The School for the Insanely Gifted (7 page)

Chapter 11
Return of the Thunkmobile

W
hile running for her life down Central Park West, Daphna found herself smiling, amazed at her mother's cleverness. Along with the three Bs, her first piece of music contained another clue. “The Sad Sandbox” was named in honor of a sandbox at the 97th Street playground where she had played as a little girl. Next to the sandbox was a tree—a place where she and her mother used to bury treasures, such as dried leaves and Popsicle sticks. That's where the final missing directions had to be.

As exciting as it was to figure out where the next clue was likely hidden, Daphna still had to get away. With the antelope men gaining, she cut into Jimmy's Bar, a pub with an old upright piano in the corner where she had an open invitation to play show tunes for the patrons whenever she wanted. After playing a quick medley of songs from her favorite musical,
13
, she slipped into the bathroom, then climbed out the window to a back alley. Finally free, Daphna doubled back to the tree by the sandbox. It didn't take much digging to uncover an empty glass bottle. Inside was a sheet of lavender construction paper. On it, in light green ink, almost impossible to read, was a drawing of the globe.

“Got it,” she said out loud.

What was that? A movement in the underbrush? Had the antelope men tracked her down?

Daphna shoved the lavender map into her mother's letter box, then leaped over the playground fence and hit the ground running.

Forty-five minutes later, Daphna hurried into Sheep Meadow from the west side of the park. Clutching her mother's letter box under her right arm, she stopped by the chain-link fence that surrounded the giant field and looked over her shoulder, heart pounding. Though it was hard to tell for sure in the rapidly fading light, she didn't see anyone following her. In the far distance, a group of school kids was finishing up a game of touch football. On the other side of the field was a vigorous soccer game. Daphna knew that in a matter of minutes the players would finally succumb to the darkness and head home to dinner, homework, and bedtime.

Daphna sighed. Exhausted from all the running, she plopped down on a bench. For a moment, she longed to be one of the kids playing sports—a kid with a normal family, who went to a normal school and had a perfectly unexciting normal set of talents. As a light wind blew, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked more closely at the lavender map. Two lines intersected the middle, over what appeared to be an African mountain range. Instantly, Daphna thought of the clue from the letter box. The short story by Ernest Hemingway.

“Kilimanjaro,” she said out loud.

Then Daphna scanned down to two numbers listed in the corner: –3.065274, 37.359076—longitude and latitude markings.

Daphna allowed the good news to sink in. After two long months of mystery, she finally had a link to her mother.

“Hey, Daphna!”

She turned around with a start as Cynthia appeared out of the half-light. The two girls fell into each other's arms.

“Oh my gosh,” Daphna said. “Did two guys follow you, too?”

Cynthia nodded. “Yep.”

“How'd you get free?”

It wasn't until Cynthia pulled away that Daphna realized that her friend was wearing a completely different outfit. Gone were her ripped jeans, cardigan sweater, and pink-rimmed glasses. In their place, Cynthia wore a green peasant dress and sandals. On her head was a black wig.

“What's with the getup?” Daphna asked.

“I could only keep ahead of those weirdos for a few blocks,” Cynthia replied. “Just when I was about to collapse, I remembered the thrift store on Columbus. Well, if being on Broadway has taught me anything, it's how to change costumes in seconds. So I ducked in there, grabbed some stuff from the rack, and threw it on.”

With that, Cynthia took off the black wig, allowing her blond hair to spill out onto her shoulders. She reached into her pocket and put on her glasses.

“There,” she said. “Now I can really see you.”

“What happened next?” Daphna asked.

Cynthia shrugged. “The rest was easy. There was no back door, so I just strolled out the front, pretended I was lost, and asked them directions to Lincoln Center in a Russian accent.” She laughed. “They thought I was some sort of whacked-out tourist!”

Maybe being insanely gifted really was better than being sanely normal.

“What did you do?” Cynthia said.

Daphna glanced around the field. No sign of any masked men in black. With the coast still clear, she allowed herself a moment to tell the story. Cynthia nodded, clearly impressed.

“The old show tune, bathroom slip. You go, kiddo!”

After another hug, Daphna and Cynthia sat on the bench and Daphna took out the map she had found in the sandbox.

“Your mom must've really wanted to make sure this map didn't fall into the wrong hands,” Cynthia said.

Daphna nodded. Now that the escape was over, momentous decisions were at hand.

“What next?” Cynthia asked. “Follow your mom's path?”

Daphna swallowed. “You think she'll be there?”

Her friend shrugged. “Who knows? You've got to look, don't you think?”

Daphna agreed.

How did a girl who wasn't even quite twelve just up and go to Mount Kilimanjaro?

“Let's see,” Cynthia said. “I could use my salary from the show to pay for our plane tickets.”

Daphna blinked. “
Our
plane tickets? You mean you'll go too?”

“Go? Of course I'm going!”

“What about the show? You just got a rave review in the
Times
.”

Cynthia waved a hand. “That's what understudies are for. If you think I'm going to miss a trip to Africa, you're crazy.”

Daphna stood up and paced the turf in front of the bench. “Even if we manage to get on a plane, where will we stay once we're there?”

“We'll figure it out as we go,” Cynthia said. “We're pretty good at that, right?”

“What about the Insanity Cup? I know how much you want to enter with your one-woman
Macbeth
.”

“I do,” Cynthia said. “Really, really badly. But if we leave tonight, we can be back by Monday morning. Maybe I can round up some producers in Africa.”

Daphna smiled. “Well, okay. I just hope Harkin wants to come, too.”

“He won't want to miss this,” Cynthia said. “If he ever shows up, that is.”

Daphna took another look around the field. The touch footballers were wandering as a group to a far exit, and the soccer teams were gathering up the cones they used to mark off their field. Nearby a maintenance man was packing up his tools. Aside from an occasional jogger, the park was emptying out. The air took on a chill. Daphna shivered.

“Where is he?” she said. “He seemed certain to get away. I mean, with those jet-propelled high-tops.”

“Maybe he had to go home and check in with his parents?” Cynthia said.

Daphna could tell that her friend was trying to keep it light but was just as nervous as she was.

“Let's just give him a ring,” Daphna said. She took out her cell phone.

She scrolled quickly to his number. Just as she pressed send, Daphna heard the distant pop of an engine backfiring.

“What was that?” Cynthia asked.

Before Daphna could answer, Harkin picked up.

“Thunk here.”

“Where are you?” Daphna said.

“About twenty seconds away,” he replied. “Get ready to jump.”

“What?”
Daphna said.

The line went dead.

“What's going on?” Cynthia asked.

Daphna heard it again, this time two bangs in rapid succession, followed by the whir of a slightly off-kilter engine. Harkin's Thunkmobile barreled out of the darkness. Though Daphna hadn't been aware that the car was a convertible, the top was down. Harkin was wearing goggles. His ponytail blew behind him as though it were a scarf.

“Here he comes!” Daphna called.

Daphna and Cynthia scrambled onto the bench. Then they saw them. Out of the dim light, hot on Harkin's rear bumper and closing fast, came the masked men, now on five motorcycles. The girls exchanged a horrified glance.

Harkin slammed on the brakes and cut the steering wheel. Daphna gasped as his contraption skidded on the grass, turned in the opposite direction, and stopped on a dime by the bench. Caught unprepared, the five motorcycles slid by, frantically trying to stop and turn.

“Get in!” Harkin cried.

Daphna and Cynthia were already in the air. They landed in the front seat in a tangle of arms and legs.

“Hold on!” Harkin said.

He put the car in gear. It took off like a shot. Three of the motorcyclists—the original antelope man and two of his cronies—were right behind. The two others had crashed into the fence. Cynthia untangled her long legs and sat facing forward.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Right after you guys took off, my jet sneaks failed,” Harkin replied.

“So how did you get away?” Daphna said.

She, too, had righted herself in her seat.

Harkin smiled. “I'm wearing my electromagnetic undershirt. The minute the antelope man grabbed me, he got a shock he'll never forget.” He flicked a switch. “Watch your heads!”

With a loud grunt, the roof of the car came down. By that time, the car had reached the end of the field. With the motorcycles once again hugging his rear bumper, Harkin careened onto a pedestrian path, rumbled down a hill, and took a sharp left onto the park drive. One of the cycles pulled even and bumped hard into the side of the car.

“Watch it!” Daphna called.

Harkin laughed. “It's all good.”

He pressed an orange button on the dashboard. A mechanical arm shot out of the side of the car, slamming the motorcycle off the road, down a hill, and into the lake at 72nd Street.

“Nice work!” Cynthia said, looking out the window. “But where are we going?”

“Going?” Harkin said. “To find Billy B. Brilliant, of course!” He turned to Daphna. “You've found a map by now, right?”

Daphna was dumbstruck. “How did you know that?”

Harkin shrugged. “I just assumed you'd put something together.”

“Watch it!” Cynthia cried.

Harkin swerved around a parked taxi. The two remaining motorcycles went around the other side and kept up the chase.

“So what next?” Daphna called. “To the airport?”

Harkin looked genuinely surprised.

“Don't you know me better than that?” he said. “Hold on!”

He pressed a yellow button. Daphna heard a light hum and glanced out the window just in time to see a blue wing pop out of the right side of the car. Next she saw Harkin grab a green lever high on the dashboard—one Daphna hadn't seen before—and pull it steadily toward him. Daphna felt herself being pushed back in her seat. Before she had time to register what was happening, the crazy contraption lifted off the ground. Daphna and Cynthia exchanged a glance, too stunned to speak. Harkin slapped the dashboard.

“Fly, Thunkmobile! Fly!”

With a loud
whoosh
, the car rocketed up over the trees and soared above the park. On the ground, an antelope man gasped, barely managed to avoid a tree, then skidded to a safe halt. His final companion wasn't so lucky. At the sight of the flying car, he lost control of his motorcycle, crashed into a hot-dog cart, and came up covered in mustard and onions.

“I didn't know this was also a plane,” Daphna said.

Harkin was busy with the controls. “It wasn't. Once I got free of Monsieur Antelope, I realized that we'd probably be going on some sort of a trip and would need a quicker mode of transportation. So I stopped the car to make a few minor adjustments. I even had time to pick up some dinner on the way. Chinese good?”

Cynthia gulped. “Chinese food? Sure.”

Harkin reached behind him and produced a bag, then spun the wheel. Daphna knew she should be nervous—terrified even. But for the first time in two months, she felt strangely calm. Maybe now she'd finally get some answers about her mother.

As the car soared over the Statue of Liberty, Daphna pulled out her cell phone and dialed quickly. Luckily, she got his machine.

“Ron?” she said. “I'm really sorry I forgot to tell you, but I'm off on a school trip for the weekend. I'll call when I can. Don't worry.”

By the time Daphna clicked off, Harkin and Cynthia were already on their phones, making excuses to their parents.

“No, seriously, Mom, dude,” Harkin was saying. “It's an electrical engineering conference. In Madrid. And yes, when I get back, I'll study Dad's housefly. Promise.”

“And don't forget to call the theater,” Cynthia told her father. “My understudy needs to go on in an hour.”

“Sorry,” Daphna said, when her friends had hung up. “I don't want to get you in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Cynthia said. “This is the most fun I've had in years!”

“Ditto that!” Harkin said. “Now come on!” With one hand on the wheel, he used the other to rip open a container of lo mein. “Who's hungry?”

Chapter 12
Off to a Village in the Valley

N
ight fell. The Thunkmobile rocketed over the Atlantic, twisting and turning high above the clouds. After takeoff, the ride was so smooth that the three children almost forgot that the plane was made of discarded taxicabs and a bus.

The farther the flying car traveled over the Atlantic, the more Daphna thought about another flight—the one her mother had taken two short months earlier. The one that had ended in tragedy.

Or had it? Until she had hard-and-fast proof, Daphna couldn't be sure.

About an hour out of the city, Harkin flipped open a panel in the dashboard, revealing what looked like a minicomputer.

“What's that?” Daphna asked.

“My GPS,” Harkin said.

He punched in some numbers, and a voice filled the cockpit.

“Message to the Thunk. Reduce speed to one hundred miles per hour. Descend to five hundred feet!”

“We aren't there yet, are we?” Daphna said.

“Nope,” Harkin said.

“Then where are we going?”

Harkin and Cynthia said nothing. The boy maneuvered the car over a lonely spot in the ocean and shone the headlights across the water.

“I thought you'd want to see it,” he said.

Daphna felt a sinking in her chest. She knew. Below was nothing but unbroken sea.

“I'm so sorry,” Cynthia said.

Daphna swallowed hard. “Are you sure we're in the right place?”

Harkin nodded grimly toward his GPS.

“I took the longitude and latitude from the Coast Guard reports of where your mom's plane was discovered,” he said. “But maybe I made a mistake.”

Daphna forced a smile. “The Thunk doesn't make mistakes.” She paused. “Oh, whatever. It's not like my mom was going to be waiting for me on a life raft for two months. I mean, she could've parachuted out and been saved, right?”

There was an awkward pause during which Daphna hoped that one of her friends would say something like “I bet you're right” or “The map's going to lead us straight to her.” Instead they looked awkwardly at the ocean. Daphna knew they both thought her mom was dead but didn't have the heart to say it. Daphna's eyes welled up with tears.

“Well,” she stammered. “Might as well keep going.”

As Daphna wiped her eyes on her sleeve, Cynthia patted her back. “If we've followed the clues correctly, maybe Billy B. Brilliant has some answers about her.”

Daphna nodded. Harkin flipped a row of switches on the dashboard, then pulled back on the green lever. With a loud purr and an abrupt lurch, the car picked up speed, gained altitude, and was soon flying over the clouds. Though she was high in the air, Daphna hadn't been so low in months. Luckily, she was with the two people in the world who knew best how to cheer her up.

First, Cynthia got Daphna's mind off her mother by telling stories about
The Dancing Doberman.
She even sang the opening number, complete with pants and barks. When she was finished, Daphna applauded.

“Brava!”

Harkin cleared his throat.

“What?” Cynthia asked.

“The Thunk will now recite a poem!”

“You're kidding!” Daphna said.

“What?” Harkin said. “You think all I know about is engine parts? I have a sensitive side too.”

With no further ado, he began to recite:

 

“Fly me high, O Thunkmobile,

And I'm king of all I see!

Only a skunk in a lifelong funk

Could resist this car named Thunk.

That's how it seems to me.

 

“You be good to me, O car,

And I will be true blue.

If some punk were to call you junk,

I'd tell that punk he's full of bunk,

Then make him scrub your wheels and trunk

(That punk would scrub the trunk of Thunk),

That's what I'd make him do.

Sweet Thunkmobile, I love you!”

 

“Not bad,” Cynthia said. “But stick to mechanics.”

“Thanks a lot,” Harkin said.

“Anytime.”

“Okay, Daph, dude,” Harkin said. “You next! Let's hear this famous rhapsody.”

“I'm not going to hum a piece that's meant to be played,” Daphna said.

“I wasn't expecting you to hum it,” Harkin said. He flipped an orange switch, and a small keyboard emerged from underneath the dashboard.

“It's not full-length,” Harkin said, “but you can give us an idea.”

Daphna would have preferred to wait for better conditions. The keyboard was only four octaves. The Thunkmobile shook as it cut through the air. But Daphna knew when she was backed into a corner. With no excuses, she played her rhapsody for all it was worth, filling the small compartment with music. Competing with the whir of the Thunkmobile's mighty engine, Daphna played more loudly than usual. Once, when they dipped suddenly in the air, she missed the keyboard altogether. But fully committed to her performance, Daphna played all the way to the end, when she saw that it had happened again.

Both of her friends were staring straight ahead in a trance.

Cynthia's blue eyes were fixated straight ahead, unmoving. And Harkin was under so deeply that he had let go of the steering wheel and the Thunkmobile had begun to veer down.

“Harkin!” Daphna called.

No response.

“Yo,
Thunk
!”

He shook himself awake. Like her mother and Mrs. Zoentrope before him, he seemed completely at peace.

“Whoa, Daph! That was some piece of music.”

“I put you in a trance.”

“What?” Cynthia said, stirring awake too.

“A trance?” Harkin said. “Tell us about it.”

“Take the wheel first, okay?”

Harkin righted the Thunkmobile, and Daphna filled in her friends on what had happened in Mrs. Zoentrope's office. Harkin and Cynthia took the news in stride, almost as if they had expected Daphna's musical gifts to possess magical properties.

“The power to heal the mind, huh?” Harkin said.

Daphna nodded. “Yeah, that's what Mrs. Zoentrope said.”

“I buy that,” Harkin said.

“Me too,” Cynthia said.

“Oh, come on,” Daphna said.

“No,” Harkin said. “After your little trance, I feel like the best version of myself.”

“Wow,” Daphna said. “I mean, I'm flattered, but it's just music.”

“Just
music
?” Cynthia said. “Don't forget the famous old saying: ‘Music has charms to soothe the savage beast.'”

“And yours has an extra-special quality,” Harkin said. “Always has, always will.”

“Yep,” Cynthia said. “You're the most insanely gifted of all.” She then gave Daphna a punch on the shoulder that was a little bit too hard to be considered purely friendly. “Of course, if you think you're going to beat me out of the Insanity Cup, guess again, girlfriend. My one-woman
Macbeth
will rule the day.”

Daphna had learned to take Cynthia's competitive nature with a grain of salt. It was part of who she was.

“One-woman
Macbeth
?” Harkin said. “Better than Gum-Top? You're out of your mind!”

“Hey,” Daphna said. “We're all winners here, right? I'd be lost without you guys.”

Cynthia patted her hand. “Me too,” she said. Then she smiled. “But I'm still going to win.”

Harkin flipped a switch on the dashboard and a back panel slid open, revealing a small portal with an air mattress laid out on the floor.

“Who gets the first nap?” he asked.

They slept in shifts: Cynthia, then Daphna, then Harkin (who left specific instructions to wake him up if the going got tough). By the time he woke, the little flying car was approaching Europe.

“What do you say to breakfast?” Harkin asked, stretching as best he could in the small front seat.

“Breakfast?” Daphna said. “You brought that too?”

“Nope. But doesn't Paris have the best bakeries? I'd kill for a croissant.”

Harkin maneuvered his strange flying machine down around the Eiffel Tower and landed on Paris's widest street, the Champs-Élysées. Making the transition from pilot to driver easily, Harkin pulled to a halt by a corner
boulangerie
.

After such a long flight, Daphna burst out of the car and happily stretched her legs. Inside the shop Cynthia ordered an array of croissants—chocolate, almond, cheese, blueberry, and honey—in perfect French. Though Daphna didn't generally drink coffee, she joined her friends for a morning cup.

Watching the day come to life—the early-morning vendors, dog walkers, and taxicabs—Daphna wished that she could stay in Paris a week or more. Billy B. Brilliant, strange antelope men, and maps seemed a lifetime away. Why not stick around for a while and see the sights? With any luck, by the time she returned, the problems of her life in New York would have disappeared.

Of course, Daphna knew full well that no amount of good food and art museums could set right what was wrong in her life. No, this strange trip was her only hope of finding out what had happened to her mother. While Harkin and Cynthia seemed perfectly willing to linger over a second croissant, Daphna stood up.

“It's time.”

Soon they were soaring up over the city.

“Next stop, Africa,” Harkin said.

Africa. Daphna's spirits soared, reveling in the thrill of flying to such an exotic, exciting place. Maybe they would see some wild animals. Maybe lots.

As the minutes turned to hours, bad thoughts began to replace good. What if the drawing in the storage bin and the map had been planted by the antelope man as a way to get her far, far out of town? What if he was back in her apartment at that very moment, looking for what he really wanted?

Daphna peered out the window and allowed herself to be slowly soothed by the beauty of the white clouds below. Soon Harkin punched the longitude and latitude coordinates from the map into the computer keypad on his dashboard. On cue, the GPS began to direct the flying car.

“The Thunk must lower altitude to twenty thousand feet,” it said.

“Are we almost there?” Daphna asked.

“Getting closer,” Harkin said.

When the flying car poked its nose underneath a layer of cloud at nineteen thousand feet, Daphna was surprised to see the snow-covered peaks of Kilimanjaro beneath them.

It was hard to imagine anyone living on that snowy mountain. Harkin carefully followed the instructions on the GPS, dropping altitude until the car was only two hundred feet over the snowy terrain, flying head-on into a snowstorm. As the engine strained against the harsh wind, Daphna and Cynthia clutched their seats.

“You sure we're in the right place?” Daphna called.

A massive gust of wind shook the car so hard, Daphna ended up in Cynthia's lap. Regaining her composure, Daphna looked out the window onto miles and miles of snow. Another gust ripped through the air. The car lurched sideways and began to angle sharply down. Daphna went white.

“Harkin?” Cynthia asked.

The boy pulled the green directional lever with all his might. Instead of the car righting itself, its nose dropped even further. As the contraption careened toward the hard ice below, Daphna and Cynthia scrambled to the pilot's seat and each grabbed a piece of the lever. Together, the three threw all their collective weight into pulling it back.

“Harder!” Daphna called.

“It's not working!” Cynthia cried.

The snowy ground rushed up to meet them. The wind was deafening.

Fifty feet.

Forty feet!

Thirty!

Was this the end?

Twenty!

Ten!

Daphna held her breath.

When suddenly . . . the ground opened up! The wind abated. The sun came out. The next thing Daphna knew, the car had righted itself and was soaring over a lush green valley, about a mile across and a half mile wide. The blizzard raged on either side, but down below, oak and pine trees stretched majestically toward the sky in fields dotted with zebras, gazelles, giraffes, and elephants.

Daphna was the first to regain her poise. She took another glance at the map. “This must be some sort of secret land that my mom discovered. Land this thing, Thunk. We've got some exploring to do.”