The Secret Box (10 page)

A memory flashed across my mind. When we were little, Jax spotted a bird nest in the tree outside her bedroom. She waited weeks for the baby birds to leave the nest, then she tried to climb the tree. When that didn't work, she got a ladder. When that didn't work, she got a table. I was opposed to setting the ladder on the table but she talked me into it. A minute later she was lying on the grass, cradling a broken elbow. The paramedics were nice. One of them climbed the ladder and scooped the nest right up. But we both got grounded.

Watching her grab that ladder, I got the same feeling of foreboding as when we were little. “Uh, Jax, I don't think—”

“It'll be okay.”

Famous. Last. Words.

Two boys zipped into the alley on their bikes. As they rode past, Tyler and I froze, unsure what to do. But Jax smiled and waved. “We forgot our key,” she told them. They didn't seem to care, just kept riding up and down. “If you act like you're not doing anything wrong, most people won't question you,” Jax said. “Just look confident.”

I'd heard that piece of wisdom countless times. Turned out it was true. If you sit in the reserved section at the Chatham Playhouse, and you act as if you belong in the reserved section, no one asks any questions. But it still didn't feel right. Sometimes it felt like I was witnessing my life, watching myself from afar—there I was, up to my eyeballs in a Jax situation again.

As Tyler helped her lean the ladder against the wall, a woman on the first floor peered out at us. Jax smiled and waved at the woman. “We forgot our key.”

“You need a knife?” the woman asked. “The kids above me use a knife to get in.”

“We have a knife,” Jax said, looking at me. I handed over my Swiss army knife. Then, trying to muster confidence, I smiled at the woman, but the smile felt forced and goofy.

A baby cried in the background. The woman closed the window and disappeared.

“You see, act like you belong and no one questions you,” Jax said. “Hold the ladder, please.”

Tyler, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet, shuffled in place. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know, I don't think this is trespassing. I think this is breaking and entering. If we get caught, this could really hurt my chances of getting into college.”

Whoa! I almost passed out. The voice of reason had wormed its way into my brother. “Yes,” I said, nodding my head like a bobble-headed doll. “Exactly. Breaking and entering will look really, really bad on your high-school transcript. It will look bad on all our transcripts. So let's not do this.”

“What?” The word shot out of Jax's mouth. “You're going to back out now? But we're so close. How can you guys abandon . . . a
quest
?”

Tyler ran a hand over his tangled hair. “I'm hoping to get into Massachusetts Institute of Technology. If I get arrested, I won't even be able to get into Massachusetts Institute of Taxidermy.” He stepped away from the ladder. I figured Tyler could get arrested for making meth in our basement and, because of his grades, he'd still get into the best college in the US. But I wasn't going to say that.

Jax sighed. “Fine. Whatever. I'll do it alone.” She opened the Swiss army knife to its dull, flat blade. Then she began to climb the ladder. It rocked side to side so Tyler and I grabbed it and held it steady. We shared a look of powerlessness as she climbed.

“She's bossy,” Tyler said.

“You have no idea,” I grumbled.

The bike riders rode past again. I imagined them telling their parents about the bad kids who were breaking into the motel, then their parents calling the police. But they had a bag of cookies and, after propping their bikes against the warehouse wall, sat together and ate, watching us with curiosity. My nose tingled. Holding the ladder with one hand, I pulled a tissue from my pocket with the other hand and held it to my nostrils. Things were getting out of hand. Caution Boy needed to speak up. “Uh, Jax,” I called.

She'd reached the second floor. Pressing her face against the window, she peered through the crack in the curtains. “I can't see much.”

Tyler, distracted by the cookie bag, let go of the ladder. “Hey,” he called to the kids. “Are those Nilla Wafers? I love those things.”

I let the tissue float to the ground and grabbed the ladder with both hands. Luckily, the tingle had been a false alarm. “Jax!” I called again.

“The room looks empty,” she announced. Then she shimmied the blade under the window and pushed it open. Leaning over the sill, she kept talking but I couldn't hear her anymore.

And then she fell in.

Or had she been pulled in?

“Jax?”

Tyler didn't even notice. He was paying the kids for the box of wafers. A long moment passed. Crud!

The ladder wobbled but I didn't care. I scrambled up.

17
Jax

I
tried to break the fall with my hands but I hit the floor hard.

Holding my breath, my eyes darted left, then right. It looked like I was alone. Phew! Slowly, I got to my feet. My left knee felt bruised but other than that, I was okay.

Now to find the box.

Before, when I was standing outside the door of room 2C, I could practically feel the box. Its warmth against my fingers, its weight in my arms. It was like I was a moth being pulled toward light. I had to get inside and be reunited. It sounds crazy, I get that, but that's how it felt. And now that I was in the room, the sensation was stronger. Much, much stronger.

As far as motel rooms went, this one was not going to earn enough stars for any travel guides. The bedspread was thin and orange, the pillows flat and limp. The gold wallpaper looked like Christmas wrap, and the only painting in the room was a tacky seascape, the kind with neon blue waves and a fluorescent sunrise. A pair of suitcases sat in the corner, clothing spilling out. I recognized the church-lady dress that Mrs. Camel had worn at the gas station and the bow tie and suit Mr. Camel had worn. His cane lay on the bed.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked. He'd climbed the ladder and was leaning over the windowsill.

Where was the box? It had to be here. I could sense it.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” I began my search at the bedside table. A silver wig and a bald wig lay next to the lamp, along with a box labeled
Theatrical Makeup
. “Hey, look at this.” I opened it and found a small white mustache and a tube of spirit gum for gluing the mustache into place. “They were in disguise,” I told Ethan.

“They're wanted for fraud,” he said. “Makes sense that they'd wear disguises.” He stayed on the ladder. “Jax, we need to get out of here. What if the Camels come back? Did you find the box?”

“No.” I opened drawers, searching. Then I rifled through the bedding.

“Uh, Jax.” Ethan climbed into the room. “Did you see this?”

Was it the box? I spun around. Ethan stood next to the television, staring at the wall. Seven symbols had been drawn on the wallpaper.

 

Π α ν δ ο ρ α

 

That was really weird. Who draws on motel-room walls? A bunch of candles had been placed on the desk beneath the drawing, most burned down to stubs.

“Maybe the power went out,” I said, looking under the bed. Then I went into the bathroom and searched beneath the sink and in the tub. “It wasn't in there,” I announced.

“If the power went out, you'd put candles all over the room, to spread the light. You wouldn't put them all in one place.” Ethan folded his arms, staring at the wall. “Do you think this looks like an altar? Like at church?” A few sooty trails marked the wallpaper where flames had licked too close. I tried to imagine the Camels crouched there, praying to some deity. An eerie shiver slithered up my spine.

“Do you think they belong to some sort of cult?” Ethan asked.

“You're giving me the creeps,” I said. “Help me look for the box.”

The feeling suddenly swelled and I turned toward the closet. It was in there, I was sure of it. But how could I know that?

My heart skipped a beat. A guy's voice rose in the distance and it didn't belong to Tyler. I couldn't tell what he was saying but the voice came closer and closer, then stopped outside the motel room door. A key jiggled in the lock.

Like plunging into ice water, panic gripped my entire body.

There was no time. Quick like a rabbit, Ethan shoved the ladder away from the sill, then closed the window. I'd never seen him move so fast. Just as the motel door opened, he grabbed my sleeve and with a yank I found myself in the bathroom. A sour stench of mildew rose as Ethan pushed the shower curtain aside. I almost fell as we scrambled into the tub. This was the worst place in the world to hide. We were totally trapped. They'd find us. Of course they'd find us. My heart pounded. I pressed against Ethan's back. For the first time in my life I found myself hiding behind my cousin. A disgusting piece of yellowing plastic was the only thing separating us from two criminal archaeologists who break car windows and steal birthday presents from twelve-year-old girls. Who might also have kidnapped a mysterious great-aunt and be members of some freaky cult.

The hotel door slammed shut. Both Ethan and I jumped at the sound.

Ethan closed the shower curtain and we held perfectly still, listening to the conversation.

“She's a stubborn woman.” I recognized Mr. Camel's voice from the gas station. “She's always been stubborn.”

“She'd better tell us how to open that box. If she doesn't . . .” That was Mrs. Camel. She sounded super angry. “I must know. I must!”

“Do not fret, my dear. She shall reveal her secrets. I simply need a bit more time to
coax
her.”

“Coaxing isn't working,” Mrs. Camel snapped. “You're too soft. Juniper Vandegrift is an old fool and she won't tell us anything unless we use stronger methods. Do you hear me? Stronger methods!”

I swallowed hard. Juniper was alive. They had her and they were trying to get information from her. But did stronger methods mean they were going to torture her?

There were shuffling sounds as the Camels moved around the room. What were they doing? It was really smart of Ethan to have pushed the ladder and closed the window. But what if Tyler put the ladder back? Oh crud. Please don't put the ladder back.

“Thank the gods, the box is still here,” Mrs. Camel said.

“Of course it's still here, darling. Who would look for a priceless artifact in a run-down motel safe?” Mr. Camel's voice was calm and soothing, the exact opposite of his wife's.

I knew it. The box was here. My feelings had been correct. I squeezed Ethan's arm.

“I refuse to play this stupid game of riddles,” Mrs. Camel said. “We pushed the button. It said attempt eight of ten. If we push it again, it will say attempt nine of ten and we still won't understand and then what will we have? One more push?” Her voice was strained. “I thought you were good at puzzles!”

“I never said I was good at puzzles,” Mr. Camel replied. “I'm good at many other things, my dear, but not puzzles.”

I clenched my jaw. How dare they push the button? My button. My box.

“But I want answers!”

Mr. Camel cleared his throat. “I'm doing my best. Patience is a virtue.”

“Patience?” Something crashed to the floor. “Don't talk to me about patience. I've been waiting years. This is just like Juniper, to make things difficult. Oh how I despise her,” Mrs. Camel hissed. “That box was clearly made by the Locksmith. We'll find him. We'll make him tell us how to open it!”

“Juniper doesn't know where the Locksmith is. No one knows. Juniper is the only person who can open that box. Perhaps we can blackmail her into telling us.”

There was a slapping sound. “Stop being such an idiot!” Mrs. Camel cried. “Blackmail won't work. We need to scare her. We need to terrify her!”

Ethan shuddered. I pressed closer to him.

After a long pause, Mr. Camel spoke softly. “Juniper Vandegrift would rather die than give us the contents of the box. How can I terrify her if she's willing to die?”

Ethan's chest rose and fell in quiet, shallow breaths. My legs started to ache from standing so still. When Mrs. Camel finally spoke, her voice was full of wickedness. “Yes, you're right. She doesn't care about her own life. But would she care about someone else's life?”

“What do you mean?”

“Surely she wouldn't let someone else die. Someone she cared about. A member of her
family
.” She laughed evilly.

I narrowed my eyes. Wait. Was I hearing this correctly?

“That's an excellent idea, darling. Juniper clearly cares about the girl. And she trusted her enough to send her the box. So if we can get our hands on the girl and threaten to hurt her . . .”

I swallowed hard.

The girl was me.

18
Jax

I
might have grabbed Ethan's arm to steady myself but I was worried that even the slightest movement of my sleeve through air would alert the Camels to our hiding spot. It felt as if I'd been punched in the stomach. My knees went weak. They were going to find me and hurt me if Juniper didn't tell them how to open the box.

A phone rang. Ethan inhaled sharply and reached into his pocket, his eyes wild. Neither of us had remembered to mute his phone! It rang again. Oh crud!

“Hello?” Mr. Camel said from the other room.

Ethan and I sighed with relief. It was Mr. Camel's phone. As Ethan set his phone on silent mode, Mr. Camel spoke. “How did you get this number?” He must have pressed the speaker button so that Mrs. Camel could hear the conversation, because the sound of static filled the air, followed by a voice.

Are you trying to hide from me
? It was a man's voice, thick with an accent.

“No, no, of course we aren't hiding from you,” Mr. Camel said. “Why would we hide from you?” His voice quivered. I didn't blame him. The voice on the other end was icy and sounded like an evil villain from a movie. Only this wasn't a movie.

Where is it?

“We will deliver it you, just as we agreed. You can count on us.”

If you double-cross me again, you will suffer the consequences
.

“Double-cross you? Why would we double-cross you?” Mr. Camel laughed nervously. “We will deliver it as planned. You can trust us. You have our word.”

Your word is the only thing keeping you alive
.

The static stopped and the phone call ended.

Someone else wanted the box? This was getting crazier and crazier. How many people knew about my birthday present? Ethan's phone lit up. A message from Tyler:

Hey doofus what R U doing?

Ethan texted back:

 

Camels R here. Hiding in bathroom. Don't climb ladder!

 

More shuffling sounds came from the motel room as the Camels moved around. Were they packing?

Ethan's screen lit up again:

 

Why R Camels hiding in bathroom?

 

Ethan rolled his eyes. I might have laughed if I hadn't been one hundred percent ready to freak out.

 

Do not climb ladder!!!

 

“I will never give him the box,” Mrs. Camel said. “It's mine. Do you understand? Mine!”

Wow, I recognized that sound in her voice. She wanted the box as much as I did. Except for one thing—it belonged to me. It was my birthday present. She stole it. I wanted to shout,
Mine!

“My dear, please try to calm yourself. Of course we won't give him the box.” Mr. Camel spoke slowly, as if to a wild animal. “But I'm afraid we must leave it here, one last time.”

“Leave it?

“We need to get our passports, remember?”

Passports? They were planning on leaving the country. With
my
box.

“But it wants me to protect it,” Mrs. Camel said. “I will bring it with us.”

“No. Leave it here. The individual forging our documents is a criminal of the lowly variety. Let us not tempt her. The box's powers are strong, as you know, my dear.”

Ethan and I stared at each other, equally puzzled. Box's powers?

“But . . .” Mrs. Camel's voice sounded tearful. “How can I leave it again?”

“I will change the combination to ease your concerns,” Mr. Camel said. Something clicked. “All is well. The box is safe and sound. And Juniper is tied up tight. After we get our passports, we'll come straight back here, collect the box, and then go force Juniper to tell us how to open it. Let's see how she reacts when we tell her that we are willing to go after her sweet little niece.” There was a kissing sound. “Now, why don't you freshen up for the photo.”

Oh crud! Ethan and I ducked as low as we could below the tub's rim as Mrs. Camel entered the bathroom. There was only a thin sheet of plastic between me and the woman who'd come up with the evil plan of threatening to hurt me in order to scare my great-aunt. If she decided to take a shower, what would we do? The Swiss army knife was nestled in my pocket but seriously, how would it help? I could con Tyler into taking me to WA DC and I could sneak into a motel room, but no way was I going to stab someone.

Ethan's hand shot to his nose. Hello? This was not the time to get a stress-induced nosebleed.

Water ran in the sink. The towel rod jiggled. A purse unzipped, then zipped again. “You're sure the box is safe?” Mrs. Camel asked as she left the bathroom.

“Only the downtrodden stay in a motel like this. There's nothing here to steal. It is the best kind of hiding place.”

A door creaked open. “It had better be the best kind of hiding place,” Mrs. Camel said. “There are powers beyond belief in that box.”

Another kissing sound followed. “All will be well, my dear. The box will be yours. You will bask in its glory and our reputation will rise from the ashes like a phoenix.”

“Yes, like a phoenix.”

The door closed and their footsteps faded down the balcony.

“They tied her up,” I said. “Did you hear that?” I wanted to scream. Instead, I scrambled out of the tub and ran to the front window. As I peeked out between the curtains, George and Martha Camel walked quickly down the motel staircase, then headed toward the sidewalk. They looked very different without their wigs. Her hair was short and black, while his was a blond buzz cut. Neither seemed old and frail and they were both dressed in jeans and ordinary white shirts. “We have to follow them.”

“We don't need to follow them,” Ethan said as he emerged from the bathroom, his head thrown back, a wad of tissue held to his nostrils. “They're going to get passports first, then come back for the box, then go to Juniper.” He opened the back window. “Hey, Tyler,” he called. “They're gone.”

“What did they mean about powers beyond belief?” I asked, trying not to look at the bloodied tissue.

“I don't know. I think they must be crazy.” He held the bridge of his nose.

A really bad thought popped into my head
.
“You don't think it's a weapon, do you?”

“A weapon?” Ethan frowned at me. “Why would Juniper send you a weapon for your birthday?”

“Well, if it holds powers beyond belief, then what else could it be?”

He tossed the tissue into the waste bucket. “If Juniper had a weapon, she'd be a terrorist and we'd need to call Homeland Security, not the police.”

“A terrorist?” I might have laughed if the whole thing hadn't been so weird. “Now
we
sound crazy.”

Maybe crazy was going around because I couldn't ignore that
feeling,
as if the box
was calling to me. I turned on the closet light and knelt next to a small safe. Instructions were posted about how to set the combination, along with a statement saying the motel owner wasn't responsible for stolen items. The tugging feeling grew stronger and stronger. “It's in there,” I said, jiggling the handle. I tried to move the safe but it was bolted to the floor. “Do you think we can figure out the combination?”

“I don't know,” Ethan said.

The ladder hit the windowsill with a
thunk
. “What is taking so long?” Tyler complained as he climbed. “You expect me to . . . whoa. What's up with the candles and the Greek letters?”

I whipped around. “Greek? You know they're Greek?”

He leaned over the sill. “Yeah. We labeled different sections of Cyclopsville in Greek to make it look authentic. I recognize some of the letters.”

“What does it spell?” I asked.

Tyler shrugged. “I don't know. It's Greek to me. Hey, why are you in the closet?”

“Uh . . . Jax wants to break into the safe,” Ethan said.

“Break into the safe?” Tyler's face went pale. “Now that's definitely going to look bad on your high-school transcript.”

I was ready to plead, beg, throw myself at my cousin's feet if I had to. “Tyler, I need your help. Please. How can I figure out the combination?”

“Math,” he said. “Math can solve everything.” He climbed into the room, pushed us aside, then lay on his stomach in front of the safe. I almost reminded him that he was now officially breaking and entering, but I didn't. “There are thirty-five input options on the dial, and it's a three-tumbler lock. So that means it's thirty-five to the third, which is forty-two thousand eight hundred seventy-five possible combinations. So, let's assume that I can do roughly seven combinations in a minute. I divide forty-two thousand eight hundred seventy-five by seven and I get six thousand one hundred twenty-five, which is the number of minutes it would take. Then I divide that by sixty to get the number of hours, which is . . . one hundred two.” He smiled proudly. “Basic stuff.”

“One hundred and two hours?” I asked. “Are you kidding me? You said math can solve everything.”

“It can, but I didn't say how long it would take.” Tyler spun the dial.

“Forget math,” Ethan said. “Give me my knife.” I did. “This is a cheap safe. It's got hinges on the side.” With one of the knife's tools, he pushed out the hinge pins and—
voila
—the door fell open. Ethan to the rescue! Relief, cool and crisp, flooded my body. Is this what it felt like to have Gatorade poured over your head after the Super Bowl? Victory was mine!

“You're brilliant,” I told him. I squeezed between my cousins, reached in and grabbed the box. It wasn't as shiny as before. The Camels had smudged it with their evil fingerprints. But the surface was still warm.

“I was going to suggest the hinges,” Tyler said sheepishly.

While I hugged the box to my chest, a satisfied feeling filled me from the tips of my feet to the top of my head. It was safe. It was back in my arms. Then I looked worriedly at Ethan. “Now how do we save Juniper?”

“Save?” Tyler asked.

I explained. “The Camels are holding her hostage. They have her tied up somewhere. They can't figure out how to open the box so they're going to force her to tell them. They've even threatened to hurt me, if she won't tell them. They said the box contains powers beyond belief. Once they've gotten whatever's inside, they're going to leave the country with fake passports.”

“Jeez,” Tyler said. “I hate to admit it but maybe my little brother is right. Maybe we should—”

“No,” Ethan interrupted. “Don't call the police.”

“Huh?” both Tyler and I said.

Ethan began to pace. “Look, we need to help Juniper, right? And we need to keep Jax safe.” A plan was spinning in his head. We'd suddenly reversed roles. He was scheming, I was waiting to be told what to do. “If those Camels come back and see a police car sitting outside, they could panic and take off. We might never see Juniper again, and Jax will still have to worry about the Camels coming after her.”

I didn't like the sound of that. I had enough trouble shutting off my thoughts at night without adding in the fear of George and Martha Camel kidnapping me. “What do you think we should do?” I asked Ethan.

“Here's what I think,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically brave. “You're not going to like this, Jax, but we can trade the box for Juniper. We have it. They want it. And we can tell them how to take the readings and make the circles. Then they can leave the country and we can go home and never see them again.”

“Are you serious?” Tyler asked. “After all this, you want to give up the box?”

I ran my hand over the LCD screen. Of course that's what we'd do. We'd trade the box for Juniper. She was our great-aunt and her life was more important than a puzzle box, no matter what was inside. That was the right thing, the only thing to do. But my head felt thick all of sudden, and that tugging feeling was back. I really wanted to keep the box, and the idea of letting it go made my stomach clench. “But what if . . .” I hesitated. Ethan would think that what I was about to say was ridiculous. “What if it does have powers? Powers beyond belief?”

“Uh . . .” Ethan cringed. “You're kidding, right?”

“No, just listen to me.” I sat on the edge of the bed and set the box on my lap. My face was reflected back up at me. “I have this weird feeling, and I don't know how to explain it. It's like the box and I belong together. Like I'm supposed to hold on to it. I need to see what's inside.”

Ethan let out a long sigh. “Jax, it doesn't matter what's inside. What matters is Juniper's safety and your safety.”

“It
does
matter what's inside,” I insisted. “That's the whole reason for this trip. The whole reason why Juniper was kidnapped. The whole reason why the Camels are willing to come after me. What if it's something dangerous? Something with power? Some kind of weapon? We can't give it to them. They're horrible people.”

“I'm with Jax,” Tyler said. “We can't give the box to the Camels.” He was standing in front of the strange symbols, staring at his phone. “I just looked these symbols up in the Greek online dictionary.” He held out the phone. One word was on the screen.

Pandora.