“Yeah, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry,” she said. “I get it. It’s tough reading about all this stuff and not being able to do anything about it. It’s like being on the bench during a big game.”
Mark shrugged. He knew exactly what she meant. He’d never been anyplacebutthe bench during big games. It looked like he was going to have to ride the pines during this one too.
They arrived at the bank just as the doors were being unlocked. Courtney went in first through the revolving door. Just as Mark was about to follow, he stopped. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he had an odd feeling. Was somebody watching them?
He glanced around the Ave to see several stores were opening up for the day. Some shop owners were using squeegees on their windows, others were unfurling the colorful awnings that hung over the entrances. There was a policeman standing in the center of the intersection, directing traffic. Nothing out of the ordinary. Mark had no idea why he had the strange feeling, so with a shrug, he entered the bank.
Mark and Courtney marched right up to the desk of Ms. Jane Jansen. The pinched woman was already hunched over her computer keyboard, looking busy…
Playing solitaire.
“Working hard?” Courtney asked.
Ms. Jane Jansen was totally embarrassed and closed out her game. When she saw who it was, her face grew even more pinched. Mark thought if she squeezed her cheeks any tighter, her whole face would get sucked in through her mouth.
“Can I help you, children?” she asked through gritted teeth. ”We’d like to get into our safe-deposit box,” Mark said politely.
“But if you’re busy,” Courtney said sarcastically, “we can wait.”
“I don’t suppose you remembered to bring your key?” Ms. Jane Jansen asked.
Mark reached to the chain around his neck and pulled it out from under his shirt. There were now two keys on the chain. One was to the desk in his attic, the other to the safe-deposit box.
“Surprise!” Courtney said.
“Follow me,” Ms. Jane Jansen said as she pulled away from her desk. She looked totally bothered by the interruption.
Mark and Courtney knew the routine. Ms. Jane Jansen led them through the big, round vault door, into the inner vault, and right up to the wall of doors that protected the safe-deposit boxes.
“Would you like me to open it for you?” she asked with a snippy attitude, as if it were the last thing she wanted to do.
“Nah, we can handle it,” Courtney said. “Go back to your game.”
Ms. Jane Jansen wanted to say something back, but thought better of it. After all, they were clients. Instead, she scowled at them and left.
“I love her,” Courtney laughed.
While Courtney opened the door, Mark unloaded all twelve journals from his backpack and placed them into the big steel box. There was plenty of room left over for any new journals that might show up. He then slid the drawer closed, shut the door, and Courtney locked it. The key then went right back to the chain around Mark’s neck. The journals were now as safe as they could possibly be.
On their way out of the bank, they didn’t bother stopping to say good-bye to Ms. Jane Jansen. They didn’t want to disturb her game again. They left the vault, walked through the lobby, and were almost to the front door when-
“Children! One moment please!” It was Ms. Jane Jansen. She hurried up to them, her heels clicking on the marble floor. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes flared.
“I want you two to understand something,” she said angrily. “You may be clients of this bank, but that does not entitle you to messenger service.”
Mark and Courtney looked at each other. They had no idea what she was talking about. “Translation, please,” Courtney asked.
Ms. Jane Jansen held up a brown paper bag, about the size of a grocery bag, with wet stain marks on the bottom.
“When you two went inside the vault, someone came in and asked that I give this to you,” she explained. “This is not appropriate, this is not a service the bank provides, and whatever is in this bag smells.”
Courtney took the bag with curiosity.
“Who was it?” Mark asked.
“I have no idea and I didn’t ask,” Ms. Jane Jansen replied. “As I said, I am not a messenger.”
Courtney cautiously unfolded the top of the brown bag and looked inside. What she saw were three white containers, along with a Dew and two cans of ice teas. She showed the bag to Mark. He looked inside and was just as confused as Courtney. There was also a folded piece of paper inside. Mark pulled it out and read aloud, “Never too early in the morning for Garden Poultry fries. Meet me in the pocket park.” Mark looked to Courtney and added, “It’s signed ‘B.’”
Could it be?
“Do we understand each other?” Ms. Jane Jansen asked.
Courtney reached into the bag, pulled out one box of fries and handed it to the cranky bank lady. ”Absolutely,” Courtney said. “Here, have a party.”
Courtney and Mark ran out of the bank, leaving Ms. Jane Jansen holding a greasy box of French fries. She was just about to toss it in the garbage, when the oily-delicious smell finally got through to her. She took a deep whiff, looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then turned back to her desk with the greasy treat.
Mark and Courtney blasted out of the bank and ran down the Ave, headed for the pocket park. The Ave cut straight through the middle of downtown Stony Brook. It was loaded with small shops, restaurants, and bookstores. It was definitely the biggest kid hangout in town, but since it was so early, no kids were awake and around.
The pocket park halfway down the Ave was a familiar meeting place. At one time there had been a building where the park stood. Now it was an empty space between two other buildings that had been landscaped with grass, trees, and benches.
Courtney arrived first and looked into the park.
The place was nearly empty. There was only one person there, and it wasn’t the person they wanted to find. Mark finally caught up to Courtney and saw the guy. His shoulders sagged. It wasn’t Bobby. This guy was older and taller than Bobby. He had really short, spiky, blond hair and wore thin wraparound sunglasses. He looked like a hip- hop skateboard kid from New York, not Bobby Pendragon from Stony Brook. Courtney and Mark walked cautiously up to him.
“Did you send us this?” Courtney asked while holding up the greasy bag.
The guy was slouched down with both elbows on the back of the bench. When he spoke, he didn’t even look at them. He was being very cool.
“I guess that answers my question,” he said. ”Wh-What question?” Mark asked.
“The question of whether or not anybody would recognize me around here,” he answered.
The guy then pulled down his sunglasses to reveal his eyes. He looked right at Mark and Courtney and broke into a huge grin. “Read any good journals lately?”
Oh yeah, it was Bobby.
Mark and Courtney were totally stunned. Bobby jumped to his feet and the three of themclung to each other in a three-way hug. Nobody said anything. No words could add to the feeling. Finally Bobby pulled back.
“We gotta be cool,” he chuckled. “The last thing we want is to have people checking me out.”
“I swear I didn’t recognize you,” Courtney said with excitement. “You’re… older.”
“Yeah, well, you guys are too,” Bobby said. He gave Courtney an extra look up and down. “Like, alotolder.” Courtney wasn’t sure if she should slug him in the arm, or blush. She did both.
“Ow!” Bobby shouted. He then smiled and said, “Man, it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen you guys. Happy Birthday, Mark.”
“Thanks, man,” Mark said. “This is a pretty amazing present.”
“What’s with the blond hair?” Courtney asked.
“I had ‘em do this at the hotel beauty shop before I left First Earth. They thought I was nuts. It’s not exactly a 1937 look. But I didn’t want anybody recognizing me here.”
