better.
Then I heard a familiar sound. It was the sharp tread of boots on the creaking hardwood floor. Miss Urdo was coming. We were hard at work when she came in and she nodded curtly. We had even cleaned some of the junk off the tiny slit windows along the floor.
“Very good, children,” she said. “Come with me, I’ve got something to show you two.”
We got up, dusted off our knees and followed her. Beth gave me a questioning look and I shrugged in answer. I had no idea where she was taking us.
We followed her graceful, sure steps quietly. Even Beth had figured out by now that Principal Urdo didn’t like questions.
Beth skipped ahead of me, and began imitating Miss Urdo’s unique way of walking. She put her hands to her sides with fingers out and walked by swinging her hips. She walked on her toes to create the look that the Principal had because of her heeled boots. Beth really did look like Urdo, but she was overdoing it, of course, exaggerating everything for a laugh.
Beth looked over her shoulder and gave me a huge impish grin and I almost blew it by laughing aloud. I managed to contain it and only released a single snort.
Urdo’s head slid around and her eyes landed on us. Beth was instantly herself again. She was quick, I was impressed.
Urdo gazed at each of us for a second. We smiled back, innocently.
“This,” she said, reaching her hand down to a tiny door in the wall and twisting the brass doorknob. “Is a very special laboratory.”
She opened the door, which had to be no more than three feet square. Light and cold air swept in through it.
Urdo gestured with a slow sweeping motion of her hand.
We crept through the door in a crouch.
Urdo followed us and clicked the door shut behind us.
A large part of the laboratory was taken up by an enormous, old-fashioned brass telescope that stuck up like a cannon through a domed metal ceiling. I had been on a field trip to see Haggart Observatory. There they had computers and electric motors to control the telescope. In this place, there were only huge gears and levers and cranks. Everything had to be moved by hand.
“Wow,” said Beth, “this is great!”
Urdo smiled at her. When she smiled, she looked pretty. Normally, I never thought of her that way. She was old compared to us kids. I figured she must be at least thirty. She usually had such a serious look, I never thought of her as pretty.
Urdo went to a hanging chain that dangled down one wall. She grabbed the chain and hauled on it. There was a rattling, rusty sound as unoiled equipment squealed into life. Part of the dome ceiling slid aside, allowing a slit about a foot wide to open up.
Snow and cold wind blew down upon us from the gray skies outside. Beth grabbed her own shoulders and shivered, but she looked excited.
“Are we going to try out the telescope?” I asked.
Urdo nodded and indicated a big brass wheel near me. It looked like the kind of wheel you saw on old movies to steer sailing ships, except it was made of metal. I grabbed it and cranked it. It barely budged. Beth came and helped me.
Grunting and straining with effort, we got the wheel moving. It became easier once it was started.
“Hey, the telescope is moving!” said Beth.
I looked up and sure enough, as we cranked the wheel, the barrel of the telescope rose up and poked its tip out into the sky.
“But wait,” I said, pausing in my efforts. “How are we going to see anything? The sky is totally overcast and there is snow everywhere.”
Miss Urdo gave us a smile. It was a cold, thin smile.
“This telescope is special,” she said.
Chapter Eleven
We watched with big eyes as Urdo moved to an old roll top desk and produced a tiny silver key from a chain around her neck. She took out the key and slid it into the lock. It clicked and the rolling cover that closed the desk rolled up and away with a rattling sound.
There was a lot of stuff on the desk. There were bottles of fine colored liquids and shiny stones. There was a tiny green plant, no bigger than a maple leaf that sat in a pot. It looked green and fresh, but everything else was dusty.
“How did that plant live?” I asked. I put my hand to my mouth as Urdo turned slowly to face me. Her eyes cut into mine.
“Sorry,” I said, “I know you hate questions.”
“Nonsense,” she said, turning back to the plant. “I only dislike silly questions.”
“Um,” said Beth. “It looks like that desk hasn’t been opened in about a hundred years, so how can it be so alive and green in there?”
Urdo froze and her eyes slid to Beth. I knew the only thing she liked less than questions were interruptions.
“There are oddities of science in this place,” she said, as if this explained everything. “Some things are from now, some things are from before, and some things are from after.”
“You mean the past and the future?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” she said, nodding. “But those words are too certain, too definite. These things are from what might have happened, and from what might yet be.”
Beth and I exchanged confused glances.
“We call this room The Forever Room,” said Urdo. “There are things here that can see what might be the past, and what might be the future. Let me demonstrate with a little experiment.”
Urdo opened one of the dozens of small flat drawers in the desk and produced a disk. The disk was about six inches in diameter. She held it up. It was round and made of rose-colored glass. It had a silvery metal rim.
“A lenses for the telescope?” guessed Beth.
Urdo nodded and proceeded to open a sliding door on the side of the telescope. She slid the lens into place. Then she worked small wheels that squeaked as the telescope shifted into place and an oval-shaped viewing cup came up to lock in place in front of us.
She indicated the viewing cup and I stepped forward. Beth jostled into me. We looked at each other and laughed.
“You first,” said Beth.
“You are the guest,” I said.
Excitedly, Beth climbed onto a stool and hunched over the viewing cup. I could see light shine up into her face. Her eyes widened and she made sounds of appreciation.
“You see stars?” asked Urdo. She seemed surprised.
“Oh, yes,” said Beth. “There are stars. Lots of them. Three of the brightest are in a line. Sooo bright. This thing really can look right through the clouds, Connor!”
“My turn,” I said, feeling greedy.
“Give her a chance, she must remember the pattern,” said Urdo. She thumbed busily through a large dusty catalogue of star pictures.
I made a face and practically danced around her.
When she finally sat back, she beamed a smile that lit up the room. “Okay,” she said reluctantly, “Your turn,
