SECOND EARTH

The telephone rang, making both Mark and Courtney jump. When they were reading Bobby’s journals they both became so immersed in the adventure that there own world seemed to slip away. But a jangling telephone is a surefire way to bring anyone back to the here and now.

Unfortunately for Courtney, they were reading the journal in Mark’s bedroom. Though Mark did his best to excavate all of his crusty sweat socks and half-eaten cheddar cheese (extra sharp) sandwiches, the room was still in need of professional fumigation. The good news was that Courtney’s gag reflex stopped when she got used to the putrid smell. The bad news was that she was afraid there were noxious gases eating away at her brain. Her goal was to read quick and get out fast.

They had been displaced from Courtney’s basement because Courtney’s father was actually going to attempt to make something in his workshop. That was always cause for worry in the Chetwynde house. Nothing good ever happened when Mr. Chetwynde decided to swing a hammer. Things usually got broken. When the telephone rang, Courtney’s first thought was: “Dad hurt himself! He’s headed for the emergency room.” She had absolutely no faith in her father’s handyman abilities.

Mark had to answer the phone because nobody else was home.

“Hello?”

“What’s the deal, Dimond?” snarled a familiar voice.

The call wasn’t about Courtney’s father, it was Andy Mitchell. He was actually calling Mark’s house. Mark wondered how Mitchell got his telephone number. Not that it was tough to get, but he couldn’t picture Mitchell figuring out how to do something as complex as using a telephone book.

“Hey!” answered Mark with false friendliness. “How’s it going?”

Mark was trapped. He didn’t want to say anything that would make Courtney suspicious about what was going on with Mitchell. He knew she wouldn’t continue reading the journal without Mark, so she had nothing to do but listen to his conversation. Mark fought his rising panic and pressed the phone closer to his ear so Courtney couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation.

“You tell me,” answered Mitchell. Mark could hear him snort and spit. “We have a deal, remember?”

“Uhhh, of course I do,” answered Mark, trying to sound all innocent.

“So what’s the problem?” asked Mitchell.

“No problem, everything’s cool.” He looked to Courtney and held up a finger as if to say: “I’ll be off in a second.”

Courtney shrugged. No biggie.

“So when am I gonna see the other journals?”

“Uhhh, let’s see. How about . . . tomorrow?”

“How about in an hour?”

Mark’s stomach twisted. “Okay, that’s good too. Tell you what, I’m kinda doing my homework now. But I should be done in an hour. Why don’t you call me back then?”

Mitchell hung up abruptly. Mark didn’t know what to do. If he just put the phone down, Courtney would wonder what happened. So he pretended to still be on the call.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Sounds good. Okay, talk to you later. Bye.”

Mark hung up the phone and hoped that Courtney only cared about getting back to reading the journal.

She didn’t.

“Who was that?” she asked. Of course she did.

Mark hated lying. He wasn’t good at it. He now had to get very good, very fast.

“Friend of mine,” he answered, trying to sound casual. “He needs some help with homework. A-Algebra.”

The instant Mark said that, he wished he hadn’t. Up to that point he’d been cool, but when he made the full-on lie, when he said “algebra,” he stuttered. Courtney caught it, too. He saw it in her eyes. Was she going to bust him on it? Courtney stared at him for a moment, then shrugged.

“Whatever,” she said. “Can we get back to the journal?”

“Sure, yeah, of course.”

Mark sat back down on the bed. He felt horrible. He hated lying to her, but was too embarrassed to tell her the truth. He was being blackmailed and had no idea how he was going to get out of it. If Courtney found out now, he was certain she’d lose all faith in him. It was a horrible position to be in. But for now at least, he could forget his own problem and lose himself in Bobby’s problems.

“What do you think of this Faar place?” Courtney asked.

“If it’s real, then destroying it would be the perfect, evil thing for Saint Dane to do. From what Spader said it’s a legend that everybody on Cloral knows. It’s part of their culture. If Saint Dane finds it and destroys it, it would be like pulling the rug out from under an entire territory. If the place is already a mess because of the food shortage, then the whole territory could crumble.”

“Which is what Saint Dane wants,” added Courtney.

“Exactly.”

“Let’s read,” said Mark.

“Yeah, you’ve got an algebra lesson to get to.”

This stung Mark, but he couldn’t let it show. It was time to focus on Bobby.