The Sword Maker's Seal (10 page)

Maybe, Ezra thought, no one at school will know. He smiled to himself. News spread like wildfire in school; there was no way around that. For once, Ezra felt like he had a normal family that didn't bicker every chance they could. He wondered how long it would last.

School seemed different too. By lunch the word had spread that Ezra, Addie, and the twins helped solve the museum heist investigation. Most students patted Ezra on the back and said, “You're alright, Ezra,” or “Not bad, Thorne.” However, not everyone was pleased. In the cafeteria at lunchtime, Carson walked up behind Ezra and seized his shoulder, causing him to hunch out of instinct.

“Feeling pretty good about yourself aren't you Ezra? Had to be the hero.”

Ezra didn't answer. He found that Carson only picked on him when he gave a response. What had happened between them? Ezra only partially knew the answer to that question.

Carson squeezed down harder on the nape of his neck.

“Answer me, Thorne!”

By now everyone at the nearby tables were looking at them. Madison was coming back to their table with her tray of food. She dropped it on the table with a loud thump and grabbed Carson's hand, nearly crushing it.

“Now you have girls watching your back? If you're a real man, you'll meet me out front after school.”

There was a collective ooh from the growing crowd and Carson walked away trying not to let anyone see him cradling his hand.

“What's his problem?” Madison asked.

“He's mad the attention isn't on him like usual,” Ezra replied.

“Well, what are you going to do? He pretty much just called you out in front of the whole school,” Mason asked.

“What else can I do?”

“He's pretty big though…”

“We'll see about that,” Ezra said with a tone of finality.

Ezra went from class to class and saw Carson on the other side of the room hitting his fist into his palm with a scowl across his face. When the bell rang, Ezra packed up his bag slowly, unsure of how far he was willing to take the confrontation with Carson. Madison and Mason stayed behind with him trying to talk him out of it. They walked leisurely down the hall to the exit but were stopped short by a concerned Addie with crossed arms and multicolored fingernails tapping her arm with frustration.

“I heard what you're going to do. You really don't have to, you know?”

“He's been pushing all of us around since his brother died. He's being selfish; we all hurt inside too! Wesley always treated us well even though he was older. But, instead of grieving with us, he takes out his pain on others. Now's as good of a time as any to set him straight.”

Addie frowned and hugged Ezra tightly.

“Be careful,” she pleaded.

Ezra nodded and opened the door, blinding him with pallid light, which faded into the green front lawn of Truman High School.

Addie and Madison exchanged looks as Ezra descended the steps to his challenger.

“Boys…” they said in unison, then followed him out to the schoolyard.

About twenty students stayed behind to see if they would actually fight. Carson stood facing Ezra with a horrible sneer. He threw down his backpack and cracked his knuckles.

“You ready?”  Carson asked.

Ezra took off his schoolbag slowly and dropped it at his feet.

“Carson, what's this really about? We all know you weren't responsible for Wesley's death. I don't know what you're trying to prove.”

“You'll never understand. If you go around trying to be a hero like Wesley, people will get hurt. You think you're doing good, but look at what happened; Addie could have been killed just so you could get your kicks!”

Ezra turned to Addie with apologetic eyes, then said, “I never meant for people to get hurt, but if no one stands up for what's right what would the world be like?”

Carson thought for a moment then stepped forward, slowly at first, then lunged at Ezra. Ezra moved mostly out of the way, only catching a bit of Carson's fist on his cheek, and while Carson was caught off balance, he gave him a small shove that was enough to land him on the ground.

Carson looked embarrassed and jumped to his feet. He threw his next punch but it connected with something else that appeared between him and Ezra.

Detective Reinhart caught Carson's punch with his huge hands and squeezed down on his hand.

“Last I heard fighting wasn't allowed at school.”

“He started it,” Carson yelled, his face turning pale.

“I saw the whole thing, kid, now beat it before I call your parents,” he said forebodingly.

He turned to Ezra and asked, “You all right?”

“Yeah, and you didn't have to—I had everything under control,” Ezra said and looked to his feet.

“I'm sure you did, but I wanted something to be known.”

Detective Reinhart turned back toward Carson.

“If I catch anyone messing with Ezra or his friends they'll have to answer to me,” he said with a dark voice.

Detective Reinhart released Carson, who grabbed his bag and ran off without once looking back.

“Oh yeah, Ezra, I came by for another reason. First, we caught Edmund Dillinger. Last night our chief got in contact with the London Police and informed them of Mr. Dillinger's involvement as the mastermind of the heist. They went to question him and he was gone, but with a little persuading, his housekeeper let it slip that Mr. Dillinger was leaving the country. They found him boarding a plane for China.

Ezra crossed his arms and a confused look crossed his face.

“If he's rich enough to go anywhere, why choose China?” he asked.

“China doesn't extradite to the U.S. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone coming after him and his money, supposing he kept it in a foreign bank account the Brits wouldn't be able to freeze, would be worth much more.”

“I guess that's true.”

“Now to my next item of business. My station is starting an after-school program for future detectives and I think you would be just right for it. We'll train you to one day be a detective yourself and solve crimes for a police station or the government. I'm sure you've always wanted to work for the FBI?”

Well, I've actually always wanted to be a zombie hunter, but I guess I'd settle for the FBI, he thought, and then said, “Sounds like a blast! How do I sign up?”

Detective Reinhart smiled and continued, “Come down to the station next week and we'll talk about it.”

Ezra thanked him and walked home with Addie and the twins. The walk was always nice on fall afternoons; when it wasn't raining, that is. He wanted to take his time on his walk before the weather turned and began raining every day.

Madison and Mason went back to bickering and shoving each other around, this time it was over whose turn it was to make dinner.

“I don't want to cook,” Madison argued. “But anything is better than TV dinners like you would make.”

“If I have to suffer through spaghetti again I'm moving in with Ezra!”

Ezra and Addie walked along behind the quarrelling twins. Addie looked over at old Mr. Jenkins watering his flowers; but when Ezra looked he saw an old man scowling, surely hiding a grave secret.

Addie glanced across the street at a moving van and two movers carrying a long black bag; Ezra saw two men throwing a bag the shape of a limp body into the back of the van.

For each scene he saw on the walk home, he created a mystery in his head, which he had to solve. He began to see details underneath the broad picture, which was what he was used to seeing. Everything around him turned into a mystery. Something he needed to solve. He looked to Addie, then to Madison and Mason. He knew that this was just the beginning. He knew there were countless mysteries left to solve and that he would be there to solve them.