The Explorer's Code, page 3
“It is,” Anna said, floored for the moment by another room with a stuffed penguin in the corner. “Was that once alive?”
“I’m not sure,” Rosie said. “I wonder what the other suites look like.”
“I’m exploring them,” Anna said. “You could come, if you want.” An adult in tow would open doors, figuratively and literally, for Anna. Besides, Rosie seemed nice.
The woman sighed. “I’d love to, but I know my Xavier would want to come, too. I’ll just have to hope that the other guests are willing to give tours this afternoon. Let me know if you see anything interesting, though, okay?”
“Okay.” Anna left and went to the next suite. The guests in this one were a young black couple, who, from the sickening way they looked at each other, must have been on their honeymoon. They let Anna in to see that their suite was decorated with shells and tiki statues, and the king bed had a canopy of grass. Pacific Islands, maybe? The way the walls were painted, it seemed like the effect was meant to make the guests feel like they were staying in a tropical tree house. But Anna didn’t stay long. The guests let her have the run of the room, but they kept giggling and flirting with each other, so she took a quick look around and left before she threw up.
Many of the ten suites weren’t occupied yet, so Anna looked at those next. There were rooms for the Serengeti, Egypt, and India, all painted and decorated differently. Another suite, apparently Australia, judging by the didgeridoo in the corner and emu feather decorations, had a friendly family from Tennessee with young children, who all (six of them, including parents) had the same blue eyes and wore matching homemade T-shirts that read IDLE IN IDLEWOOD. They let Anna take a look around as long as she didn’t disturb the youngest, who was taking a nap in the largest bedroom (make that seven). Anna agreed, but did sneak a peek through the crack of the door. She didn’t see much, but it was better than nothing.
Another suite seemed to be the Amazon. Anna knocked and tried to enter, thinking it was empty, but the woman with all the books was in there, so she had to leave. She’d ask for a tour later.
But just when Anna thought each suite corresponded to a place in the world, she opened another door to reveal a room that looked like the inside of an airplane.
“Huh.” Anna stepped inside. A suitcase lay on the bed, so this room wasn’t empty, but when she called out, no one answered.
Someone was staying there. She shouldn’t go inside without permission. But this room was so different! Anna ached to explore it. Still, maybe she should wait.
Anna shook her head. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Virginia Maines, greatest explorer of the early twentieth century (as far as Anna was concerned), wouldn’t have hesitated. When a group of men tried to stop her from traveling to Africa alone because she was a woman, Virginia walked out of the room and onto a ship to the Ivory Coast, stopping only once to buy a sandwich. If she could do that, Anna could explore a room. If she was quick, no one would know she’d ever been there.
While each of the rooms in this suite had an aviation theme (one room had a propeller over the bed), only that first entry room looked like it belonged inside an airplane. The walls were painted gray and lined with rivets, and there was even a door painted on one wall. The sparse furniture looked like chairs ripped from an old-fashioned airplane.
But the trim along the baseboard was red and intricate. Anna knelt to examine it: dragons, flying past each other. Interesting that the airplane room had a dragon motif, considering that Virginia Maines’s airplane was called the—
“What are you doing here?” a sharp voice asked. Anna sprang up and spun around.
Mr. Llewellyn was at the door, with an elderly white couple in tow. The stiff house owner looked like he’d shatter into a million pieces if you tapped him. “This is not your room,” he said, striding across the room and grabbing Anna by the shoulder. “You can’t just walk into people’s private spaces.”
“I just wanted to see the room!” Anna said. “Was that so bad?”
“Oh, Mr. Llewellyn, no need to be so harsh. We all want to see all the rooms here,” the elderly woman said, giving Anna a sweet smile. A huge quilted bag hung from her shoulder.
“And you will in due time, with permission,” Mr. Llewellyn said. The elderly man nodded at his words, making his huge mustache bounce.
“I’m very sorry for this intrusion, Mr. and Mrs. Haskell. It won’t happen again,” Mr. Llewellyn added, glancing at his guests.
“I hope not,” the man with the mustache said. “There’s a right and wrong way to do things, young lady. Best to learn that now.”
Anna frowned as Mr. Llewellyn pulled her into the hall. She would have asked to see the room if anyone had been home.
“Now, listen,” Mr. Llewellyn said. “This house is very old. It’s not like your home, where you can run around as you please.”
“I know it’s not the same,” Anna protested. Other guests, including Rosie and Matching Shirts family and the lady from the Amazon room, were peering out to see what the commotion was. The honeymooners didn’t seem to care. “I just wanted to see everything. Isn’t that why people used to come for tours?”
“Yes, they used to do so, but—” Mr. Llewellyn seemed flustered. But then he straightened his gray tie and his gray face and said, “This is not a house to play in. These rooms are private now, do you understand?”
“What are they?” Anna asked. “I saw some of them. Are they all themed around places? Why?”
A snort came from behind her. Anna looked and saw a girl with long black hair and a snooty expression. Anna glared.
“When this house became a hotel, Elaine Gardner wanted each room to feel like a journey to another land,” the girl said. “She designed the decorations herself, which is why they seem so … old-fashioned.”
“Elaine Gardner?” Anna asked.
The girl smirked. “The woman who used to own this house. Didn’t you learn anything about this place before you came?”
“Emily!” The girl’s mother yanked her daughter aside just as Mr. Llewellyn, fed up with the bickering, led Anna away to her family, who, like the others, had come out to see what was wrong.
“I’m very sorry about this,” Anna’s father said, taking Anna’s shoulder. “Anna is a bit of a free spirit.”
“Then I suggest she be free outside,” Mr. Llewellyn said. “No poking around other people’s things.”
Anna’s face burned. “I wasn’t doing that!”
But Mr. Llewellyn had gone. Stuck-up, stiff, obnoxious—Anna shook her dad off and saw Charlie standing in the door, a piece of paper in his hand.
“So you were just going to wait to do something stupid, huh?” he said.
First that Emily girl, now Charlie? Anna pressed her lips together, stood up straight, and spun on her heel.
“What are you doing?” her mom asked.
“As I’m told,” she said. “I’m going outside.”
Fists clenched, Anna strode downstairs, through the entry hall, and out onto the grounds and into the forest, not even stopping for a sandwich.
* * *
Nice going, Charlie. He set down the page he’d been reading about the history of Idlewood and slumped against the wall.
Anna had looked so upset when Mr. Llewellyn brought her back, and what did he do? Razz her a little. She was his sister, and that was what siblings did, but Charlie had misread the situation. Again.
But no more. This vacation was a chance to start fresh with Anna. He should go apologize to her.
Although, who knew how she’d respond? What if she silently stomped off? Or screamed at him? What would hurt more, silence or rage? Maybe it was better to wait until she cooled down before he tried.
Oh, come on, Charlie! That was the fear talking! Anna was his sister, not some threatening monster. And even if it was scary, Charlie would never show her he was more than just some bookworm if he never took even a small risk like this.
That settled it. “I’m going to find Anna,” he announced to his parents, who were circling items on the weekend itinerary.
His mom looked relieved. “Tell her we’re not mad,” she said. “But we would like to talk to her when she’s ready to come in.”
Charlie nodded and left the suite, closing the door behind him. Idlewood really was a nice house. Even the doors were fancy, shiny dark wood with gold numbers nailed on each one.
Charlie looked at the number 5 nailed on the door just above his eye level. Wait a minute. He leaned in, reaching up to touch the wood, which was slightly darker, as though it had once been protected from fading under the light—under a different metal number. The darker wood was in the shape of a number 1.
That was odd. Why had their door once been numbered “1” if it was in the middle of the hall?
Moving slowly, he walked toward the stairs, passing another suite door. Under the number 3, the dark outline of a faded number 5. Counting up? Skipping at least one number? Gears started turning in Charlie’s head, but he forced them to stop. Surely there was a reasonable explanation for out-of-order numbers. No use getting involved in a code that didn’t exist.
But when Charlie checked the next two doors at the end of the hall, his heart began racing and he ran downstairs, flying feet powered by the energy only the thrill of a new puzzle could give him.
The number 3 on one side, but on the other, the number 1. Odd numbers on both sides of the hall, and a repeat at that! The numbering on the doors didn’t make sense, no matter which way you looked at it. And that was a problem begging to be solved.
Just wait until he told Anna!
3
EVEN THE FOREST didn’t seem large enough to contain the crackling, angry energy that poured through Anna. It turned out that Idlewood really was going to be another boring, don’t-touch-anything kind of place, even with its themed suites and indoor garden of tropical fruits.
She kicked at a tree, scuffing the dirt in an aimless furrow. She aimed her next kick at a mound of moss, reveling in the feel of dirt against her shoe. Yes, she knew she shouldn’t have been in that room, not when other guests had claimed it. No, she wouldn’t have wanted to find some stranger poking around her room without her permission, possibly stealing from her. But it wasn’t like she was trying to hurt anything! She just wanted to see what the room looked like.
She kicked at a raised tree root, all covered with grass. Her foot collided with the root, tearing the grass and revealing a stick about as big as a half-used pencil wedged into the mud beside the root. But … wait. It looked like it had a growth or knot on it, but what knot was so perfectly round and flat? Dropping to her knees, Anna touched the stick. It’s not wood. Quickly, she found a twig and loosened the mud around the object, which was lying almost flat against the ground. It wasn’t long before she was able to pry it free.
She looked at the chunk of twisted black metal in her hand. An old nail?
No. It wasn’t a nail. It was so much better. Anna stared at the old key in her hand. It looked like something out of a story, with a long shaft and two prongs on the end. What was it doing there?
The ground was at a slight angle. It rained a lot in Virginia, so perhaps the key had been dropped once, and the rain had carried it here. But that could mean it belonged to Idlewood!
Walking back to the house, Anna examined the key again. It was black, but not inherently; that came from a tarnish that covered the silver metal beneath. Its head—the flat, round part that had attracted Anna’s attention—had an ornate design on it that looked like a palm tree. Did that mean it belonged in the Pacific Islands suite? She hadn’t seen any locked cupboards or dressers there, or at least none with keyholes. She would have remembered a keyhole big enough for this key. Old locks were especially inviting.
What could it belong to? As Anna entered the grounds, she considered telling Mr. Llewellyn what she’d found. It was his house, and he might know what this key would unlock. Besides, it might make a nice peace offering, after irritating him earlier.
Yeah, no. He’d probably think she stole it. Besides, Anna didn’t want to be told what the key opened. It was better if you found it yourself.
A gaggle of elderly ladies, of different races and heights but all seeming to favor pastel-colored clothing and coconut-scented lotion, was entering the house, and behind them, another car pulled up the driveway and a Japanese couple in their thirties got out, dressed in cargo shorts, T-shirts, and stylish sport sunglasses, ready for vacation. One of them carried a bundle of cloth in her arms. When she saw Anna, she cradled the bundle out of sight and hurried into Idlewood.
Anna shook her head and peered up at the house, anger returning. Thanks to finding the key, she hadn’t been out in the woods long enough to cool down. So, stupid key. Stupid Charlie and his stupid vacation prize, stupid Mr. Llewellyn throwing her out just as things were getting interesting, stupid Idlewood with its weird … everything.
Yes, Anna thought. Something about this house was very weird, and it wasn’t just the guests sneaking who knew what in bundles of cloth into the house. Everything was just a little bit off: the indoor plants growing from the ground, the themed suites, the actual once-living penguin, and now this key. As Anna looked at it, even the outside of the house seemed wrong, though she couldn’t figure out exactly what was gleaming in the shadowy corners of her brain.
And first, she needed a place to wait while her anger dissipated. Anna turned a corner and gazed up at the house’s tower. There was a small ledge, just big enough to sit on, about ten feet off the ground. She ran her hand over the stones: old, chipped, jutting. Perfect. If Mr. Llewellyn wanted to complain, he’d have to find her first.
If only she could really disappear, just like Virginia Maines had. Anna loved stories about all explorers, but Virginia had risen to the top for her. She wasn’t an explorer many people remembered—Anna had first learned about her in a footnote. Virginia Maines, born in Richmond in 1896, was not the first American to explore outside her country. She wasn’t trying to “find the source of the Nile” or have a species of plant named after herself. In fact, she didn’t care about laying claim to anything, and no zoological or geological society could claim her or her findings. She was a well-read banker’s daughter turned adventurer, and as far as anyone knew, she just explored because she wanted to learn more about the world around her.
But Anna felt so drawn to her. Sure, they were both from Virginia, which was why she had first heard of the explorer and started reading her stories. But as she read, she found a woman traveling not for work or science but just because she could. That sheer spunk had led Virginia to circle the world dozens of times in her plane, accompanied by only a few people, but mostly her copilot David Bradley. Who knew what she could have done if it wasn’t for the intriguing and frustrating way her story ended?
Anna had read all about it on the one fan site she could find about Virginia Maines. Virginia had made a name for herself in the 1920s, traveling all over the world and discovering rare artifacts, like a real Indiana Jones. Even better, she’d always handed those artifacts over to the countries she found them in. She never kept them for herself. At a time when so many explorers took what they found, Virginia was no thief.
But sometimes she was given treasures to take home. Gifts. Virginia was becoming a star, but then, one day in 1925, she vanished. She hadn’t even been on a new expedition, like Amelia Earhart, or murdered in the desert, like Alexandrine Tinné. One night she was sleeping in her bed, but the next, she was gone. There was no sign of foul play, but none of her things were missing, and no trace of her was ever discovered. No one ever found her reputed stash of treasures, either. And so the world wondered, and so the world forgot.
No, Anna thought, shaking her head. That was too much. She didn’t really want to disappear forever like Virginia, or be forgotten. She could settle, though, for going missing for a much shorter time by climbing out of reach.
Anna tucked the key into her pocket, then climbed, carefully choosing the most prominent stones as handholds. They were perfect; one even curled in to allow a better grip, as she discovered when her fingers landed in a small pool of rainwater. Once she pulled herself up, she found places for her feet and hands far more easily than she expected. It was like the wall was made to be climbed. She perched on the ledge, thinking, If any adult finds me up here, that’s what I’ll tell them.
Right. Like they’d listen to anything she had to say.
After the morning’s rain, the sky had broken to reveal the sun through white, fluffy clouds. The air was warm and humid but clean-feeling and honeysuckle-scented. And, even from ten feet up, Anna felt like she could see everything.
Including her brother. “Hey, Anna!” It was Charlie, stomping across the lawn with the grace of an elephant with a twisted ankle. “What are you doing up there?”
“Sitting. That’s still allowed, right? Not too stupid for you?” The anger hadn’t quite died down yet, fed a little by Anna’s frustration over the little … something … that wasn’t adding up in her head. What was wrong with this house?
Charlie jogged over and shielded his eyes from the sun. “No. I mean, maybe, but … you know what you’re doing, right? Sure you do.”
As Anna listened, confused by his babble, Charlie added, a little out of breath, “I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to be a jerk back there. I’m sorry.”
The anger flowed away. Charlie wasn’t a bad brother. He just didn’t seem to get it. But maybe that wasn’t his fault. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s what siblings do, right?”
“Right.” Charlie smiled and then glanced up again at the house. He pushed his glasses up his nose and gave Idlewood a sharp, focused stare. Anna recognized it—he wore the same expression when he solved his cryptograms and crossword puzzles over his Chex at home.
“What’s up?” she asked. “Other than me.”
Charlie laughed. “It’s just that this house seems really weird.”
“Tell me about it.”
