***
“Mom, what are you doing?” Jake called out, when they walked into the Bowers’ home later that evening.
Jake’s mom was in the middle of painting. One side of the hallway was finished and painting materials were strewn around.
“What color is that?” Jake wondered aloud.
“Sea-foam blue,” Jake’s mom said, and then turning to her husband, she asked, “Do you like it? It turned out much darker in here than in Gloria’s kitchen.”
“Love it!” Jake’s dad hugged his wife and bent his six-foot-three frame down to kiss her forehead, “especially this.”
He pointed to the other wall which was still eggshell white, except for tiny blue footprints that ran across the wall in a delicate arch.
Jake’s eyes bugged out, “What is that?”
“Well,” his mom said, “Millie stepped in the paint and so I decided to have a little fun with her. I thought it was so cute, that we walked across the wall. I haven’t painted over it yet because I love it so much!”
“We painted, we painted, we paaaai—nnn—ttteed!!!” Millie sang as she twirled around the three of them.
“Yes, you did!” Jake’s dad swept up his three-year-old and kissed her on the cheek.
“Well, you’re going to paint over that…” Jake said, “and with a different color, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” his mother said as she frowned at the wall. “It is darker than I wanted.”
“Nonsense,” said Jake’s dad, “this is wonderful!”
“You’re kidding! It looks like a whale puked on our hallway,” Jake said, motioning toward the blue wall.
“I don’t care what you do with that wall,” Jake’s dad said, “just NEVER paint over these feet!” He tapped the footprints and then started to blow raspberries on the bottom of Millie’s feet, which sent her into fits of laughter.
“I do love the footprints!” Jake’s mom said with a smile.
“No! That’s just weird,” Jake said in horror. “What will people think? Mark will think its lame.”
“Calm down, Mark junior. He doesn’t live here, we do. So it only matters what we think,” his mom said.
“And we love it,” his dad said, still spinning Mille. Then he stopped and snapped his fingers, “I know. It can be our family graffiti wall!”
Jake’s dad pulled a permanent marker out of his pocket and began to write an equation on the wall next to Millie’s footprints.
“Sadie, you won’t believe it,” he said as he continued writing the complex equation, “Mrs. Fischer teaches at the campus.”
“Yeah, he went on and on about String Theory,” Jake said in a disgusted tone.
“They were interested in my work,” his dad said, and then mumbled, “oops, this should be a positive, not a negative.”
“Let’s measure the kids and put their heights right here,” Jake’s mom said, indicating another section of the newly inaugurated Bowers Family Graffiti Wall.
“You guys are so weird,” Jake muttered as he escaped his family for the sanctuary of his room.
“Jakey,” his mom called after him, “we’re gonna stop now for dinner.”
“I’m coming, just a minute,” he said as he closed the door. “Hey, Carpet, you’ll never believe what happened today!”
The carpet was on the ground in the exact same spot that Jake had left it in the night before. Odd, Jake thought. He was sure that the carpet would have been moving around his room all day, antsy and desperate to get out and fly.
“Can I stand on you and show you?” Jake said excitedly. The carpet lay still.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then.” Jake stood in the center, replaying the events of the day in his mind.
“Isn’t that amazing? First you, then no bullies, and now a friend!” He waited in silence for a few moments. Then slowly, faintly, a memory came into his mind. It was Mr. Lewis standing in front of his seventh period class.
“Yeah, Hillary’s in that class,” Jake said to the carpet.
The picture flashed again, faintly, but it came – Mr. Lewis giving a lecture.
“Ok, what about it?” Jake was quiet. He tried to clear his head of everything. He stepped off of the carpet and waited for a moment, as if he were weighing himself on a scale hoping that the numbers would change.
When he stepped on the carpet again, the same picture was in his mind. “Okay, it’s Mr. Lewis in his class, talking about Sinbad and a bunch of books. I don’t get it.”
There was no other answer.
Frustrated, Jake said, “I’m gonna go to dinner. Do you want to go out later?”
There was no response; except for the picture of his teacher, the carpet was transmitting radio silence.
11. The Scorpionic Lab
Graham Kent drummed his fingers self-consciously on the cool metallic wall as he strained to visually scan the dimly lit lab a final time. Just being there gave him the shivers.
“Hullo? Is anyone there?”
Only the hum of the low lights and equipment answered back. Glass cages were carefully placed around the tables and in each container, scorpions of different shapes and sizes were in the process of experimentation. Some were being bred, others were marked for venom extraction, but the most evolved were being retro-fitted into a metallic exoskeleton.
Quickly, Graham pulled out his cell-phone and dialed a number. While waiting, he glanced over at the scorpions in the corner. Their brilliant blue-green bodies were fluorescent under the UV lights. For some reason, glowing scorpions didn’t bother Graham as much as the others did and he was walking toward them when the other end of the telephone line was answered.
“Hullo, old chap. Listen, I don’t have a lot of time to talk, but there’s something you should know,” Graham spoke quietly, but his voice reverberated around the eerily still room.
“Yes, she’s attacking an area near Balurghat, India next week. Looking for firewalkers. I’ll send you the details, but I wanted to give you a heads-up,” he pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his red brow while peering into the cage of the fluorescent arachnids.
“Does Bowers know?” Farid asked.
“Did you change your cell phone service?” Graham changed the subject abruptly.
“No, why?” Farid asked.
“You’re sounding so much clearer,” Graham stood up, and stretched.
“Ha!” Farid laughed in triumph, “I’ve been tinkering a bit. Excellent, seems to have worked.”
“Yes, well,” Graham began pacing, “maybe you could bring me a new phone in Balurghat. This one is archaic. You’ll be there?”
“Of course,” Farid said.
“Funny you should mention Bowers. Zharka’s got a new prisoner.”
“REALLY?”
“Don’t sound too delighted, old chap!” Graham stopped in front of the cage where a metallic scorpion was curled up in a corner. He tapped the plexiglass wall. “These scorpionics of yours are really unnerving.”
In a flash, the metallic scorpion jumped toward the glass and startled Graham, who fell back and knocked into a table.
“Yes,” Farid chuckled, “You need to be careful. Nature is powerful, and technology is powerful, but when they mix – POW! You understand, my friend? Just make sure the red light isn’t blinking. If it is, run for cover!”
“No, no light,” Graham said as he cautiously peered into the cage. “You scorpion enthusiasts are all a bit daft!”
“Yes, how is the young prodigy doing with my research?” Farid’s tone was tight and bitter.
“Young, hot shot. Tarezh. Though, he’s going in a completely different direction than you. He’s like Zharka, wants everything to be natural - follows the old ways. He’s created a breed whose venom is quite lethal, but he doesn’t have a head for technology the way you do.”
“Pity,” Farid said.
“So, I’m dying to know,” Graham
stood and squared his shoulders, “what happened with the boy?”
“He flew it,” Farid said slowly.
“No! Truly? Well, this is marvelous!” Graham gleefully pranced around the tables. “How did it look? Tangura in flight, after all this time!”
“Magnificent,” Farid said, “though the boy is utterly hopeless, he was wearing the carpet training ghe on his feet. I don’t know how he knew to do it. I forbid Rex from teaching him as part of the agreement.”
“Rex Lewis,” Graham snorted.
“Does Zharka know about the boy?” Farid asked pointedly.
“Oh, heavens, no! Why that would be insane, wouldn’t it?”
A grating squeak, like a door creaking open, suddenly filled the quiet room and then immediately went silent.
“I’ve got to run, old man,” Graham breathed into the phone. He ran to the front door of the small building and strained to look through the darkness one more time. Somewhat satisfied that the only noise was the quiet hum of electronic machinery, Graham walked out of the lab building and surveyed the mounds of dirt in front of him which stretched the distance of half the length of a football field.
“Bollocks!” he said under his breath and kicked a mound of dirt. Three scorpions, in metallic armor shot out of the unearthed ground, where they had been burrowing, and three laser pointers aimed directly at the Englishman’s skull.
“Aaahhh!” Graham Kent pushed his short-little legs to run the five-hundred foot sprint from the Scorpionic Lab to the Ziggurat, and clutched at the stitch in his side the whole way.
12. Caleb
Three weeks had gone by and the carpet hadn’t flown. Whenever Jake stepped on it the only thing that came to mind was an image of Mr. Lewis lecturing. Jake felt empty. It was as if a precious gift had just been taken back by the giver. He had flown, hadn’t he? Why had the magical tie been severed? The image was still in his head, and the carpet was still physically there, so he knew that it was real. He just didn’t know what was going on. Why had the carpet done all of the things on Halloween and then just stopped? Why had Farid given him the dumb thing in the first place?
At least there was some consolation at Hale Junior High. Hillary was still hanging out with him. After school on most days, they’d go back to her house for skateboarding lessons. Jake was hopeless, and since the carpet wasn’t flying anyway, he was getting tired of trying.
On the Monday before Thanksgiving, Hillary met Jake for lunch at their usual table. The lunch room was decorated in tribute to the green movement and the menu was tofu stir fry. The lunchroom posters said Reuse, Recycle, and Repurpose, and apparently Lucy the Lunchroom Lady was serious about it because Origami doves made from recycled milk containers and mobiles made from straws and kitchen utensils hung from the ceiling.
“Hey Jake, I have some news for you,” she said, gave a broad smile and handed him the cookies off her lunch tray.
“Yeah?” Jake smiled at his friend. She was keeping the tofu and handing him the cookies, what a pal!
“I saw that weird car that you keep talking about over at the gas station on Platt and Victory.”
“Seriously?” Jake said, “When? And, what’s with these cookies?”
“It’s vegan day, Jake. The cookies are organic oatmeal-raisin.” Hillary said matter-of-factly, as Jake grimaced and slyly placed the cookies back on her tray.
“We saw the car over the weekend when we went to the beach, remember? You didn’t want to come because it was too cold, and it was, by the way, but Matt had to get some samples of ocean-life for science class.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jake nodded.
“Well, we went to fill up first and there was that orange car that looks like it has wings parked beside us.”
“The Gullwing?” Jake asked excitedly.
“Yeah, the driver was this foreign guy with really white teeth. It looked like there were carpets in the back – ooh!” She gave a little shriek and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes were wide open.
“Are you ok?” Jake asked.
“I just realized something. Is that where you got it?”
“Got what?” Jake said.
“That carpet?” Hillary asked.
“What carpet?” Jake said, wondering how she could possibly know about the carpet.
Hillary stared at Jake for a moment and then sighed, “Jake, I saw you.” Then she leaned in and quietly said, “on Halloween.”
“You did?” Jake practically yelled it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she shot back.
They sat in silence for a minute.
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t think that you’d believe me. Anyway, it’s not working anymore, so I couldn’t show it to you,” he said quietly.
“Why isn’t it working?” she breathed out.
“I don’t know.”
Jake told her the whole story. It felt good to explain it all to someone and since Hillary had seen him fly, he didn’t feel so crazy.
“So,” Hillary said, as she slowly chewed her food, “what is the image that you see when you step on the carpet?”
“Well, last night, the memory was much stronger. Instead of just showing me a picture of Mr. Lewis in his classroom, it was the memory of what he said Friday in class. What was it? Something about Sinbad, his lectures all kind of run together in my mind.”
“Ok, so let’s just say that the carpet is trying to get you to do something. Let’s see what Mr. Lewis talked about last Friday. Do you have your notes?”
Jake sighed, and they both took out their notebooks and began thumbing through lined pages and after a few minutes, Hillary asked, “What do you have?”
Jake grinned sheepishly and turned his notebook around for her to see. It was a page of doodles; the intricate patterns on the carpet, the moon, clouds, trees and a few random words.
“Sorry, not much here. You?”
Hillary rolled her eyes and smiled, “Well, I don’t have much more. Some random facts about Sinbad. He may or may not have been a real person and is featured in many stories during the Persian era. Then I wrote some lyrics to a song that I love.”
“Which one?” Jake tried to grab the notebook.
Hillary pulled it away, “Don’t worry about it!”
“Aw, come on,” he said as he turned on the pleading puppy-dog eyes.
“Won’t work, Jake! Besides, we have to figure this out.”
“Ok, ok,” Jake threw his arms up in defeat. “Sinbad, ugh, too bad we didn’t pay closer attention.”
“I did,” said a scrawny black kid who was sitting a little further down the table on Jake’s side. Although he had an awesome afro, the cool points were destroyed by his nerdy, black-rimmed glasses.
“Whaaat?” the two friends said in unison.
“I have the notes from last Friday’s lecture right here.” He held up a green notebook, which, from all the wear and tear looked like it was on its last legs. Jake’s never looked like that until the summertime, after a year’s worth of drawing and distracted listening.
Hillary snapped out of her daze first. “Wow, thanks!”
She held out her hand and the boy handed them to her but stated unemotionally, “You may not be able to read them. I’ve created my own note taking system based on shorthand and an alphabet code called Shavian, have you heard of it?”
Hillary took the book and flipped through the pages.
“You can read all of this?” She said as she squinted at the foreign squiggles on each page.
“Of course I can,” he said with a short, snorting laugh, “I created it. I wouldn’t create something that I couldn’t decipher now would I?”
Jake and Hillary glanced at each other and then began to laugh good naturedly.
“Well, that’s just lucky for us I guess. What’s your name?” Hillary said through a friendly smile.
“Caleb Jones, we’re in Mr. Lewi
s’ class together,” then he turned to Jake, “I’m in your gym class and we met in the infirmary a while ago.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Jake vaguely remembering.
“I’m Hillary and this is Jake,” Hillary said in a very friendly manner.
Jake was a little annoyed.
This guy’s a total geek! He thought. He couldn’t understand why Hillary was being so nice to him.
“Yes, I know who you both are. Shall we begin?” Caleb asked.
Jake and Hillary looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders at Caleb’s formal manner and smiled.
“Ok, then,” said Jake pulling out his pen and preparing to write.
For the rest of lunch, Caleb gave a detailed account of Mr. Lewis’ Sinbad lecture, complete with cross references to previous lectures and a running commentary of his own insights and understandings. Jake was amazed, wondering if this little Lewis disciple was actually for real.
“Wow,” said Hillary, as Caleb’s instruction came to a close, “now what?”
“Yeah,” said Jake, “how is that supposed to help?”
“Help with what?” Caleb asked.
“A problem we’re working on,” Jake said flatly. He was grateful for help, but unwilling to tell this kid any more.
Hillary caught on to Jake’s refusal to disclose information and tried to change the subject, “Caleb, would you please do me a favor and copy down those book names that Mr. Lewis listed for further study? We may have to do some research.”
Caleb looked down at his paper, “Sure, I can have it ready for you today in Mr. Lewis’ class.”
“Thanks, that’ll help a lot,” Hillary said.
“You’re welcome,” Caleb said, and then he shrugged, “that’s what I do.” Then he absentmindedly grabbed his notebook and backpack and walked off without saying goodbye.
“Weirdo,” said Jake when Caleb was gone.
“Yes,” said Hillary, “but a sweet weirdo!”
Jake rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling at Hillary. She always thought the best of everyone.
“What? I liked him. He’s quirky, and you never know, that information might be the key.”
“Doubt it!” Jake said as he gathered up his stuff. “See you in seventh.”
“See you,” Hillary said with a wave.
In Mr. Lewis’ class that afternoon, Jake noticed that Hillary had the Japanese masks from her house on her desk.
“What’s this?” Jake asked.
“Duh,” Hillary said and then she saw the blank look on Jake’s face. “Seriously, Jake?”
“What,” he said and looked around at the students, noticing that the others had objects, clothes and food on their desks as well.
“Ancestor reports?” Hillary reminded him.
“No!” Jake was horrified.
“Yes, B for Bowers,” Hillary chided. “I think you might be first.”
Angela Abrams was first and she did an excellent report on her German heritage, complete with strudel and sausages for everyone to try.
Miserably, Jake trudged to the front of the class. He was fully unprepared, but Hillary gave him an encouraging smile and so he began.
“Uh, my ancestors are from England. There are Kings and Queens there, even today.”
“Can you believe what happened last year?” Tabitha March chimed in, “it was a huge scandal. But I must say, the princes are looking go-ood!”
All of the girls began to giggle and whisper which made the teacher jump in.
“Class, settle down please. Let’s hear from Mr. Bowers.”
“So, in England, they have the London Bridge and I know that there is a song about that,” Jake continued.
“Miss March, do not sing that song,” Mr. Lewis cut in, and an open-mouthed Tabitha looked down in disappointment.
“Um, in England they have lots of fairy tales and stuff, like about Leprechauns and I think that there is a Loch Ness Monster somewhere up there,” Jake went on.
It was a painful five minutes, as Jake rambled on about Peter Pan flying over London and that there was a guy named Shakespeare who wrote a lot of plays. He also mentioned that they all spoke with English accents.
“Dur!” Nic Patmos said.
“I was trying to make a joke,” Jake said truthfully.
During the question and answer period, Jake snuck a look at his teacher who was sitting in the back of the classroom, shaking his head.
“Jake,” Hillary asked to try and help out, “which of your relatives is English?”
“Um,” Jake began, “I think that I have a great-grandma or something that came from London to the US.”
After that, the students had run out of questions to ask and Jake couldn’t think of anything else to talk about.
“That’s fine, Mr. Bowers,” Mr. Lewis came to his rescue, and motioned for him to sit down.
Another quick glance at his teacher told Jake that he was in trouble, and he slumped down in his chair and listened to the rest of the class share their reports.
After school that day, Jake walked into his house and he yelled out, “Mom, I’m home.”
“In the family room,” his Mom yelled back.
Jake walked through the house and noticed that all of the furniture was stacked on top of each other. As he walked into the family room, he froze and gasped.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MOM?”
The carpet was hanging over the four posts of his mom’s quilting frame. He walked over to it, but his socks got soaked, the rug was wet.
“Yuck! What is all this?”
“Walk on the runner, Jakey,” his mom said pointing at the strip of plastic on the floor.
“What did you do to it?” Jake sputtered.
“Well, Millie had a nap on the carpet today, you know how she loves it,” his mom said.
“Yeah, well, it’s mine and she’s not allowed to. She keeps going in my room, playing dress-up and dolls on it.”
“You still haven’t told me where it came from, Jake,” his mom said in a warning voice.
“I got it from a guy that was getting rid of it. Sort of like a yard sale, out of his car,” Jake said.
“Is that the story you’re sticking with?” his mom challenged the half-truth. “These rugs can be quite expensive.”
“Yeah, he gave it to me for free, and I don’t know where he is to give it back. We talked about this before. Anyway, why is it out here?” Jake quickly changed the subject.
“Millie had a little accident on it.”
“What? EW!”
“Jake, she’s only three,” his mom was exasperated, “calm down, I cleaned it.”
“WHAAAAAT!!” Jake ran over to inspect the carpet.
“Then we decided to do all of the rugs today. We gave everything a nice fall cleaning,” his mom went on with a smile, gesturing to the furniture that was stacked up in corners.
Jake wasn’t listening. He was filled with panic, checking each inch of the carpet, hoping that the priceless item wasn’t destroyed. Jake put his hand in the center, wondering if all was lost.
An image came into Jake’s mind, a carwash. The carpet felt dry, and actually looked cleaner.
“So, you’re okay?” Jake whispered.
Millie’s smile.
Jake breathed a sigh and then rolled up the carpet to take it to his room. On the way, he looked over at the study and noticed the family computer. “Hey Mom, have you heard anything from Uncle Mark lately?”
“No, actually,” she said as she stared at the family room curtains, “Strange, huh? We haven’t heard anything from him in a while. It’s not like your Uncle.”
“Hmmm,” Jake muttered.
“I’m sure it’s not a big deal. He’s probably totally involved in some Army assignment,” his mom reassured him.
He decided not to worry, his mom was probably right.
Maybe when Mark gets back, I’ll take him flying, Jake tried to comfo
rt himself.
If I ever fly again.
“Jake, do you think I should clean the curtains or sew some new ones?”
“I don’t know,” Jake said as he left the room.
“Millie,” his mom asked, “what do you think?”
All Jake heard as he shut the door behind him was Millie’s delighted “sew, sew, sew!”
Jake placed the carpet on the floor and unrolled it.
“Hi,” he said, half-heartedly to the carpet. “So, I found out about that lecture. Do you want to see?”
Jake took his shoes off and stood in the center of the rug. He replayed the lunch conversation and Caleb’s lecture in his mind, straining for every detail, in case it would help. When he was done, he tried to stand there with his mind blank.
This time, Hillary’s face clearly entered his thoughts.
“Caleb, would you please do me a favor and copy down those book names that Mr. Lewis listed for further study? We may have to do some research.”
Jake thought about that for a few moments. Then he sat down on the carpet and ran his hand over the ornate golden leaves.
“You’re trying to get me to do something, aren’t you?” Jake didn’t need an answer. He knew he was right.
“It’s in the books, isn’t it?”
Though there was no confirming picture of Millie’s smile, instinctively, Jake knew inside that the answer was yes.
“I want you to know something. Even if you never fly again, Halloween night was awesome. So, thank you.”
This time, an idea came into his head. A thought that was not his own. Something that he could wrap words around. We’ll fly, get the book.
“Are you talking to me now?” Jake asked the carpet.
Again, a thought that was not his own came into his mind. Not words, but a feeling that was almost like words. Are you listening to me now?
“Yeah,” Jake smiled. Somehow, everything was going to work out.
13. The Library
After a breakfast of Thanksgiving leftovers, the Bower’s van pulled up to the public library. For the tenth time his mother said, “Now, you’re sure about the library? Not the Arcade or the mall? Do you want me to go with you?”
“Mom, I’ll be fine, it’s just the library. Besides, Hillary is going to meet me here, I already told you that.”
“Yes, I know. I worry. I’m your Mom. It’s just weird to see you grow up, that’s all.”
Jake hopped out of their white mini-van and his mom rolled down the window. “Okay, Son. Have fun!”
Jake looked into the car, “I’ll call when I’m done.”
He waved goodbye to Millie and she blew a kiss at him, “Bye, Jakey!”
Jake was at least ten minutes late, his Mom’s usual standard time. He ran in, but instead of finding Hillary, Caleb and another girl were sitting on a bench just inside the front doors.
Oh man! Why is he here? He’s such a geek, Jake thought, but then he found himself walking over to the bench.
“Hi, Jake. Hillary isn’t here yet. This is my sister, Maiya,” Caleb said.
“Hi,” Jake said. Maiya looked up, smiled and waved a shy hello.
“Wow, your eyes are really pretty,” Jake blurted out.
“Yeah,” said Maiya, “I guess it’s kind of unusual to see a black girl with green eyes.”
“Are they green?” Jake asked, “they look kind of golden.”
Maiya laughed, “They change color with what I’m wearing.” She pointed to her Amber colored shirt.
“Hillary said that you guys needed a lot of help today, so Maiya came along,” said Caleb who reached into his backpack to adjust a notebook.
Jake looked at Caleb for a moment. He was a total nerd, from his big nose to his khaki pants and loafers.
“No… I mean, that’s great, we could use a little help.” As Jake said it, he realized that he meant it. He remembered life before Hillary and what it was like to sit alone. Caleb probably needed a friend just as much as he did.
“So,” said Caleb, “I’ve cross indexed the books from the lecture with everything that Mr. Lewis has said about Sinbad, flying carpets, and the Middle East. It seems that there are ten possible books that might be the one you’re looking for. One is out of print, two are in the special collections on the second floor, three are in the children’s section and the other four are on the main floor.”
Jake was amazed, “Wow, that’s quite impressive, Caleb. How much has Hillary said to you about all of this?”
Caleb looked like he was calculating something.
“Nothing at all, actually. I determined this based on that specific lecture and the topics that Mr. Lewis has been talking about lately.”
“He’s been talking about flying carpets?” Jake almost shot out of his seat.
“Where have you been during class?” Caleb gave a nerdy laugh. “I mean, I know that approximately 98% of the students aren’t paying close attention, but most teachers don’t give a practicum behind the mysteries of world mythologies.”
His laugh turned into a snort and then a wheeze, which struck Jake as funny and soon the three of them were laughing uncontrollably. Various patrons began to stare and harrumph to remind the pre-teens of the rudeness of making loud noises in the library. Hillary and Seiya came jogging up to the group.
“Sorry we’re late,” Hillary began, “we were having a few ‘issues’ at home.” She elbowed her brother in the ribs.
“Okay whatever, Hillary. I was tired and didn’t want to get out of bed,” Seiya explained to the group. “But I’m here, aren’t I?”
Hillary nodded but still looked annoyed.
“Hey Jake, how’s the boarding, man?” Seiya was talking to Jake, but he kept looking over at Maiya.
“It’s going okay. Thanks for the board,” Jake said.
“Just keep at it, you’re doing really well. Trust the board, and yourself. You’ll be fine.”
Hillary was impatient to begin and so she cut in, “Seiya, this is Caleb and his sister, right?”
“I’m Maiya,” she said, looking up at Seiya and Hillary through a waterfall of curly brown hair that fell over her right eye.
Caleb shot up awkwardly. “Well, I’ve reserved a room for us. This way.”
Hillary and Jake shot each other a look, smiled and shrugged. Caleb led the group toward the private study rooms.
“Wow,” Seiya whistled, “these are nice. I’ve never been in this part of the library before.” He gestured toward the hook-ups along the wall and laughed. “What’re those for?”
“For the internet, but since the library has gone to Wi-Fi, it makes those plugs practically obsolete,” Caleb snorted as he pulled a laptop from his backpack. “Did you need to look something up?”
“No, I’m good, dude!” Seiya said with a broad grin. “Gotta admire someone who’s as prepared as Caleb!”
Jake silently agreed and Hillary took over the meeting.
“Well, thanks so much for being here, you guys. We have some research to do, and with your help, I think things will go much faster.”
Jake cut in, “Yeah, Caleb here has figured out which books we need.”
Caleb was already pulling out note cards.
“I think that we should split up and bring the books back here,” Caleb said as he passed out the assignments. “Maiya and Seiya should go to the main section. I think that would make more sense because you’re older.”
“Hey, our names rhyme,” Seiya said and tried to give a high five to Maiya, who looked at him blankly. Not deterred though, he grabbed her hand and slapped it on his own and grinned.
Caleb went on, “Hillary and Jake can go to the children’s section and I’ll go to the special collections. It will make more sense if I get the books from there because they know me.”
Of course they do! Jake thought.
In ten minutes, they had all returned with their books. Jake realized that sear
ching for unknown clues through a bunch of books might take a while, and suddenly, he was thankful for the extra help.
“So, what are we looking for anyway?” Seiya said when they had all settled down in the leather chairs that surrounded the long dark wood table.
“Are you gonna tell them?” Hillary whispered over to Jake.
“Should I?” Jake shot Hillary a pleading look that he hoped would express the thought, Do you think they’ll think I’m crazy?
Hillary nodded her head and then said, “We have something to tell you guys, but you have to keep it quiet.”
Seiya scoffed, “Oh, yeah, are we going to be a secret club? Should I get some decoder rings and we could have passwords!”
“No,” Jake said, he was feeling quite embarrassed, “it’s just that we don’t want it to spread around.”
“We’re not really sure what we’re dealing with,” Hillary said dramatically.
“Are we going to get into trouble?” Maiya looked up, fear etched across her face.
“No,” Jake said, giving Hillary a tone-it-down look. “It’s just that if we tell you, you might not believe us, but then again, I doubt anyone will believe you.”
Jake took a deep breath and began to tell them everything, from his first meeting with Farid to the change in vision from the carpet. When he finished they sat in silence for a few moments. Seiya spoke first.
“You’re right, I don’t believe you! It’s also kind of convenient that the carpet isn’t flying right now.”
“I saw him, Sei,” Hillary said quietly. “I saw him flying on Halloween. Only it was weird Jake, you make it sound like it was just an old sheet, but,” she gulped and her voice sounded a bit dry, “you actually looked like a ghost. If I hadn’t seen you in the tree right before, I might not have known.”
“How did you see me in the tree?” Jake asked.
“I was waiting for my friend, Molly, to get ready, and her bedroom window looks out onto the tree. I was bored. Then I saw the trick-or-treaters and was trying to think of what to do, when you came flying down into the branches.”
They sat in silence again.
“So we’re looking, I would guess for something to do with the carpet specifically,” Caleb said, “as I had previously stated.”
He began to open a book and scan the table of contents. Then noticing that he was the only one doing anything, he said, “Sinbad, flying carpets, and Middle Eastern Legends, as I had indicated on each of your note cards.”
Jake grinned and grabbed the book in front of him. Hillary ran over to Caleb and gave him a hug.
“You’re the best!” Hillary beamed at him.
Seiya shrugged and grabbed a book, “Okay, flying carpets, check!”
Maiya quietly took a book and began to read as well.
“It’s not as if these things couldn’t happen,” Caleb began muttering more to Seiya than to himself, “history is replete with examples of sightings and the paranormal.” He began to type some things into his laptop.
The students got into a quiet, studious groove and Jake really tried to focus on the material, to make sure that he could transfer every idea to the carpet. After over an hour of study, each person gave an account of their reading. There wasn’t much to report. Some re-telling of the tales of Sinbad, a few references to Middle Eastern carpet making, and nothing but vague references to flying carpets. There was one book, however, that Caleb had been poring over.
“What is it?” the ever observant Hillary asked.
“Well,” said Caleb, his attention still on the book, “It’s a set of lithographic photos of clay tablets written in cuneiform, believed to be the journals of Sinbad.”
“What?” The others chorused.
“The translation is fragmented, so I can’t be sure of everything. The book itself is about how they were able to preserve such detailed records, without modern day equipment.”
“This is it, I’m sure of it!” Jake said enthusiastically as he moved closer to Caleb.
“I don’t know,” Caleb said pursing his lips together in a thoughtful manner, “it seems like it, but there’s no proper translation.”
“You can translate it!” Jake was convinced of his new friend’s capabilities.
Caleb’s brow furrowed. “I guess I could try, but this is really advanced, and some of the pictures are blurry or the tablets are decayed or fragmented in parts. It’s going to be difficult to get the full translation.” He pushed the book across the table for the others to see.
“Let’s go check it out. Do you have a library card?” Jake said.
“Oh,” Caleb looked up at Jake, “we can’t check it out.”
Jake shot Caleb with a quizzical stare.
“Well, it’s in the special collections part of the library, so you can only have it for an hour here, on the premises.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” Jake protested. “What if someone needed it?”
Caleb shrugged his shoulders, “Time’s just about up right now.”
“Well, we can each check it out then, take turns I mean, and Caleb can work on translating it,” Jake stated matter-of-factly.
“Jake,” Maiya said quietly, “We have to get going, it’s getting a little late.”
“Yeah, dude, we’ll come back,” said Seiya, who was watching Maiya.
Jake grabbed the book and scanned the pages, trying to get as clear a memory of it as possible.
“It’s okay, Jake, we’re not giving up now!” Hillary said.
“I’ll give the translation a try next week. It’s just that we have family in town for Thanksgiving.” Caleb said, reaching out for the book.
“No, it’s okay,” said Jake. “Look, I really appreciate all of you coming here today to help. It means a lot to me.” He looked around to each one and realized that he really felt that way. It was nice to have friends - friends who believed him and wanted to help.
“Anyway, I gotta help Mom. She’s dipping homemade candles to give as neighbor gifts for Christmas,” Jake forced himself to smile and with a deep breath, handed the book back to Caleb, but not before making a mental note of the title.