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.
