The Secret Box (14 page)

23
Jax

T
he Camels hadn't noticed us. We scooted behind the pillar, then watched from the shadows as they walked around to the front of the memorial.

“What are they doing here? We told them to meet us at the White House.” Ethan checked his phone. “It's nowhere near noon.”

“Juniper must have told them where to open the box,” I realized. “They came early to try to catch us off guard. But they're too late. Juniper's note said to protect the jar and that's what I'm going to do.”

Though I was scared to touch it, I picked up the jar. The heat sizzled my fingertips and I felt a surge of darkness. Everything around me changed as suspicion filled my mind. It was like putting a special-effects lens on a camera. No longer had the tourists come to see the Lincoln Memorial—they'd come to get my prize. They stared at me. They whispered to each other about how they'd steal it. Tyler and Ethan were sitting close enough to grab it. I wanted to run from everyone, get far away and protect it—

“Jax?” Ethan said. “Your face is turning red.”

I set the jar onto the sheet of bubble wrap. The minute I let it go, the lens was lifted and the dark thoughts disappeared. “Could you do it?” I told Ethan. “Could you rewrap it and set it into my backpack?” Ethan did. “Could you carry it?” I asked Tyler. Because for some reason, the jar didn't give him or Ethan the same dark feelings.

“Sure.” Tyler slid his arms through the straps.

I picked up the box. There was no way we could pretend that it hadn't been opened. The seam was visible, even with the lid closed. And the metal was cold, lifeless. This was going to be tricky.

I redid my ponytail, then took a deep breath. “Okay, here we go. Remember, don't act suspicious. Tell yourself that there's nothing inside the backpack. If you act like you're carrying something special, the Camels will notice.” Tyler nodded.

“Uh-oh.” Ethan's hand flew to his nose.

“Don't stress out,” I told him. “We can do this.” Ethan's hand trembled slightly. I was trembling, too, but doing a better job at hiding it. All those times I'd taken risks, all those times I'd broken rules—where was my confidence now? “We'll make the exchange on the steps, right in front of the security guards. The Camels wouldn't dare hurt any of us.” It sounded like a solid plan. What could go wrong?

How about
everything
?

We walked around to the front of the memorial and took our places on the wide steps. I stood in the middle, holding the box. Tyler stood on my left, gripping the backpack straps. Ethan stood on my right, pinching the bridge of his nose. The tourist crowd had doubled in size. Across the street, the Reflecting Pool sparkled as sunshine danced on its surface. A trio of street musicians played steel drums in the distance.

As visitors walked past, tugging on the arms of tired, hungry children, I felt like I was in some kind of movie. A few days ago I'd been celebrating my twelfth birthday, wondering what I was going to do all summer, and there I was, trying to protect a sizzling-hot jar that contained something dangerous and trying to save my great-aunt. Correction—
we
were trying to save her. I wasn't in this alone. My cousins were by my side, both of them. They could have abandoned me but hadn't. Often, when I stood next to them, that song from
Sesame Street
rang in my head—
One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong.
But at that moment I'd never felt more like a family and I might have hugged them if I hadn't been so freaked out.

The Lincoln Memorial towered behind us. I could feel the statue's presence, as if the huge, rugged face was watching over us, guarding our efforts. The Camels stood across the road at the end of the Reflecting Pool. They quickly spotted us. Mr. Camel held tight to Juniper's arm. I wondered why she didn't simply scream for help. Security guards were everywhere. Maybe Mr. Camel had a gun.

“Here we go,” Tyler said as Mrs. Camel began to walk toward us.

“I'm having second thoughts,” Ethan said, his voice cracking. “Maybe we should—”

“It's too late,” I told him, my legs suddenly feeling boneless. I hid the box behind my back.

While Juniper and Mr. Camel watched, Mrs. Camel hurried to the base of the stairway. She wore jeans and a billowy white shirt. Her eyes were accented by thick black liner. Bright red lipstick made it look as if she'd had blood for breakfast. She looked nothing like the old lady she'd pretended to be at the fruit stand. She walked up one step, then another and another until she was only two steps beneath us.

I struggled to find my voice. “How . . . how did you know where to find us?”

“Your aunt wisely decided that your life, Jacqueline Malone, was worth more than the box you hold behind your back. She told us that the Lincoln Memorial was the right spot.” She flared her nostrils. I understood why my great-aunt wasn't making a scene—she was worried the Camels still might hurt me. “You haven't opened it, have you? You're not trying to give me an empty box, are you?”

“Kidnapping is against the law,” I said, mustering every bit of courage I could find. “And I think the police would be very interested to know all about you and your fake passports.”

She flinched, then ran a hand over her short black hair. “You threaten me?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Give. Me. The. Box.” She sounded as cold as the metal itself. And the look in her eyes was fierce and hungry. She perched on the tips of her toes, ready to pounce like a jaguar and devour me whole.

“Not until you release my great-aunt,” I said, trying to hide the quaver in my voice.

She took another step, her fingers wiggling. “Give me the box, now!”

“Everything all right over here, folks?” A security guard moseyed toward us, his blue polyester pants too tight around his bulging thighs.

Mrs. Camel relaxed her hands. “Yes, certainly everything is fine. Just fine. Thank you very much.” She smiled sweetly at the guard. After he'd walked away, she narrowed her eyes at me. “Let me make this perfectly clear, in case you are thinking about double-crossing me. If I release your great-aunt, and you decide to keep the box, I will follow you home to Chatham. I will become
your
worst nightmare. Do you understand?”

There was no doubt in my mind that she was fully capable of becoming my worst nightmare. I was about to say, “yes, I understand” when Tyler pushed me aside, then stepped in front of me.

“Who do you think you are, threatening a twelve-year-old girl?” he asked, his temper flaring. “Because if you're threatening Jax, then you're threatening my family and I wouldn't do that if I were you. My best friend is Walker Ranson and his father is the Chatham chief of police. So intimidation isn't going to work with us. We made a deal. You release Juniper and you can have the stupid box.”

Mr. Camel and Juniper waited, out of earshot.

Ethan stopped pinching his nose and he and I exchanged a look of surprise. For the first time ever, I was seeing Tyler in a different light. The gaming geek was acting like a hero from one of his virtual worlds. Suddenly he didn't look so sloppy with his stained T-shirt and uncombed hair. He stood, his shoulders wide, towering over the sinister Mrs. Camel, defending me.

“Oh, and one more thing. I want five hundred dollars, cash, for my broken window. I know you have the money.” He held out his hand. Mrs. Camel's face got so tight I thought she might have a stroke. She pulled some bills from her pocket and handed them to Tyler. Tyler counted the bills, then smirked. “Okay then. Objective complete. It's hot, I'm hungry. Let's do this thing.”

Anger flashed in Mrs. Camel's eyes, but she didn't argue. She turned and waved at her husband. He let go of Juniper's arm. Juniper stumbled away, unsteady on her feet. “Why is she walking like that?” I asked. “What have you done to her?”

“She's walking like that because she's old,” Mrs. Camel hissed. Then she reached out again, her fingers twitching with anticipation. “The box.”

I handed it to her.

She inhaled sharply as she gripped the metal edges. Then her eyes narrowed. “You opened it.”

“Yes, of course I opened it,” I said, as innocently as I could. “It was my birthday present. There was a Starbucks card inside.”

Mrs. Camel's expression was pure hatred. No one had ever looked at me like that before and it made my stomach clench. “This isn't over,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Oh, it's over,” Tyler said. Then he strode down the stairs and went to help our great-aunt, who was staggering through the crowd. Ethan stayed by my side. I could hear his anxious breathing.

Mrs. Camel's gaze burned into mine. “You know how I'm feeling, don't you? You want to protect it. You want to possess it.”

I swallowed hard.
Yes
, I thought.
Yes, I know how you feel
. How could I have something in common with this horrid woman?

“You will regret this. Pandora will hear my plea and I will have what is mine.” Then she hurried down the steps. She said nothing to Juniper as they passed each other. When she reached Mr. Camel, they both walked swiftly along the Reflecting Pool until they disappeared into the crowd.

24
Ethan

FACT:
Forget it. There was no time to think about facts.

I
dabbed my nose. The bleeding had stopped. Good riddance metal box. Good riddance Camels. Now it was time for an explanation.

Our Great-Aunt Juniper stood in the middle of the walkway that led to the monument, people streaming past in both directions. She'd taken hold of Tyler's arm for balance. A few days ago we hadn't known anything about her, yet there she was, the cause of all this mess. She motioned wildly at us. “Come on,” Jax said, running down the steps.

She looked so much older than in the photos. Her skin was wrinkled and covered in old-age splotches. Her shirt was untucked, her braids were coming undone. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes and a fresh bruise covered her right cheek. There was also a bandage on her right temple. I don't know what I'd expected, maybe a hug for her niece and nephews who'd basically saved her life, but instead she grabbed Jax's shoulders and said, “For the love of God, please tell me you figured it out. Please tell me you have the jar.”

“Yes, we have it,” Jax assured her, tilting her head toward the backpack.

“Good.” She let go of Jax. Her eyes were watery and slightly cloudy. “Did they hurt you? They told me they were going to hurt you. I never intended to put you in harm's way. I . . .” Her eyes brimmed over, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I'm so very sorry.”

“I'm fine,” Jax said. “Please don't cry. We're all fine.”

“Yeah, we're fine,” Tyler confirmed. “But you look like someone beat you up.”

Had Mr. Camel used “stronger methods”? How could a man hit an old lady? If he was capable of that kind of brutality, what could he do to Jax? To us?

I handed Juniper a clean tissue. She wiped her face, wincing when she touched the bruise. I was going to ask her about the blood on the kitchen floor but she wobbled, as if about to faint. Tyler took her arm again. “I'm feeling a bit . . . confused,” she said.

“Do you want to sit down?” I asked.

“There's no time,” she said. “Give me the jar and I'll be on my way.”

“You can't leave. You have to tell us everything.” Jax started squirming as a bunch of questions shot out. “Where did you get it? And how come you sent it to me? Why does my mom hate you? And where have you been all these years? Why do the Camels pray to Pandora? And—”

“Yes, of course, I owe you an explanation.” She wobbled again. “But I don't want to put you in any more danger.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, but do you have any idea what we've been through? My car window was bashed in. Jax broke into a motel room. My friend Walker is totally perturbed because we're supposed to be working on level six of Cyclopsville. And Ethan's had about a million nosebleeds because this whole thing has turned him into a basket case. You
owe
us an explanation.”

“Uh . . . that's kind of insulting. I'm not a basket case,” I mumbled. “I'm the one who got the box out of the safe, remember?” Give Caution Boy some credit when he deserved it.

Juniper turned her wrinkled face up at me. “You get nosebleeds?” I nodded. “I'm sorry to hear that. I'm afraid you've inherited them from me. Overly sensitive genes.”

Inherited? Genes? I almost smiled at those words. I'd always been told that my nosebleeds were psychological. That I was the only one in the family to suffer from them. That if I could just be more confident and less shy, I wouldn't get them.

“Hello?” Jax said. “Can you please tell us about the jar?”

“Yes, of course. But not here. Martha and George won't leave the country without the jar. They will forge a new plan and then come after it.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why do they want it so badly?”

Juniper looked very seriously at Jax. “Even if Martha wanted to forget the jar, she wouldn't be able to. It got into her head. You know what I mean, don't you?” Jax nodded. “Only females can sense it.”

What was she talking about? Only females?

“And George Camel will use force if necessary. He does whatever his wife tells him to do, just to make her happy.” Juniper touched one of the backpack's straps. “Please carry it carefully, as if you were carrying a nuclear weapon.”

“A nuclear weapon?” I said, my voice cracking. Two passing tourists turned and looked quizzically at me.

“Lower your voice,” Juniper warned.

“Sorry,” I said. Wait a minute, why was I apologizing? She'd sent a weapon in the mail and we'd been carrying it around. “It's not really nuclear, is it?”

“No, of course not. But I'm afraid it can be used to hurt other people.” She pressed a trembling finger to her temple.

Powers beyond belief
. That's what Mrs. Camel had said.

The security guards stood outside the memorial entrance, watching tourists come and go. They weren't paying any attention to us—three kids and an old lady. They had no idea that our backpack contained something dangerous. Backpacks were suspicious items these days. If Tyler set it on the ground and walked away, a SWAT team would be called in. The jar would be confiscated. Maybe that would be an end to all of this.

“Give her the jar,” I told Jax between clenched teeth. “Give her the jar and let's go home.”

“No,” Jax said. “We've come this far. I want answers.”

“Agreed,” Tyler said. “The quest is not complete until we get the truth.”

I like truth. Facts are true. Science is true. But at that moment, every cell in my body screamed,
walk away
.
Go home
. The truth doesn't need to be known. The truth doesn't always set you free.

“I'll explain as soon as we're in a safe location,” Juniper said. Then she began to cross the manicured lawn. Tyler and Jax followed like eager puppies. I reached into my shorts and pulled out a five-dollar bill, all that was left after buying the bag of apples and the chips and doughnuts. Five dollars wouldn't get me back to Chatham. Crud!

Who was I kidding? I couldn't leave. Juniper was no longer a name—she was a person who'd been bruised and battered. She shared my overly sensitive genes. And Tyler might have been a genius, but he didn't always have the best grip on reality. And Jax, who craved adventure, had been acting like someone under a hypnotic spell.

Call me a partner or call me a sidekick, either way, they all needed me.