Finding Fortune (18 page)

Who knows how long I sat on the dark steps under the trapdoor with my pulse pounding. I wasn't checking my watch anymore.
You could have died,
I kept thinking. If I had hit the railing just a little bit harder, I would have crashed through and …

I felt numb as I slowly groped my way to the bottom of the narrow stairs and stepped out on the third floor—almost like I was in a trance. It's the only way I can explain what happened next. When I noticed the door cracked open at the end of the hall, I didn't turn away and make a beeline for the gym like a person in her right mind would have. Instead, I moved toward it, pushed the door open with one finger, and took a careful half step inside.

Garrett's room reminded me of a tidy ship's cabin, with each object tucked into a puzzle piece of space—a neatly made bed in one corner, a leather reading chair and ottoman in another, an antique desk lodged under the arched window in front of me. There were books and a teakettle and china teacups precisely arranged on the shelves in between. Right away I could see that if any pearls had been hidden in Bonny's old office, Garrett would have found them.

I took one more curious step toward Garrett's desk to get a better look at the patchwork of photographs that filled the walls on either side. They were labyrinths—bird's-eye views of all kinds—painted on stone floors or made with tile, etched into sandy beaches, outlined in the snow with Christmas lights, and carved into meadows and grassy lawns.

My trance snapped when someone spoke behind me. “What are you doing?”

I whipped around to find Tucker standing in Garrett's doorway with his arms crossed. My mouth wouldn't work at first. He waited coolly, his eyes pin-sharp and accusing through his bangs. “I—I don't know,” I stammered. “Just being nosy, I guess. I needed a little break and I came up here to … to check out the tower and look around.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Tucker's voice seeped with bitterness. “You're too much. First you lie to my grandmother and get her in all kinds of trouble with your mom. Then once you weasel your way back here with some lame excuse about a service project, you act all high and mighty, telling
me
”—he tapped the tips of his fingers on his chest—“how
I
should act. But the whole time you're the one sneaking around, waiting till we go off to lunch so you can break into people's rooms.”

“I didn't break in!” I cried. “The door was open. I've never stolen anything in my life. I swear! I was just looking at Garrett's pictures.” I gestured limply back at the room behind me. Tucker rolled his eyes and turned away. “Tucker, wait!” I screeched as I hurried down the hall after him. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to tell Garrett that I caught you in his room. And I'm going to tell my grandmother that she's making a big mistake letting you come back here every weekend.”

I had promised Hildy I wouldn't tell Tucker about the pearls, but I could feel the stored-up secrets bubbling inside me as I followed him down the steps. “You want to know why I've been sneaking around?” I shouted at the back of his head. “Because your own grandmother doesn't trust you!”

Tucker halted on the first-floor landing and slowly turned to look up at me. “What are you talking about?”

My knees felt weak. “It's a long story,” I said.

“So I guess you better get started then.” Tucker crossed his arms again. “Before somebody comes looking for us.”

I sank down on the steps and told the story as quickly as I could, starting with the
no
s on the blackboards and Hugh's spying and the letter in the safe and working my way toward how I ended up in Garrett's room. I tried not to get bogged down in details. I didn't even mention the Blushing Beauty.

At some point Tucker came to sit sideways on the step below me. He never interrupted once and he only asked a single question when I was finally done. “Why didn't Hildy tell me?”

“She was worried that you'd tell your dad.”

“I'd never tell if she asked me not to,” he said in a wounded voice. “I totally understand why Hildy doesn't want my dad involved. He has a certain way of looking at things.
His
way.”

“But you hate it here, right? If you told your father about the pearls and all the money Hildy's spending, he'd probably make her sell this place and you could go home to your friends … and civilization.”

Tucker pulled his chin back in disgust. “Is that really what you think I'd do? That I'd bail out on my grandma when she needs my help the most?”

“Sorry,” I said quietly. “I guess I don't know you that well.”

I looked up. Rain had started to spatter against the half-moon window high above the first-floor landing, and a flash of lightning illuminated the mural painted below—the children clamming by the river, the school off in the distance, the seagulls and puffy clouds. I leaned forward waiting for another flash to light up the inside sky.
The clouds
. I gasped and clambered to my feet.

“What is it?” Tucker asked. “What's wrong?”

“The mural,” I whispered. I dodged around him, searching the shoreline in the bottom right corner of the painting.

“Lift me up,” I said to Tucker as I rushed down to the landing.

“What?”

I hopped in place under the mural, staring up at the white scrawl of brushstrokes painted on the clump of grass in the corner. I pointed impatiently. “Come on. I need a boost so I can get close enough to see.”

Tucker was shaking his head as he came down the steps to join me. But with a small sigh, he leaned forward and laced his fingers together over his knee. I was so focused on my mission I didn't even care that I was putting my nasty sneaker in Tucker's hands, bracing one palm on his shoulder and the other against the wall.

“Hurry,” he groaned as I hefted myself up and tottered there for an unsteady instant, long enough to read the small signature that snaked across the clump of grass.

“That's him!” I cried.

“Who?” Tucker grunted as I jumped back down to the landing.

“Jonathan Bonnycastle! He's the one who painted that mural. I can't believe I didn't think of this before. Hildy told me he used to teach art lessons.” I whirled around and stood on my tiptoes, scanning the tiny windows Bonny had painted across the front of the school.

“I don't get it,” Tucker said. “What's the big deal?”

“Remember how I was telling you about the letter in the safe? About how Hildy's brother said the idea for the hiding place was right there under Bonny's nose? Well, maybe this is what Bonnycastle was doing that day—working on the mural—and maybe the clue is right here in the painting.” I gnawed on my lip for a second, thinking about what to do next. “We've got to find a ladder. Come on!”

But halfway down the steps, I stopped and reached out to clutch the banister. “Hugh,” I said. “Hi.”

He was standing at the bottom of the stairs in the foyer. He swayed like a small ghost, staring up at me with his eyes shimmering. “You lied,” he called out. His hollow voice echoed through the entrance hall. “You said you didn't have time to look for the pearls today. You said
we
were the Fortune Hunters.”

Then, before I could stop him, he ran for the front door and shoved his way out into the storm.

 

TWENTY-THREE

I ASKED TUCKER
to come with me. He knew the school property better than I did. Plus we could cover more territory with two people and we had to find Hugh fast. Lightning was still crackling across the sky, and each time I thought the storm had blown by, there would be another clap of thunder and more sheets of rain. We sprinted through the downpour, searching the obvious places first—the backseats of Hildy's van and Mine's station wagon, the cab of the Mayor's truck, the high grass in the old playground, and behind the lilac bush.

By the time Tucker and I met up again at the back of the school, the skies had settled to a drizzle. I stood on the edge of the cornfield, hoping to see Hugh's blond head pop up between the dripping rows. “Where could he have gone?” I groaned. I turned back to the labyrinth where Tucker was standing on a leftover mound of shells, scanning the distance.

“We should check the Mayor's place,” he said as he scrambled down the pile, sending shells clattering. I trotted after him. Straight back from the sisters' soap garden there was a narrow dirt lane through the corn that I'd never noticed before. We followed it and came out in a grassy clearing next to a stone building with a red tin roof and an open shed on one end. I didn't see any signs of the Mayor, but Wayne stood under the shed twitching his big ears and calmly munching from a pile of hay.

I was on my way toward the front door when Tucker touched my shoulder and twitched his chin at the shed. I looked over in time to catch a flicker of movement behind some hay bales that were stacked along the back wall. “I'll wait here,” Tucker murmured, ducking under an overhang near the door. “He'll probably come out a lot faster if I stay out of the way.”

I nodded and slowly headed into the shed, which was steamy with the smell of damp donkey hide. “How you doing, buddy?” I crooned in my best impression of the Mayor. I stood for a minute, rubbing the gray scruff between Wayne's ears and letting him nuzzle my pockets while I waited to see if Hugh would come out of hiding on his own.

He didn't.

“I know you're in here, Hugh,” I called. “I'm sorry, okay? Are you listening? I'm sorry I lied about what I was doing this afternoon. But it wasn't because I wanted to leave you out. I only did it because I wanted to go up to the tower to look for the pearls and Hildy told me it was too dangerous to take you along.” I cocked my head, listening, but all I could hear was the rain pattering against the roof.

“Then I did something really dumb, Hugh,” I went on. “Really dumb!” I paused. Maybe the suspense would lure him out … When that didn't work either, I marched across the shed and stood in front of the bales with my hands on my hips. “I went into Garrett's room without permission. Can you believe it? I didn't touch anything. I only looked around, but Tucker caught me. That's why I had to tell him what we've been up to, so he wouldn't squeal on me.”

A sulky voice broke the silence behind me. “You never would have gotten caught if I'd been with you.”

I swiveled around. Hugh was sitting high on the seat of an old farm tractor parked on the far side of the shed. “How'd you get over
there
?” I made my way toward him, weaving around a pile of scrap lumber and some stray hay bales. Hugh glowered down at me with his hands clenched around the tractor's steering wheel. He looked smaller than ever with his wet hair and clothes plastered against his skin.

“Hugh—” I flopped my arms at my sides. “That railing in the tower was rotten. I almost fell through! And you're allergic to wasps, remember? Don't you see why I couldn't let you come?”

He glared over the steering wheel at the soaked pasture outside. “Where'd Tucker go? I saw him with you when you walked up.”

Tucker slid around the corner of the shed with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Hey, Hugh.”

Hugh didn't answer.

“Come on. Let's go back,” Tucker said. “Don't you want to put some dry clothes on?”

Hugh pulled his knees up and hugged them, tucking his chin in between. “No way. You two can go find the pearls by yourselves.” He sneered into his kneecaps. “Then you can go carve your names in the tower. Ren plus Tucker.”

“Cut it out, Hugh,” I said. He was acting ridiculous, but I couldn't keep from blushing anyway. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tucker dig down in his jeans and pull out a pocketknife. He strolled over to the pile of lumber, picked up a piece of board, then sat down on one of the nearby hay bales and started whittling away.

I scratched at the back of my neck in embarrassment. “Um. What are you doing?”

“Carving,” Tucker said. As Hugh watched in fascination, I edged closer to get a better view. I couldn't see the letters clearly at first, but then Tucker blew away the sawdust and held up the board, leaning back to admire what he had carved so far: R + T +

Tucker thrust his knife in Hugh's direction. “Your turn,” he said.

“My turn to what?” muttered Hugh.

“Why don't you come see?”

The pocketknife was too much for Hugh to resist. He slowly climbed down from the tractor and scuffed over to the hay bale where Tucker was sitting. Tucker handed him the board and Hugh blinked down at it. “You want me to add an H? For Hugh?”

“This is just practice,” Tucker said as he passed Hugh the knife, handle first. “Whether we find the pearls or not, we should definitely go up to the tower and carve our initials this summer, right?”

My heart skipped with a little swell of surprise and relief. “Right,” I agreed when Hugh didn't answer. “We should. As soon as Garrett fixes that railing.”

Hugh was trying not to smile. He took the knife, holding it stiffly in front of him like a tiny sword. He had just sat down on the hay bale next to Tucker when Wayne suddenly let out one of his wheezy hee-haws. We all jumped, and the next thing we knew, the Mayor was striding into the shed, pushing back the hood of his rain poncho. “What're you kids doing out here?” he asked as he reached out to pat Wayne's flank. “Everybody's wondering where you got off to.”

Hugh spoke up first. “We came to check on Wayne. I read somewhere that donkeys are really scared of thunder.”

The Mayor's white eyebrows lifted. “Is that so? Well, Wayne looks like he survived, and you all need to be getting on back. Garrett's over at the gym waiting on you, Tucker. I'm afraid my back's done for the day and he needs more help with lifting.” The Mayor took a few steps in Hugh's direction. “What are you up to over there?”