The Quillan Games (18 page)

Courtney didn't see Mark for those first few days. They didn't share any classes. They didn't share any friends, either. Other than Bobby. She wanted to see him though, if only to show him that she was almost back to normal. By Wednesday she still hadn't seen him, and knew that he was leaving for Orlando that evening. So rather than go home after school, she had her mom drop her off at Mark's house to say hi and wish him good luck at the competition.

What she ran into instead was . . . disaster.

She rang the doorbell. There was no answer at first. She
was about to leave when the door was suddenly thrown open. Mrs. Dimond stood there, looking stressed.

“Courtney!” she exclaimed. “You look so good!” Mrs. Dimond threw her arms around Courtney and gave her a big hug. “But I can't talk now, we're in the middle of a crisis.”

“What's going on?” Courtney asked.

“Don't ask,” she said. “No, go ask Mark. He's in the living room with Andy Mitchell.” Mrs. Dimond leaned into Courtney and whispered, “Is that guy a little, I don't know, greasy?”

Courtney chuckled and said, “No, he's a
lot
greasy.”

“Good,” Mrs. Dimond said. “I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks so. Go talk to them.”

Mrs. Dimond left her and hurried up the stairs. Courtney saw that at the foot of the stairs were all their suitcases, packed and ready to go. She walked into the living room to see Mark sitting on the sofa looking nervous, while Andy paced.

“Hey, ready to go?” Courtney asked.

Mitchell looked up, spotted Courtney, and his shoulders fell. “Don't you go giving me a hard time,” he said anxiously. “I'm having a bad enough day as it is.”

“Why? What's going on?” Courtney asked as she sat in an easy chair. She needed to sit down. Though she was feeling better, the three days she'd spent at school had taken a lot out of her.

Mark said, “The sprinkler in Andy's uncle's florist shop just exploded.”

“It didn't explode,” Andy said. “He must have been smokin'. I know that guy. He set it off. Idiot.”

“Whatever,” Mark said. “Andy came over, we were all set to leave, and then he got the call.”

“Five minutes from a clean getaway,” Andy lamented.

Mark added, “His uncle says the place is a wreck.”

“There was a flood and it blew out the heat,” Andy said
angrily. “Just his luck the weather turned frigid last night. The place is turning into a skating rink.”

“So what does that mean for you?” Courtney asked.

“Oh, not much,” Andy answered sarcastically. “Only that I can't go to Orlando! Months of work, all for nothin'. Unbelievable!”

“Why can't you go?” Courtney asked.

“Because I gotta help him clean up the mess!” Andy cried. “He just took delivery of all his Christmas flowers. If we don't get them out of there and over to his house like, right now, they'll die and his whole season will be gone, which means I'm out of a job. I gotta go there right now and get to work.”

“It's not fair,” Mark said. “We've worked so hard for this.”

“Is there a later flight?” Courtney asked.

“Yeah, but there's too much work to do,” Andy said, sounding defeated. “I'd never get it done and make it down to the airport in time.”

Mark said, “I told you I'd stay and help. With extra help you might still make the later flight.”

“Or I might not, and then you'd be stuck too,” Andy said.

Mr. Dimond entered the room holding a piece of paper. “I just called the airline,” he announced, referring to the paper. “Good news, bad news. There's a later flight tonight, and one first thing in the morning. If worse comes to worst, you can make the flight tomorrow and still be at the convention center in time for the presentation.”

“Seriously?” Andy asked, gaining hope. “What's the bad news?”

“It'll cost two hundred bucks a ticket to make the change” was the answer.

“Ouch,” Mark said. “That's a lot of cash.”

“Eight hundred bucks for all of you,” Courtney pointed out.

“I can do the math,” Mitchell snapped.

“Here's my suggestion,” Mr. Dimond said. “Mrs. Dimond and I will go down on the flight as scheduled. We're there to chaperone, but it's a vacation for us too. I'd just as soon not miss any of it. Sorry, Andy.”

“No problem,” Andy said.

“But if Mark wants to stay, he can help you clean up the shop and maybe you can both make it to the airport for the later flight. If not, I can book you on the flight tomorrow and you'll come down then. How does that sound?”

“Fine,” Andy said. “Except for the part about the extra two hundred bucks to change my ticket. I ain't got that kind of cash. If I did I wouldn't be working for my idiot uncle.”

“I'll spring for it,” Mr. Dimond said. “For both of you.”

“Are you serious?” Andy said.

“Really, Dad?” Mark asked.

“Hey, how often do I get to see a couple of geniuses change the world?” Mr. Dimond said. “What do you say?”

Andy looked at Mark. Mark shrugged and said, “Let's go save some flowers!”

Courtney said, “I'd help but I barely have enough energy to get out of this chair.”

Andy ran over to Mr. Dimond and shook his hand. “Thank you, man. Seriously. I don't know what to say.”

“Say you'll hurry up,” Mr. Dimond said, laughing.

“Dad, you are the best,” Mark said.

“Don't tell him that,” Mrs. Dimond said as she entered the living room. “It'll go right to his head, and I won't be able to live with him.”

“Thank you, both,” Andy said. “C'mon, Chetwynde, we'll drop you at home.”

Courtney pulled herself out of the chair and said, “Well, glad I came by to solve the dilemma.”

“Yeah, you're swell,” Andy said sarcastically. “Let's go.”

He ran out. Mark gave his mom and dad a quick hug and said, “See you in Florida. You guys are awesome.” He ran after Andy; Courtney was right behind.

They all headed for Andy's ancient station wagon. Since Andy used it to transport flowers, the backseat was down. That meant all three had to sit in front on the bench seat. Andy jumped behind the wheel. Courtney looked to Mark and said, “You're not going to make me sit next to him, are you?”

Mark laughed and jumped in first. Courtney didn't live far from Mark, so the drive only took a few minutes. Andy pulled the car up to the curb in front of her house, skidding to a stop.

“Okay, out!” he shouted. “We ain't got a whole lot of time.”

Mark said, “Wait, I gotta use Courtney's bathroom.”

“What?” Mitchell exclaimed. “We just left your house a minute ago!”

“Wh-What can I say,” Mark said. “When you g-gotta go . . . ”

Mark's words caught Courtney by surprise. Why was he stuttering? Mark only stuttered when he got nervous. She opened the door, pulled her stiff body out of the car, and headed up the walkway to her house. Mark was right after her.

“Make it quick!” Andy shouted. “We got a plane to catch!”

Mark hurried up behind Courtney, took her by the arm, and hurried her toward the house.

“Geez,” Courtney said. “He's right. Why didn't you go back at your house?”

Mark didn't stop. “Just hurry,” he said.

He pulled her quickly toward the door. Courtney pulled her keys out and could see that Mark was nervously hopping from one foot to the other.

“You gonna make it?” she asked, chuckling.

“Just open the door,” Mark ordered.

Courtney wasn't used to Mark giving orders like that. Something was wrong, and it wasn't that he had to go to the
bathroom. When she got the door open, Mark jumped past her and inside.

“Close the door!” he shouted.

She did. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded.

Mark pulled his right hand out of his coat pocket.

“This!” he shouted.

His ring had come to life. Bobby's next journal was about to arrive.

“You're not gonna make that plane later tonight,” Courtney said, breathless.

“No,” Mark said. “We'll fly tomorrow.”

No sooner had Mark finished saying that than the entryway to Courtney's house came alive with light from the expanding ring. Mark and Courtney already had their eyes shielded.

“Courtney?” came a familiar voice. It was Courtney's mother.

“Uh-oh,” Mark said. He quickly took off his jacket and threw it over the growing ring just as Mrs. Chetwynde entered.

“Oh, hi, Mark!” she said cheerily. “Congratulations, I heard all about your, uh, your science thing.”

“Thanks, M-Mrs. Chetwynde,” Mark stammered nervously.

Both he and Courtney stepped onto Mark's coat, pressing the edges down into the rug so no light would shine out.

“What is that strange sound?” Mrs. Chetwynde asked.

Mark and Courtney knew it was the strange music that always accompanied a delivery through the ring.

Courtney said, “That's part of Mark's project. They're experimenting with sound, too.”

Mrs. Chetwynde looked at the jacket they were standing on and frowned. “It's in the jacket?”

“Uh-huh,” Courtney said.

“The jacket you're standing on,” Mrs. Chetwynde added.

“Uh, yeah, we didn't want to track dirt onto the rug,” Courtney said, thinking fast.

“Since when?”

Courtney could feel the ring shrinking under her foot. The music ended too.

“Hey! Dimond!” Andy Mitchell called from outside. He was pressing his face against the small window next to the front door.

Mrs. Chetwynde saw him and jumped in surprise. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Who is that person?”

Mark took the opportunity to scoop up the jacket, along with the ring and the pages that had just arrived.

“He's my partner in the project,” Mark explained.

Courtney said, “He won't bite, he only looks scary. You know how those genius types are.”

Mrs. Chetwynde shook her head in dismay and walked out of the room. “If you say so,” she said with confusion. “Good luck, Mark.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Chetwynde!”

“Come on!” Andy Mitchell yelled. “My uncle's waitin'!”

Mark held up his finger to Andy as if to say, “One second!” He pulled Courtney away from the window, into the living room, out of Andy's sight. From under his jacket he pulled out a thick brown envelope. Bobby's latest journal.

“What happened to the yellow pages with the purple ribbon?” Courtney asked.

Mark ripped open the envelope quickly and looked inside. “It's a journal all right,” he announced. “Maybe he wrote it from another territory.”

“You're not going with Mitchell now, are you?” Courtney asked. “We've gotta read!”

“I can't blow him off,” he said. “What would I tell him?”

“Who cares! You don't owe that jerk anything. After all he's done to you? Mark, it's a journal from Bobby!”

“He's not a jerk anymore; he's my partner,” Mark said seriously.

Courtney backed down, saying, “Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. But you're not gonna take that plane tonight!”

“No,” Mark said. “I'll help move the flowers, then come back here right after. I'll just have to make sure it takes long enough so we miss the night flight.”

“Do you realize how hard it's going to be for me not to read this?” Courtney said.

Mark gave her a stern look. Courtney smiled and said, “Don't worry. I'll wait for you.”

Mark put his ring back on his finger, pulled on his jacket, and headed for the front door. “I'll be back as soon as I can. Put the journal someplace safe.”

He was about to leave, then he turned and walked back to Courtney. He held her by the arms and said, “I am really glad you're back.”

The two hugged. They had forged such a strong bond over the last few years that if Courtney were asked, she would have to say that as strange as it might seem, her very best friend in the world was Mark Dimond.

Mark felt the same way.

They hugged for a second more, then without another word, he was gone. Courtney looked at the envelope. She hadn't thought about it until that second, but it was the first time she'd been entrusted with one of Bobby's journals. Usually that was Mark's job. Now she was the one who had to have the patience to wait, knowing that the next chapter in Bobby's adventure was right there. She sat down and felt the paper envelope, wanting to pull the pages out and start reading. She almost did, too. But she stopped herself. It was always Mark who had to wait for her. She now knew just how hard that was.

She took the envelope and brought it up to her room, carefully placing it under her pillow for safekeeping. She had no idea why she did that. It wasn't like the underside of her pillow was
any safer than her desk, or her dresser. But she felt as if she needed to treat the pages with special care. It also helped to get the journal out of her sight, because she feared her willpower would crack and she'd read.

She went downstairs and had dinner with her parents, then did her homework in the dining room. Her mother asked her why she wasn't working in her room as she usually did. Courtney said it was because she was tired of being alone. It was the truth, she
was
tired of being alone. It was one of the great things about going back to school. After being in self-imposed exile, and then being hurt for so long, she loved being around people again. But if Courtney were being totally honest, she'd admit it was also because she didn't trust herself alone with Bobby's journal. She was afraid that if it were in her reach, she'd go for it. So rather than be tempted, she did her homework downstairs. When she finished, she sat with her dad to watch some TV. But her mind wasn't on the newsmagazine they watched. It was on the treasure under her pillow upstairs.