seen on TV. âThe eighth continent! Thatâs right, Rick, Iâm stealing your name. So, where is Doctor Grant?â
âI have no idea,â their father said.
âOh.â Evieâs arms dropped to her sides.
âAlas, I havenât 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.â
A muscle in Rickâs eye started to twitch. âWe canât just walk into Winterpole Headquarters without a reason. Theyâll never let us in.â
âWe can sneak in! Iâm already concocting a brilliant cover story for our entry.â Evieâs voice took on the tone of a narrator in a movie trailer. âWhen a man . . . is wrongly imprisoned . . . one daughter . . . and her nerdy brother . . . will do
whatever
it takes. This summer . . . a family in tatters . . . a horrible injusticeââ
Rick felt unsure about this plan, to say the least. âI dunno, Evie. No offense, but most of your ideas are prettyââ
âTerrible! Just terrible!â From the corner, 2-Tor, who had been quiet for some time, squawked. âIncoming communication from Melinda Lane. Please stand by for transmission.â
In a panic, Dad threw a tarp over his lap, hiding the squid-cuff. Rick bit his tongue so he wouldnât shout. It still felt wrong for his father to be keeping his latest misdeed a secret.
The video screen in 2-Torâs stomach brightened, and the comforting face of Rickâs 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.
âGeorge! What are the kids doing home from school so early?â
âTheyâre not home early, honey. They didnât go in at all today.â
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.
âSorry, honey!â Dad continued. âWe had important business to take care of in the North Pacific. The kids were a big help.â
âBut, George! Theyâre supposed to be in class.â
â2-Tor did an excellent job teaching them today. They didnât miss anything at school. And they were here helping their very accomplished father.â Dad grinned. âThink of all the stuff theyâre learning from me!â
Mom groaned. âHow are they going to develop healthy social lives if youâre always pulling them out of their environment?â
Dad stammered, âI, well, um . . .â
Waving at the camera, but all business, Mom said, âHi, kids. Listen. You have to go to school tomorrow. No exceptions. Iâm going to check in with the headmaster, and if youâre 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.â
Rick had argued with Dad for three hours the night before about the trip to the Buhana Jungle. He hadnât wanted to go. Now Mom was mad at him just as she always was at Evie.
âTomorrow. First period. Or else. Okay, byeeeeeee!â She switched off the feed, and 2-Torâs belly went dark.
âYou heard your mother,â Dad said. âYou gotta go to school tomorrow. That takes first priority.â
âI heard her say we have to go to
first period
,â Evie said with the sly smile that usually presaged Rick finding himself in unpleasant situations. âAfter that, all bets are off. Weâll find a way to sneak out of school, and then a way