The Friendship Riddle (22 page)

But wait. I found the flag clue following the moves on the chessboard the way they were described on the King Ferdinand clue. So either I was wrong about the numbering system or I did something wrong with the chess moves.

I looked over the clues again. Those asterisks, why else would there be a different number of them on each card? What else could it possibly represent? It had to be the order. That meant we were missing at least three: the first one, the fifth one that should have come after King Ferdinand, and then there had to be one in the post office box, one that would lead to another clue, unless the post office box itself was the end.

Coco would be good at this. All the books he read, and the way he thought about things in such an orderly way. But no. I could still hear him in the hallway talking with his dad.
I don't care about a stupid geography bee or a stupid spelling bee or a stupid anything bee.
He didn't care. I wasn't sure why he'd been going through the whole ruse of studying with me if he didn't care about the bee, but in the end it didn't really matter. The outcome was the same.

Anyway, I could do this myself. I just needed to think a little harder. I had never relied on anyone in the past except for Charlotte. And look what happened both times: I'd thought he was my friend, but he wasn't. Just like Charlotte. Just like everyone, probably, in the end.

I blinked my dry eyes. I needed to go to bed. I swept all the clues into the box, which I'd emptied of everything else except for one small key. It was bigger than a diary key, but much smaller than a house or car key.

The Summer of Lost Keys.

Two summers ago, we kept finding lost keys. We found one buried in the sand at the beach, silver and warm when we pulled it out. It was just a regular house key. Then, in the library, we found an old-fashioned key with a filigree on one end, and what looked like three uneven teeth to go in the door. We found a key with a key chain that said RAYMOND on it, and we puzzled over whether it was the name of a person or a place. We also found two tiny keys. This had to be one of them. One had been next to a potted plant by the ice-cream place down on the piers, and the other had been sitting on the end of the ferry dock. We kept them all, telling ourselves that these keys meant something, and someday we would be called upon to use them.

I guess she'd given that up as silly, too.

My computer dinged to let me know I had a chat message. It was Lena. Or so I assumed. The screen name was CoolerThanYou2.

Can't chat. Wanted to let you know that you need to do the Wonder Woman pose. Supposed to be in bed. Talk tomorrow.

Lena had already logged off, and I decided that maybe I didn't want to know what the Wonder Woman pose was, anyway.

After I closed the chat window, I opened up a browser and searched for the camp at the Harvard Museum of Natural History. It was run in conjunction with their Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology. The page was filled with glowing, smiling kids alongside photos of artifacts. It said they would get to handle real bones and other ancient objects and learn the stories behind them. They would even get to look at unidentified items and try to date and figure out where they came from.

Coco would love it.

I clicked on APPLY and read what they were looking for:
academic excellence.
Not a problem. Lucas might be the smartest kid in school, but Coco was definitely the most successful.
Cooperative spirit
. Perfect.
Leadership
. I hesitated. He was a leader for sure, but not of any club or team. He just was. But that would be hard to prove, I thought.
Each candidate should have a record of achievements, honors, and accomplishments.
Like winning a geography bee. Or a spelling bee.

What about quiet leaders?
I wondered. What about guys who would be willing to take a backseat in order to help someone else? It didn't seem fair. It wasn't my problem, though, and I didn't know why I even cared. Coco was as good as dead to me.

I picked up old King Ferdinand. Lena had her special sources, and I had mine. If I'd messed up the chess clue, then I needed to speak to some chess experts. Taryn sought
out help when she needed it; it didn't mean she was tied to those people forever. In fact, there were only a few characters who appeared in more than one of her books. The next day I would talk to Dev and Lucas, and they would help me solve the King Ferdinand riddle.

Hoping to catch Lucas before he went into homeroom, I shoved my coat and bag into my locker, slammed the door, turned, and started striding purposefully. I felt like Taryn Greenbottom heading toward a foe. Rounding the corner, I saw Ms. Lawson coming down the hall, waving. I checked over my shoulder, but, no, she wanted me. “Ruth,” she said as she came up to me. “Let's talk.”

Instead of going into her room, where her homeroom was gathered in the corner on the couch and beanbag chairs, she guided me to the teachers' room. Ms. Broadcheck was in there and chose a coffee pod from the decaffeinated box and put it into one of those one-cup machines that Mom says are
going to be the actual downfall of our environment. “Morning, Ruth!” she said. “Just getting my morning buzz.”

“It's decaf,” I said.

“My mind is easily tricked,” she said as she left the room.

Ms. Lawson sat down at a small table and pulled out a stack of maps from her bag. Mine was on top. My stomach plummeted like an elevator cut loose from its line in a cartoon, the wire snapping out above me and hitching in my throat.

“I need you to explain this to me.”

I didn't say anything. What could I say?

“You had everything right. Everything. And then you erased it all. Why?”

“I guess I just wasn't so sure of myself.”

“About every identification?”

“Yes.”

She frowned. “I can't give you credit for erased answers.”

“I know.”

She ran her fingers through her short hair. “Most students would probably put up a fight here. Let me play your part. ‘But, Ms. Lawson, you said yourself you can read them, and if they are right, can't I at least get partial credit?'
 
”

“You don't give partial credit. That's your rule.”

“I am not one hundred percent rigid,” she said. “I'm trying to help you out here.”

“I know.”

“The test was the day after the library collapse,” she said,
as if I could have possibly forgotten. “I know that place was important to you and that Charlotte—”

“Charlotte has nothing to do with this,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

“Charlotte took a makeup.”

I lowered my eyes. So Charlotte had not sold me out. She had just walked away. Again. It was stupid to be mad at her for not cheating, but I was.

“I think you should take a makeup, too. I'll average the grades.”

“So the best I can get is a fifty?”

“Actually, this test warrants a thirty since you did follow the directions for shading and such. You could get a sixty-five and still walk away with a semester grade in the high eighties or low nineties without any extra credit work.”

“And if I don't do the makeup?”

She hesitated. “Your map test goes in as a thirty, which will sink your grade, and your lack of initiative will disincline me from giving extra credit.”

She was frowning hard now, her lips pressed so hard together that they were white and wrinkled around the edges.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Today during study hall.”

“But—” I began to say that I had plans to study with Coco, but realized this would give me an excuse not to have to see him.

She arched her eyebrows.

“Can you just tell Coco when he comes that I can't study?”

“Of course,” she said.

We stood together and walked out of the room.

When I finally got to Ms. Broadcheck's class, homeroom was nearly over, and Lucas was hunched over one of his graphic novels.

“Is this some kind of alliance?” Lucas asked. “I'm not manipulating the outcome of the spelling bee, if that's what you're after.” We were sitting at a table in the library during independent reading time. Lucas had a graphic novel version of
Beowulf
and Dev had a book with a dragon on the cover. I had my Harriet Wexler book. We were holding them up in front of us, but none of us were reading.

“That's not what I'm after. I need some chess help.”

“So what do you need Dev for?” Lucas asked.

“Two heads are better than one,” I told him.

“Three heads are better than my one head. Maybe.”

“Do you need coaching or something?” Dev asked. He glanced toward Ms. Lawson and Mrs. Abernathy, who shared a table by the circulation desk. “I have a chess coach who is quite good. I can get his e-mail address, and your mom can get in contact with him.”

“Not exactly. Can you keep a secret?”

The two boys let their books drop and leaned their
heads in. I hesitated for a moment. Once I told them, I couldn't take it back. But that didn't mean I had to bring them along for the rest of the clues, did it? No. The clues were mine. I would get the boys' help and then I'd be back on my own. I'd solve the whole thing, and then wouldn't Charlotte be surprised.

I spilled.

“That. Is. So. Cool,” Lucas exhaled. “Let me see all the clues.”

“I just have the one with me.” I pulled out the envelope, which I'd tucked into my book like a bookmark. Lucas sighed, but I handed it to Dev.

He nodded. “Chess moves, sure.”

“I thought I figured it out. I stood at the sculpture of King Ferdinand and I followed the floor tiles like a chessboard, and I found a clue. But it's not in the right order with the other ones I found.”

“Which knight were you?” Dev asked.

“Black or white, you mean?”

“No,” Lucas said, snatching the note. “He means were you king side or queen side.”

“Oh. I guess I was king side.”

“So let's try queen side,” Dev said.

There was no way we could all excuse ourselves and go out in the hall during the whole school reading period. Just getting them to sit at a table with me—without Coco or Lena or anyone else—had been hard enough and we were pushing
it with all our whispering. “Can you meet me after school?” I asked.

Dev said, “Sure. My brother has basketball practice. I'm stuck here, anyway.”

“I'll call home. My mom will probably show up with cookies, she'll be so excited I have after-school plans. She keeps asking when I want to have you back over.”

“My mom said once the snow melts,” Dev told him.

“Not you, Ruth. I told her you probably didn't want to come suck at chess again.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said.

“You do suck at chess.”

“And you suck at playdates.” Dev laughed, and Lucas didn't even look put off by it. Still, I added, “But I would come again. I've decided on some names for your insects.”

“You don't name them. They are not pets,” he told me.

“Willy the wasp.”

“No names. Anyway, how could you tell which one is Willy?”

“Rutherford the dragonfly.”

“It's a girl.”

I giggled. I could see Coco looking over at us from his table. His lips twitched into a smile, but his deep eyes were soft and he gave me a sort of head tilt and shrug as if to say,
What is going on over there?

I picked up my book. I'd managed to avoid him all day, which had taken some quick moves on my part—ducking
into the girls' bathroom, sneaking lunch into the library. But I couldn't stand to look into his deep brown eyes and realize that they weren't actually windows to his soul. It had all been a sham—he didn't care about the spelling bee or me or any of it. There was no way I was going to let him in on the clues.

“And who can forget,” I said to Lucas, “Bedelia the queen of the honeybees.”

Lucas dropped his book and threw his hands up with disgust.

“Lucas, Ruth, Dev.” Ms. Lawson's voice was sharp from her perch over by the circulation desk.

I started reading. Taryn was finally about to find shelter: a small abandoned cottage in the woods.

I glanced back up, though, before I dove into the story. “After school,” I mouthed.

Lucas and Dev nodded.