about the disguise. “Hopefully, no one will look too closely.”
Raphael tucked both Mr. Gibbons and the baby carrier inside his backpack. “It’ll have to do. Luckily, my backpack is extra large and has air vents. I’ll take him out when we get to New York. There’s no way I’m fooling anyone here with this outfit, since Mr. Jorgenson and a bunch of the kids know him.”
They signed in at the main office and picked up their radios and cell phones from the dispatch center.
“Let’s head straight back to the portal. I bet Annabelle’s already there. I know she wants to get an early start,” Raphael said.
As they approached the mirror portal, John noted a large group of students milling around. He spotted Peter Zimmerman, the boy who had embarrassed him yesterday morning, and made a mental note to stay as far away from him as possible. Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston stood close to the portal with Burt perched on her left shoulder.
Mr. Gibbons burped and then farted loudly.
“Excuse me,” Raphael said, his face turning a bright shade of red. “It must have been something I ate.”
“Oh man, Perez,” Peter said. “Tone it down a notch, dude. What’d you eat for breakfast? Beans?”
A few of the other students chuckled. Raphael moved away, aiming for the area near the wall. His backpack got close to Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston, and Burt began flapping his wings. “Go away! Go away!”
Peter chuckled. “Even the parrot thinks you smell.”
“That’s quite enough, Mr. Zimmerman,” Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston reprimanded him. “I’m quite sure Raphael will get his bowel issues straightened out soon enough.”
Mr. Gibbons belched.
“Yes, thank you. I will. Excuse me,” Raphael said, looking mortified.
“Let’s say a brief prayer, and then it’s time for your teams to take off.” Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston bowed her head. “Dear Lord, please keep our students safe in their efforts to serve You and our great country. Amen.”
“Amen,” the students echoed.
“I can’t wait to get started. John, why don’t you lead the way?” Annabelle pushed him gently toward the mirror.
John hesitated. Just a few days ago, he fell out of the mirror onto his hands and knees. He really wanted to do this right. Make Ann
abelle proud. Show Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston and the other kids that he really did belong here. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped into the mirror. But instead of gliding through it, he bounced off. He glanced around, but fortunately no one appeared to notice his mistake. He took a deep breath. I must not have stepped forward forcefully enough. This time, he took a quick step forward and thrust himself against his own reflection. His shoulder slammed against the mirror so hard he bounced backward and landed square on his bottom. His face hot, he scrambled to his feet.
Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston frowned. “John, surely by now you know how to step into a portal?”
Peter snickered. “He’s your secret weapon, all right. If he’s with you, no one will ever suspect any of you are part of St. Michael’s.”
“Peter, that’s enough. Why don’t you please show John how it’s done.” Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston stroked Burt’s head.
“Show how it’s done! Show how it’s done!” Burt echoed her.
Peter smiled.
John gritted his teeth, wishing this moment would end. He wasn’t even sure what he did wrong when he tried to enter the portal.
Although Team Liberty, Team Freedom, Team Truth, and Team Justice went to the same school and sometimes even worked together on projects, they also had a friendly competition with one another.
“It’s time for us to stop waiting for Team Liberty to get their act together. We have a job to do,” Peter said. He threw his shoulders back and sailed toward the mirror.
Thwack! Peter struck his forehead hard against the mirror.
“Hey! Something’s wrong with this thing.” He rubbed his forehead, where a large red bump sprouted just above his right eyebrow.
The heaviness in John’s heart lifted. It’s not my fault after all. Something must be wrong with the portal.
The hallway buzzed with voices, everyone chattering at once.
“Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston, what’s happening?” Annabelle reached out and touched the mirror.
John thought he saw a worried expression flash across Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston’s face. He suddenly recalled yesterday, when they were outside Mr. Jorgenson’s office and overhead him talking about a possible security breach. Is this somehow related?
Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston ignored their questions. “In cases such as this, when we experience a malfunction, I have a backup system. Everyone, please follow me.” She marched toward her office.
John scrambled to keep up. I wonder what her plan is. How will she get us to the Statue of Liberty? He didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston pulled a brass key from her suit pocket, inserted it into the knob, and swung open the door. “Team Liberty, you may come in. The rest of you wait out in the hallway. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
Filled with curiosity, John studied her office. A heavy walnut desk stood in the center, neat stacks of books and paperwork covering much of it. The large window overlooked the front yard, and a plush forest-green rug covered much of the floor.
Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston lifted a large glass vase brimming with colorful flowers from her bookshelf. She pulled out the plastic flowers and tossed them on her desk. “Fortunately, there’s another way we can get you there.” She grabbed a water bottle and poured several inches into the vase. She tapped it three times and said softly, “To the Statue of Liberty.”
She placed the vase on the floor, directly in front of John’s feet. Instinctively, he took a step backward.
“Not so fast, Mr. Jenkins. You’ll go first. It’s best to have the more experienced students behind you, in case something goes wrong. That way, perhaps they can help you. Now, all you need to do is dive in.” Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston pointed to the vase.
He stared at her. “I’m sorry. You want me to what?” He thought she just told him to dive in. He didn’t want to seem rude by pointing out that his head was much bigger than the opening of the vase. She should be able to figure that much out on her own.
Mrs. Waldorf-Ellingston folded her arms. “I said to dive into the vase.”
So I didn’t mishear her. He took another step back and glanced at Annabelle, Raphael, and Shaniqua, willing them to somehow help him. Annabelle gently shoved him forward, closer to the vase.
“Sounds easy enough,” she said.
“We don’t have all day, Mr. Jenkins. Slip on your backpack and dive.” Her eyebrows rose as she pointed toward the vase.
“All day! All day!” Burt chanted, bobbing his head.
What will Aunt Martha think when I get sent home with forehead stitches from the broken glass? Maybe I’ll even get a concussion. John took a deep breath. He swung his arms high up in the air over his head, closed his eyes, and imagined diving into Aunt Martha’s pool.
He fully expected to whack his head and hear the sound of shattering glass. Instead, he became squished, squished, squished and then stretched, stretched, stretched like a rubber band as his body got sucked into the vase.
Suddenly, he plunged headfirst down a dark waterslide. Next the tunnel veered to the left and then to the right. He entered a corkscrew that sent him spiraling so fast he lost all sense of direction. Just when John couldn’t take it for one more second, he shot out of the dark tunnel and landed with a splash in a large tub of warm, soapy water.
CHAPTER 13
John glanced around. Stacks of dirty dishes that smelled like maple syrup surrounded him. What in the world is happening? His body changed from long and skinny enough to fit through the top of the vase back to his normal size. I feel like I’m exploding from the inside out. As he changed shape, his body sprang upward out of the sink as if propelled by a coil spring of a car’s suspension system. He sucked in his breath, but then it rushed out as he landed with a thud on a red tile floor.
Where am I? He shivered.
In the distance, he could hear voices. Not wishing to be seen, he crawled behind the sink.
Splash! A drenched Shaniqua popped out of the sink and landed on the floor, followed by Annabelle and then Raphael.
John peered around the corner at Raphael. He wore his backpack in front of him instead of behind him. He figured he must have done that so that he could keep a better grip on it on the trip here. I wonder if Mr. Gibbons is okay in there.
“I feel soapy. I wish there was a way to rinse off,” Shaniqua said.
“Do I have any old food sticking to me?” Raphael ran his hands over the top of his head. He pulled something long and brown out of his ear.
“Ear wax?” John suppressed a shudder.
Raphael sniffed it. “Bacon. But I’m not going to eat it.”
“Ewww, I certainly hope not,” Shaniqua said. “What a way to travel. But at least it got us here.”
Annabelle wrung water from her braids. “True. The Statue of Liberty has a couple of eating places. We must be in the kitchen of one of them. I hope nothing went wrong and that we’re really at the Statue of Liberty. I guess we better go outside and find out.” She paused and stared at Raphael. “Why is your backpack on backwards? I mean, why is it on your stomach and not your back? Didn’t you have enough time to put in on the right way?”
“Oh, it wasn’t that, exactly,” Raphael said. John could tell he must not have told the others yet about having his monkey with him.
“Your backpack is moving like it’s alive,” Shaniqua observed. “How are you doing that?”
Raphael stared at the backpack. “Oh, yes. I think I can explain…”
A door opened and closed in the next room.
“Someone’s coming. You can tell us about your backpack later. Let’s get out of here,” Shaniqua whispered.
“I see an exit over there. Keep low.” Annabelle crawled toward the exit, careful to keep lower than the countertops to avoid being spotted. Shaniqua and Raphael followed, and John went last. Raphael paused at one point to put on the baby carrier and place Mr. Gibbons inside it.
They slipped undetected out a rear cafeteria exit.
“Wow, we’re
in the right place. I can see the statue,” John said.
“Thank goodness. Now we need to find that locker. What number is it?” Annabelle asked.
John replied, “231. But I’m not sure where they are.”
Mr. Gibbons’s head popped out of the baby carrier, baby bonnet and all.
Annabelle startled and tripped on a tree root. “What in the world is Mr. Gibbons doing here?”
“He sneaked to the school with me. I didn’t want to take him back home, so I decided to disguise him.”
“He’s one funny-looking baby,” Shaniqua said. “No offense, Mr. Gibbons.”
Mr. Gibbons sucked his thumb.
“Well, on second thought, he does kind of look like a baby,” she said.
“Raphael, we could get in big trouble for this if Mr. Jorgenson finds out. And what if he gets in the way? You should have left him at the school,” Annabelle said.
Mr. Gibbons covered his eyes with his left hand, as if to start a game of peekaboo. “I’m hoping maybe he can help us somehow. You know, be a part of our team.”
“I don’t know,” Shaniqua said. “He always seems to be getting into trouble.”
Annabelle frowned. “Well, there’s not much we can do about it now. We’ll just have to take him with us. There are no pets allowed on the island, so we’ll have to keep pretending he’s a baby.”
Raphael let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, guys. You won’t regret it.”
Annabelle reached over to stroke Mr. Gibbons’s head. He nipped her finger.
“Little monkey, you’re incorrigible. And if you don’t know what that means, look it up in a dictionary.” Even though she scolded him, she smiled. “Okay, let’s get back on track. I would assume the lockers are at the entrance area of the statue.”
They crossed a grassy area and then a red-paved promenade bustling with people. The walkway led to a glass building with a “Welcome—Statue Entrance” sign. Underneath was a smaller sign: “Crown & Pedestal Ticket Holders.” He swung open a glass door that led into a knickknack-filled gift shop. His stomach growled. I wonder if they have any snacks in here. But the clock is ticking. No time right now anyway. He slipped by a tall stack of Statue of Liberty models ranging in size from tiny to several feet tall and passed into an area lined with cream-colored lockers marked with black informational stickers. “It looks like number 231 is part of rental station 2.”
Saving the Statue of Liberty Page 6