In the next moment, she saw that the shark fin was only a rock.
The fear drained away, but the aftereffects of panic remained, sharpening Kate’s senses. With her heart thudding like bass drums in her ears, she looked around. Jagged rocks pierced the water surface all about her. Amid the murk of night and the sloshing of a thousand tiny waves, most of them appeared to be moving. More than a few resembled shark fins. Perhaps a few even were.
“Good grief,” she said, for she had no choice but to swim right through them. She’d have to be careful not to cut herself to ribbons on their sharp edges. And she’d have to hope none of them were actually sharks.
Sacrifices, Narrow Escapes, and Something Like a Plan
By the time she crept into Reynie and Sticky’s room half an hour later, Kate was in a better mood. Which is to say, she was disappointed with her mission, miserably cold, soaked to the bone, and in a good deal of physical pain. But at least she hadn’t been eaten by a shark. At the sound of squishing shoes and a strange, rapid little clicking sound, the boys awoke to see Kate giving their radiator a bear hug, her teeth chattering furiously, her clothes dripping water.
“Kate!” they cried in barely contained whispers. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“W-w-w-ell,” she stammered, unable for the moment to continue.
Reynie threw his blanket over her shoulders, and when at last she grew warmer, Kate told them everything. (She omitted, however, the part about the imagined shark. No sense getting into all that.)
“Luckily I had my bucket secured with my belt,” she said, “or I’d have lost it for sure. Even so, I did lose a few things, and my penlight is waterlogged. And my fingers were too numb to grip anything, so I couldn’t climb into the ceiling. I had to sneak down the corridor. Can’t believe I didn’t bump into Jillson or somebody.”
“I can’t believe you managed to eavesdrop through that drainpipe,” Sticky said. “How did you even think of it?”
“A lucky guess,” Kate said. “Reynie mentioned that drain in the floor when he first told us about Mr. Curtain’s office. Then last night Milligan pointed out the culvert to us. Drains and culverts — I put two and two together and hoped for the best.”
Reynie had been rummaging for an extra towel. He handed it to Kate. “So there’s absolutely no way we can get into that computer room?”
Kate shook her head reluctantly. She hated to admit it.
“All right,” he said. “Nice job, Kate.”
“Nice job? But I didn’t accomplish a thing!”
“Are you kidding? Now that we know we can’t reach the computer room, we won’t waste time trying. And we don’t have any time to waste — by the day after tomorrow we’ll have no chance at all. We know that now, too, thanks to you. It’s all crucial information.”
Kate shrugged dismissively, but secretly she was pleased. She opened and closed her hands. The feeling seemed to be returning to her fingers.
Reynie was concentrating. There was no message broadcast at the moment; the storm system in his mind had moved out. “And what was that he said, Kate? About his Whisperer being a sensitive machine?”
“Sensitive and delicately balanced,” said Sticky. “And it requires his strict mental guidance for its proper function.”
“I
“All right, we’d better report all this to Mr. Benedict right away,” Sticky said, scrambling up onto the television. Instantly he groaned. “Jackson’s out on the plaza with S.Q. — he’s yelling at S.Q. about something.”
“Sticky and I will wait them out,” Reynie said. “Kate, you should change into dry clothes and go on to bed. No point all three of us staying —” Just then another broadcast began. They all grimaced. Reynie felt the storm system move into his mind again.
“Good grief, I hope this one doesn’t keep me awake,” said Kate with a sigh. “I’ll go lay these clothes on my radiator and
Sleep she did: Kate was so tired from her night’s exertions that she slept through the wake-up announcement and was late getting ready for breakfast. Constance was no help, either. When Kate had returned in the middle of the night, she’d awakened Constance to fill her in, and afterward Constance was even sleepier than usual. So both girls were snoozing soundly when Jillson banged on their door. Kate dreamed she was back in the circus, being fired from a cannon.
“Up!” Jillson shouted, rapping again with such force that the girls’ window rattled in its frame. “Helpers stop serving breakfast in fifteen minutes, girls!”
Waking with a start, Kate leaped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and snatched her shoes from the radiator. They hadn’t dried much, unfortunately. Then she shook Constance awake — or at least into a groggy stupor. “Come on, Connie girl! We’ve got to get moving!”
Constance smacked her lips, blinked a few times, and said, “Don’t call me Con —”
“Right, right. Sorry.”
After a lot of hustling and cajoling, Kate got Constance moving, then quick-stepped it to the cafeteria with the smaller girl riding piggyback. She spotted the boys at their usual table and squished over to them. For some reason, Reynie’s eyes widened at Kate’s approach, and no sooner had she sat down beside him than he said loudly, “There you are! Let me pour you some juice, Kate!” With unusual awkwardness he grabbed a juice pitcher, lost his grip, and ended up sloshing an entire quart of juice all over Kate’s feet. At a nearby table, a group of Messengers burst out laughing.
“Good grief, Reynie!” Kate said. “I can pour my own juice, all right?”
In an undertone Reynie said quickly, “Listen, Kate. Rumors have been flying all morning. They know someone
