Secrets of the Book by Fry Erin

Author:Fry, Erin [Fry, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Two Lions
Published: 2014-02-03T16:00:00+00:00

Gregor doesn’t live all that far from me. Which is a good thing because he and I were pretty close to hyperventilating on the walk to his house.

Roosevelt may have had a gun and some years of experience with the Rough Riders in the Spanish American War. But I’d gone toe-to-toe with Anthony “The Gut” Gutterson only once in my life—when he’d called Gregor a freak—and I’d come out of that with a royal headache after he’d dumped me upside down off the jungle gym.

Gregor and I had no real weapons—though we had grabbed an old backpack (since Evil German Guy had my school one) and jammed it full of stuff we hoped might work if worst came to worst: an airsoft gun, an old slingshot that my dad had made for me years ago, a small pocketknife, and a bottle of pepper spray that my mom took when she went hiking. Beyond that, we had no fighting experience, no killer instincts, and no clue about what we were up against.

Roosevelt didn’t seem at all concerned, though. He marched quietly along next to us, whistling a little, using the rifle as a cane now and then to tap the sidewalk. We could have been walking to the ice cream shop for all the concern he was showing. In fact, if I’d have sized up his mood, I would have said he was kind of excited about the whole thing.

Gregor was quiet, too, but it was a different quiet from Roosevelt’s. His steps were small and measured. He was muttering under his breath, and though I couldn’t hear him, I would have bet my entire college savings that he was reciting either Greek gods or important dates in history. His hands hung at his sides and his fingers tapped lightly but insistently on his thighs.

“Why did he go to my house, Spencer?” Gregor asked very softly when we were only a few houses away.

“I don’t know, G.,” I answered.

I didn’t even know who “he” was. Just that he was German. And a really bad dude.

“If he has Mel and Mel has Pandora’s Book,” Gregor said, “why does he need us to come at all? Why not just take the book and go? He has what he wants, right?”

I shrugged. But it was that last part that made me extremely nervous. I’d just assumed it was Pandora’s Book that this guy was after. Maybe it was something more. Maybe he needed me, too. That was the part that had me ready to pee my pants.

Colonel Roosevelt, Gregor, and I stopped on the corner to cross the street.

Roosevelt turned to us. “Can I assume you two lads know who our adversary is?”

“Actually, sir,” I said, clearing my voice, “we don’t. All we know is that the guy is German, he’s mean, and he has a friend of ours. Well, kind of a friend, I guess. Her name is Mel.” I could feel warmth creep into my cheeks.

“Mel is the young lady who sent me, I presume?” Roosevelt asked, looking down at us through his spectacles.

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