The Island of Dr. Libris (8 page)

Billy shrugged. “Nothing, really.”

“I canoed out there once. Took me all day. I’m not too good with canoeing, either. Anyway, when I hiked up the path, the gate thing was locked. Dr. Libris wouldn’t ever give me the key.”

“You know Dr. Libris?”

“Sure. I’ve spent every summer up here for ten years.”

Billy wondered if Walter might know a thing or two about the mysterious professor and the even more mysterious stuff happening on his island.

He also wondered if Dr. Libris had ever dropped Walter any hints about where he had hidden his treasure.

“So, where is this Red Barn?” Billy asked.

“Not too far. We can bike it.”

“I don’t have a bike.”

“That’s okay. You can borrow one of ours. We’ve got extra helmets, too.”

“Cool. Let me run inside and tell my mom where we’re going.”

“Great. And when we’re done with our waffle fries, I’ll tell
you
all about Dr. Libris.”

“Your cottage is amazing,” said Billy.

“Thanks,” said Walter. “My dad’s an engineer. He knows how to take wacky ideas and actually make them work.”

One section of the lake cottage had columns like a miniature White House; another, made out of canvas, looked like a circus tent; still another was an overturned tugboat, with the curved hull as the roof. And of course there was the thirty-foot-tall castle tower.

“My dad designed it all,” Walter said proudly. “We call it the Hodgepodge Lodge. Every summer, he comes up with something new. The castle tower? He did that the year Alyssa was born, because she’s his princess.”

“What’s he working on this year?”

“A moat.”

Half a dozen bikes were leaned up against the
Hodgepodge Lodge’s deck. Billy strapped on a helmet and grabbed a bike with a basket attached to the handlebars. When his mom had heard that he and Walter were heading to the Red Barn, she had given him money to pick up a blueberry pie. The basket would make bringing it home easier.

Walter and Billy hopped onto their bikes and headed for the gravel road.

The ride was extremely rickety.

“I bent my frame last week when I crashed my bike into the only car in the Red Barn parking lot,” said Walter. “I’m not the world’s best bicyclist.”

Billy’s cycling skills weren’t much better than Walter’s, but he kept at it.

“So,” he asked when he finally felt like he wouldn’t tip over, “have you ever been inside Dr. Libris’s study?”

“You mean the room with the Charles Dickens bookcase?”

“What?”

“That big bookcase with all the carvings? It used to belong to Charles Dickens, the guy who wrote that book about Scrooge.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, that’s what Dr. Libris told me. Oh, get this—he said some of the shelves came from planks taken out of Scheherazade’s trunk. She’s the one who had to tell stories for a thousand and one nights and came up with ‘Aladdin’ on night number nine hundred and forty-two. And those carvings? They were all done by Geppetto.”

“The wood-carver who created Pinocchio?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“But
Pinocchio
’s just a story,” said Billy. “It’s not real.”

“That’s exactly what
I
told Dr. Libris! When I did, he shook his head and said I had ‘no imagination whatsoever.’ ”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah. Dr. Libris can be kind of crabby. That’s why I never rowed out to his island except that one time. Didn’t want him going all grumpy on me.”

They reached Route 17.

“Stick to the shoulder,” said Walter. “It’s safer.”

They passed a roadside stand selling fresh corn and pulled into the parking lot of a big barn-shaped building painted red.

“Guess this is the Red Barn?” said Billy.

“Yep!” said Walter, who seemed to never stop smiling. “Good name for it, huh?”

Billy grinned. He liked this guy.

They propped their bikes up against the white picket fence and went inside.

Billy and Walter shared a plate of waffle fries and then placed an order for a whole blueberry pie.

While the counter worker boxed it up, Walter nibbled on a Three Musketeers candy bar he had bought out of an old-fashioned vending machine with pull knobs.

Meanwhile, Billy studied the decorations hanging on
the Red Barn’s walls—especially the photographs showing old-timey people swimming in the lake, back in the days when ladies wore swimming dresses.

Under the photos was an engraved plaque honoring Dr. Xiang Libris “for his generous donation of his private island for the creation of the Lake Katrine Bird Sanctuary.”

“Is that our island?” Billy asked Walter, gesturing toward the plaque.

“Yuh-huh.”

“So what’s with the dome?” Billy asked. “The whole island is covered with a wire mesh net. Like a bubble over a tennis court.”

“That’s to stop the birds from escaping.”

“So how do the birds get on the island in the first place?”

“Easy. They fly there.”

“But how do they get through the net?”

Walter shrugged. “I never thought about that. I guess we could ask my dad when he gets back from Washington. He helped Dr. Libris put up the dome. Of course, Dad might not tell us anything except that it’s a top-secret government project, which is what he says whenever I ask him about stuff he doesn’t want to explain.”

Billy thought about that for a second.

A top-secret government project?

He’d heard his mom and dad talk about the government’s hiring colleges and universities to conduct classified research. Stuff for the military. A top-secret government
project would also explain all the security cameras in and around the cabin, maybe the satellite dish in the backyard, too.

But what about the treasure?

Why would the government hide something valuable on the island?

Was it some kind of training exercise for army commandos?

The counter worker handed Billy a white box tied up with string.

“Enjoy.”

“Thanks. Come on, Walter.”

Billy was eager to hurry back to the cabin and conduct his own top-secret research project. He wanted to find out if Walter could see and hear the things Billy could see and hear whenever he read one of the books from Dr. Libris’s locked bookcase.

If he was going to find the island’s treasure, first he had to figure out how the crazy place worked.

Walter and Billy took a shortcut through the woods back to the lake.

They came out of the forest about one hundred yards away from Dr. Libris’s cabin—but on the other side.

The side where Nick Farkas lived.

That explained why Farkas and his two beefy buddies were standing in the middle of the road, blocking it.

Billy and Walter eased on their brakes.

“Uh-oh,” said Walter.

There was no way for Billy and his new friend to bike around the bully blockade.

“You know the rules, Waldo,” Farkas said to Walter. “You take the shortcut through the woods, you have to give me something. Something good.”

“Sure thing, Nick,” said Walter. “And, might I say,
those mesh shorts look awfully comfortable. Smart choice for such a hot day.”

“Shut up.”

“Right.” Walter wheezed and puffed on his asthma inhaler. “Something good. So, um, do you guys like wedding mints?”

“What?”

Walter showed the three thugs a fistful of pastel pink and green cubes covered with fuzzy lint.

“They had them in a bowl at the Red Barn. I find wedding mints to be both creamy and refreshing.”

Farkas slapped Walter’s hand hard. Mints scattered into the underbrush.

For half a second, Billy imagined a happy chipmunk bride and groom squeaking with joy:
“We have mints for our wedding! Mints for our wedding!”

“No, Waldo,” said Farkas, “we don’t want your grungy, pants-crud-infested mints.” He nudged his head toward Billy’s bike basket. “What’s in the box?”

“Pie,” said Billy. “For my mom.”

“Hand it over.”

Billy remembered how Hercules, Robin Hood, and Maid Marian had stood up for him on the island. Maybe it was his turn.

“I’ll give you the pie,” he said to Farkas, “but only if you let Walter go.”

“Fine.” Farkas nodded at Walter. “Beat it, Waldo.”

Walter looked at Billy nervously.

“It’s okay,” said Billy, trying his best to stay as cool as Robin Hood would. “Meet you at my place. Just knock on the door and tell my mom I’m on my way.”

“Okay. Bye!”

Walter pedaled hard and wobbled away fast.

“What’re you waiting for, Weedpole?” said Farkas. “Give me my pie.”

“Is it blueberry?” asked one of Farkas’s buddies.

“Yeah,” said Billy.

“Good. That’s our favorite.”

“We like berries,” said the other one. “Blue berries.”

Behind the tough guys, Billy could see Walter dashing up the front steps of Dr. Libris’s cabin. “It’s my mom’s favorite, too.”

“So?” said Farkas. “Who gives a flying flip?”

“Me. And my mom. See, years ago, she and my dad used to drive all the way up here from New York City and—”

Farkas reached for the pie box.

Billy jerked his handlebars hard to the left. “Hang on. This is a very interesting story.”

“You think I give two butt toots about your mom or your dad?”

Now Billy saw his mother come out on the porch. She and Walter shook hands and disappeared into the cabin.

“You might,” said Billy, “if, you know, you ever met
her. Oh, look. There she is now.” Billy tilted his head to show Farkas where to look.

Farkas and the other two took the bait and turned around.

“There’s nobody—”

Billy slid his bike through the gap between the bullies.

His first few pedal pumps were so intense, gravel flew up from underneath his rear tire in a backward barrage of buckshot and pelted Farkas and his crew in the shins.

“Get back here, Weedpole!” Farkas screamed as pebbles pinged and dinged off his bare legs. “Ouch! Ooof! You’re dead meat, Weedpole! You hear me? Dead. Meat.”

Billy pedaled harder.

After a snack of peanut butter crackers and blueberry pie (which his mom agreed counted as a fruit, but “only for today”), Walter and Billy headed into Dr. Libris’s study.

“So, Walter,” said Billy, “how’d you like to go some-place you’ve never been before?”

“On our bikes?”

“Nope. With one of those.” Billy pointed to the double glass doors.

“Those are just books, Billy.”

“I don’t know.” Billy fished the skeleton key out of his pocket. “I think these books are special.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. That’s probably why Dr. Libris keeps them locked up. And I need your help to prove it.”

“Okay. So what am I doing?”

“Just pick a book. Any book.”

Walter studied the shelves.

“How about
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
? They have a good football team. Or maybe
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Pollyanna
looks interesting, too.…”

Billy realized this could go on all day. “How about
The Three Musketeers
?” he suggested.

“Excellent. They make a very delicious candy bar.”

“Great. Okay—sit in that chair.”