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seen on TV. “The eighth continent! That’s right, Rick, I’m stealing your name. So, where is Doctor Grant?”
    â€œI have no idea,” their father said.
    â€œOh.” Evie’s arms dropped to her sides.
    â€œAlas, I haven’t seen him since the day we abandoned the project, well before either of you were born. But Winterpole might know. When they got wind that we were working on an experiment that could change the face of the world, they kept a close eye on both me and Doctor Grant. Perhaps they have some record of his whereabouts in their headquarters.”
    A muscle in Rick’s eye started to twitch. “We can’t just walk into Winterpole Headquarters without a reason. They’ll never let us in.”
    â€œWe can sneak in! I’m already concocting a brilliant cover story for our entry.” Evie’s voice took on the tone of a narrator in a movie trailer. “When a man . . . is wrongly imprisoned . . . one daughter . . . and her nerdy brother . . . will do
whatever
it takes. This summer . . . a family in tatters . . . a horrible injustice—”
    Rick felt unsure about this plan, to say the least. “I dunno, Evie. No offense, but most of your ideas are pretty—”
    â€œTerrible! Just terrible!” From the corner, 2-Tor, who had been quiet for some time, squawked. “Incoming communication from Melinda Lane. Please stand by for transmission.”
    In a panic, Dad threw a tarp over his lap, hiding the squid-cuff. Rick bit his tongue so he wouldn’t shout. It still felt wrong for his father to be keeping his latest misdeed a secret.
    The video screen in 2-Tor’s stomach brightened, and the comforting face of Rick’s mother appeared. The soft wrinkles around her warm brown eyes were hidden mostly by her glasses. Her dark hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense bun. She smiled as her video feed came online, but the grin quickly vanished.
    â€œGeorge! What are the kids doing home from school so early?”
    â€œThey’re not home early, honey. They didn’t go in at all today.”
    Dread filled up inside Rick like ink in a bottle. He remembered that he had missed a Latin quiz today while they were off saving the Buhana of Paradise.
Eheu.
    â€œSorry, honey!” Dad continued. “We had important business to take care of in the North Pacific. The kids were a big help.”
    â€œBut, George! They’re supposed to be in class.”
    â€œ2-Tor did an excellent job teaching them today. They didn’t miss anything at school. And they were here helping their very accomplished father.” Dad grinned. “Think of all the stuff they’re learning from me!”
    Mom groaned. “How are they going to develop healthy social lives if you’re always pulling them out of their environment?”
    Dad stammered, “I, well, um . . .”
    Waving at the camera, but all business, Mom said, “Hi, kids. Listen. You have to go to school tomorrow. No exceptions. I’m going to check in with the headmaster, and if you’re not both there in time for first period, all
three
of you are going to be in big, big trouble. Got it, George? Got it, kids? This is UN-AC-CEPTABLE.”
    Rick had argued with Dad for three hours the night before about the trip to the Buhana Jungle. He hadn’t wanted to go. Now Mom was mad at him just as she always was at Evie.
    â€œTomorrow. First period. Or else. Okay, byeeeeeee!” She switched off the feed, and 2-Tor’s belly went dark.
    â€œYou heard your mother,” Dad said. “You gotta go to school tomorrow. That takes first priority.”
    â€œI heard her say we have to go to
first period
,” Evie said with the sly smile that usually presaged Rick finding himself in unpleasant situations. “After that, all bets are off. We’ll find a way to sneak out of school, and then a way