The Third Movement Page 10

  “What were you guys thinking? That was really dangerous!” Carter said.

  “He could have discovered you,” Ridley agreed.

  “He could have tickled you!” added Izzy.

  “He could have bought you a pet peacock!” Olly said wistfully.

  Theo stared at Olly, shook his head, then pulled out the ventriloquist’s notebook. “But it was worth it,” he said. “We finally have some intel, real intel, about him.”

  “You stole that?” asked Carter.

  “We’re going to give it back,” said Leila, “hopefully before he notices it’s gone.”

  “What’s inside?” asked Ridley.

  Taking a deep breath, Theo opened the cover. The ventriloquist’s scrawl was messy and difficult to decipher. Still, he managed to read it aloud: “Wendel Whispers’s Food Journal.” He looked up, a burning sensation already blooming in his cheeks. He flipped through the first few pages. “Breakfast: two eggs and half a cantaloupe. Midmorning snack: half a cup of fresh yogurt sprinkled with granola. Lunch: baked cod—”

  “We get the point,” said Ridley. “You’ve found intel about the ventriloquist’s diet.”

  Theo turned to the last entry in the book, where Wendel had written the words Balloon Festival splurge: one hot dog with mustard. “Ugh!” he said, slamming the pages closed in disgust. How could he have been so stupid? Risking their safety to simply catch a glimpse of—

  “Maybe it’s not just a food journal,” said Leila, gesturing to Theo. He gave her the book. “Remember how my dad’s business ledger was written in code?”

  “Yes!” said Carter. “The code that hid the names of the members of his secret society!”

  “Let me see that,” Ridley said. She flipped through the pages. “I don’t see any sort of pattern here. Maybe he’s written secret messages by using anagrams.”

  “What’s anagrams?” asked Olly, using his fingers to make air quotes.

  “Obviously, the ventriloquist’s gramma is named Ana,” said Izzy.

  Ridley sniffed, almost amused. “Anagrams are words or phrases whose letters can be used to spell other words or phrases.” Izzy and Olly looked at each other, confused. “For instance, I remember an old one that goes, The eyes, they see.”

  “See what?” asked Izzy.

  “No, no,” said Ridley. “Think of the letters in the words. The first part of the sentence—the eyes—contains the same letters as the second part of the sentence—they see—only they’re mixed up to form new words.”

  “Oh, I see!” said Olly.

  “No, eyes see!” Izzy quipped.

  Carter peeked over Ridley’s shoulder at the open notebook. “So what anagrams are in one hot dog with mustard?”

  Huddled between the tents on the midway, the six scoured the ventriloquist’s journal. Ridley wrote down some possibilities in her own notebook. Most of the anagrams sounded ridiculous.

  Throw out something, Dad.

  Diamonds thought tower.

  Editor, shut down Gotham.

  But then the Misfits discovered combinations that looked like names. Many, many names:

  Seth Dartmouth Wooding.

  Hedwiga Toots Thurmond.

  Howard Hutting Modesto.

  It soon became clear that there were just too many possibilities. “The names might be relevant,” said Ridley, “if we’ve come up with the correct combinations. But the more I write down, the less likely it seems.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Olly. “I really wanted to meet Hedwiga Toots Thurmond.”

  “I’ll bet she’s a judge,” said Izzy.

  “Or maybe a bank robber,” said Olly.

  “She’s probably a professional trombone player!” said Izzy. “Toot, toot, toot!”

  “That’s not what trombones sound like. Trombones go wah-wahhhh.”

  The idea of a sad trombone playing at that moment was sort of appropriate, because just then Theo heard Wendel Whispers’s voice coming toward them. “I have no idea where it went,” he said to someone the Misfits could not see. “It was in my pocket one minute, and the next it was gone!” They turned to find the ventriloquist out on the midway, speaking with a security guard.

  Each of them froze. And when the guard pointed toward them, they froze even harder.

  “Head that way,” said the guard. “You’ll find exactly what you’re looking for.”

  “Follow me!” said Ridley, pushing her chair down the path between the tents.

  The kids obliged, bumping into one another and scrambling to keep out of the mud. They came to the end of the row only to find themselves at a high chain-link fence. They turned to the left and raced forward.

  Theo imagined the ventriloquist chasing him down—a large hand reaching for his collar, throwing him to the ground. Where’s my notebook?! the man would demand. Theo looked over his shoulder to find Wendel’s long shadow stretching out from between the tents, in the alley where the Misfits had just been hiding. “Over here!” Theo waved for everyone to follow him into a space behind a small booth.

  There was just enough room for all of them to fit.

  “So much for planning a way out,” whispered Ridley. “What if Whispers discovers us hiding back here?”

  “Quit your yammering,” Carter mumbled.

  Everyone gasped. Carter turned white.

  “Quit my what?” Ridley asked threateningly.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Carter answered, his pale skin blushing vibrant pink.

  “Then who did?”

  “I don’t know, but it wasn’t me!”

  “You’re just jealous because I’m the only one here using my brain,” said Ridley. “Mr. Vernon warned us about something like this happening.”

  “He also told us that we need to stick together,” cautioned Leila. “Remember?”

  “We couldn’t be any more together than this,” Ridley shot back. “We’re practically on top of each other.”

  “Shh!” Theo hushed them. Footfalls sounded from around the other side of the booth.

  “Hello there,” the ventriloquist said. “I’m wondering if you can help me.”

  Theo’s stomach dropped.

  Just then, someone else answered. “Sure hope I can, mister. What do you need?”

  “This is the lost-and-found,” said Wendel. “Is it not?”

  Lost-and-found! The security guard had not sent Wendel to chase the Misfits—he had simply been directing the ventriloquist to this booth.

  Now’s our chance, Theo thought. This was the perfect opportunity for them to return the notebook, no questions asked. Ridley had already copied down everything that she needed. But how would Theo manage it?

  He lifted up the canvas at the bottom of the back of the lost-and-found booth. Peering underneath, he could see several wooden crates stacked under the counter where Wendel Whispers was standing. Theo slipped his bow out from his pocket and took the notebook from Ridley’s lap.

  “Hey!” she snapped, but he ignored her. There was no time to argue.

  “You said it was a lost notebook?” asked the teenager in the booth. Theo watched as the boy leaned down and began to dig through the wooden crates. “Can you tell me what it looks like?”

  Wendel Whispers huffed. “Well, it looks like a… a notebook! What more do you need to know?”

  “We need a diversion,” Theo said quietly.

  Olly raised his and his sister’s hands. “Ready, willing, and able.”

  “Hurry,” said Theo. “We do not need anyone discovering us.”

  “No problem, boss,” said Izzy. She grabbed her brother’s wrist, and together they skipped out from around the corner.

  Soon, there was the sound of bodies colliding and someone letting out an “Oof!”

  “Goodness gracious,” said Wendel. “Are you two all right?”

  Peering under the canvas, Theo could not see what the twins were doing, but the distraction was exactly what he had hoped for. Even the teenager was no longer paying atte
ntion to his booth.

  Theo swung his bow underneath the flap and made the ventriloquist’s notebook dance across the dirt floor. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the book jumped off the ground and landed directly inside one of the wooden crates. Theo wanted to cheer but managed to hold back. It felt like he had just won some sort of strange carnival game. In a flash, he pulled himself out from under the flap.

  “So sorry,” he heard Izzy proclaim. “My brother is such a klutz.”

  “And proud of it!” Olly answered.

  Theo allowed himself a small smile. He was sure the twins were now scampering off toward the midway, leaving Wendel and the teenage attendant in baffled silence.

  They followed Wendel Whispers—notebook back in his pocket—at a distance all the way to the center of town. Ridley took notes every time the man stopped to talk to someone. A gentleman in a brown fedora. A young woman pushing a baby carriage filled with what looked like laundry. A couple dressed in matching denim overalls. Each person was holding a Darling Daniel doll. The ventriloquist shook the dolls’ hands and pretended to be zapped by an invisible buzzer, making the people laugh.

  “There are just too many dolls,” Carter said. “We can’t collect them all.”

  “It feels like all the work we’ve done is for nothing,” said Ridley, frustrated.

  “Maybe we need a new plan,” Leila suggested.

  “Like what?” asked Olly.

  “I know!” said Izzy. “Cartwheels!” She demonstrated.

  Leila shook her head. “I was thinking more along the lines of sending an anonymous letter to the Mineral Wells Gazette so someone will report on the radio transmitters in the dolls.”

  “But even if the letter is anonymous, Whispers and Kalagan will know someone’s onto them,” said Ridley.

  The group fell silent. Only when the ventriloquist hopped into a cab just outside the barbershop—which Ridley also noted in her book—did Theo finally speak. “Are we going to talk about what happened?” he asked, leading the group toward the magic shop.

  “What what happened?” asked Olly, scrunching up his forehead.

  “Back behind the lost-and-found,” Theo continued. “When Carter was mean to Ridley.”

  “But I wasn’t mean to Ridley,” Carter protested. “I know you heard me say, Quit your yammering. I heard it too. But I swear I never said it.”

  “I believe you,” said Leila. “We’ve already dealt with voices imitating us this week. Wendel Whispers was right there at the booth, doing it again.”

  Ridley scowled, looking unsure.

  “Even if that is true, it is not the part we need to talk about,” Theo said. He gave Ridley a hard look. “Ridley’s answer is what makes me nervous.”

  “What did I say?”

  “You’re just jealous because I’m the only one here using my brain,” Carter repeated. Ridley’s cheeks turned pink, and she scowled harder.

  “Can’t we all just be kind to each other?” Leila asked.

  “Yeah,” said Carter. “We can’t focus on what Whispers is doing if we keep fighting.”

  “And what is he doing exactly?” Ridley asked.

  “Trying to make us fight!” Carter practically yelled. “Can’t you see that it’s working?”

  “No way,” Ridley said, opening her notebook. “His plan can’t be that simple. We have all this evidence—”

  “What evidence?” asked Theo. “We managed to get a glance into his food journal, which may or may not be filled with secret anagrams. I am leaning toward not.”

  Ridley’s eyes widened with frustration. “We just saw him chatting with all those people around town. They could be his cronies.”

  “Or they might just be ordinary people who liked his show,” said Leila. “Each of them had a doll.”

  Ridley shook her head. “So, what you’re saying is that Wendel Whispers is not working with Kalagan?”

  “I’m not saying that,” Leila said. “It’s just, from what we do know, he’s trying to mess with us. Maybe it would be better if we started ignoring him.”

  “I don’t want to take that risk. Do you?”

  The Misfits were silent for a moment.

  “I agree with Leila,” said Carter. “I think we should cool it for a while. At least until Mr. Vernon gets back.”

  Theo’s head felt swimmy. None of this was fair. They should all be able to have a normal summer vacation without worrying about villains who may or may not have infiltrated their beloved town.

  “You know what?” Ridley snapped. “I’m feeling pretty tired. I think I should head home.”

  Carter and Leila glanced worriedly at each other.

  “If that’s what you want,” said Leila, “we understand.”

  “Who’s we?” Ridley asked. “It’s like you’re all ganging up on me.”

  “We’re not!” said Izzy.

  “We would never gang up,” Olly added. “We only gang down.”

  “Maybe lunch will make us feel better,” Theo said. “How about we all talk later?”

  “Great,” said Ridley. “Theo, let’s go.”

  Theo flinched. “I… I think I’d like to be by myself right now.” He glanced at the others, trying to gauge if his response was too cruel. They only looked at him sympathetically.

  “Fine,” Ridley said flatly. “Olly, Izzy, want to come over?”

  “Yes!” Izzy cheered. “I’ve always wanted to see where you live.”

  “Lead the way!” Olly added. Neither twin seemed to realize that their enthusiasm was making the rest of the Misfits cringe.

  Ridley headed off toward the corner. At the last second, she turned back and glared at her friends.

  No, not at her friends, Theo thought. At me.

  SIXTEEN

  “Are you okay?” Carter asked Theo.

  “I think so. I just hate when Ridley gets like this.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Carter. “When I arrived in Mineral Wells, I thought she hated my guts.”

  “Ridley doesn’t hate anybody,” said Leila. “She’s just frustrated. Like the rest of us.”

  “You’re welcome to come into the magic shop for some grub,” Carter said to Theo. “We can feed Change-O and then take him out to the gazebo. He loves watching the squirrels.”

  Theo glanced into the darkened window of Vernon’s Magic Shop. Even though he could see rows of bookshelves, jars filled with magical doodads, and Top Hat, the rabbit, hopping aimlessly about inside, the shop seemed to have lost some luster. Without Mr. Vernon there, it felt as though a valve of its heart had stopped beating.

  “Thank you,” said Theo. “But I meant it when I said I would like some time alone. How about a rain check?”

  “Rain-check us anytime,” said Leila. “And you don’t have to wait for rain either.”

  Theo gave her a small smile, then walked away in the opposite direction, dragging his feet.

  He could not head home. No one there would understand what he was going through. And he was afraid that if he were to spend another minute with his friends, his anger would grow and expand, like a giant balloon. But there was someone else he knew he could talk to. Someone who lived only a couple of blocks away.

  When he reached the music shop, the lights inside were on, so he swung the door open. Already, his pulse was quickening at the thought of seeing Emily. (Ah, dear reader. Is there anything more magical than the expectation of seeing someone who makes our hearts pitter-patter? Erm—that is… oh dear. I appear to be blushing. Please excuse me.)

  Theo looked around the shop but saw no one there. Soft music was coming from the back, though, and he wandered closer to peer through a back door that was slightly cracked.

  Mick Meridian was leaning over a workbench, facing away from Theo. A gramophone turned in the corner, playing a scratchy-sounding minuet. Mick swayed as he listened and fiddled with a contraption on the bench.

  Theo noticed something on the back of the man’s neck, something he had not seen before. A
pinkish, puckered blotch of rough skin spread up from Mick’s shirt collar, reaching around toward his left ear. It looked like a scar.

  The door squeaked slightly as Theo leaned on it, and Mick Meridian swiveled on his stool. “Who’s there?” he called out.

  “Theo Stein-Meyer,” Theo answered through the crack. “So sorry. I thought the store was open.”

  “Theo!” Mick stood and practically ran toward him. “Welcome, welcome. Of course we’re open. It’s just been such a slow day, I decided to come back here and do some specialized work.” He gestured at a shelf on the wall above the workbench. On it sat half a dozen curious devices. “Metronomes,” he explained. “It’s a little hobby of mine.”

  Theo had seen gadgets like these before. In fact, there was one sitting on the piano in his own living room. A metal pole stuck up out of the wooden base and ticked back and forth, helping musicians keep time. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. You could adjust the tempo to be slower or faster by sliding a weighted piece of metal up or down the pole.

  Mick Meridian’s metronomes were different from any Theo had seen before. Each one had a weight that was a different shape, like charms on a bracelet. There was a hand, a pyramid with an eye inside, a crescent moon turned on its side, and a hypnotic, swirling disk. There was a bright red apple and a burgundy heart. “You made these?” Theo asked, and Mick nodded. “They are spectacular!”

  “You’re kind.” Mick smiled. “Now, I have a guess as to why you’re here, but unfortunately, my daughter isn’t around. She went to check out the hot air balloon festival down at the fairgrounds.”

  Theo could not stop his smile from falling away. “I was just there.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t run into Emily. She told me she was going to look for you.”

  “Really?” Theo’s skin warmed. “Maybe we walked right by her.”

  “We?”

  “I went with my friends from the magic shop.”

  “Ah yes, the magic shop.” Mick’s gaze turned inward, as if he was remembering something. “How is Vernon?”

  “He is still away, actually. Umm, business.” Theo felt strange saying it that way, as if he were lying.