The Mysterious Benedict Society

sudden loud snore he toppled forward into the attentive arms of Rhonda and Number Two, who eased him to the floor.

“What’s with him?” Constance asked.

“He has narcolepsy,” said Kate.

“He steals a lot?”

“That’s kleptomania,” Sticky said. “Mr. Benedict sleeps a lot.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” Constance said crossly.

“I assure you, Constance,” said Number Two, looking vexed, “Mr. Benedict doesn’t like it, either. None of us does. It simply can’t be helped.”

Before any more could be said, Mr. Benedict opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and ran his fingers through his tousled white hair. Rhonda said gently, “Only a minute, Mr. Benedict. You were only out for a minute.”

“Is that so? Very good, then, very good. Thank you, my friends, thank you as always.” He patted Rhonda and Number Two on the arms, and they helped him to his feet.

“Usually happens when I’m laughing,” he explained to the children, “but these days it’s often something else. Now then, what was I —? Oh, yes. All alone. Let me tell you why that part matters. For one thing, children without guardians happen to be in a peculiar kind of danger that other children are not — this I shall explain later, to those of you who join my team. For another, it would be simply impossible for me to put at risk any child who wasn’t alone. No matter how important the cause, parents are disinclined to send their children into danger, as well they should be. As it so happens, however, I now find myself in the presence of the best possible team of children I could ever hope for — indeed, have long hoped for — and with not a minute to lose. In other words, you are our last possible hope. You are our only hope.”

The Sender and the Messages

In the end, every child agreed to join the team, though the decision was more difficult for some than others. Kate took out a stick of gum and said, “I’m in,” without even pausing to consider. Reynie, less fearless than Kate, had to give the matter some thought. If he didn’t join the team, what would he do? Return to the orphanage? Seeing Miss Perumal again would be nice, but he would be in the same pickle as before: out of place among the other children, purposeless and lonely. Moreover, if Mr. Benedict was to be trusted (and for some reason Reynie did trust him) then feeling purposeless and lonely were the least of his problems. Something terrible was happening, and Mr. Benedict needed them to stop it. A strange sense of duty, not to mention a powerful curiosity, compelled him to join.

Constance was more skeptical. It was becoming clear that this was her natural approach to things. “So if I stick around, and you tell me this big secret, what’s to stop me from going out and telling everyone?”

“Nothing will stop you,” said Mr. Benedict. “You’re free to leave at any time. However, if I hadn’t determined I could trust you, you would never have been invited into this room. And for that matter, even if you were to tell, no one would believe you, for you are only a child. Is that not why you came to take these tests in the first place?”

Constance’s face screwed up as if she might burst into tears — or, more likely, throw a screaming fit.

“I don’t mean to attack you, child,” Mr. Benedict said gently. “Let us strike a bargain. If you join the team, this shall be our understanding: You will follow my instructions, but only because you have agreed to do so, not because I told you to. No one is making you do anything. It is all of your own free will.”

“Fine,” said Constance at last. “Now where do we sleep?”

“I know you’re tired, but first we must wait for Sticky to make up his mind.”

Sticky had been shrinking in his chair. He had drawn his feet up beneath him, crossed his arms over his knees, and buried his face behind them. At Mr. Benedict’s words, he looked up with an expression of something like panic, then quickly hid his face again. His voice muffled, his words mumbled, Sticky said, “May I make the decision tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid not, my friend. There’s no time to waste. I hate to press you, but you must decide tonight.”

“Do you think the team is good enough without me?” came the muffled voice.

“Frankly, no. I think the team needs you to succeed.”

“Then how can I say no?”

Mr. Benedict spoke gently. “Sticky, it’s quite reasonable for you to be afraid. It’s a terrible thing for a child to be asked to join a dangerous mission. You have every reason to say no, and I will not blame you in the least.”

“Come on, Sticky,” said Kate, “it’ll be fun!”

Sticky peeked out from behind his knees, first at Kate, who gave him a smile and a wink, then at Reynie, who said, “I’m with Mr. Benedict. I don’t blame you if you don’t join us. But I’d feel a whole lot better if you did.”

“You would?”

Reynie nodded.

Sticky hid his face again. For a long time the room was silent, full of expectation. Although Constance yawned and scratched at an insect bite on her ankle, no one else moved or spoke a word. There was only the hushed sound of their breathing, and, from somewhere in the room, the ticking of a clock, which must have been hidden by books.

Finally Sticky looked up. “I’ll do it. Now may I please use the bathroom?”

Much as the children longed for more answers, it had grown late, their eyes were heavy, and Mr. Benedict deemed they should rest tonight and leave further explanations for morning. In short order they were given toothbrushes, pajamas, and warm slippers — it was drafty in the old house at night — and shown to their rooms. The bedroom Reynie shared with Sticky was small but comfortable, with a worn rug on the wooden floor, bunk beds against the wall, and, of course, more bookshelves. When Reynie returned from brushing his teeth, he found Sticky already asleep on the lower bunk, the lamp still lit, spectacles still on his nose, and slippers still on his feet. On his chest, rising and falling with the deep, regular breaths of a solid sleeper, lay a thick book about tropical plant life that he’d taken from a shelf. It was open to the very middle. In only a few minutes, Sticky had read half the