Beth

Beth looked at the clock. This is just like Patrick, she thought. He was a half hour late. He should be at the library by now.

She looked out the window. The rain had become a drizzle. She thought, It’s because of the rain. He stayed home.

Beth put on her raincoat. She made her way outside. The columns of the Odyssey library dripped from the rain. She opened up a yellow polka-dot umbrella and hurried off.

Whit’s End, she thought. Patrick would most likely be there.

Beth sidestepped huge puddles. She stayed away from the street. Large fans of water sprayed up from the passing cars.

Beth was half a block away from Whit’s End. Just then, a lightning bolt lit up the sky.

Kaboom!

Beth shrieked. The flash was so bright, it hurt her eyes. The noise was loud. It pounded in her ears. The hairs on her arms stood straight up. And the skin on the back of her neck tingled.

That was too close, she thought.

Beth hurried up the steps and inside Whit’s End. The ice-cream shop smelled of hot chocolate. She looked around. No one was there.

She took off her raincoat. She hung it on the coat rack. Then she folded the umbrella and shoved it into a large stand.

Beth went to the counter. “Is anyone here?” she called out. “Mr. Whittaker? Connie? Eugene?”

No one answered.

Beth slipped behind the counter. She pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. It was empty.

She saw an intercom on the wall next to the door. She pushed one of the buttons. “Is anybody here?” she asked. “Mr. Whittaker?”

A few seconds passed. The intercom suddenly buzzed. She heard static. Then came a series of broken words: “In workshop . . . come down . . . lightning . . .”

Beth recognized Eugene’s voice. He must be in the workshop, she thought.

Beth went to the workshop door and down the stairs. She looked around the workshop. Many of Mr. Whittaker’s inventions were on. Some had lights that blinked like Christmas trees. Others hummed loudly. She smelled a faint musty burning odor.

“Eugene?” she called out.

“Here!” Eugene said. He stood next to the wall near the Imagination Station. He was flipping levers on a large control panel.

Beth looked at the Imagination Station. Patrick’s backpack lay next to it.

“Hi, Eugene,” Beth said. “What’s wrong?”

Eugene turned around. His thick, brown hair was covering his forehead and part of his glasses. He pushed it back and said, “It would seem that a sudden electrical surge of remarkable magnitude has circumvented our protective systems and interfered with —”

“You mean a lightning bolt fried the circuits?” Beth asked.

“Exactly,” Eugene said. “I’m glad you’re here. Would you assist me by reading the gauges on the Mega-Mix-O-Matic? I’ll attempt to adjust the circuits accordingly.”

The Mega-Mix-O-Matic was a large, voice-activated blender created by Mr. Whittaker. It could create dozens of ice-cream sundaes in just minutes. The kids loved to watch it work.

Then one day it began to throw the ice cream, bananas, and syrup at the customers. Whit moved the machine to the workshop for repairs.

Beth walked toward the blender. Then she noticed that the display on the Imagination Station was flashing. She went to the small screen. “Eugene,” she said, “is Patrick on an adventure?”

“Indeed,” he said.

“But there’s an error message on the display,” she said.

Eugene came quickly around the machine to look over her shoulder. “An error message?” He went to a laptop and typed. He looked up again. The error signal still flashed.

“No,” he said softly.

Eugene knelt behind the Imagination Station. He muttered for a moment. Then he stood up with a long cord. He plugged it into the side of the laptop. His fingers flew over the keyboard.

Beth watched the error message. It kept flashing.

Eugene made a small noise like gulp. He stared at the laptop.

“What’s wrong,” Beth asked. “Where’s Patrick?”

Eugene looked at her. “I don’t know,” he said in a worried tone.

“You don’t know?” Beth asked.

“He was supposed to be in 1930 Uruguay,” Eugene said. He raced to the Imagination Station again. He opened a small compartment beneath the display. His fingers pushed on the small buttons there.

“Well?” Beth asked.

The error message kept blinking.

Eugene waved a hand at the display. “The coordinates aren’t showing,” he said.

“Then where is he?” Beth asked.

Eugene made a high-pitched sound again. He turned to Beth. His eyes were almost as round and as large as his glasses. He said, “Patrick could be anywhere —at any time.”