The Mysterious Benedict Society

At the entrance to the Institute Control Building, S.Q. stopped. With a sympathetic expression, he knelt down and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “I imagine you two are wondering what Mr. Curtain wants to speak with you about.”

“Oh, yes!” cried the boys together, and Reynie’s heart leaped. If he had a moment to prepare, maybe he could think of something to say, something that . . .

“I wish I knew,” S.Q. said, shaking his head. “I hope it’s nothing bad.”

Sixty seconds later the boys were alone with Mr. Curtain in his office. Trying to breathe evenly (and mostly failing), they waited for him to speak. Mr. Curtain had put down his journal and rolled out from behind his desk. But instead of his usual zooming about, he was inching toward them, very, very slowly, contemplating the boys in a way that gave them the impression of a predator — a wolf spider came to mind — seeking just the moment to pounce upon its prey. They had to fight the urge to recoil.

“No doubt,” said Mr. Curtain as he drew near, “you are wondering why Martina Crowe was made Executive. After all, according to you, George, she was a bully and a cheat. Isn’t that right?”

Sticky reached for his spectacles, checked himself, and thrust his hands into his pockets to still them. “Yes, sir.”

“It’s true, Mr. Curtain,” said Reynie. “We were wondering that.”

“Yes. I know. And now I shall tell you why. Do you remember what you said to me the other day, Reynard, when we discussed Miss Contraire? You said the best way of dealing with those you don’t trust is to keep them close. I agreed with you then, and I agree with you now. Of course, had Martina Crowe not been such an excellent candidate for Executive, I would have sent her packing at once. But she has always been useful, and as I told George, the cheating itself doesn’t trouble me, so long as I understand the situation. At any rate, the situation has been rectified. Miss Crowe and I had a brief discussion of the matter (she denied the cheating, I might add), and ultimately she was promoted. Everything is settled.

“Everything, that is, except for your situation,” Mr. Curtain went on. “Which is why I have sent for you.”

“Our . . . situation?” said Reynie. He could hear Sticky trying to swallow.

“Indeed,” said Mr. Curtain. “For as of this moment, you are both made Messengers!”

The boys were stunned. Here they’d been afraid something terrible was in store for them — instead, their mission had leaped forward! Messengers at last! Their faces broke into huge grins.

“Oh, thank you!” Sticky cried, hoping he sounded more grateful than relieved.

“We won’t disappoint you,” said Reynie.

“I should hope not,” said Mr. Curtain. “I have two new Messenger slots to fill, and as a matter of urgency I am promoting you a day earlier than planned. Here are your new uniforms.”

Returning to his desk, Mr. Curtain produced two white tunics, two pale blue sashes, and two pairs of striped trousers. “Wear them with pride. And then . . . who knows? One day you may forego those striped pants for solid blue ones, just as Martina Crowe did today!”

When S.Q. had finally left off slapping the boys on the backs in painful congratulation and lumbered away down the corridor, Reynie and Sticky exchanged relieved glances and closed their bedroom door behind them. The door’s closing revealed the silhouette of Kate Wetherall pressed flat against the wall behind it. She switched on her flashlight and whispered in an exasperated tone, “You didn’t even knock!”

“It’s our own room!” Sticky replied.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear us in the corridor,” Reynie said. “S.Q. was patting us on the backs so hard my teeth were clacking together.”

“To tell the truth,” Kate said sheepishly, “I was asleep until I heard the doorknob turn. I only had to time to leap across the room and hide.” She jerked her thumb toward the lower bunk, where Sticky’s covers and pillows were in lumpy disarray. “And first I had to throw the covers over Constance. You were gone so long, she fell asleep on Sticky’s bed. I meant to keep guard, but I guess I nodded off.”

“Some guard,” said a groggy voice from beneath the covers.

“Anyway,” Sticky said, “we’re glad you’re here. We have some news.”

He and Reynie held up their new uniforms.

“Messengers!” Kate exclaimed. “I can’t believe it! And here we were worried you’d gotten in big trouble!”

Constance sat up, rubbed her eyes, and squinted at the uniforms.

“Oh, yes,” Reynie said with a laugh. “So worried that you both fell asleep.”

Kate gave him a disapproving look. “We were worried,” she insisted. “And I’m sure Mr. Benedict is, too. We told him you’d been called to see Mr. Curtain. We should let him know the good news right away.”

“You sent a report?” Sticky asked, surprised.

“Took us forever,” Constance said, stretching. “Morse code’s a little rusty.”

Rusty was not exactly the word for Constance’s Morse code, but the boys resisted comment. They were both glad to hear a report had been sent. They’d been unable to send one the night before — a night crew of Helpers had been working on the plaza, filling cracks and replacing broken stones.

Sticky climbed onto the television, made sure the coast was clear, and began flashing a message.

“Our ‘special privileges’ begin tomorrow,” Reynie told the girls. “That’s all he told us.”

“Nervous?” Kate asked.

“What do you think?” Reynie said. “I feel like I swallowed a beehive.”