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“You could talk to Miss Whitewood,” Archer suggested. “She’s the librarian. She’s very nice.”
“Thanks for the tip, Archer. Now, try not to be late to class again. I think the teachers are catching on that your detention slips keep vanishing from my office.”
Mr. Churnick slapped him on the back with a force that nearly sent him through a wall, and left the boys at the mailroom. Raven Wood’s mailroom was a crevice of a space, dingy like everything else, and encircled with wooden slots. Benjamin rushed in before Archer and bumped into a small table. The stack of newspapers on top of it tumbled into an empty mail cart. Archer hurried to his slot, spotting a letter and two packages.
“Is that from your grandparents?” Benjamin asked, sounding almost nervous as he pulled a letter from his own slot.
“No, it’s from Oliver and Adélaïde.” Archer scratched a hot chocolate stain on the envelope. “But Mrs. Glub sent more pastries.”
Benjamin pretended to swoon.
Oliver’s mother was arguably the greatest pastry chef in Rosewood. And Archer was certain he’d have starved by now had it not been for her frequent care packages. Benjamin was equally grateful.
“Are both boxes for us?”
“One’s a cheesecake for Mr. Churnick.” Archer inspected the dampened box. “I hope it didn’t get too smushed.”
He slid it back into his slot and grabbed his letter and his other package, and they made for the school’s front entrance. Archer pulled a coat from a hook and handed a second to Benjamin. They were adult coats that went well past their knees, but they didn’t care. Benjamin followed him through a heavy oak door and down a stone walkway toward the sea.
“I don’t understand why I haven’t heard from my grandparents,” Archer said, nearly slipping on an icy stone. “Or my parents. No one’s saying anything.”
“At least you’re going home tomorrow.” Benjamin sighed. “I’ll be eating that slop on Christmas morning.”
Archer grimaced. Benjamin’s father was still traveling and he’d have to spend the entire winter holiday at Raven Wood. Archer didn’t know much about Mr. Birthwhistle, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d heard the name before. He’d told Benjamin as much, and Benjamin guessed he’d only imagined hearing it.
When they reached the seating area overlooking the sea, Archer used his extra-long coat sleeve to wipe snow off a bench, and they sat down. He opened the pastry box and handed Benjamin a walnut crumble muffin. Benjamin held it like a sacred object. Archer laughed and tore open his letter.
Dear Archer,
I hope you’re doing well at Raven Wood. Things are still fine here. Well, Oliver has a black eye. He got into a fight with Charlie Brimble at the Button Factory. Charlie was making jokes about you and your family again so Oliver jumped in.
I think Oliver wanted to tell you about our new neighbor, a girl named Kana Misra, so I’ll let him do that. But I think she likes him! (He gets angry every time I say that.)
I haven’t seen your grandparents. But everyone in Rosewood is talking about them. Have you heard anything? I’m guessing they’ll be home soon. And so will you.
We miss you,
Adélaïde
Dear Archer,
Charlie Brimble was making jokes about you at school. Adélaïde went after him, and she dragged me into it. I’m not sure what happened, but somehow I’m the one who got punched. Adélaïde’s always had a death wish, but I think it’s getting worse.
I forgot to tell you in my last letter—we have a new neighbor. She moved into Mrs. Murkley’s old house. Diptikana Misra. I’ve never had a class with her, but she’s that girl with dark hair and light blue fish eyes that never seem to see what they’re looking at. Anyway, she’s starting to creep me out. I’ve caught her staring at me a lot lately. She might even be spying on me. Adélaïde thinks something different, but I don’t want to talk about that.
Safe travels,
Oliver
P.S. Our Christmas party is the night you get back. Your father told mine you’d be there.
P.P.S. I have some news about DuttonLick’s sweetshop. But I’ve run out of room here, so I’ll tell you when I see you.
Archer could barely wait to see his friends again.
“I’ll talk to Mrs. Glub when I get home,” he said, folding the letters and tucking them back into the envelope. “I’ll send you as many pastries as I can while I’m in Rosewood. And I was thinking, if I leave most of my things here and go home with an empty trunk, I could bring it back filled with—”
“I’m leaving tomorrow too,” Benjamin said, lowering his letter. “My father cut his trip short. He’s on his way back to Rosewood.”
“Does that mean you won’t be coming back to Raven Wood after the break?”
Benjamin nodded. He would return to his school in Rosewood, a small private institution called Drabblefort Academy. Archer was both upset and a little jealous. He secretly hoped his parents would let him stay in Rosewood after the winter holiday, but he felt certain his mother wouldn’t hear of it. And now his only friend at Raven Wood was leaving for good? For Benjamin, at least, this should have been good news, but Benjamin didn’t look pleased about it. He almost looked sick.
“Is something wrong?” Archer asked.
Benjamin took a bite of his walnut muffin and chewed slowly. “I’ve been thinking about your grandparents,” he finally said. “You always speak very highly of them, but I was wondering, Archer, what if they’re not what you think they are?” Benjamin took another bite. “There must be a reason your mother kept them away from you for nearly twelve years.”
Archer plucked a walnut from his muffin. He had been only two days old when his parents struck an agreement with his grandparents that required the explorers to stay away from him until his twelfth birthday.
“My mother’s disturbed by what they are,” he explained, popping the walnut into his mouth. “She doesn’t like that they’re explorers. And she doesn’t want me to end up like them.”
“But what if she doesn’t like who they are?” Benjamin asked. “What if they’re not good people? What if they’re dangerous?”
Archer almost laughed at the suggestion, but the laugh stayed inside his throat. Benjamin was perfectly serious. “Why would my grandparents be dangerous?” Archer asked.
“All I’m trying to say is you don’t know your grandparents at all, Archer. And I think you should be ready for something you might not expect.”
For the rest of that day, it seemed like Benjamin had lots of other things he wanted to say, but though Archer prodded him, Benjamin stayed quiet. When they returned to their room that evening, Benjamin went straight to bed, despite it being their last night together. He even skipped his nightly plant inspection.
“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Archer asked.
Benjamin covered his head with a blanket.
“I’m just tired, is all. We have a long journey home tomorrow.”
Archer tapped his fingers on his desk. Benjamin hadn’t been this odd or quiet since their first week together. Did he not want to go home? Benjamin rarely spoke about his father. Maybe they didn’t get on well. But what troubled Archer more was Benjamin’s suggestion that his grandparents might be dangerous. Why would Benjamin say that?
Archer turned out the light and crawled into bed. When the hall clock chimed midnight, he was still wide awake. Dangerous? Archer peered across the oddly quiet room. Benjamin’s head was still covered, but he wasn’t snoring. Benjamin always snored.
CHAPTER
TWO
♦ AN ODD FAREWELL ♦
Archer’s final hours at Raven Wood dragged, and Benjamin’s continued silence only made them longer. When the final bell rang, Archer’s scarlet trunk was already packed.
“Just go to the buses without me,” Benjamin said, trying to make room inside his trunk for the Paria glavra.
Archer heaved his trunk out into the hall and went to Mr. Churnick’s office. Mr. Churnick wasn’t there, so Archer left the cheesecake on his desk alongside a thank-you note. On his way out, he bumped into Benjamin, who didn’t look pleased about it. But together, they followed the shouts of teachers and a line of students boarding a rickety bus. After taking his seat, Archer spotted Mr. Churnick dashing out the school doors. The headmaster slid up to the bus windows and searched them till he and Archer were face-to-face. Mr. Churnick said something, but the engine roared and the bus pulled away and all Archer could do was wave, watching as Mr. Churnick grew smaller and smaller.
At Stonewick Station, excited students crowded into a train.
“Three weeks of no school!” someone shouted. Everyone cheered.
Benjamin sat down across from Archer, dug into his leather satchel, and set an emerald-green book on his lap. Benjamin was always poring over that book, filled with detailed plant drawings and descriptions.
“Did you know there’s a place in Rosewood called the Society?” Archer asked. “I’ve never been there and I don’t know much about it, but it’s an organization of explorers and naturalists. My grandfather used to be its president. I’m hoping I’ll get to see it while I’m home. You’d probably like it, too. I’m sure they have lots of great plant people.”
Benjamin was still staring at his book, but Archer could tell he’d stopped reading.
“That sounds interesting,” Benjamin said, turning a page. “They’re called botanists, by the way.”
Archer looked out the window.
The snowy pines gave way to more and more buildings as they pushed farther south. Three very long and very quiet hours later, they crossed the frozen canal and entered Rosewood. Students crammed the windows to better see the darkened city dotted with lights. Benjamin pushed someone’s elbow out of his face and grinned at Archer, but the grin vanished so quickly Archer thought he’d imagined it.
They arrived at Rosewood Station with a great rush. Train crew piled trunks and luggage on the platform. Archer and Benjamin wove through happy families greeting one another and found their trunks. Archer tried one last time to find out what was bothering Benjamin.
“We had a good time at Raven Wood, Archer,” Benjamin said, searching the crowd. “But there’s something I should have told you. I didn’t want to. And even if I had, I don’t think you’d have believed me. You’ll understand soon enough. You’re going to hate me.” Benjamin grabbed one side of his trunk and nodded to a plump woman who was sprinting toward them. “That’s Mrs. Fig. I’m staying with them until my father arrives.”
“Welcome home, Benjamin!” Mrs. Fig cried, clamping the boy in a hug that could have split him in two. Her terribly festive bright green coat was blinding, and her jolly grin was almost frightening. “Digby was so thrilled to hear you’d be spending the holidays with us!”
Mrs. Fig’s yuletide spirit melted the moment she noticed Archer.
“You?” She grabbed the other side of Benjamin’s trunk and pulled him a safe distance. “You’re Archer Helmsley, aren’t you? Yes, I remember you. Nearly got my Digby eaten by tigers! And now all this about your grandparents—” Mrs. Fig shook a salami-like finger in his face. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves! Hurry now, Benjamin. You don’t want to be anywhere near that one or his miserable family.”
And just like that, Benjamin was gone.
Archer sat down on his trunk, thinking his friend had cracked. Had Benjamin eaten one too many bowls of Raven Wood oatmeal?
“Archer! Over here! Sorry I’m late!”
Archer’s father was weaving his way through the crowd. Mr. Helmsley was a tall and skinny bifocaled lawyer—a fine and respectable profession, but a disappointing choice to Archer’s grandparents.
“We heard the country air did wonders,” Mr. Helmsley said, hugging Archer and then looking him over. “Mr. Churnick has been singing your praises ever since you left. Your mother wouldn’t believe him at first. Have you lost weight? You didn’t have much to lose!”
“The food at Raven Wood was terrible,” Archer explained with a smile.
While Archer had always felt at odds with both his parents, he’d always been more comfortable around his father.
“Sounds like the same cuisine they served at my boarding school. I still have nightmares about it.” Mr. Helmsley glanced at the clock. “But there will be plenty to eat at the Glubs’ party tonight. And we’d best hurry, or your mother might add us to the soup!”
They hauled Archer’s trunk out a station door and into a taxicab. Archer couldn’t believe the snow as they set off. The mounds were almost as tall as the cab. Rosewood was completely buried.
“Have you heard anything about your grandparents?” Mr. Helmsley asked, cleaning his snow-speckled glasses with the end of his tie.
“No,” Archer replied, watching snowflakes whirl past the window. “They never sent me a letter.” He turned to his father, suddenly feeling more frightened than nervous. “Are they home?”
“Not yet. And you mustn’t take it personally, Archer. They’ve been cryptic ever since news broke that they were still alive. From what little I’ve heard, they should arrive any day now.”
♦ THAT HORRIBLE THING IS BACK ♦
The taxi slid to halt before Helmsley House. Archer and his father lugged the scarlet trunk up the icy front steps and heaved it into the foyer. It landed with a thud. Mrs. Helmsley poked her head from a door at the end of the hall. Archer’s mother was usually quite poised and proper—a model for model citizens. But in that moment, she more resembled the frazzled Mrs. Glub.
“Oh! I thought you were them,” she gasped.
“Any word?” Mr. Helmsley asked.
“No. And I know you don’t think it necessary, but you must review the brochures. These facilities might be able to help them.”
Mrs. Helmsley stepped down the hall, approaching Archer the way one might approach an old land mine, unsure if it was still active. She bent down, gave the land mine a kiss on the forehead, and proceeded to study it carefully.
“Mr. Churnick seems to have been quite the miracle worker,” she said, her hands clasped behind her back. “He told me you were one of the finest students he’s ever had. He even speculated your tendencies were a thing of the past.”
Tendencies. That was the word Mrs. Helmsley gave to the many things Archer had done that she disapproved of, such as accidentally lighting a dinner party guest on fire. Archer suspected it also had something to do with a similarity between himself and his grandparents, but having never met them, he didn’t know that for sure.
“Does that mean I don’t have to go back to Raven Wood?” he said hopefully.
Archer knew in an instant that it was a silly thing to ask. It was clear his mother thought the land mine required further testing.
“Mr. Churnick has done tremendous work with you. You must remain under his guidance. And I’d like to know his secrets,” she mumbled.
“But we do have some news that might make you happy,” Mr. Helmsley said, nudging Mrs. Helmsley.
“Yes. After careful thought, your father and I have agreed that it will only help to foster your progress if you spend more time outside the house while you’re home.”
Archer’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Ever since his grandparents had vanished, he’d been kept a virtual prisoner inside Helmsley House.
“Now hurry upstairs and wash. You smell like a stale train car. The Glubs are expecting us any minute.”
Mr. and Mrs. Helmsley disappeared down the hall. Archer stood frozen in the foyer, staring around at the familiar treasures and taxidermied animals collected by his grandparents. His old friend the badger, perched on a small table, was dressed in a Christmas sweater.
“Welcome home, Archer,” the badger said miserably. “Would you mind helping me out of this thing? Why does she do this to me every year?”
“She thinks it makes you look like a gentleman,” Archer said, pulling the tiny sweater over the badger’s head.
The badger huffed as Archer smoothed its fur. “I was neither gentle nor a man in life, and I don’t see why I should be made such things in death!” The badger lowered its voice. “And while I’m glad you’re back, Archer, I must say there’s something strange going on. Why did Benjamin say you’re going to hate him? Why haven’t you heard a word from your grandparents? And why was that Mrs. Fig so furious at them? I’m not sure what it’s all about, but I think it’s bad.”
Archer stared at the badger. “How do you know all that?”
“I know it because you know it.”
“What’s going on?” the ostrich shouted from the next room over. “I can’t see with this lampshade on my head! Is that thing back? Don’t tell me the thing with dirty hands is back!”
♦ JUST A CHRISTMAS PARTY ♦
Next door, the Glubs’ house was filled with people and music and all sorts of delights. Everyone gathered in a room that, despite its chipping paint and loose floorboards, was called the great room. And it was great. Adélaïde was seated on a plaid couch before a crackling fire. Next to her were three tall windows overlooking the snowy gardens. Oliver scurried into the room and plopped himself beside her.
“I put more logs on,” he said, sticking his shivering hands toward the fire. “It’s freezing out there. You can go next time.”
Adélaïde pointed to her wooden leg. Oliver rolled his eyes.
“How long are you going to milk that?”
Adélaïde smiled and got comfortable on the couch.
A few feet away, in the corner of the room, Oliver’s younger sister, Claire, was digging beneath a tree decked in tin ornaments and lights.
“What’s she doing?” he asked slowly.
“She’s moving her presents to the outside and yours to the inside.”
Claire peeked over her shoulder at Adélaïde. Both started giggling.
“I don’t like this at all,” Oliver grumbled, and turned back to the fire. “The two of you are not becoming friends. I forbid it.”
Lovely smells wafted from the other side of the room. Mrs. Glub was dashing between the kitchen and the great room, keeping a long table overflowing with food.
“Mind yourselves!” she called, setting a spiced pecan pie on the table. “Piping hot!”
Miss Whitewood, invited at Adélaïde’s request, was also at that table, filling a plate and explaining her duties as the Willow Academy librarian to Belmont Café’s barman, Amaury Guilbert. But Amaury was clearly more interested in the duties of Mrs. Glub’s pastries, which, of course, were to be eaten.
“These strudels are delicious,” he said, glancing over at Mr. Belmont. “We should be selling these at the café!”
Mr. Belmont wasn’t paying attention. He had gifted an espresso machine to the Glubs and was showing Mr. Glub how to operate it by brewing a brand-new espresso blend he’d been working on and was finally quite pleased with.
“And then you simply pull this lever here.”
A small cup filled with a dark, steamy brew.
“Most remarkable!” Mr. Glub said. He lifted the cup and took a sip. “And most delicious! But tell me, François… what am I tasting? Wait—it’s hazelnut, isn’t it? Yes, that’s certainly hazelnut!”
“It should be toffee,” Mr. Belmont said, frowning. “Hints of toffee?”
“Toffee?” Mr. Glub took another sip. “How fascinating! You’re a genius, François! I had no idea toffee could taste just like hazelnut.”
Mr. Belmont opened a notebook and crossed something out while muttering in French. Mrs. Glub returned from the kitchen, this time with a tray of cherry almond cookies, and shook her head at them.
“I like your family,” Adélaïde said. “I wish mine was more like yours.”
“Sure,” said Oliver. “They’re great. But when’s Archer getting here?”
“The Helmsleys should be arriving any minute,” Mrs. Glub said, stepping up behind the couch. “So I’ll say it one last time: you two are not to tell Archer anything about the newspapers or his grandparents.”
“But they’re his grandparents,” Adélaïde said, peering up at her. “Don’t you think he needs to know what everyone in Rosewood already does?”
“I very much do, dear,” Mrs. Glub admitted somberly. “That boy’s been awaiting this moment for as long as I’ve known him. It’s all he’s ever talked about. Unfortunately, it’s not our decision. Mr. and Mrs. Helmsley made me promise it wouldn’t be mentioned. I suspect, and hope, there’s more to all of this than we know.”
♦ SECRETS AND SNOWBALLS ♦
Oliver and Adélaïde left the couch and the great room and went to a window at the front of the house. Oliver forced the latch, slid open the window, and stuck his head out. Willow Street was deserted.
“We have to tell him,” Adélaïde said, leaning next to Oliver.
“I know. I’m just worried he’s going to hate us for not saying something sooner.”
“He’ll hate us even more if we don’t do it now.”
Oliver was about to agree when a snowball smacked him clean across the face. He jerked his head and clunked it on the window. “Who did—?”
“ARCHER!” yelled Adélaïde.
Oliver wiped the snow from his eyes. Archer was smiling at them from a snowdrift where the sidewalk should have been. Adélaïde and Oliver dashed to the door and, without bothering to grab their coats, jumped down the front steps and tackled him.
“It’s about time!” Oliver said, pulling his arm from beneath Adélaïde. “But a hello would have worked just as well.”
“Hello,” Archer said, sitting up and inspecting Oliver’s head. “Sorry about that.”
“He’s fine,” Adélaïde assured him. “He’s got a thick skull.”
Oliver stood up grinning and offered them both a hand. They shook the snow from their clothes and stepped back inside the Glubs’ house. Archer took a deep sniff. It smelled like gingerbread and caramel and pine. It smelled like home.
“Keep your coat,” Oliver said, pulling his from a hook and handing Adélaïde hers. “We’re going upstairs. But you should say hello first. Everyone’s been waiting for you.”
They crossed the hall and entered the great room, where Archer was greeted like royalty.
“Welcome home, Archer!” Mr. Glub cheered, popping him on the head with a closed fist. “This place hasn’t been the same without you lurking around!” He pointed to Oliver and Adélaïde. “You should’ve seen them, Archer. They’ve been loafing about without you.”
“Thank you for sending all those pastries and the cheesecake,” Archer said as Mrs. Glub wrapped him in a warm hug.
“It was my pleasure, dear. And there’s plenty more for you tonight. Now where are your parents?”
“They’ll be here soon.”
Claire, still digging beneath the tree, jumped to her feet with one of Oliver’s gifts in her hand. She tossed it over her shoulder and joined the merry crowd. It looked like she was going to give Archer a hug, but she shook his hand instead.
“That’s awfully formal, Claire,” Mr. Glub said, laughing.
Mr. Belmont smiled on from behind the Glubs while Amaury, who’d only recently arrived from France, seemed to be wondering who this Archer fellow was.
“And how was the Raven Wood library?” came a familiar voice.
Oliver whispered in Archer’s ear as Miss Whitewood stepped forward. “Adélaïde invited her. I’m not sure how I feel about having a teacher in my home. I’d prefer to keep my worlds separated.”