The Secret Cipher (4 page)

I understood why Tyler hadn't admitted the voice. His mom was a psychologist. If she knew, she'd want to do some kind of scan or test Tyler's brain chemistry. She'd probably put him on medication. Or perform a lobotomy!

“I know you don't want to get anywhere near the urn,” I told Tyler. “Neither do I. But what if Juniper wasn't able to hide or destroy it? Or what if she really did have a stroke and the urn is sitting around, unprotected? If someone else opens it . . .” I paused, then touched Tyler's arm. “We can't let what happened to you happen to other people.”

Tyler's shoulders slumped. “Do
not
ask me to drive you.”

“Would you please drive us?” I said, as if each word was coated in sugar.

He groaned. “The answer is no. Negatory. Never.” He grabbed his deck, stood, then walked toward the exit.

“Hey,” Merlin called. “We'll get your name engraved, then you can pick up the trophy next week.”

“Have your people call my people,” Tyler said with a smirk. “See ya next time,
losers
.” He pushed open the door and walked across the parking lot. Ethan and I hurried after him. As he pulled his keys from his pocket, I raced ahead and threw myself in front of his car door. Then I cringed because I hated what I was about to do.

“Please,” I begged. “Please, please, please take us to Boston. We need you. This is important.”

Tyler scowled and pointed a key at me. “I'm done with Juniper and that urn. Do you hear me? I will never—”

“Tyler?”

We all turned and looked back at Merlin's Comics. A red-haired girl stood in the doorway. She wore a pair of shorts and Greek gladiator sandals that wound up to her knees. Her hair
was styled in dozens of braids that swayed as she strode toward us.

Then I saw something I thought I'd never see. And it practically blew my mind.

The girl kissed Tyler's cheek.

FACT:
Mental chronometry is the study of response time. For example, how long does it take someone to react to a flashing Don't Walk sign, a blaring fire alarm, or the first tremors of an earthquake? It has been proven that people with higher IQs tend to score higher on reaction-time tests. But in this particular case it wasn't true. Tyler was just standing there, staring. A girl had just kissed him. Well, she'd kissed his cheek. But that counts.

“W
hat. Just. Happened?” Jax whispered to me.

I admit I had no explanation. Why someone would kiss my brother was beyond me. And she was
pretty. Really pretty. Her red hair sparkled as if she'd sprinkled it with glitter.

Jax and I watched, dumbfounded, as the girl stepped back and smiled at Tyler. His cheeks turned red. Did Tyler have a girlfriend we didn't know about? If so, then why was he staring into space and not saying anything? Finally, the silence was broken. “I offer my congratulations to the champion,” she said in a weird accent.

Oh, it was a congratulatory kiss. I guess that made sense.

She had super-long brown legs and her T-shirt was plain and white. A tan leather bag was slung over her shoulder. “Your strategy was both clever and ruthless,” she said, still smiling at Tyler. “A winning combination.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, a goofy look spreading across his face.

“I would like to learn from a great master. Might we sit together and talk?”

“Okay.” His face got even redder. It wasn't like my brother to speak in one-word sentences. Or to stand like a statue. “Now?”

Jax put her hands on her hips. “Tyler, we've got something important to do.”

“Is talking to me not important?” the girl asked as she batted her long eyelashes.

Tyler suddenly snapped out of it. He opened the front passenger door and started moving stuff around. “My car's usually not this messy,” he lied as he tossed fast-food wrappers and comic books into the backseat.

“Tyler?” Jax said. “Hello? Great-Aunt Juniper. Remember?”

“We can go to Boston later,” he grumbled.

“No, we can't. We have to go now.”

“I beg your pardon,” the girl said. “Why are you embarking on a journey to Boston?”

“They want me to drive them to Boston because we've got this great-aunt who's sick, but we're not sure because—” He stopped talking, thanks to a sharp whack on his shoulder from Jax. “Hey! Jeez, Jax, stop being such a brat!”

“Tyler, can we talk to you in private?” she said, shooting a nasty look at him.

The three of us walked back to Merlin's entrance, leaving the girl at the car. “Get her phone number and call her when we get back,” she said, keeping her voice hushed. “The urn is more important than hanging out with her right now.”

Tyler didn't look convinced. He glanced over his shoulder and waved at the girl. She waved back. “Look,” he told us. “You've forgotten one important thing. You're going to need permission from the parental units if you want to go to Boston. That's a long drive. How are you going to convince them?”

Jax narrowed her eyes. “Well . . .” The answer didn't really matter. Jax had her mind set and that meant it would happen. One thing my cousin did brilliantly was get her own way. “I'm thinking. . . .” She looked around. The brick wall was covered with flyers advertising all sorts of things, from computers for sale, to upcoming concerts, to a comic-book festival in Boston. “What about that?” she said. Then she tore the flyer from its duct-taped corners and read it aloud. “International Comic Book Festival, Boston, Massachusetts.”

“It's this weekend,” I said, reading over Jax's shoulder. This festival would be a believable excuse. I shouldn't have been amazed. Like I said, Jax always figured out a way.

Tyler sighed. Then he waved at the girl again. The girl pointed to a store across the street. “Shall we go and eat gelato?” she called.

“Yeah, okay,” he called back.

Jax grabbed Tyler's shirt hem, holding it tight so he couldn't walk away. “Look, we'll make you a deal. We'll come and get gelato with you and then you'll drive us to Boston tomorrow.”

“And
why
would I want you two losers to get gelato with me and my fangirl?”

I had no answer to that question. But I could tell Jax was working out a plan in her head because her eyes were darting back and forth. “You need us, Tyler. You don't want to blow it, do you? She's clearly into you and you want to impress her, right?” He nodded. “If you tell her how great you are, she'll think you're bragging. But we can tell her all about your awards and stuff. Then she'll be so impressed, she'll practically beg you for a real date.”

“Impressive logic,” he said. “Fine. Help me make an irresistible impression. Then we'll talk to the parents about Boston. But I want to make one thing perfectly clear—I'm not getting anywhere near that urn. You got that?”

Jax hugged him. “Thanks, Tyler.” Then he strode across the lot.

“Why do we have to get gelato with them?” I whispered to Jax. “I don't want to talk about Tyler's awards.”

“Me neither,” Jax whispered back. “But did you see how stupid he got around her? It's like she turned his brain to Jell-O. He might tell her something about the urn. We have to supervise.”

I blew my nose again. The idea of
supervising
my older brother was as unappealing as the wad of used tissues in my pocket.

As I followed Jax across the parking lot, something started to bug me. Not the fact that my brother had attracted the attention of a really pretty girl. Not the fact that Jax was going to drag us all on another crazy adventure. It was something else. I was sure I'd never met the girl before but . . .

The way she spoke was eerily
familiar
.

C
hatham's Creamery had been in business for a long time, and it looked like it. Mom told me that the lime-green walls and orange chairs were popular way back in the 1970s. The guy behind the counter was Gus, the owner. He had one of the biggest guts I'd ever seen, probably because the only exercise he got was scooping the gelato, which didn't look difficult because it was pretty soft stuff. My favorite flavor? Lemon ice. Ethan always got vanilla bean.

One of the differences between me and my cousins is that they always had money in their pockets, while I never did. So Ethan often got stuck paying
for my share of the bill. He never complained. He was very generous. But it made me feel bad. I'm not a mooch. I just don't have access to two parents who supply twenty-dollar bills. It's like they have a cash machine in their house.

Ethan paid for my gelato, and Tyler paid for the girl's, which I guess made it an official “date.” Okay, I have to admit that if you looked past the grungy clothes and the armpit stains, the messy hair and the stubble, Tyler wasn't bad-looking. And I guess if you're a gamer girl, you'd be attracted to the gaming champion.

When we got to the table, Tyler pulled out a chair for the girl. The only time he'd done that for me was as a prank so I'd fall on my butt. Guess the “Impress the Girl” show was beginning. She sat. Then we sat. Everyone took a bite of gelato. Tyler used a napkin, instead of his sleeve, to wipe chocolate from his mouth. A napkin!

The hidden truth was this—even though Tyler didn't normally have good manners, he
was
impressive. Last month, he'd proven himself to be a true hero, in every sense of the word. He'd risked his life to save me, Ethan, and Great-Aunt Juniper. He had no idea what would happen when we opened
that urn, but he'd taken the risk anyway. In that moment, he'd revealed his true self. He cared about his little brother and cousin.

“How is your gelato?” Tyler asked, using his napkin again.

“Most delicious,” the girl replied. “As good as anything on Mount Olympus.”

Oh perfect. She was a Greek god geek, just like Tyler.

She dipped her spoon into her scoop of caramel swirl and took another bite. Then she rested her chin in her hand and smiled dreamily at him. “How did you become the champion of the game Magic: The Gathering?”

Tyler immediately launched into an explanation of the strategy he'd used to win the tournament, which was totally boring but the girl looked like she was hanging on every word. Then, before Ethan or I got the chance to talk, Tyler started listing all his other accomplishments and trophies. I must admit that even I was impressed, and I'd seen the trophies a zillion times. But this wasn't a job interview—this was a date and the conversation needed to be two-sided. I don't really know why my cousin Ethan has to go to a counselor and learn
social skills, because I think Tyler needs it a million times more.

I kicked Tyler under the table so he would stop talking about himself. He glared at me. I nodded my head at the girl. He shrugged. So I turned toward her and changed the subject. “How do you get your hair so sparkly?” I asked.

“I do not understand this question,” she said.

“What kind of product do you use?” I touched my own hair. “To get all those sparkles? Is it a leave-in conditioner? Do you use a hot iron to keep it that straight?”

“I do not use anything.”

“Oh, right. It's just
natural
.” What. A. Liar. Guess she was putting on an act for Tyler. Wouldn't they both be disappointed after a few dates when they started revealing their true selves? He'd be wiping barbecue sauce off his chin with his sleeve and she'd be totally
not
sparkling. I drummed my fingers on the table. Let's get this over with so we can do the important stuff, like start packing for Boston. “So, where are you from? I don't recognize your accent.”

Ethan stopped eating and looked up.

The girl fiddled with her spoon. “I am from Greece.”

Tyler nearly choked on a piece of waffle cone. “Seriously? Greece? Did you know that my friends and I are designing a game that takes place in Greece? Well, on Mount Olympus. In the Realm of the Gods.”

As Tyler told the girl all about it, I leaned close to Ethan. “Jeez,” I whispered. “She's a gamer girl, she's from Greece,
and
she's not a troll. He hit the jackpot today.”

“She seems nice,” he whispered back.

Tyler was still talking. “Things have been slow with the game since I got back from the hospital. We need to iron out some problems we're having with—”

“Why were you in a hospital?” the girl interrupted.

“I was sick. Super sick.” He took a bite of his waffle cone. “They said it was a virus. But don't worry. I'm not contagious.”

She leaned her elbows on the table and stared into his eyes. “The virus . . . it made you sad. Very sad.”

He nodded, his face going pale. “How did you know?”

Ethan and I held our spoons in midair, waiting
for her answer. She reached across the table and touched his arm. “I can sense this sadness. You still carry it within you.”

“No, I don't,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “It's gone. I'm fine.”

The date had taken a serious turn, and Tyler was looking uncomfortable. I was going to try to lighten things by asking the girl about her cool shoes, but she spoke first. “You said that you were going on a journey to Boston. When do you depart?”

“Tomorrow,” Tyler said.

“We're going to this thingy.” I pulled the flyer from my pocket. “The International Comic Book Festival.”

“Perhaps I could journey with you,” the girl said.

“That would be great!” Tyler practically fell off his chair. “There's so much to see. We could check out the Puzzle Master. She helped me last year when I was having trouble with a component in Cyclopsville. She's awesome. And we could—”

“Tyler,” I interrupted. “I don't think that's a good idea. What about . . . the other thing we have to do?”