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“I
never
remember to look on the back,” mutters Caleb, shaking his head. He reads out what's typed on the back. “ ‘540.45 DDS.' ”

“That one's easy,” Isabel chirps. “It's referring to a science book.” Both Caleb and I stare at Isabel openmouthed.

I know from Google that it's a book, and even know which one it is. But how does
she
know?

“Maybe,” I say, trying not to sound too impressed.

“How the heck are you so sure about that?” marvels Caleb.

“It's the Dewey decimal system,” says Isabel, peering down at the bookshelf. “ ‘540' refers to the sciences. My guess is there's some science book here somewhere that might have the—”

“You know the Dewey decimal system numbers by heart?” I ask incredulously.

Isabel looks at me like I'm the weird one. “Of course. Anyone who spends enough time in a library, you just learn stuff, you know?”

We cross to the grimy bookshelf against the wall on the far side of the apartment. It's immediately clear which book it is. Unlike the others, it isn't covered in dust. It's sitting by itself, on its side. Isabel picks it up and reads the title out loud: “ ‘
Ultraviolet and Visible Spectroscopy: Chemical Applications
by C. N. R. Rao.' ”

She looks up at us. “One page is dog-eared.”

Isabel turns to the page and reports, “It's a chart.” She reads from the bottom: “ ‘The visible spectrum, as divided by wavelength.' Yep, the numbers seem to be similar to what's here.” She looks up at me quizzically. “But how do we use them?”

“Whoa, slow down,” Caleb says, peering at the book over her shoulder. “What exactly do the numbers correspond to?”

“The colors in the visible spectrum. Each number seems to represent a different color.”

Something clicks with Caleb. “Yeah, there was something like this in a game called
Escape the Lab.
Remember?”

I nod. “You set up glasses in such a way that the colored liquids in them corresponded to the order in the note.”

Caleb looks around. “The only problem is that there are no test tubes…or bottles…or prisms…or anything I can see that would make different colors.”

Isabel puts the book down and does a quick search. “Nope, nothing.”

“So glad you agree,” Caleb says.

“I was just making sure,” Isabel retorts.

Time to change the subject.

“Guys! Guys! Who says it has to be liquid? Or even light? Maybe it just refers to the order of the colors.”

I reach down and pull off some books that are stacked on their sides. There behind them on the shelf is a series of books with different-colored jackets.

My heart starts to beat a little faster. This is where the walkthrough let me down.

Where
is
that last book?

I kneel down, and the others join me.

“Caleb, read off the numbers on the paper. Isabel, find the corresponding color, and we'll see what happens….What's the first number?”

Caleb goes to the desk and peers at the paper under the light.

“475,” he reports.

“475 nanometers…that's blue!” Isabel calls out excitedly.

I pull out the colored books and replace the blue-covered book first.

“570.”

“That's yellow!”

“400.”

“Violet!”

I feel my hands go damp. I know what's coming next.

“510.”

“Green!”

I search the bookcase, just like I did the night before in the game. As I know only too well, there is no green book.

“Uh, guys…there's no green book,” I sigh, sitting back on my heels. So the walkthrough really was accurate. No book. Now what?

There's silence in the room. Then, unexpectedly, laughter.

Isabel is laughing. But this time, it's her annoying, grown-up, “I know something you don't know” laugh. “Oh my gosh! Who would have thought?”

“What?” I ask irritably.

“Remember yesterday, when you said I could take home any book I liked?”

“Yeah…” The truth begins to dawn on me.

“You don't mean…,” Caleb says.

Isabel goes to her backpack and fishes around. She pulls out something and holds it in front of her.

“Shakespeare's sonnets. I always wanted a nice copy, so I took it home.”

It's covered in a beautiful green jacket. So that's it.

Caleb takes the book and riffles through it. “So after you read these, you can tell us if they're any good.”

I'm still trying to figure out how the game knew the book wasn't in the room, so I'm only half listening to the following conversation: “They're amazing. Some of the greatest poems ever written.”

“Wait…you've actually read all these?”

Isabel nods. “That's nothing. There was a guy at my school who memorized them.”

“Whoa.” Caleb whistles. “That's some punishment. What did he do? Set fire to the girls' bathroom or something?”

“It wasn't a punishment,” Isabel says simply. “He wanted to do it. It was fun.”

That last sentence hangs in the air, refusing to go anywhere, like a fart in an elevator.

Finally, Caleb, master of knowing exactly what not to say, pipes up. “Ted can burp the entire alphabet.” This is said with exactly the right mixture of pride and awe that Caleb must think will make any New York City private-school girl gasp in admiration.

But somehow, amazingly, Isabel looks less than impressed.

I realize it's time for me to take back control of the situation.

Carefully, I place the green book next to the others. “What's the last number?” I ask, eyeing the remaining volumes.

“650,” Caleb says, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“That's red,” Isabel adds, her voice trembling with excitement.

“Here goes nothing,” I say as I slide the final book into place.

There is a creaking noise, and I jump back as the entire bookshelf seems to close in on itself.

It takes a moment for me to realize it's actually hinged in the middle, and some catch has been released.

Holding my breath, I gently push against the center books, and the whole thing pivots, pulling back and revealing a small compartment.

In the center is a wooden chest. I'm about to reach in, when—

“I don't think you wanna do that.”

I turn and see Caleb crouched down next to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “You have no idea what could happen. It could be booby-trapped. You said your great-uncle was weird.”

“But he
wanted
Ted to find it,” Isabel says. “Why would he do anything to hurt him?”

“Maybe this wasn't for Ted,” Caleb says. “What if someone
else
was looking for it?”

“Then they would have had to get this far.” Isabel is getting exasperated.

“Besides, who else would be looking for this?” I ask.

“He might have had enemies,” Caleb says.

“You read too many comic books,” sniffs Isabel.

I turn back to the little compartment. “Look, I'm the one he left this stuff to. Clearly this was a test to see if I could solve the puzzles. And I did. So—”

“Don't you mean
we
did?” Isabel asks, hands on hips.

Oh, how I hate the hands on hips. Luckily, Caleb has my back. He stares at Isabel incredulously. “You…you think Ted couldn't have solved this without your help?”

I look back at her, trying my best not to look cocky. Not sure I succeed.

“I am kind of good at this,” I say simply.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Isabel admits.

Will wonders never cease?

“So reach in, already.”

I put my hand in and feel something hard and smooth. The top of a box. I put my other hand in and gently retrieve it. I carefully bring it over to the window, where there's more light.

It's a wooden box, the kind you might keep jewelry in, but slightly bigger. Hinged in the back, it's secured with a single inlaid lock, with the keyhole showing in the front. On the top is a beautiful hand-carved scene of a tropical beach at sunset. A woman in a grass skirt and lei is resting against a palm tree.

Isabel leans in and takes a deep breath, a small smile forming on her face. “What kind of wood is that? It smells so rich.”

I can't resist. “I'm sorry, did I hear right? Is there actually something else you don't know?”

“I wish you would quit that. I already asked you about stuff I don't know. I don't know a
lot
of things,” Isabel snaps. “And when people ask me about things I
do
know, I'm nice enough to tell them, as opposed to being a snot rag about it.”

I ponder whether anyone has ever called me a snot rag before. I decide they haven't.

And let's face it, I
was
being a snot rag.

“Sorry. I think it's called Koa wood. It's native to Hawaii. My mom has a jewelry box she got there, and it has the same smell.”

“So the key's got to be around here somewhere, right?” Caleb starts rushing around the room and pulling at the curtains.

I shake my head. “The key's hidden somewhere else.”

“But that can't be the end of the game!” Caleb protests. “And what makes you so sure?”

“Well…one of the last things my great-uncle told me before he died was ‘The box is only the beginning.' This is where this part of the game ends. Finding the box.”

Turning the box over, I let out a small gasp. “And here's our next clue.”

Taped under the box is a cigarette lighter. I take it off.

It's an old silver lighter, with a medallion of some kind on the front. The medallion is a six-sided shield, with a hand holding a torch inside it. Scratched into the box where the lighter was attached is a number: 1405.

“I bet you have to hold the box under the UV light!” Isabel pipes up, looking like she's the only one in class who's figured out the answer to a particularly hard question.

“You only use those things
once
in a game. Don't you know anything?” Caleb scoffs.

“Maybe his great-uncle didn't spend all his time playing games like some people. It's worth a shot,” grouses Isabel, folding her arms and glaring at Caleb.

I hold the box under the lamp. Nothing.

“See?” crows Caleb.

Snot rag #2.

“Wait, Caleb. It wasn't a total waste of time,” I say, trying to make Isabel feel a little better. “Look at the way the number is carved into the surface. It's just hacked in there. Like someone was in a hurry. After all these preparations. It's weird.”

“I told you. He had enemies,” Caleb says darkly.

“Maybe…Right now, we've got to figure out what 1405 refers to.”

“It could be a date in a book,” Isabel muses, looking over at the shelves. Then, seeing Caleb's look, she immediately adds, “But he wouldn't use books twice. Would he?”

“I don't think so,” I say.

“I still say it's got to do with the clock. He was in the military, wasn't he?” asks Caleb.

“They use the twenty-four-hour clock, right?”

“Which would make it 2:05 p.m.,” I remark, walking over to the wall clock in the kitchen.

“You watch. He'll enter the time, and a compartment on the back will open, and there will be the key.” Caleb smiles at Isabel.

I slowly take the clock off the wall. There's a battery compartment in the back. I carefully set the time. I know from years of playing these games that the trick is to turn the hands to two o'clock and continue to turn it a full twelve hours.
Then
it will be 14:05.

I adjust the minute hand so that it's on the line right after the five-minute mark and listen for the click.

No click.

I turn the clock over and open the battery compartment. Nothing but a pair of old batteries. Not even a note. I shrug. “Sorry, Caleb. No key.”

“I don't mean to sound stupid or anything, but could the key just be inside the lighter?” Isabel asks, shifting it in her hand.

I laugh and run over to her side. Sometimes you
can
outsmart yourself.

“Oh, yeah!”

Isabel gives me a look that says
Like I need your approval
and hands the lighter over to me.

“You do it. He was your great-uncle.”

I slowly pull the lighter out of its case.

Nothing. Empty.

We stand in silence, contemplating the box and the lighter.

I close my eyes and try to concentrate. It's hard, feeling Isabel looking at me, expecting me to have the answer.

A loud buzzing noise makes us all jump. I realize my phone is vibrating. I pull it out of my pocket and answer.

“Hey, Mom. What's up?” I turn away from the others and take the call into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, I come back and tell the others the news. “Okay, guys, there's been a little change of plan. Apparently the only day the Goodwill people can come before the end of the week is tomorrow. So that means we've got to have this place all ready for them to cart stuff out of here by the time we leave.”

“That's impossible! It's noon already!” protests Caleb.

“Then I guess we better get back to work,” Isabel says briskly.

“You think we can get this stuff organized in one afternoon?” Caleb asks doubtfully.

“ ‘The prospect of being hanged focuses the mind wonderfully,' ” quips Isabel.

Caleb and I stare at her.

“What? You don't know that quote? It's Samuel Johnson. We used to say it all the time at St. Anselm's the night before a big test if we hadn't studied.”

“We just say ‘I'm screwed,' ” says Caleb, bless him.

As we get out bags and start to throw things in, I wonder about what kinds of friends Isabel has back east, who quote people I've never even heard of.

“What is it again? ‘The prospect of being hanged…,' ” I begin.

“ ‘—focuses the mind wonderfully,' ” Isabel finishes.

“I have to use that one on my dad,” I laugh. “He'll love it.”

“I think he knows it,” Isabel said.

“Yeah, but he doesn't know
I
know it,” I add, raising my eyebrows.

The next two hours are a blur of activity as we move stacks of magazines, take what few clothes remain in the closet and fold them, put books in boxes, and neatly pile up all the things that might be of value to someone at Goodwill.

I leave out the box with the old video games, and Isabel's eyes light up when she sees a volume of
Great Short Fiction from the
New Yorker.

“Would it be okay if I took this?” she asks me.

“Sure. Knock yourself out.” I check my watch. Mom should be here any minute. I go over to the now-clean desk, with only the Koa wood box sitting on it.

“1405. I guess I'll ask my mom if she knows what it might mean.”

“Sure,” agrees Caleb. “She knew him better than anybody.”

“No!”

We turn to look at Isabel. There's a look of surprise on her face, as if she didn't mean to sound quite so vehement.

“Why not?” I ask.

Isabel's brows knit in concentration. She traces her finger over the box in my hands as she works through her thoughts. “It's just that…I think your great-uncle wanted
you
to figure this out. On your own.”

“Well, he's already blown that. We've helped him,” Caleb says.

“No, we haven't,” Isabel persists. “I mean, it's like you said. You let us guess some of the clues, but you knew the answers already, didn't you?”

Isabel looks at me full in the face. I'm glad I don't have to lie to her.

After all, I did know the clues in advance. I just don't have to explain how. “Yeah. These things kind of jump out at you after a while, you know?”

“No, I don't, and neither does Caleb,” Isabel laughs. “Don't you see? Your great-uncle knew you had some sort of gift.”

“Well, I don't know about that,” I begin, feeling my ears getting warm.

“She's right, Ted. You never have to use a walkthrough ever. That's unreal. You just know where the clues are. It's like some sort of spider sense,” Caleb adds, turning to Isabel. “He's awesome.”

Aw, shucks.

I don't want to hear Isabel's reaction to that. “I just probably spend too much time playing on the computer. That's what my mom says, anyway.”

“Whatever. All I know is when I walked into this room, all I saw was a bunch of junk and garbage. You saw patterns and clues that I bet your mom wouldn't have seen in a million years,” Isabel says. “Here's what I say: wait at least until tomorrow. We'll all think about that number and see if we can't figure it out.”

“We probably should take the box, right?” says Caleb anxiously. “But what about your mom?”

“Yeah. I'm pretty sure she's never seen it before or she would have wanted it,” I say, turning it over in my hands. “She'll ask all sorts of questions. Better not tell her yet.”

“Stick it in an old bag and put something on top of it,” Isabel suggests. “She'll just figure it's some junk you think is interesting.”

“Good idea,” I agree. I look around and see an old shopping bag from a long-closed grocery store that presently holds an entire year's worth of
Bass Fishing
magazines and dump them out. Isabel wads up some old newspaper and puts it on the bottom, and I place the box inside. Caleb carefully places the box with the video games on top of it.

“This could be the most valuable thing in the whole apartment,” he says.

I shrug and cover the top with more newspaper. I then stuff the lighter in my pocket.

We hear the old car pulling up and my mom calling for us to come down. Her eyes crinkle as soon as she sees Isabel. “I didn't know you were coming back! How nice! Did you find anything worth keeping?”