Chester Keene Cracks the Code by Kekla Magoon

Author:Kekla Magoon [Magoon, Kekla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2022-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

In the morning, when I rush out of the hallway toward the computer at 6:55, Mom’s sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. Huh.

“You’re up early.”

“Yeah.” Mom strokes her Niagara Falls coffee mug.

So much for checking for a response from Dad. Guess I’ll have to hit the library again.

Observation: When Mom sips from the mug, she tilts it up more than forty-five degrees. The cup is more than half empty. She’s been up for a while.

Luckily, my bag is already packed and ready to go. It’s stuffed to the gills: binoculars, utility belt, lockpick set, spy notebook—everything a person could possibly need to take down some armored car robbers. I hope.

“Honey, come sit with me a minute, please.”

What part of routine does Mom not understand? Bowl, cereal, milk, spoon. A guy needs his strength on a day like this.

“Breakfast in a few minutes, okay?” Mom sounds serious. “We need to have a talk.”

“I can’t miss the bus.” I’m already crunching a mouthful.

“I’ll drive you to school today. This is important.”

Whoa. “But you’ll be late for work.” Today is really not the day to disrupt my patterns. I have enough on my mind.

“I can be late for once,” Mom says. “I’ll just call in. I—I need to talk about what’s really going on with you.”

“What do you mean?” I keep on spooning the floating Os. Can’t miss the bus, for real. Not today.

“I know you’re not telling me the truth about what’s going on at school,” Mom says. “For instance, I got a call yesterday about you skipping a class? That doesn’t sound like you.”

Oh, that. “It’s just a misunderstanding,” I say. “I was in the library working on a project and ended up being late to homeroom. Someone called you?”

Mom shifts in her seat. “I shouldn’t have led with that. I know you’re a good student, Chester. But…” She breathes deep. “That’s not all, honey.”

Crunch. Crunch.

“I—I’m worried about what’s going on for you socially. Is someone bothering you? Hurting you?”

My mouth is full, which gives me a moment to draw on my spycraft skills. Deception, deflection, de-escalation.

Swallow. “Mom, you don’t need to worry.”

“It’s my job to worry. You came home with a black eye,” she says. “And you know I value trust and honesty, but—” In the pause, she swallows hard. She rubs her forehead.

But you think I lied. My mind easily fills in the blanks. Mom knows, or thinks she knows. But what good would it do to confess? Mom can’t teach me to fight. She can’t protect me from Marc Ruff-day.

Observation: Her hands are trembling. Her eyes are red-rimmed. Just the thought that things might not be going well for me is stressing her out. The truth would knock her over.

“I value trust and honesty very much,” Mom repeats, “but I know it’s not always easy to live up to. I’ve done something—”

“So just trust me,” I interrupt. “I have everything under control.” Or I will, after today. With Dad in my corner, all things are possible. The thrill of what is ahead takes over.

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