CHAPTER 20

“How was your flight to California?” asked Mom.

“Awesome!” said Tommy.

The rest of us tried not to remember the landing. Or the barrel rolls. Or the loop-de-loops. Or whatever those other things were called when we were upside down and sideways with G-forces stretching our cheeks back to our ears.

“Did you enjoy that lunch I packed?” asked Dad.

Beck and I burped a little. We were remembering how we served up that lunch. Twice.

“We’re safe on the ground,” said Storm. “The stars in the desert are spectacular. We’re enjoying our newfound freedom.”

“Good,” said Mom. “Where’s Uncle Richie?”

“Off doing research,” I told her.

“We have a lead on a pearl ship treasure map,” added Beck.

“Your first day in the field?” said Dad. “I am impressed.”

“Guess that’s why Uncle Richie is such a treasure-hunting legend,” said Tommy. Maybe because he hadn’t heard Professor Hingleburt trash-talking Uncle Richie outside that bookshop. Or maybe because Uncle Richie let him land an airplane.

“How are things back in DC?” I asked.

“Very interesting,” said Mom.

“Indeed,” added Dad. “Do you kids remember Professor Hingleburt from that night in the Smithsonian?”

“Chya,” said Tommy. “Cranky old dude needs to chillax.”

“Be that as it may,” said Dad, “it’s possible Professor Hingleburt and his associates have just made a remarkable discovery.”

“If it’s true,” added Mom.

“What’d they find?” I asked.

“What they claim is one of the long-lost, handwritten, original copies of the Bill of Rights to the United States Constitution.”

“Where’d they find it?” joked Tommy. “Kinko’s?”

“Not exactly,” said Mom. She shifted into history teacher mode. “You see, kids, in 1789, Congress agreed to draw up the Bill of Rights—the first ten amendments to the Constitution. George Washington, who, of course, was president at the time, directed three clerks to write out, by hand, fourteen copies of the bill. One was kept by the federal government. The others were sent to each of the thirteen original states for their ratification. However, some have been missing for years.”

“What happened to them?” asked Beck.

“History suggests that Georgia’s and New York’s copies were likely burned,” said Dad. “Georgia’s during the Civil War and New York’s during a fire at the state capitol in 1911. Pennsylvania’s copy was stolen in the late nineteenth century and Maryland is unsure of what happened to their copy.”

“But here’s the problem,” said Mom. “The document Professor Hingleburt discovered in an old barn in western Maryland spells out very different rights than the text we’re familiar with.”

“How so?”

“The First Amendment,” said Dad, “is almost the exact opposite of the one we all know and love.”

“You mean…” I looked to Beck and we recited it together fast, without taking a breath (it’s another twin thing). “‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances?’”

Mom nodded. “The First Amendment in Professor Hingleburt’s newly discovered Bill of Rights says Congress shall make laws for all those things.”

“We’re certain it’s a forgery,” said Dad.

“It has to be,” said Mom. “Otherwise, everything we’ve taught you guys about America and its freedoms will have been a lie!”