“Yes!” I click accept, and a video window appears with Mom’s smiling face. As usual, her camera faces a wall, so I can’t see much other than the oval metal door behind her, which means she’s still on the submarine.
“Alexis? Honey, can you hear me?” Mom asks.
“Yes, I’m here!” I wave.
Mom gives me a shaka with both hands. “Hey, honey.”
I send her a shaka sign right back. “Hey, Mom. Where are you?”
She shakes a finger at the screen. “You know I can’t give our exact location, but it’s safe to say that we’re far to the west of you. Is Dad around?”
“His schedule says he’s got another client for dive lessons, but he should be home in half an hour or so.”
“I hope he makes it in time. We’re moving out soon.” She checks her watch. “Anything new in your world?”
“My teacher suggested we choose a role model for our history project, and I think I picked the perfect person.” I spread both hands like tiny fireworks. “Nancy Drew!”
But instead of smiling, Mom tilts her head like she does when she’s counting and starts typing fast on her keyboard. “Why choose her? She’s not real. Why not use someone who really lived and changed history?”
My little fireworks deflate. “But she did change history. She’s been a role model for girls for like ninety years.”
“True, but imagine how amazing it would be if someone had skills like Nancy Drew, but was a real-live person who really did help save the world.” She raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be better?”
“I guess.” This isn’t going at all like I planned. She’s the one who gave me Nancy Drew books in the first place. “But I can’t think of anybody like that.”
“And that’s easily fixed. There are some amazing women from World War II that would be great for your project. I can give you a handful of names to start with. First, there’s Nancy Wake—the German forces named her the White Mouse because they knew about her, out there causing all sorts of trouble for them, but they couldn’t catch her. The second woman who comes to mind has got to be Noor Inyat Khan, a Sufi princess and pacifist who wrote children’s books before she became a wireless operative in the fight against Hitler.”
Mom folds her arms and pauses to think, her finger tapping her arm while I grab a notepad and start scribbling down names. “Let’s see, Violette Szabo stayed in occupied France and gave her life so her fellow spies could escape. Another spy was Odette Sanson, whose quick thinking saved her life—oh, and there are codebreakers too. Brilliant women like mathematicians Margaret Rock, and Joan Murray, and my personal favorite, Mavis Batey, who cracked the German Enigma code and helped win the war.”
My pencil scratches against the paper.
Mavis Batey.
“Okay, I’ll look those up, but no promises. I already had notecards and stuff planned out with Nancy Drew.” If Lowen’s already got five months of work done on his, he’ll have way more than that done for sure. I’ll have to bust my tail to win.
Mom checks her watch again, sweeps her long brown hair up into a bun, and ties it off with hair bands. “Fair enough, but I think you’ll like what you find. So . . . did you find something interesting when you came home from school today?”
I grab the lunch box and wiggle it in front of the camera. “Ta-da! Found it.”
“That’s my girl.” Her smile warms me right through. “Have you opened it?”
Wait, what? I cringe. “Was there a key in the square hole in the wall? I didn’t see anything there, and somebody scratched ‘not yet’ on the lock, so I thought I was supposed to wait. Was I not?”
She holds up a hand. “Shh. You did perfect. I asked you to wait because I wanted to see you open it.”
“See me open it?” I glance around the room. “Is the key here?”
She nods. “You already have the clue to where it’s hidden. Check the scroll.”
“I do?” The scroll map is so crumpled from being stuffed in my pocket, I have to smooth it flat on my desk to read it. But just like I remembered, there’s nothing there other than the directional headings and steps.
“There aren’t any other directions, Mom. See?” I hold the wrinkled paper up for the camera.
She taps her chin. “You know, one of Mavis Batey’s supervisors had a great way of looking at things when she was stumped. He would ask, ‘What way do the hands of the clock move?’”
Something moves in the corner of the room, and I watch a house gecko scurry up the wall. “How does that help? Everybody knows it’s clockwise.”
“Is it?” Mom’s lips curl with a sly smile.
Uh-oh. That sly bit’s never good; she only does it when she’s stumped me. I glance at the Nancy Drew clock on the wall, but it just confirms what I said. “They move to the right. Clockwise.”
“Not if you’re the clock.” Mom grins. “A clock would see the hands moving counterclockwise.”
I imagine looking out from inside the clock, but shake my head. “That’s cheating.”
“Is it? Or is it just a matter of perspective? You’ve done ciphers and codes since you could read. I think you’re ready for a bigger challenge.”
Bigger challenge. Change my perspective. Right. I frown at the page and look it over, scrutinizing each heading for hidden clues. “I’ve already checked every line. There’s nothing written on the page that leads to anything hidden.”
“You’re right.” She agrees. “Outside of the original directions, nothing was written on that page.”
“I don’t—” My brain catches up with how Mom repeated what I had just said—almost word for word. If that’s not a huge flashing sign to pay attention, I don’t know what is. I repeat the line. “Nothing was written on that page.”
I hold the paper up to the light and study the creases and folds.
Mom nods, smiling. “Now you’re thinking.
