CHAPTER 51

What to Do?

“What should we do?” I asked Sergeant Caleb.

“Do about what?” Sergeant Caleb asked.

“About the turtle,” I said.

“You think there’s something we should be doing?”

“Yes. What if Sholmos Bunyip is an evil person? What if the turtle falls into his hands? What if one of those events, like the old powers waking up, happens?”

“First of all, those events . . . that’s a good word for it, events . . . happen a long time apart. When the next one happens, Sholmos Bunyip might be long gone and the turtle might have moved on many times. Anyway, it’s your turtle—for now—I gave it to you. No one gave it to Nick Bluegum, and if he sells it, no one will have given it to whomever he sells it to. A thing like that has to be given—it can’t be sold, traded, or stolen. You have to give it to the next person, and something will tell you when it’s time to do that, and whom to give it to.”

“But I don’t even have it,” I said.

“You have the one you switched at that fellow’s store,” Sergeant Caleb said.

“Yes, but it’s a fake,” I said.

“Is it? Let’s see it,” Melvin the shaman said. I dug the turtle out of my pocket and handed it to Sergeant Caleb.

“Pretty good,” he said. “I tell you what . . . hang on to this one, and don’t worry about anything.”

I was confused.

“I hope you boys realize that, even though we’ve had doughnuts together, when we meet at school, conduct must be strictly military,” Sergeant Caleb said.

“Yes, Sergeant Caleb,” Seamus and I said.

“No ‘How’s it going, Melvin?’ or anything like that, especially if anyone else is around.”

We understood.

“Well, I’m going to the music store now to see if they have a new Dizzy Gillespie record. Don’t worry, Cadet Wentworthstein. Everything is in good order.”

“Thanks for the Bismarcks,” we said.