5

WHEN I GET OFF THE BUS, I’M SURPRISED TO FIND that 1440 North Main Street
is a busy office building. It’s a small skyscraper, all dark glass and metal.
For a place guarding so many “wellkept secrets,” I would’ve thought it’d be
somewhere more . . . secret.
This place is packed even on a Saturday. I climb the stairs to the front
entrance, doing my best to ignore all the eyes my suit attracts. And then
nearly panic when I notice the security desk just inside the doors, but
strangely the guard just smiles and waves me through, no questions asked. I
spot the elevators at the back of the lobby and make my way through the
crowd of adults. It’s just my luck that I’ve come on the day of some
business conference.
The instructions said I have to wait for the leftmost elevator to be empty.
That’s way easier said than done—it’s the elevator that gets used the most. I
get so tired of standing around waiting that I take a seat on a small bench.
After around fifteen minutes, the traffic in the lobby begins to die down and
I finally get my chance. But just when I think I’m home free, a frowning,
bald guy slips into the elevator with me.
I reach out and hold the doors.
The man spins around to face me. “Stop that! I’ve got a meeting I’m
already late for.”
If I don’t think of something quick, I’ll never get where I’m going. “I’ve
got a really bad cold.” I throw in a sniffle and a couple fake coughs. “I don’t
want you to catch it.”
The man scoots away from me, his frown deepening. “Yes, well, maybe I
can wait on the next one.” He dashes out the elevator so fast you’d think I
had the plague.

Finally, I’m alone. The elevators doors shut. I take one more glance at the
nomination form. Press the basement button twentysix times.
On the last press, the lights dim and a red beam scans the elevator.
“Nomination form detected,” says a robotic voice. “Please proceed.” A loud
click sounds, and the back of the elevator opens up to a winding hallway
with metal walls.
No way. How is any of this real?
I lean forward, hoping to get a peek at where this thing leads, but it twists
out of sight. No turning back now, I guess. Shaking off my nerves, I follow
the hall to a small waiting room—six chairs with a magazine rack in the
corner.
At the counter, a plump blonde lady smiles at me. “How can I help you?”
“My brother nominated me for . . .” What did he nominate me for,
exactly?
“Of course,” the lady says politely. “Unfortunately, our recruiter isn’t in
right now—”
A loud crash sounds from far off. “Ah,” she says. “Seems he’s just
arrived. Use the door on the left and go on back. It’s the last office on the
right.”
I do as she says and pop my head into the halfopen doorway. Inside, a
desk lays in pieces on the floor. Standing over the mess is a really
strangelooking guy. He’s taller than I am but just as skinny, with streaks of
gray in his shaggy, brown hair. But it’s not really him that’s the problem. It’s
his clothes.
He’s got on bright orange pants—traffic cone bright. His shirt is orange
too. I’ve seen orange shirts before, but this guy’s shirt has the nerve to be
covered in orange and brown feathers.
“Come, come.” The man waves me inside without looking up. “I’m just
cleaning up a bit. I told the transporter to put me at my desk, not in my
desk.” He strokes his chin. “But then again, I was chewing a rather splendid
steak sandwich when I gave the command.”
I take one nervous step inside. Did he say transporter?
“My name is Amari—”
“And mine is Mr. Barnabus Ware, but full introductions won’t be
necessary, I’m afraid.” He still hasn’t looked up at me once. “This year’s
summer program has already begun. The kids’ll already be assigned to
rooms by now.”

It’s already begun? My heart sinks. “Does that mean I’m too late? I only
just got my nomination.”
“Rules are rules. Whoever nominated you should’ve filled out the proper
waiver if your school year runs long. There’s always next summer—” He
finally looks up at me and his eyes go wide. “Many pardons, but if you
don’t mind me asking, is that suit a genuine Duboise?”
I glance down at the ugly greenandpurple stripes and shrug. “What’s a
Duboise?”
The man gasps. “Only the most brilliant clothing and accessories
designer in the world!” He comes closer, stepping over the shattered pieces
of his desk, then picks up the end of my right sleeve and rubs the fabric in
his hand. “Very good. Yes. Very good, indeed. Would you mind removing
the jacket? I’d love to try it on.”
“Oh, um, sure.” It’s strange that anyone would be interested in this ugly
thing except for maybe wanting to burn it and dance on the ashes. But then,
this guy is comfortable wearing orange and brown feathers. I slide off the
jacket and hand it to him.
He actually tries to put it on. He’s almost a foot taller than I am! No way
it’ll fit.
But it does. Perfectly. My jaw drops. “How—?”
“Ah yes, it’s certainly authentic. Never can tell with so many knockoffs
going around. But only genuine Duboises have the ‘one size fits all’ feature.
Only way to be sure. The wife and I swear by them.” Mr. Ware gestures
toward his own outfit. “My ensemble is from the tropical collection,
‘Essence of a Sandy Parrot.’ Now, you might be wondering why it is I have
on vacation attire. I’ll explain. You see, we were on vacation, naturally, and
having quite the time I should add, when I received an urgent message from
my supervisor that a child had been added to the list and no one was in the
office! You’re supposed to be able to count on your coworkers to pick up
the slack when you’re on vacation—you’d expect that, wouldn’t you?”
“I—I guess. Can we get back to how my jacket—”
Mr. Ware throws up his hands. “Exactly! It’s a reasonable thing to
expect! But not when Thesda Greengrass is your partner. Always going to
pieces whenever one of her bloody cats gets taken away. Can’t understand
why her neighbors might object to a tiger in the neighborhood. No use,
though, she’ll have another by the end of the month. Can’t imagine where
she gets them—”

“MR. WARE!” I interrupt. My ears are ready to explode.
“Yes?”
“My jacket,” I say. “How did it grow to fit you like that?”
“Why, a patented enchantment, of course. How else?”
“An enchantment?” I lift an eyebrow. “As in magic?”
“Yes.” Mr. Ware crosses his arms. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did
you come by that suit, exactly?”
“It was in a briefcase,” I say. “My brother left it for me.”
“Ah,” says Mr. Ware. “I understand now. I take it this brother of yours is
the first in the family to go into this line of work?”
“Probably. But I don’t really know what line of work this is.”
He strokes his chin again. “Normally I’m not one to bend the rules, but
how can I turn away a child with such splendid taste in clothing? However
unintentional.” He sighs. “Very well, have a seat.”
I do what he says. It’s pretty strange to be sitting across from someone
over a pile of shattered desk pieces.
“It’s my job,” says Mr. Ware, “to offer you a spot in our rather unique
summer camp. However, I can’t tell you very much about said summer
camp until I get an answer as to whether or not you’ll take it. Think
carefully. If you decide you’re not interested, then our meeting will end
right here, and you can go back to doing whatever it was you planned to do
with your life. It’s why we meet here in this office and not at the actual
Bureau. But if you say yes, be warned that you will be obligated to attend
this summer. Understand?”
I swallow and nod. “So the interview is just you asking if I’ll take the
spot?”
“Indeed it is,” he says with a nod. “Would you rather it be more difficult?
I can cook up some algebraic equations if you’d like.”
I shake my head quickly.
Mr. Ware chuckles. “And your answer?”
As much as I want to say yes, I can’t help thinking of Quinton right now.
“My brother said what he was doing was dangerous. Is that true?”
At first, I think he won’t answer. But eventually he says, “It very well can
be.”
I’m suddenly super nervous. Visions of disarming bombs and wrestling
alligators sweep through my mind. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve said far too much already. I’m afraid I can offer
nothing more until you’ve decided.”
Even if it is dangerous, Quinton wanted me to experience all the things
that he did. When has he ever wanted anything but the best for me? Just the
memory of those glittering trains lighting up the ocean sends a rush of
excitement through me I can’t explain. And more than anything, this could
be my only shot to find out what happened to him.
I meet Mr. Ware’s stare and say, “I accept.” And then hold my breath for
whatever comes next.