mandatory?”
“It’s something I think could give us some
insight . . . something that would benefit you.”
“No, thanks.”
“What does that mean?” For a high school
guidance counselor, she sure had a hard time understanding high school kids.
I gave her my best incredulous look. “I’m
not interested in your test.”
“You don’t understand. This isn’t anything
that would affect your grades. I’m simply recommending--”
“I’m going to be late for French.” I moved
away, enjoying her exasperated look.
After school, I again searched
unsuccessfully for Lee Duncan online. It was time to see if anything in my
dad’s stuff might help. A dream the night before showed an image of his desk.
It whispered something just before a huge red wrecking ball completely demolished.
It had to be a message, I thought. There must be something in there that can
help me.
A few years before, Mom had cleared out a
lot of his things but pretty much ignored the study, a small room off their
bedroom still stacked with books and papers. His desk was more like a dresser
but the slanted top folded down. I searched for a while, finding nothing of
interest until a thought popped into my head to look behind the small drawers
that held paper clips and rubber bands. There seemed to be too much space
between them and the back of the desk. My fingers touched a tiny metal circle
in the wood that I couldn’t see from the front. I pushed it and a false panel
swung open. It was a small cavity, maybe big enough for a paperback book.
Pulling out my discovery, four small pieces
of gray stationery written in my dad’s handwriting. Three were in some sort of
foreign language. The fourth was a list of names I didn’t recognize except for
Lee Duncan. I was ecstatic, like Sherlock Holmes. There was also a very small gold
box with jade inlaid circle and diamond patterns, about the size of a matchbox
car but light and obviously hollow, but no latch or any way to open it. The
final item was an intricately carved piece of tube-shaped dark wood maybe three
inches long. Knowing Dad had hidden these items, it was as if we were
unraveling the mystery together.
I carefully closed the secret space,
neatened his desk and took the treasures with me. Even after rummaging through
the rest of the room, the garage, closets, nothing else surfaced. It was impossible
to get the box open without destroying it so I decided to wait and see if Kyle
had any ideas about what the objects were or how to decipher the papers.
Kyle called as I was finishing the search.
“Good timing, I said. “ Wait until you see
what--”
“I’m in your driveway,” he interrupted
obviously agitated. “We need to talk right now.” I ran down. He was backing
onto the street before I’d even closed the car door.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’ll show you in a minute.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?”
“No. I need to show you.” A minute later we
were pulling into a parking space next to one of the bridges leading into
Lithia Park. Once in the trees, Kyle stopped walking and put his hands on my
shoulders. “This is getting scary, Nate.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Some old Spanish woman came up to me and
said she had a message for you.”
“What woman? When?”
“About twenty minutes ago. I don’t know who
she is. I was about to get into my car in front of my house, and this old woman
walks up all friendly and says, ‘Hello Kyle, my name is Amparo. You don’t know
me, but I have a message for you from someone who wants to help you and Nate.’ She
looked, you know, friendly enough, and it’s broad daylight. With all this crazy
stuff going down, it didn’t seem so weird even though I knew it was.”
“What did she say?”
“That we’re in danger, serious danger.”
“Hold on. Tell me exactl y what she
said.”
“Her name was Amparo. She was delivering a
message from a guy who knew your father and Lee Duncan for like twenty
“It’s something I think could give us some
insight . . . something that would benefit you.”
“No, thanks.”
“What does that mean?” For a high school
guidance counselor, she sure had a hard time understanding high school kids.
I gave her my best incredulous look. “I’m
not interested in your test.”
“You don’t understand. This isn’t anything
that would affect your grades. I’m simply recommending--”
“I’m going to be late for French.” I moved
away, enjoying her exasperated look.
After school, I again searched
unsuccessfully for Lee Duncan online. It was time to see if anything in my
dad’s stuff might help. A dream the night before showed an image of his desk.
It whispered something just before a huge red wrecking ball completely demolished.
It had to be a message, I thought. There must be something in there that can
help me.
A few years before, Mom had cleared out a
lot of his things but pretty much ignored the study, a small room off their
bedroom still stacked with books and papers. His desk was more like a dresser
but the slanted top folded down. I searched for a while, finding nothing of
interest until a thought popped into my head to look behind the small drawers
that held paper clips and rubber bands. There seemed to be too much space
between them and the back of the desk. My fingers touched a tiny metal circle
in the wood that I couldn’t see from the front. I pushed it and a false panel
swung open. It was a small cavity, maybe big enough for a paperback book.
Pulling out my discovery, four small pieces
of gray stationery written in my dad’s handwriting. Three were in some sort of
foreign language. The fourth was a list of names I didn’t recognize except for
Lee Duncan. I was ecstatic, like Sherlock Holmes. There was also a very small gold
box with jade inlaid circle and diamond patterns, about the size of a matchbox
car but light and obviously hollow, but no latch or any way to open it. The
final item was an intricately carved piece of tube-shaped dark wood maybe three
inches long. Knowing Dad had hidden these items, it was as if we were
unraveling the mystery together.
I carefully closed the secret space,
neatened his desk and took the treasures with me. Even after rummaging through
the rest of the room, the garage, closets, nothing else surfaced. It was impossible
to get the box open without destroying it so I decided to wait and see if Kyle
had any ideas about what the objects were or how to decipher the papers.
Kyle called as I was finishing the search.
“Good timing, I said. “ Wait until you see
what--”
“I’m in your driveway,” he interrupted
obviously agitated. “We need to talk right now.” I ran down. He was backing
onto the street before I’d even closed the car door.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’ll show you in a minute.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?”
“No. I need to show you.” A minute later we
were pulling into a parking space next to one of the bridges leading into
Lithia Park. Once in the trees, Kyle stopped walking and put his hands on my
shoulders. “This is getting scary, Nate.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Some old Spanish woman came up to me and
said she had a message for you.”
“What woman? When?”
“About twenty minutes ago. I don’t know who
she is. I was about to get into my car in front of my house, and this old woman
walks up all friendly and says, ‘Hello Kyle, my name is Amparo. You don’t know
me, but I have a message for you from someone who wants to help you and Nate.’ She
looked, you know, friendly enough, and it’s broad daylight. With all this crazy
stuff going down, it didn’t seem so weird even though I knew it was.”
“What did she say?”
“That we’re in danger, serious danger.”
“Hold on. Tell me exactl y what she
said.”
“Her name was Amparo. She was delivering a
message from a guy who knew your father and Lee Duncan for like twenty
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