Capture the Flag (3 page)

“The Star-Spangled Banner's been stolen,” Anna whispered. She couldn't imagine how. It was enormous. Bigger than her whole living room at home.

“Did you hear that, Harold? Did you?” A short woman with bouncy gray curls and a
WORLD'S GREATEST GRANDMA
sweatshirt elbowed her husband. “First a giant snowstorm, and now this! This trip to see your old army buddies has been more exciting than I thought it would be.”

“Dude,” Henry turned to José. “That was your mom on TV? I wonder if she's the one who stole it. That would be so cool!”

“My mother did
not
steal the flag. She's a specialist who restores historical textiles, and she just finished
fixing
the flag so it could go back on display. And furthermore, my mother is part of a —”

“José!” His father's voice was sharp. José jumped, then looked up at his dad and nodded a tiny bit.

“What I was going to say,” José said, “is that she has great respect for history. She was going to give a lecture on the flag this week and then finally head home.” He turned back to his dad. “Do you think she'll have to stay longer now?”

José's father put an arm around his son. “I'm sure they'll track it down quickly. But yes, the flag may need more repairs once they find it. Mom's probably fit to be tied.” The song “Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head” played from his pocket, and José's dad pulled out a cell phone. “This is her. Sit tight for a minute.” And he stepped toward the ticket counter, next to Anna's dad.

José sat down with his book, and Henry went back to his video game. Anna stared up at the TV, where newspeople were recapping the top stories of the morning: the big blizzard and the flag theft. José's mother appeared on the screen again. She shook her head, and her silver earrings caught the light of the cameras.

“José! What were you going to say about your mom? Being part of something?”

José looked up quickly. “Nothing. She's part of … the … uh … group of people who love history.”

Anna's hand flew to her ear. “No, she's not. José, those earrings! She's part of the Silver Jaguar Society, isn't she?”

José put his book down and narrowed his eyes.

“It's okay.” Anna tried to keep her voice quiet. “Those earrings? Were they a gift from your grandmother to your mom?”

José nodded just a bit. “How do
you
know?” he whispered.

“It's okay. We're in it, too. I mean, my mom is.” Anna's thoughts were racing so fast her voice couldn't keep up. She was tripping over her words trying. “She has a silver jaguar necklace that looks like your mom's earrings. It's their symbol. This is
amazing
! So do you know about the society? I don't know much, but it's this secret group of people who are all related to famous artists and —”

“Shhh!” José moved closer to her. “It's not going to be secret much longer if you keep shouting about it in a crowded airport.”

“Sorry,” Anna whispered. “I just can't believe this. Do you know who you're related to? We're descendants of Paul Revere.”

“Paul Revere, the midnight-ride guy?”

Anna nodded. “He was a silversmith, too. A really good one, I guess. You must be related to somebody who made stuff, too. Right?” She pulled out her notebook.

“Put that away,” José said quietly.

“Sorry.” Anna slipped the notebook back into her bag. “You're right. My mom would kill me if I wrote this stuff down. But you are related to somebody, right?”

José nodded. “Frida Kahlo.”

“Frito who?” Henry asked. He put his game down and moved closer.

“Frida Kahlo. She's a famous artist,” Anna said.

“And also …” José leaned closer. “My mom says our ancestors in Central America, going way, way back, were some of the founders.”

Henry raised an eyebrow at them. “So … let me get this right. You guys think that anybody with some … magic silver jaguar thing is part of this secret society of yours?”

“Well … yeah,” Anna said. Coming from Henry, it sounded like something out of a video game.

“That's funny,” Henry went on. “My aunt's got one. On a bracelet.”

“She does?” Anna grabbed his sleeve and shook a little. “Ohmygosh, Henry! Your family's part of the Silver Jaguar Society, too? This is incredible. Who are you related to?”

“Nobody, s'far as I know.” Henry shook her off and picked up his video game.

Anna blocked the screen with her hand. “Henry, seriously! If your aunt has a bracelet like that, she must be part of it. Does she go on a lot of trips?”

“Well, yeah.” Henry put his game down again. “And she sure likes art and stuff. She's always all ‘Look, Henry!' when we see some dumb old painting or something. But I don't think she's part of any secret mission or anything.” He paused, looking down at his game. “That
would
be cool, though.”

“Yeah, but, Henry —” Anna stopped short when she saw Snickerbottom heading their way again. Maybe she could interview him now! This story was getting better by the minute.

Anna hurried over to him. “Senator, what do you think about the flag?”

“This theft is a crime against our great nation!” He stood up straight and looked out toward the crowd around the TV monitor, even though it was Anna who had asked the question. “And I'm here to assure the American people that our flag will be recovered.” The crowd shifted its attention from the TV to Snickerbottom. “The very best investigators in the nation are on this case. The FBI. The CIA. The SCC.”

“SCC?” Anna asked.

“The Snickerbottom Campaign Committee. In a situation like this, every American needs to do his part. I've reassigned some of my key staff members to help with the investigation. We
will
find the flag. And we
will
track down the enemies of America who stole it.”

“Enemies of America?” Anna tipped her head. “The newspeople said they don't know who stole it.”

“Oh, they always say that. We know better.” Robert Snickerbottom gave a loud sniff as if he could smell the enemies of America right there in the airport. “When I'm president, we'll have a stronger, safer nation. Safe for the American people and safe for our flag.”

“I see.” Anna held up her notebook. “Just a few more questions about your campaign now, Senator. According to the polls —”

“I told you I don't have time for school newspapers, little lady. Too much to do.” He walked off with his men following him.

“When he's
president
?” Henry stared down the hallway.

“You don't know who Robert Snickerbottom is?” Anna sighed. At least the airport had wireless Internet access. She tapped at her keyboard, called up a video of Snickerbottom's latest campaign ad, and tipped the screen so Henry could see. “Watch.”

The commercial started with a fuzzy black-and-white photograph of a lady who looked like somebody's grandmother. Over the image, a man with a deep voice proclaimed, “Betty Frumble's fine for Vermont. But she doesn't belong in Washington.” The image changed to a newspaper headline that read
THE COMPROMISE QUEEN
with a photo of the woman smiling and holding some kind of cake pan, surrounded by a crowd of people in front of the Vermont State House. The man's voice continued. “America can't afford compromise. We need a leader … a man of courage and strength. A true American hero.” The image dissolved into a newspaper photo of a way younger Robert Snickerbottom, soaking wet, holding a little boy under one arm and a puppy in the other. Another young man, shorter and skinnier but with the same wavy hair, stood next to him, looking up with awe.
HERO SAVES BOY
,
FAMILY PET FROM ABANDONED WELL
, the headline read. And the man's voice finished. “Vote for Robert Snickerbottom, an American hero, for president.”

“He's running for president?” Henry asked as the screen faded to black.

Anna nodded. Her laptop battery was running low, so she powered down and slid it into her backpack. “Against Betty Frumble. Wait — don't you live in Vermont? She's our governor, you know.”

“Oh.” Henry's SuperGamePrism-5000 buzzed again. He flicked the switch to
OFF
. “So you think that guy'll win? That'd be wicked. I could say I met the president.”

Anna shook her head. “Probably not. My dad wants him to win because they're in the same party. They both want immigration reform and stuff like that. But Dad says Snickerbottom's falling behind in the polls.”

“Behind that grandma lady from the TV ad?” Henry looked stunned.

“Yep. She's really popular in Vermont. When she was elected governor, she stopped all the political bickering in Montpelier with her ‘secret weapon.'” She used her fingers to make quote marks in the air.

“Secret weapon?” Henry's face lit up.

“Berry Maple Oat Nut Crumble,” Anna said. “It's her family recipe. She says food brings people together, so she shows up with the Berry Maple Oat Nut Crumble and says anybody willing to listen to the other side gets a big bowl of it with vanilla ice cream.”

“And that works?”

“Well, that and a bunch of other stuff. She's an incredible speaker; she's brilliant. But the TV news likes to show the old-lady-with-baked-goods pictures, so whatever. It seems to be working; she's beating Snickerbottom in the polls by quite a bit.” Anna fought a smile. She was proud of her dad being a United States senator, and she knew he wanted Snickerbottom to win, but secretly, she loved the idea of a smart lady who did things differently being in charge. She'd love to interview Betty Frumble.

“Anna.” Her father walked up briskly. “I need to make more phone calls, so I'm going to head to the business lounge where it's quieter.”

“Did you talk to Mom?”

He nodded. “She's beside herself over the flag, but obviously, she can't get here with the weather.” Her dad didn't sound sad; he was never thrilled about her mom's secret society trips. “Do you want to come with me or stay here?”

“I'll stay here,” Anna said. “I want to get some writing done. This is Henry, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. Where are your folks?”

“My dad's on a cruise with his new wife.” Henry said the word
wife
the way most people said
toe jam
or
boogers
. “I've been staying with my aunt, but I'm going home today. Or whenever the snow stops. That flight attendant's in charge of me.” Henry nodded toward a tiny dark-haired woman who stood at the ticket counter, swamped with people trying to rebook flights.

“I see, well …” Anna's father looked at his watch, then reached for his wallet and handed Anna his credit card. “Take this and get some food for you and your friend whenever you're hungry. Just don't go far.” He headed down the hallway.

Anna sank into a chair and realized she'd forgotten about José, whose face was hidden behind his book again. “Oh my gosh, sorry I didn't introduce you. My dad's in a hurry a lot.”

“That's okay,” José mumbled. He didn't look up from his book. “He probably wouldn't have been particularly pleased to meet me anyway.”

“Why?”

José closed his book and looked up at her. “I'm half Mexican.” It came out quiet, like everything he said, but it still sounded like a challenge.

“What do you mean?”

“Immigration reform? Your dad and Snickerbottom are always talking about it on TV.”

“So?” Anna said.

“My grandparents came over as migrant workers.” José tipped his chin up. “My mother was born here, so she's an American citizen, but some people are still … well,
you'd
know.”

“Oh, no, it's not like that. My dad worries about jobs, but he likes Mexicans a lot,” Anna said quickly. “I mean, he likes people like you. It's, like, the bad ones that he doesn't like. I mean, not that he doesn't like them, too. He probably likes them fine. He just doesn't think some of
those
people should be … here.”

“Oh.” José stared at her and lifted his book. “Sort of like how the Malfoy family only wants pureblood wizards at Hogwarts.” He dropped his head and went back to reading.

Anna thought about that. She'd seen the Harry Potter movies, and her father was nothing like Lucius Malfoy. That guy was a jerk. Her dad worked hard to help people and just wanted to make sure there were jobs for Americans. But the whole idea gave her a rotten feeling, like a little mouse gnawing away in her stomach.

She didn't want to be a Malfoy.

For the next two hours, Anna watched the snow outside fall in heavier blankets and the line of angry travelers at the ticket counter grow longer. Henry played his video games. José thumbed through a volume of
Bartlett's Familiar Quotations
that looked every bit as loved as his copy of
Harry Potter
.

“Hey,” Anna finally said, nudging José's elbow. “Do you want to go get some food?” She held her breath, wondering if he was still upset.

José held up a finger, turned a page, and looked up. “Sure.” Anna let out her breath.

José found his father, who was back at the CNN screen where new storm reports were coming in. “I'm going to get a snack, Dad, okay?” He dropped his backpack at his father's feet with a thud. “Can you watch this for me?”

“Sure.” Mr. McGilligan waved over his shoulder, gazing up at the blue and pink radar images.

Anna turned to Henry. “Are you coming? You should probably tell your flight attendant.”

“You kidding? She'll never miss me.” Henry flicked a hand toward the counter, where the flight attendant was typing frantically and talking to the first in a long line of irritated passengers.

Anna hoisted her backpack over her shoulder and led them into the main hallway of Terminal B. She had to wait a few seconds for an opening in the river of people pulling luggage and rushing past with briefcases. Everybody was all stuck and clogging the halls like a spring ice jam in the Winooski River back home.

“Hey, there's Pickersgill Diner. Let's get burgers.” Henry stepped up to a long, long line that snaked out from a darkened, wood-paneled restaurant.

“Looks like everybody had the same idea,” José said. “Get some food and settle in for a long day and night at the airport.”

“Man, this stinks,” Henry said, kicking the
HOSTESS WILL SEAT YOU
sign.

“Yeah, but don't you think it's kind of cool to spend the whole night here?” Anna said. “It'll make a great news story.” Anna ran her hand along the edge of the hostess sign, imagining what she'd write. She could talk about the snow, and the flag news, and the crowds. Plus, if she could manage to keep running into Snickerbottom, somewhere in that long night, he would have to give her an interview, wouldn't he?

And who knows who else might be stuck here? All kinds of interesting, important people visited Washington, DC. There could be other dignitaries from the history museum reopening or —

“Oh my gosh!” Anna said it so loudly the woman in front of them turned and stared.

“Sorry,” Anna said, but she could barely keep her voice down as she pulled José and Henry into a huddle. “You guys, I just had this thought. What if whoever stole the flag is stuck here, too?
With
the flag!”

José pursed his lips and looked down at the diamond shaped tiles on the floor. “Not likely. You've seen the flag. It's enormous. Trying to sneak it through an airport wouldn't be too bright.”

“But you never know, right?” Anna looked around and lowered her voice. “What if the thief is waiting for burgers in this same line. Think about it! We need to investigate.” She stood up straight. “It's our responsibility as Silver Jaguar Society members.”

“Will you … shhh!” José frowned. “First of all, they're not going to be here. And second, even if they were, it's not our job to investigate. We're not society members. My mom says you have to be eighteen.”

Anna sighed. “The words
you have to be eighteen
should be banned from the English language. We could
totally
investigate. And we
should
. We're
here
, after all, right here at the airport, and no one else from the society is, are they?” Anna forced her voice quiet again. “I mean, I know it's probably not here, but if it is …” If it was, and if they found it … that would be the best story ever. And her mom would see that she was plenty old enough and smart enough to know more about the society. “It would be
so
amazing.”

“How many?” The hostess, a young woman with spiky pink hair and a small silver nose ring, tapped her clipboard.

“Three, please.” Anna craned her neck to get a glimpse of the television behind the bar. Maybe there would be more flag news.

“This way.” The hostess led them to a table that almost got hit by the swinging door to the kitchen every time it opened. Anna leaned across the table toward José and Henry.

“So what do you think?”

Henry picked up a menu. “Awesome.”

“Awesome, you'll investigate with me?”

“No, awesome, they have root beer floats.”

“It's possible,” said José, “that someone here could know something, but …”

“But what?”

“Do you have macaroni and cheese?” José asked the waitress who had appeared.

“Yep.”

“I'll have that.”

“I'll have a root beer float, cheeseburger, and fries,” Henry said. “With ketchup.”

She turned to Anna. “And you?”

“Oh!” Anna flipped menu pages. Why when she was in the middle of a great idea did everybody need to stop to eat all the time? “I'll have a tuna melt with fries.”

She handed her menu to the waitress and leaned back in toward José. “You said
but
. But what?”

“For starters, that theft was hours ago. Whoever took the flag is probably far away by now. And also, like I said before, we're not eighteen. It's not our job.”

“Not our job? But this is … it's … it's like Snickerbottom said. When something like this happens,
every
American has to do his or her part. No matter how old we are. We're here, at the airport, so we should do what we can here and interview people or look for clues or … Don't you feel like it's all of our responsibility?”

“My responsibility is to knock out these bank robbers.” Henry picked up his SuperGamePrism-5000 again. “Otherwise, I can't get to Level Ten.”

José looked at Henry, poking at his GamePrism, and shook his head at Anna. “Sorry, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I agree with him.” He took out his book.

Anna threw her hands in the air. “You are such … boys! What is
wrong
with you? You spend your whole lives looking for excitement in video games and movies and books, and then when something big finally happens, you're too busy reading and poking at some SuperGameThingy to do the real, live, exciting thing right there in front of you!”

“Tuna melt?” The waitress held it over the table, floating from person to person.

“That's me,” Anna said.

While Henry and José ate their lunch, Anna took advantage of their full mouths to do all the talking.

“Think about it. Everybody who was at that museum reception is either in town or headed home today, and that means that whole big bunches of them are here at the airport. Stuck here. With us. And maybe with the flag! Don't you see?”

José poked the tine of his fork through a single macaroni and lifted it to his mouth. “It's possible,” he said.

“It's more than
possible
.” Anna picked up the shaker of hot pepper from the table and tipped it back and forth, watching the red and gold flakes tumble on top of one another. “It's
probable
. And if we interview some of those people, I bet we'll get some clues, and if we get enough, they'll start to make sense, like a jigsaw puzzle when you get enough pieces in, and then all of a sudden you can see it's a ship or a carnival scene or whatever and everything's clear, you know?”

Henry stared at her. Then he went back to his game.

José looked up at the television over the bar. The anchorman was on again.

“Turn it up, Morgan!” A muscular man behind the bar hollered, and the hostess raised the volume.

“… an extremely fragile piece of American history. Authorities continue to investigate all leads, and they say no one with access to the flag chamber has been ruled out as a suspect.”

Anna wondered if that included José's mom. She glanced over at him, but his eyes dropped to the last of his macaroni.

“Since the snow has halted traffic out of the city for now, investigators believe that the thief or thieves are still nearby.”

“See?” Anna said. “See, I think that's why … Are you even listening to me?”

José was staring at the bar. Anna turned to follow his gaze and saw the big guy who had shouted before frantically untying his apron and shuffling through papers next to the cash register.

“Morgan!” he called, so loud that even Henry looked up from his game. “You need to take over here. I have to go.” He handed her an order pad and came out from behind the bar so fast he tripped on the edge, stumbling right into the table where Anna, Henry, and José sat. He reached out to catch himself, and on his upper arm, peeking out from the sleeve of his blue T-shirt, was a tattoo of a curled-up black snake that looked like it was about to strike. Before Anna could get a better look at it, the man had pushed off the table and disappeared out the door.

“That snake-arm guy sure was in a hurry,” Henry said. “You done?” He eyed Anna's sandwich. She hadn't even taken a bite.

“No.” She stared at the swinging door and wondered where Snake-Arm had gone so quickly. “I mean yes, I'm done. I'll take my tuna melt to go. We need to get started.”

Anna paid and boxed up her sandwich, but before she'd taken three steps outside the restaurant, an enormous gray poodle came barreling down the hallway and almost knocked her off her feet. She caught her balance but dropped the box, and her sandwich slid out onto the floor.

“Hammurabi!” called a voice from down the hall.

The poodle skidded to a stop and tipped its head at the voice. It bounded a few steps back toward Anna.

Then in one giant bite, it snarfed up half her tuna melt and took off down the hallway.

“Oh, you must please accept my apologies!” A boy rushed up to them, wringing his hands. He looked a little like José, but smaller and with darker eyes. He wore khaki pants and a long-sleeved polo shirt with
SOUNDS FOR A SMALL PLANET
embroidered on the chest. He looked off down the hall, where the poodle had paused next to Gate B-15 to chew. “He has been caged up all day long, and we just got the permission to get him out. He is a bit …”

“Energetic?” offered José.

“Full of beans?” said Anna, laughing. She wasn't upset over her sandwich; she was too busy thinking to be hungry anymore.

“No, I think he is full of your lunch,” the boy said. “Hammurabi!” he called more sharply, and the dog trotted over, licking mayonnaise from his snout.

Anna smiled. “It's a figure of speech. ‘Full of beans' means Hammurabi likes to get in trouble.”

“Oh!” The boy's face lit up. “That is a new one.” He pulled a small sketch pad from his back pocket, took out a charcoal pencil, and began to draw as if he'd forgotten they were there.

“Here is our Hammurabi, full of beans,” he said finally, holding up the pad.

“That's awesome!” Henry put down his video game and nodded toward the sketch pad. “You got other drawings in there?”

The boy smiled shyly and flipped through the pages.