The Vanishing Game (11 page)

“Is it?”

“Just a scratch, but I can take your eye out with my chain. Do you believe me?”

I did believe her. I watched the chain, which was now whirling like a propeller.

“Give me the box and you get to keep your eye.”

There was a quick movement behind her, and a fist slammed into the back of her head. She staggered forward. The spinning chain fell limp as her knees hit the floor. Noah strode forward, snatched the chain from her hand, then grabbed her neck, jerking her to her feet.

“I'm counting to three. If I see you again today, I take you out.”

He let go, shoving her away from me. Like the startled cockroach she was, she skittered around him and through the door. Once she was safely out of range we heard her howl with rage and spew some filthy language in our direction.

“I thought I told you to stay downstairs,” he said.

Having caught a glimpse of the same dangerous Noah who had choked me in his garage, I didn't even know what to say. Being around the kinder side of him last night and this morning had lulled me into forgetting how tough he could be.

“Your cheek is bleeding. What'd you do, bump the scrape?”

“Something like that. Did you see anyone else?”

“No. She must've been the one we heard, because I checked everywhere. The house is empty. Why are you in Hazel's room?”

I lost my nerve to stay and figure out what was in Seale House's nasty bag of tricks. “Let's just get out of here, okay?”

“First open the box.”

“I can't. It's locked.”

He took it from me and set it down on the small trinket table that had lost its trinkets. Picking up the screwdriver from the floor where I must've dropped it, he shoved it in the latch and popped the lid open. The two of us bent over the box as if we'd become those long-ago kids focused on solving a mystery. I picked through the contents: marbles in a yellowed ziplock bag, a few dusty coins, Magic
cards, tokens from an old gaming parlor, a pair of black lacquer chopsticks we'd bought from a Chinese shop, and beneath it all a brown envelope. With shaking fingers I picked up this last item. It was blank except for two words written in the top left-hand corner:
Jason December
.

I insisted we leave Seale House before opening the envelope, not explaining that I was afraid of being transported to the cellar or roof against my will. We headed for his Jeep and sat inside, out of the wind. I put the battered metal box on the floor and stared at the brown envelope for a couple of seconds.

Lifting the flap, I pulled out two sheets of square paper printed with strange groupings of letters in several directions.

“Look, Noah. It's a ciphertext.”

I eagerly studied the letters and bits of words. There was no obvious message, but that was to be expected. Turning the papers around, I tried to form a few sentences but it was useless. Whatever clues might be hidden there, they wouldn't be easy to figure out. I also knew that even though it would probably take time to find the answer, it wouldn't be impossible.

Noah took the papers from me, examining each one. He didn't say anything, just rotated them one at a time and stared at the writing with his mouth in a grim line. I knew he was struggling to accept the obvious truth: Jack had left us this clue, which meant he must still be alive.

Noah handed back the papers. “I know you've got it in your head now that Jack is alive, but think it through, Jocelyn. He could have hidden that box under those stairs a long time ago. Maybe months or even years ago.”

“I'm glad I don't have a yellow balloon.”

“What?”

“Because you'd try to pop it, wouldn't you?”

Putting the paper and the puzzle pieces back in the envelope, I opened the car door and the breeze rushed inside. “Thanks for your help.”

“How are you going to get home?”

“I'm not going home. I only agreed to leave if there was nothing for me in Jack's hiding place, remember?”

“So what're you going to do? You don't have any money, or a car.”

I paused, having forgotten about that in my new excitement. “I'm not going to worry about it until after I decode this.”

Noah turned the key in the ignition and started the engine. “Close the door.”

“Why?”

“You're going to need my help.”

He was studying me with those warm brown eyes, though his expression wasn't very warm. I looked away. “It's been so hard. I think about my brother all the time. Every morning I wake up and feel like a ton of bricks is crushing my heart. Then the envelope came.”

“I know.”

“You don't, or you wouldn't want to take this away from me.”

“I'm just being a realist.”

“When were you ever a realist, Noah? When you were dressed as a vampire or a ninja? When you played Luke Skywalker and I was Chewbacca? You and I have lived in a world of make-believe our whole lives.”

“We were kids back then. It's time to grow up, Jocey.” He rubbed the place between his eyebrows as if he had a headache. “I'd like to believe Jack is alive just as much as
you. But if he's not and this is all some big hoax, we'll both be taking another painful hit.”

I understood what he meant, relieved to at least see the human side of him again. I closed the door. “You're right. I do need your help.”

He put the Jeep in gear and we drove away from Seale House in silence, my fingers occasionally stroking the envelope like it was a treasure. We got back to his place and Noah led me into his computer room. It was small, dominated by a computer desk with a ton of tech accessories.

“Give me the papers,” he said.

I handed them over. Noah ran them through a scanner and then pulled up a computer program I wasn't familiar with. He set it to analyze the letters as text.

“Where'd you get that?”

“A programmer friend of mine made it and let me have a copy. It's a really good decryption tool. This might take a while, though.”

I grabbed the papers from the scanner and sat down at a small worktable next to the desk. As I picked up a notepad and pencil, Noah pushed himself over in a wheeled office chair. “You think you can solve it faster than my program?”

“I'm just playing around. Do you remember the treasure hunt the two of you made up for our thirteenth birthday?”

“Sort of. When was that?”

“July first. Did you know that Jack and I were born in Toronto? That means we have dual citizenship until we
turn eighteen this summer. Our birthday falls on Canada Day, a big holiday there.”

“I didn't know that.”

“I always loved it if we happened to be in Canada on our birthday. They had parades and fireworks. Anyway, we turned thirteen the year we were staying at Seale House. I gave Jack a book of logic problems, his favorite kind of puzzle. But that was nothing compared to the quest you guys sent me on. Remember that?”

“Yeah. You were so excited.”

“It was the most fun birthday ever. Even if it did take me all afternoon to figure out the clues. Neither of you would give me any hints. You know, I still can't believe you hid one of the secret messages in Mr. McCloskey's backyard. His dog almost bit me.” I paused and smiled, remembering that marvelous day. “It was worth it, though.”

“For a bunch of dollar-store junk we called presents?”

My smile faded and I studied Noah, wondering how he'd gotten so jaded. “To me, it was all treasure.”

“I guess we look at things differently.”

“I guess. You live with a bunch of books and computer stuff. But you're alone. Are you happy, Noah?”

“Don't start playing head games with me. You won't win.”

The computer beeped and we looked at the monitor. The program displayed a diagnostics box that declared
no match found
. Noah scooted over to the computer, punched a few keys, and the screen cleared. “I've got another older
decryption program, but it's a lot slower. And if this one didn't crack it, I'm not sure my second one can.”

I turned back to the paper. Picking up the pencil I began jotting down the few small, unrelated words that were scattered throughout. As the computer processed the data, Noah began to work beside me with his own pencil, scribbling notes and anagrams. It gave me a sense of dèjá vu to work out clues together.

Next I wrote two new lists of word fragments that started with capital letters and lowercase. Nothing made sense. Then I grouped them based on the direction they were written. Again, nothing. I worked through several variations, and also read them backward. All I got was gibberish. More than an hour passed, and Noah left to make lunch while I continued to work. I was starting to get a headache but couldn't tear myself away to go find some ibuprofen.

He set down a tray of drinks and ham sandwiches. “Still biting your nails, I see.”

“No calories at least,” I replied, though I dropped my hand to the table, self-conscious.

We ate in silence, my eyes constantly straying to the encryption. “Why did Jack make this so hard?”

“Maybe it's all a deception.”

I glanced up, noticing how his eyes were focused on my face and not the papers. It almost seemed like he was more interested in analyzing me than the clue. “What for? Just to lead me to a dead end? Jack wouldn't do that. He always had a purpose to what he did. There's a message in here somewhere. I just need to figure it out.”

When the computer program came up with nothing, Noah closed it. “I'm sorry, Jocelyn.”

“It's not really surprising, is it? Jack didn't leave this clue for your computer. He left it for me.”

Noah picked up one of the papers and studied it thoughtfully. Laying it back down on the table, he folded it in half, parallel to the words, and creased it.

“What are you doing?” I reached for the paper but he snatched it away.

“I've got an idea.”

“Then print a copy! Don't mess up the original.”

“Stop fussing, will you? Just watch.”

He folded it a second time, so that the row of words became the only visible part of the paper. He then made several other folds with the narrow strip, always making sure the letters stayed visible.

“You're doing origami?”

“No. Don't you remember making a shuriken?”

Watching him crease and fold, I recalled lunch hours spent on the playground and quiet times in the school library. The three of us created messages by folding two papers into small pointed packets.

“Chinese throwing stars?”

He nodded. “Our school's note-passing craze, weren't they? Except, of course, we usually put the writing on the inside. Work on that other sheet of paper if you remember how. Make it a mirror image of this one. You were right when you said Jack wouldn't give you a code that takes a decryption program. He'd make sure you already had
everything you needed to figure it out on your own. I should've taken myself out of the equation.”

He waited for me to finish, then grabbed my folded piece of paper and laid it crosswise atop his, working to insert the points a little like the way flaps on a cardboard box are when you layer them closed. If done right it would make a star with four points. I leaned in, eagerly watching and giving bits of advice that annoyed him.

He completed the star and we both looked at it with disappointment. The letters that were still visible didn't make sense. “You realize you've just ruined those papers.”

Noah ignored me, taking it apart. He switched the two strips and made it back into a shuriken.

His smile was smug. “There.” He turned it so I could read the writing.

Each abutting edge of paper formed half a word, and now that it was put together four words jumped out at me: