The Atomic Weight of Secrets or The Arrival of the Mysterious Men in Black (21 page)

The next two weeks consisted of lessons with Miss Brett, weekends at the tree houses, and a series of impossible rescue ideas that seemed to grow ever more ridiculous.

“Tunneling?” said Noah after one suggestion. “Do I look like a gopher?”

“Disguised as what?” Jasper said about another idea.

“Maybe we can dress like giant black bunny rabbits,” Noah said. “Then, at least, we’d blend right in.”

“Are you trying to make this into some absurdity parade?”
Faye said. “Are you making fun of the fact that our parents are suffering somewhere without us?”

“We don’t know anything of the sort,” Jasper said. “Suffering? Where did that come from? You’re just trying to make us feel bad for something that is just not likely so.”

“Not likely so? We know we’re being held captive by these men in black!” said Faye, who was growing livid.

“How do we know they aren’t trying to protect us?” Jasper said.

“How do we know they aren’t keeping us for ransom?” Faye responded. “How do we know we aren’t victims of some horrid plot?”

“Faye, think about it,” Noah said. “And for the hundredth time—”

“For the hundredth time, we don’t know! We don’t know that they are safe. We don’t know that they are not suffering. We don’t know anything.”

“And we don’t know that they haven’t been turned into daffodils, either,” said Noah.

The children felt less and less like following Faye into misery. Although it was true they wanted to know why they were surrounded by men in black and what was happening to their parents, they didn’t feel as if they were in immediate danger. Besides, tunneling, wearing disguises, or simply dashing away in broad daylight all held with them the certainty of failure.

It was the third weekend, and the children sat among the detritus of their afternoon snacks on the way back to Sole Manner, sleepily emerging from naps. Had they been more awake, they would have noticed the countryside around them.

“I’m thirsty,” said Lucy with a yawn.

“Why do we always fall asleep?” Jasper asked himself, trying to shake off the sleepiness.

“Look at these delicious treats, and the long, bumpy ride in the cozy, comfy carriage,” said Noah. “How could we not fall asleep on the way back? There’s just no escape from—”

“You’re right,” said Faye, sitting bolt upright, suddenly not sleepy at all.

“I’m what?” Noah said. “I’m right about what? You’re scaring me, Faye. You never think I’m right.”

But Faye leaned back and thought about her idea. Now wasn’t the time to present it—not when they were all so happy to see Miss Brett again. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

“That is absolutely crazy,” Noah said.

They had been back at the school for two days, and Faye had asked for everyone to join her outside after lunch.

“Look,” Faye said, “it was foolish to try to escape from here. I’ll admit it. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, and it would take us a month to walk to civilization. But if we sneak away from the houses, we can just run to the first big street we find and ask for a policeman. We’ll be right in the city. We can get away. We can find our parents.”

“The city is not a children’s nursery, Faye,” Jasper said. “We may find ourselves in worse danger than—”

“So that’s it? You’re afraid of a little risk? You’re willing to have your cakes and custards in exchange for your captivity and
that of your parents? Well,
I am not
!”

Faye walked away, leaving her classmates in stunned silence. She didn’t speak a word to them for the rest of the day, and not a word at breakfast the next morning. It was hardest on Lucy, who shared a bed with her and most felt the coldness of rejection.

“We have to talk to her,” Lucy said to Jasper and the others when Faye was out of earshot.

At lunch, Faye sat alone on the far side of the front garden while the others sat beneath the tree. Jasper went over to sit with her.

“Faye, listen, we all feel what you’re feeling,” he said.

“Clearly, that is not the case, Jasper,” Faye responded coldly.

“We do, but we just... it just behaves differently inside us.”

“Well, I want to be sure.” Faye’s voice cracked. She began to wrap her uneaten lunch in the kerchief. “I want to know. I don’t want to wait to find out that something horrible has happened and I could have done something. I am not willing to sit here and do nothing at all.” She stood up and ran back to the schoolhouse.

For the rest of the week, Faye was willing to talk more about it, though she kept quiet. Everyone felt they had let her down, and her dark feelings were contagious. The effect was just as she had hoped—as the days passed, the other children wondered if they were indeed being weak, letting their parents down by choosing the comfort of the cage over the risk of freedom.

After supper on Thursday, the children came to speak with Faye. They told her what she loved to hear—that she (and this
was qualified by the fact that no one had absolute faith in this, but they all did entertain the possibility) was right. As a team, the children decided that something should indeed be done, and sitting here in comfort was not going to get them anywhere.

Friday morning’s first incident, however, drove everything from their minds.

Not that the arrival of the odd fellows in black was anything new. What was new was that there were three dressed in beekeeper suits.

“A beehive?” Miss Brett was utterly surprised. She hadn’t seen a beehive.

“Six. We must collect it,” the tallest one said as he stood in the doorway to the farmhouse. He held three large buckets in his hand.

“There are six beehives here?” Miss Brett realized she had not even noticed one.

“It must be done,” said the fattest, who held a small pail of coal and something in his hand that looked much like a can.

“We will give it here,” said the shortest, who held a bellows in his hand.

“Children,” Miss Brett said, seeing an excellent opportunity for a lesson, “these men are here to collect the honey from the hives at the edge of the green field. They’re wearing beekeeper suits to protect themselves from the bees.”

“Oh, I thought they were just wearing their normal silly, silly suits,” said Lucy.

“Well, we read about how bees make honey and why,” Miss Brett said.

“And I knew much about such things back in India,” said
Faye, “although our hives were more elegant.”

The others, however, had not learned about bees until Miss Brett read to them about their behavior in hives.

“The queen babies get the royal treatment,” Lucy said. “They’re the only babies who are given jelly and they get special cuddles and then, also, the honey comes from the pollen the little worker bees collect on their legs and fly all over and find good pollen flowers and blossoms and—”

“We jolly well know you remember, Lucy,” Jasper said. “I think Miss Brett just wanted to let us know that we’ve got the real thing now.”

“I don’t want to be eaten alive by a swarm of bees, thank you very much,” said Noah.

“They do not eat,” said the fattest man.

“They will buzz,” said the tallest man.

“Do not attack them,” said the shortest man.

“Attack them? Lunacy. Madness,” mumbled Faye.

“Actually, he’s right to say this,” said Miss Brett. “A bee will die when it stings.”

With five very wary students following her, Miss Brett trailed the three beekeepers to the edge of the field of greens.

“I didn’t think any of them would be beekeepers,” Wallace quietly said as they lagged behind Miss Brett.

“I thought they were just keepers,” said Noah.

“Well, yes,” Wallace said, “I did think they were just guardians, here to—”

“Keep us captive, perhaps?” Faye said.

“Well, it is odd, isn’t it?” said Jasper. “They do more than behave like coachmen or strongmen or captors.”

“Are you saying you don’t think they’re preventing us from leaving?” said Faye. “Does anyone remember the motorcar keeping guard? The guards who patrol the perimeter of the farm at night to prevent our escape?”

Of course, they remembered. Even as they watched the men in black beekeeper suits retrieve the honey, they remembered.

“Oh, may we taste it?” asked Lucy, jumping up and down as the men finished.

“You may have two buckets,” said the shortest man.

“We care,” said the tallest.

“You what?” asked Jasper.

“For the bees,” said the fattest man, as they all returned to the farmhouse. They left two buckets at the farmhouse door and walked back to the road where a black truck was waiting.

“Lucy, we are not being cruel to Miss Brett.”

As the children packed their things for the weekend, Faye was not pleased. They had been through this three times already since lunch.

“Yes, we are too!” cried Lucy. “We’re not telling, and not telling is pretending that there isn’t something to tell when there really is, so we’re lying, and lying is cruel, and I don’t want to be cruel.”

Faye was as worried about being heard as she was about Lucy backing out on the plan. She sat beside the little girl on the bed. Lucy’s feet were miles above the floor, her fingers firmly planted in her mouth.

“This is the way it has to be,” Faye said softly.

Lucy looked up, took her fingers from her mouth, and said, “It hurts. It’s too heavy. It weighs like bricks all over me. I don’t want to lie to Miss Brett.” Lucy put her hand back into her mouth.

“Listen, Lucy,” Faye said, speaking gently now, and taking the little girl’s hand from her mouth as she had seen Jasper do so many times before, “this is not a lie. It’s dangerous, and we don’t want to put Miss Brett in danger. We want to make sure we can break free. Then we can come back and make sure she’s safe as well. We must make sure she is safe, right?”

Lucy looked into Faye’s eyes to see whether there was truth in them.

But Faye did believe this. This was not a lie.

It was then they heard Noah call, “They’re here!”

“Hello!” shouted Lucy to the driver as she climbed into the carriage. The driver wore great fluffy earmuffs over nearly half of either side of his head. “Do you know who invented the earmuff?” The driver did not answer or react in any way.