“I’m sorry, Courtney,” Mark said. “I hear what you’re saying about roles and stuff. I always thought mine was to be the lame-wad who everybody made fun of. But I’m beginning to think I’m better than that. You might not be the person you thought you were either, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe it means you’ve got more important things to do.”
Courtney gave Mark a quick look; then Mark headed for the stairs. “Tomorrow’s Friday,” he said. “I’ll put this stuff in the safe-deposit box at the bank. On Saturday I’m going to the address on this paper. I hope you come with me, but I’ll understand if you don’t.”
Mark left her alone in the basement.
The next day in school Mark and Courtney had no contact. Mark met with Mr. Pike about Sci-Clops and was given a schedule of meetings for the rest of the semester. He tried to be enthused about it, but it was hard to focus. All he could think about was being on the verge of a much bigger adventure.
When school was over, Mark went to the National Bank of Stony Brook on the Ave. The pruny Ms. Jane Jansen brought him into the vault where he deposited the projector that held Bobby’s Journal #13 in the same safe box where he was keeping Journals #1-12. He didn’t put the mysterious slip of paper with the New York address in the box though. He needed that.
As for Courtney, she’d made the tough decision and took the demotion to play for the junior varsity. Her plan was to prove herself so superior that Coach Horkey would have no choice but to bring her right back up to the varsity.
Things didn’t work out that way. It was clear from Friday’s practice that she was one of the better girls on the team, but definitely not the best. She didn’t let it get to her though. She wouldn’t go so far as to accept her fate, but forced herself to try and make the best of it. At least for the time being.
The next day, Saturday, Mark got up early and told his parents he was going to take the train into New York City to go to a science museum. He was old enough to do that on his own now. Taking the train into the city was easy. The station was at the bottom of Stony Brook Avenue, a short distance from Mark’s house. He checked the schedule and planned on catching the 8:05 local that would get him into Grand Central Station around 9 a.m. He figured that would leave him plenty of time to go to the address on the note and be back home before dinner.
He was hoping to get a call from Courtney, but that call didn’t come, and he wasn’t going to beg. So he found himself early Saturday morning standing on the train platform, alone, ready to begin the next chapter in the adventure that had begun so long ago when Bobby first left home.
The train pulled into the station and the doors opened quietly. During the week this train would be packed with commuters headed in to work. But on Saturday not many people took the train, so Mark pretty much had the car to himself. He picked a seat directly in the middle because he knew it was the smoothest ride. He threw his backpack in the overhead rack, then plunked down into the seat.
“What’s the matter?” came a voice from the seat behind him. “Don’t want to sit with me?”
Mark spun in surprise to see…
Courtney.
“I called your house,” she said. “Just missed you. Your mom told me you were catching this train. I got on one stop back.”
“You sure about this?” he asked cautiously.
“No, but who else is going to watch your back?” she answered with a smile.
Mark broke out in a huge grin and moved into the seat next to her. For the time being, they were a team again. As the train took them into the city, they talked about everything except the mysterious note. It wasn’t that they were avoiding the subject, it was more that they had no idea what to expect on Amsterdam Place.
They arrived in Grand Central Station and went right to the subway. Courtney knew that Amsterdam Place was on the upper East Side of Manhattan, so a quick scan of the subway map showed them the trains they had to take. The ride took twenty minutes, with only one change. Soon enough they found themselves emerging from the underground station on Amsterdam Place. Mark double-checked the building number, 429, and they walked two more blocks north.
Finally they found themselves standing in front of an old, brick apartment building. It looked like a pretty nice neighborhood, with a view of the East River. There was a park across from the address with little kids running around and a bunch of guys playing touch football. Since it was September, the leaves were just beginning to show autumn colors. But the air was warm and the sky was the kind of deep blue that only showed up in the fall. The whole scene was about as normal and safe as could be.
Except that Mark and Courtney now had to find out what was waiting for them in apartment 5A. With a quick look at each other, they climbed the cement stairs that led to the entrance. The double door looked like it had about five hundred coats of black paint on it. Mark grabbed the brass handle and pulled it open, letting Courtney go in first. Inside was another set of doors, but these were locked. The only way to get in was to be buzzed in by a tenant. On the right wall was a gray metal panel that listed all of the occupants of the building. Mark and Courtney eagerly checked for 5A.
“‘Dorney,’” Mark said, reading the typed name. “Nothing weird about that.”
“What did you think it was going to say?” asked Courtney. “Acolyte Headquarters?”
In spite of his nervousness, Mark laughed. The two stood staring at the name. Next to it was a black button. Neither was quick to push it.
“What are we going to say?” Mark asked.
“How about: ‘Hi! We’re here to interview for the acolyte position.’”
Mark gave Courtney a smirk. Before he could change his mind, he pushed the button. They waited. Nothing happened.
“Maybe they’re out doing acolyte stuff,” Courtney offered.
Mark hit the button again. Still nothing. Mark then said, “I guess we should come back-“
“What?” came a man’s gruff voice from a speaker near the names.
Mark and Courtney shot each other a look. Courtney got her head together first and said, “Uh, Mr. Dorney?”
“Who is it?” the gruff voice demanded.
“Uh, my name’s Courtney. I’m here with my friend Mark. We were wondering if-“
“Go away!” the man barked, and the speaker went dead.
“Now what?” Courtney asked.
Mark hit the button again.
“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any!” the voice growled at them.
“We’re not selling anything,” Mark said politely. “We’re here to talk to you about… uh… Bobby Pendragon.”
No response. Mark and Courtney exchanged looks again. Mark reached forward to hit the button one more time, but was jolted by the harsh sound of a buzzer.
“What’s that?” Mark said nervously.
Courtney glanced at the door, then pushed it open.
“He just buzzed us in,” she answered. Courtney stood in the doorway, holding the door open. “Last chance,” she said.
“Don’t say that,” Mark threw back. “I might change my mind.”
He took a quick breath, then turned and walked quickly past Courtney, through the door. Courtney followed, letting the door close behind them.
Next stop, apartment 5A.
(CONTINUED)
The creaky elevator took them up to the fifth floor. Mark and Courtney anxiously watched the numbers above the door light up as they ascended.
“What if it’s Saint Dane?” Courtney blurted out nervously. “He could be, like, luring us in.”
“I thought about that,” Mark responded, almost as nervously. “But why would he bother with us? We’re just a couple of kids.”
“Yeah,” said Courtney. “Two kids he could use to get even with Bobby.”
Mark shot Courtney a look. He hadn’t thought of that. The elevator clunked to a stop and the doors slid open. Should they keep going?
“If he wanted to get us,” Mark said, trying to sound confident, “he wouldn’t have to go through so much trouble.”