The Mysterious Benedict Society

Reynie felt Kate stiffen next to him. They were in trouble.

“Funny thing about licorice,” said Jackson. “It’s just the sort of thing to get stuck in the bottom of your shoe without your realizing it.”

“I get it, I get it,” said Kate, squirming in her seat. “So now you want to see the bottoms of my shoes.”

“If you’d be so kind,” Martina said with a wicked grin. She’d noticed Kate squirming and was delighted to think she’d frightened her.

“Well, sorry about the dripping, but Reynie just spilled juice all over them,” Kate said.

“Oh, yes, we saw that,” Jackson said. He let out an amused rattle of laughter that sounded like a sheep in pain.

While Jackson was bleating at her expense, Kate pressed something sticky, gritty, and cold into Reynie’s hand beneath the table. She hadn’t been squirming from nervousness — she’d been twisting her legs up to get at the licorice. As she lifted her sodden shoes now for the Executives to inspect, Reynie reached across under the table and pressed the hunk of licorice into Sticky’s hand. The further away from Kate the better, he thought. Sticky had the same idea, immediately passing the licorice on to Constance.

Constance, unfortunately, did not understand what it was.

In horror the boys watched her raise the slimy, dirty, half-chewed glob of candy above the tabletop to examine it. Reynie’s eyes swiveled to the Executives, who, having been disappointed in Kate’s shoes, were now asking her to show her empty hands, then checking for stickiness under the edge of the table. He looked back to Constance and saw the realization hit her, her eyes widening with alarm. And then, an instant before Martina glanced up to see it, Constance popped the licorice into her mouth, chewed it up, and swallowed it.

“Eww, that was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” Sticky said later, when the crisis had passed and the Executives were off harassing other children. Constance’s cheeks, normally a rosy red, had turned a faint shade of green.

“Disgusting, yes, but heroic,” Reynie said.

“We all have to make sacrifices,” Constance muttered miserably.

“What we need to make is a decision,” said Kate. “We need a plan, and quick. Does anybody have any ideas? I’m fresh out.”

Constance only groaned and put her head in her hands.

“I do have one thing to say,” said Reynie, then hesitated. He had intended to say that he couldn’t face the Whisperer again — that the mere thought of it turned his mind to jelly, so how much worse would it be if he actually experienced the Whisperer again? Wouldn’t he be certain to give up? This was what Reynie had meant to say. But now he found he couldn’t. He was too ashamed.

Constance groaned again without looking up. “Reynie, you’re the king of saying you have something to say, then not actually saying anything. Do you realize that?”

“Sorry,” Reynie said. “I . . . I forgot.”

He was not the only one at the table with troubled thoughts. Sticky felt the same way Reynie did, and Kate was still wishing she’d been able to sabotage those computers, to have solved the dilemma all on her own. (And having failed to do that, she was trying to pretend to herself that she hadn’t.) Constance, meanwhile, was trying not to contemplate what might happen to her when Mr. Curtain boosted the messages to full power. Thus all the children were trying not to think of things instead of trying to think of things, and trying not being generally less productive than trying, they weren’t coming up with ready answers.

In the midst of going round and round in his mind about not facing the Whisperer, however, Reynie did stumble against something which — if seen from a distance and not stared at directly — might resemble a plan. A hundred times he’d thought to himself, “I can’t face the Whisperer again.” But this time, for some reason, he had tacked on the word “alone.” And this was how he stumbled against the planlike thing.

“Okay, everyone. I think I do have a plan now. Didn’t Mr. Benedict tell us that we must rely upon one another in all things? That every single one of us is essential to the success of the team? We have to take into account that we need each other.”

“That’s the plan?” Constance said. “To give each other big hugs?”

Reynie ignored her. “I was thinking maybe if we faced Mr. Curtain and his Whisperer together, we could figure out what to do.”

“You mean all of us in the Whispering Gallery at the same time?” said Constance doubtfully. “With Mr. Curtain there? What could we possibly do?”

“I don’t know yet,” Reynie admitted. “But there’s Milligan, too, remember. If we contact him, we’ll have him to help us.”

“I say it’s worth a try,” said Kate. “We’re running out of time. How do we manage it? Should Constance and I sneak in while you two are having your sessions?”

Reynie considered. “The door is controlled by a button on Mr. Curtain’s chair, so you can’t sneak in. But Sticky and I could press the button to let you in.”

“There’s at least one problem with all this,” said Sticky. “We weren’t to have another turn in the Whisperer for at least a few days, remember? By then it will be too late!”

Kate tried to think. “What would be good . . . What would be good would be if Mr. Curtain won the Nobel Peace Prize!”

Sticky spewed a mist of chocolate milk. “Have you gone off your . . . oh, hi there, S.Q.! What brings you by our table?”

S.Q. Pedalian looked down upon them dejectedly. “Hello, kids. I suppose you heard how I bungled that spy business. Wiping out the footprints and all that.”