The Lost Treasure of Tuckernuck (17 page)

Thank you,

Miss Downey

Note from Horace Wallace Jr. to Horace Wallace Sr.

Dad, I know what we decided about extracurriculars, but could you sign this permission slip? It's kind of required. Miss Downey wants me to do it—she says it'll help me look well-rounded for colleges. I won't let it affect my grades.

Thanks,

Bud

Laurie pulled out her notebook and stared at her list. She and Bud had inspected every volume of Shakespeare in the library but hadn't found a thing except a math test from 2003 and a squished bug of an undetermined species.

“Okay, we need to do some word association. Brainstorming. Globe. What comes to mind? Besides real globes and Shakespeare and a theater in England we're not going to.”

“Nothing. Nothing comes to mind,” Bud grumbled. He pointed to the huge globe in the corner of the library. “This is the globe. We're just missing it. We're just too stupid to see the clue.”

Laurie rolled her eyes. “We've been over this, Bud. There's nothing to miss.” She glared at the huge globe, just sitting there taunting them. “Except …”

Bud perked up. “Except what?”

Laurie got up and squatted down next to the globe. Then she reached out and ran her fingers along the brushed nickel base. She frowned. “Does this look new to you?”

Bud gave a short, barky laugh. “New? It's an ancient globe, Laurie. Yeah, real new.”

“He's right, dear. It's a very old globe,” Miss Lucille said, hurrying over, adjusting her sweater. “It was in Maria Tutweiler's family for years.” She took a soft cloth out of her pocket and started rubbing the globe stand carefully. Apparently she couldn't take Laurie's grubby paws messing up the finish.

“Well, I know that,” Laurie said grumpily, getting to her feet. “I just meant the base looked new.”

“Oh, you're right, dear. It's a very new base.” Miss Lucille beamed at them both. “Isn't it fun when everybody's right?”

“What?” Bud said, straightening up. “It's new? Really? How new?”

“Oh, yes. There was an incident a few years back.” Miss Lucille leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “Roughhousing.” She raised her eyebrows at them like she'd just said a dirty word. “It was damaged. And the school board felt that this one looked more modern and stylish. It's a shame, though. The old stand was very distinctive.”

“Distinctive how?” Laurie held her breath. “Was it inscribed or something?”

“Oh, yes, such pretty letters too. Of course I can't remember what it said, but it was a lovely piece.” Miss Lucille gave a tinkly laugh, like not remembering was no big deal. Laurie wanted to throttle her.

“Are you sure you can't remember?” Laurie begged. “Maybe just a little?” She resisted the urge to clutch at Miss Lucille's arm. She didn't want to spook her.

Miss Lucille put on her thinking face for a moment; then she brightened up again. “No. No, I'm sorry. I've drawn a blank, unfortunately.” She laughed again.

Laurie's face fell. She couldn't believe they'd come that far just to hit a dead end. “Oh. Okay.”

Miss Lucille patted Laurie on the head like she was a puppy. “Of course, if it's important, we could just go look, couldn't we?”

“Could we?” Laurie said, hardly able to breathe.

“Well, yes, of course. I believe it's in the prop room. They used it for one of their musical productions a few years back. Some horrible play about the apocalypse, I believe. But with pirates. So that cheered it up a bit.”

EMAIL

FROM: PRINCIPAL MARTIN WINKLE, Tuckernuck Hall

TO: FLORA DOWNEY, Tuckernuck Hall

SUBJECT: HORACE WALLACE JR. EXTRACURRICULARS

Miss Downey,

I understand that Horace Wallace Jr. is a member of the sixth-grade chorus and a participant in this year's production of
Billy and the Pirates!
However, I have spoken with his father, and Horace Jr. is only to be involved in extracurricular activities that are academic in nature. Mr. Wallace met with me today and is adamant that his son not be required to participate in the chorus or in any theatrical pursuits, so if Horace Jr. attempts to rehearse or join in chorus activities, please send him to speak with me.

Thank you,

Martin Winkle

EMAIL

FROM: FLORA DOWNEY, Tuckernuck Hall

TO: PRINCIPAL MARTIN WINKLE, Tuckernuck Hall

SUBJECT: Excuse Me?

Marty,

Chorus isn't academic? Who says?

Flora

EMAIL

FROM: PRINCIPAL MARTIN WINKLE, Tuckernuck Hall

TO: FLORA DOWNEY, Tuckernuck Hall

SUBJECT: My Hands are Tied

Flora,

Mr. Wallace says. I'm sorry, but it's not up to us. We have to comply with his wishes.

Marty

EMAIL

FROM: FLORA DOWNEY, Tuckernuck Hall

TO: PRINCIPAL MARTIN WINKLE, Tuckernuck Hall

SUBJECT: Ha!

We'll see about that.

Bud and Laurie waited until Miss Lucille was deep in discussion with old Mr. Murphy, the band director, before they rushed to inspect the old cracked globe stand. Once they'd gotten to the prop room, Miss Lucille realized she didn't have the key, so she'd had to track down Mr. Murphy for help. Laurie was glad that she did, because even though that meant that the walk back to the prop room took ten times as long, it also meant she and Bud had at least a few minutes alone with the stand while Miss Lucille and Mr. Murphy reminisced about the good old days thirty thousand years ago.

“Well, this is it, all right,” Laurie said, bending over the frame and smiling. “Check it out.” Laurie pointed at the curve of metal that used to hold the globe in place. Carved deep into the metal was an elaborate letter I.

“And look.” Bud wiped a clear patch in the dust on the base of the stand. “This is it. Laurie, this is it.”

Using the edge of his shirt, he wiped the base clean, revealing the inscription there.
TEMPUS AD LUCEM DUCIT VERITATEM
.

Laurie did a little happy dance in place. “We did it!” She looked at the inscription again. “I just wish I knew what it said!”

Bud already had his notebook out and was copying it down. He paused for a second and smiled at her. “It's Latin,” he said. “And if there's one thing I know, it's Latin.”

Letter from Flora Downey to Horace Wallace Sr.

Dear Mr. Wallace:

I was sorry to hear that you wish to have your son, Bud, resign his position as second tenor in the sixth-grade chorus. I understand that you are concerned that participating in music study will somehow take away from his academic work.

I have taken the liberty of attaching a study published in the March 1999 issue of the scientific journal Neurological Research that suggests that students exposed to musical training have more highly developed math skills than students with no musical training. Students who study music have higher scores on standardized tests and have a greater understanding of ratios, fractions, proportions, and thinking in space and time. They are also less likely to drop out of school.

I am sure that you would not intentionally damage your son's math education in any way. Therefore, I will expect to see him at chorus and musical theater rehearsals for the remainder of the semester.

Yours sincerely,

Flora Downey

Misti looked up as Laurie set her lunch tray down on the table. “Where's Bud?”

“What?” Laurie slid into her seat sulkily.

“You know, your shadow? Remember him?” Misti took a bite of her celery. “Aren't you guys, like, best buds now or something?”

Laurie rolled her eyes. “I told you, it's just a project. It's not like we're friends or anything. Sheesh.” She didn't feel like talking about it. Bud hadn't met her before school, and he hadn't even spoken to her in homeroom. It was like he was ignoring her.

“And besides, I'm not his keeper. I don't know where he is.” Laurie glared at Misti, who was just watching her, noisily munching her celery. “Hey, you don't know Latin, do you?”

Misti frowned at Laurie like she'd gone insane. “Uh, no?” She took another big crunch of celery. “You're in a mood,” she said with her mouth full.

Laurie just shrugged. If Misti thought she was in a mood now, she should just wait. If Bud thought he could get that treasure without her just because he knew Latin and she didn't, he had another think coming. She couldn't believe she'd actually trusted him.

Laurie pushed her tray of congealing fish sticks away. The smell was making her stomach revolt. Then she pulled out her science notebook and started doodling in the margin of one of the pages. She'd already doodled a big D, A, and H, and now she started to add the I. She and Bud had been pretty much ignoring the letters that appeared with the clues, but they had to be there for a reason.

“So have you memorized your lines yet?” Misti crunched her way through another piece of celery.

Laurie looked confused. “Lines for what?”

“Duh. Polly the Parrot? You're onstage a lot.” Misti grinned.

Laurie groaned. “Yeah, I got right to work on that. ‘Polly wants a cracker' is so hard to remember.” That was the only line she had in the whole play, except for in the big dance number, where she had to flap her arms and squawk periodically.

Misti giggled. “It's better than ‘Grr … grr … grrowwwl,' which is what Calliope and Mariah have to say.”

Laurie smirked and doodled on the notebook again. A … H … D … I. “That's true. And I don't have to wear that scary mouse nose-and-teeth combo.”

“Mariah's going to look great in that,” Misti said. “Remind me to bring my camera.”

Laurie smacked Misti playfully on the arm. She didn't need Bud. She'd figure out that Latin stuff without him. All she needed was a computer with internet anyway, right? She doodled big, elaborate letters down the middle of the page. I … H … A … D …

Misti glanced at the paper. “What?”

Laurie looked up. “What?”

Misti pointed at the notebook. “You had what?”

Laurie looked down at the letters she'd just written in the notebook. I HAD. “Holy cow, Misti. That's it.”

“What? What's it?”

Laurie shoved her notebook back into her book bag. “I'll explain later. I've got to find Bud!”

She'd find him and they'd figure the whole thing out. But Bud or no Bud, there was no way she was giving up the hunt now.

Bud sat in the library, staring at his math book. He had to finish the worksheet page for his dad, but his heart wasn't in it. He kept thinking of that Latin phrase—
TEMPUS AD LUCEM DUCIT VERITATEM
. If he could just figure out that clue …

Bud pushed the thought out of his mind and stared at the fractions on his worksheet. It didn't matter what that clue led to, it wasn't like he was going to be able to find the next one, not now that his dad had started the whole “guy time” thing. Door-to-door driving service, that's what he called it, but what it basically meant was that he dropped Bud off right before the first bell and picked him up right after the final bell. No time to loiter around school and get mixed up with a bad crowd. Actually, no time to get mixed up with a crowd at all.

Bud sighed and stared at the numbers on the paper in front of him. He hadn't even had the guts to go into the cafeteria for lunch. He didn't want to see Laurie's face when he broke the news that his treasure-hunting days were pretty much over.

“Ahem.”

Bud's stomach dropped. Like he'd really have been able to avoid Laurie. She glared at him from the other side of the table, arms folded.

Bud gave a weak smile. “Oh. Hey.”

“So, making yourself scarce, huh?”

Bud shrugged. “Got a lot to do.”

Laurie slid into a seat opposite him. “Don't even think you're going to find that treasure without me, Bud. Because I've got a vital piece of the clue you're totally missing.”

Bud didn't know what the heck she was talking about. “What clue? I'm the one who knows Latin, okay? And that clue's in Latin.”

Laurie just smirked. “Right. Now you tell me what it means, and
maybe
I'll tell you my clue.”

Bud frowned and closed his math workbook. It would be fine. He wouldn't get caught up in the search, he would just tell her the translation and be done with it. Maybe do a little brainstorming. That was it. Nothing wrong with that.

He pulled out the piece of paper with the Latin phrase. “Okay, ‘
Tempus ad lucem ducit veritatem
'? So
tempus
, that means time, right? And
veritatem
, that's truth or truthfulness.”