The Mysterious Benedict Society

Reynie, meanwhile, felt deeply disturbed. The more he thought about his response to the Whisperer, the more convinced he was that becoming a Messenger had been a bad development, a blow to their mission rather than a boon — because he was too weak to handle it. He needed to get through the mission and off this island before he faced the Whisperer again. His next turn probably wouldn’t come for several days, and yet already he found himself glancing at doors.

Reynie cleared his throat. “I think we need to —”

“Please!” Constance snapped, covering her ears. “Reynie! Will you please . . . stop . . . talking!”

Taken aback, Reynie closed his mouth and stared at her in surprise.

“What is your problem?” Sticky said sharply.

Constance lowered her hands and looked at Reynie with a mixture of ruefulness and irritation. “Sorry about that,” she said tersely. “It’s just that you’ve been on this whole time, and it’s already getting old. One of you, maybe. But two of you is too much.”

“On?” Reynie repeated. “Two of me?”

“You know,” Constance said, tapping her head. “You’re on. The broadcast — it’s you talking.”

The others looked at one another in amazement.

Reynie was flabbergasted. “Are you . . . are you sure, Constance? I mean I’m — I’m right here!”

Constance thumped the side of her head, as if trying to clear water from her ears. “It’s like you’re in stereo.”

“Wow,” Kate said, impressed. “This must be really weird for both of you.”

“You know what this means?” Sticky said. “Mr. Curtain is recording the Whisperer sessions! He can record thoughts!”

“But if he can do that,” said Kate, “then why does he need fresh Messengers all the time? Why not just play his recordings?”

“I think I know,” said Reynie, finally recovering from his astonishment. “He hasn’t always been able to do it. Remember the ‘modifications’ he wrote about in his journal? He said it this morning, too — he said his Whisperer was ‘undergoing modification.’”

“That explains why he’s not going to need Messengers after the Improvement,” Sticky said. “Once he’s finished recording all his messages, he’ll have no use for Messengers anymore.”

“And he’ll be able to broadcast his recordings around the clock,” said Constance. She sighed miserably and closed her eyes. “That’s just peachy.”

That wasn’t all, Reynie thought. He had a strong suspicion that as soon as Mr. Curtain had recorded his messages, he would boost them to full-strength. It was all going to be part of the Improvement. But for Constance’s sake, Reynie decided not to mention this aloud. She was already frightened, no doubt. Sitting there, eyes tightly shut, anxiously wondering what lay in store for her. . . .

Reynie felt an itch in the back of his mind. He had recently felt the very same way himself. But his eyes hadn’t been closed, exactly. . . .

“We’re almost out of time, aren’t we?” Sticky was saying. “I never thought we’d still be on the island when all the bad stuff happened. Of course, I hoped it never would happen.”

“I wish we could be doing something!” Kate said. “If we could just figure out what Mr. Benedict . . .” She paused. “Reynie, why are you looking at Constance like that?”

Constance opened her eyes to find Reynie staring at her.

“Mr. Benedict said with open eyes now,” Reynie muttered, almost to himself. “Meaning before they were closed — or blindfolded!” Abruptly he stood up. “Quick, everyone, we still have time before class.”

Kate leaped to her feet. Her blue eyes twinkled with excitement. “Where are we going?”

“To find a place you must exit to enter.”

Moments later the Mysterious Benedict Society stood on the plaza, exactly where the boys had stood that morning when Jackson blindfolded them. A few students milled about in the rock garden, but there were no Executives in sight.

“This is the spot, isn’t it?” Reynie asked.

“I’m pretty sure,” said Sticky, who still wasn’t sure what Reynie was up to. Reynie had been in too much of a hurry to explain.

“And how many steps did we take before we went inside?”

Sticky told him, and Reynie looked at Kate. “Which door would that take us to?”

Kate asked Sticky to take a few steps while she watched. Then, one by one, she studied the Institute buildings. Finally she shook her head. “Based upon the length of your stride, that many steps wouldn’t take you to any door of any building in the whole Institute, front or back.”

“Oh,” Sticky said, certain he had disappointed Reynie somehow. “I’m sorry. I was so nervous, you know. I guess I’ve misremembered.”

“I don’t think so,” said Reynie, who, far from looking disappointed, was growing more and more excited. “We left the plaza, remember? Went down a walkway — and then across grass.”

“Grass?” Sticky said. “Hey, that’s right! I was so anxious I didn’t even think about that. And you know what? It was the same when Jillson took me to the Waiting Room.”