Duhellooo. GKZM here. This is the first chapter in a multichapter fic that will elate some people and send others running away screaming and trying to claw out their own eyes. I'm sure most people in the Jumanji fandom have never heard of MBS, and I'm also sure that a few in the MBS fandom are new to Jumanji. So with luck this will stir up some inter-fandom dynamics. (P.S. I know that we already have a Mr. and Mrs. Washington, but that chapter title was an artistic choice; this is a different Mr. and Mrs. Washington.)
Disclaimer: If I own the Mysterious Benedict Society or Jumanji, then may a hoarde of giant mosquitoes, stampeding rhinos, angry monkeys and Van Pelt bowl me over. (;
Chapter One: Mr. and Mrs. Washington
"He's hopeless," said Kate in disgust. She turned away from Mr. Curtain and strode out of the room. Giving Mr. Curtain a genuinely sad look, S.Q. followed her.
"Any luck?" said Reynie.
"No," said S.Q. "He won't talk to any of us."
"Ugh," Constance moaned. "I don't see why we have to keep coming here every month. We'll never make any progress."
"Now, don't say that," S.Q. admonished. "We mustn't give up hope."
"He is right," Mr. Benedict said sagely. "My brother has an excellent mind, he just chose to use it the wrong way. If we could only persuade him to talk to S.Q, there would be a chance we could sway him."
"But we don't really need him," said Kate. "The government already has his tidal turbines."
"But imagine," said Mr. Benedict, "how many more great things could come from the mind that made the turbines, and the Whisperer."
Everybody looked at him. Usually they all avoided talking about the dreaded Whisperer. It was a mark of how strongly Mr. Benedict felt about the situation that he would reference it here.
"Does this mean we are leaving?" said Number Two. "I'm anxious for dinner."
"Never fear, dear Number Two," said Mr. Benedict. "We shall go shortly."
"So, Pencilla, what's for supper?" said Constance with a toothy grin.
Number Two scowled. Ever since Constance had learned her embarrassing first name, she never lost an opportunity to use it.
The name Pencilla suited Number Two. She had a straight stiff posture and a yellowish complexion, and also seemed to be of the belief that one's clothing should match one's skin color, because she always wore vertical yellow stripes. What with her short-cropped rusty red hair, and the black stilettos she was wearing today, she looked even more the pencil than usual. She always wanted to be called by her code name, and would never have willingly given her real name to Constance.
But Constance was not easy to keep secrets from. She happened to have an extraordinary ability rather similar to Extra-Sensory Perception that gave her the ability to predict small events shortly before they happened and, in essence, read minds. These powers required constant pruning by her ingenious adopted father, not least because Constance, who was fond of writing rude poetry, was only four years old.
She was one of four extraordinary children who had dubbed themselves the Mysterious Benedict Society, named after their mentor and Constance's guardian, Nicholas Benedict. The other three children were Reynie Muldoon, a boy who had an uncanny ability to read people and solve riddles without the aid of telepathic powers; Kate Wetherall, a girl who was likely as not to walk up to you on her hands and shake your hand with her toes; and Sticky Washington, who remembered every tiny bit of information he took in.
This motley bunch of misfits were the best of friends, and all lived within thirty feet of each other, where they liked to send Morse code messages back and forth at night. Occasionally they held meetings, but these were quite different from the ones that had occurred when Ledroptha Curtain was at large. They had been recruited by Mr. Benedict to help take down Mr. Curtain, who was using advanced technology of his own making to broadcast subliminal messages to every TV-watcher, radio-listener, and cellphone-user on the planet.
Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain were both victims of a rare sleeping disorder known as narcolepsy. Constance had used her mental powers to cure Mr. Benedict of his, but Curtain still suffered from it. Both men were in the habit of wearing green suits because of the soothing effect the color had on them; Mr. Benedict still wore them simply because he like them, and Curtain was allowed to wear one because he was the only prisoner in the facility where he was kept.
An orphan himself, Mr. Benedict was responsible for each of the kids' having a guardian, for they had all at one point been orphans and runaways. Mr. Benedict had three adopted daughters: Constance, Rhonda Kazembe, an immigrant from Africa, and Number Two. He also had a bodyguard named Milligan, who'd had his memory wiped by Mr. Curtain and miraculously recovered it, discovering that he was in fact Kate's father.
At the moment Reynie and Kate slept in neighboring "apartments" in Mr. Benedict's house, where they lived with him, Rhonda, Constance, Number Two, Kate's father Milligan, and Reynie's guardians. Sticky and his parents lived across the street in a suburb of Stonetown, Massachusetts. Periodically they were required to therapeutically visit Mr. Curtain in his prison, where they saw on occasion their friend S.Q. Pedalian. S.Q. was a young adult who had once worked for Mr. Curtain, but realized his mistake in the end.
"I do not know exactly what we'll be having," said Number Two brusquely, "Rhonda's making it."
"But right now," said Milligan, putting an arm around his thirteen-year-old daughter's shoulders, "It's time to go."
"Will you be joining us," S.Q?" asked Number Two politely.
"Can't," S.Q. replied apologetically. "I've got to meet someone."
"Next time, then."
S.Q. nodded.
It was at dinnertime that the incident happened.
Everybody had come over to Mr. Benedict's house for dinner. Rhonda had just pulled a steaming turkey out of the oven, and most were getting settled, laughing and talking gaily, at the dining table, when there was a sudden loud crash from outside, followed by a twanging sound and a small yelp of pain.
They all rushed outside. Lying on the wet grass in the backyard was Kate Wetherall. There was a quivering rope strung from an upstairs window to the roof of another house roughly fifteen feet above her.
"What happened?" cried Rhonda, rushing over to her, but Kate said nothing.
It was pretty clear to Reynie what had occurred: Kate had lassoed the neighboring house and started to walk across the rope – why, he had no idea – but had lost her balance, which was the most confusing part of the whole situation. How on Earth had Kate Wetherall fallen?
Milligan reprimanded Kate over her foolishness for the next ten minutes, and then they ate the considerably cold dinner that had been sitting waiting for them the whole time. After dinner, the kids went up to Constance's bedroom, where they finally got a chance to question Kate.
"What were you trying to do?" said Sticky, clearing dirty socks off the floor to sit down.
"And what made you fall?" said Reynie, dragging an upturned laundry basket to the middle of the room for a stool.
"I was just bored," said Kate simply. "I felt like doing something, so I made something to do. I threw the rope out of a second-floor window; I was just going to do some tightrope-walking while I waited for dinner."
"But how did you fall?" Reynie persisted.
Kate looked uncomfortable. Constance beat her to a reply. "She doesn't want to tell us!" Constance said wickedly. "She's too embarrassed!"
"What do you mean, 'embarrassed?'" said Sticky.
"Alright, fine!" Kate said in a voice of resignation. "I lost my balance, okay? I'm out of practice."
The others exchanged incredulous looks. Kate scowled. "There hasn't been anything to do since we put the Ten Men in jail. It's so dull! The only thing to look forward to is these meetings, and even those are less exciting with nothing urgent or important to talk about."
"I agree," said Reynie. "What you need – what we all need – is an adventure. Like the one Mr. Benedict planned for us, except I envision this one without Mr. Benedict getting kidnapped."
"But we can't exactly just waltz up to Mr. Benedict and ask him to pretty-please take us on safari," said Sticky.
"Why not?" Constance demanded. She was ignored.
"We'll just have to make our own adventure," said Kate.
It transpired that the adults had been having a similar conversation, although with a singularly different outcome. The next morning, Rhonda informed them – smiling broadly – that they would all be going on a vacation to visit Sticky's grandparents in two days' time.
"Where do they live?" said Constance, who did not seem very thrilled by the ideas.
"About two hundred seventy miles north of here," said Rhonda.
"Brantford, New Hampshire," Sticky clarified.
"Two hundred seventy miles?" Constance asked in disgust. "How long will that take?"
"Four to five hours," Rhonda admitted. "But hey, look at the bright side! A trip out of town could be exactly what you kids need. It'll take your mind off of things, and there's lots of fun things to do there. Brantford's got a lovely park with a nice little river, and the biggest discount store in the world – never know what you'll find there – plus, the shoe factory is open to tourists. That'd be a bit of an adventure, don't you think?"
The children glanced at one another at the word "adventure."
"Parrish manor still has an owner," continued Rhonda. "And he lives there, so you can't look inside that. But there's always the factory and the statue, right?"
"Hold the phone," said Constance rudely. "Who is Parrish?"
"The Parrishes were the people who first settled the city," Sticky explained. "They've got a shoe company there."
"Hey, I've heard of them!" said Kate brightly. "Parrish Shoes!"
Rhonda nodded. "Angus Parrish founded Brantford, and now the family's selling shoes to everybody in the city."
"Everyone in New England," said Kate.
"But back to Sticky's grandparents," Rhonda said. "They live near the discount store, which is near the river – so you can visit it whenever you like!"
"How long will we be staying there?" asked Reynie.
"Two weeks," said Rhonda. "So you'd better start packing!"
And pack they did. It took the whole forty-eight hours, as the adults insisted on having them pack themselves extra clothes and as many books and DVDs (none of them liked to watch broadcasted television, even though the messages had long gone silent, but they were partial to a movie or two) as they could cram into their suitcases.
All together, the Washingtons, Benedicts, Perumals and Wetheralls had four vehicles. The Perumals owned a station wagon, the Washingtons a civic, the Wetheralls a pickup truck, and the Benedicts a minivan. All of them except for one were used for this particular getaway; the Washingtons and Reynie took their car, and the Perumals, Constance and most of the luggage went in their station wagon. Kate and Milligan had the truck all to themselves. Mr. Benedict, Rhonda, and Number Two would not be going, as they had too much "official business" to attend to.
The drive was long, and the civic's air conditioner was faulty, but Reynie enjoyed it immensely nonetheless. It was nice to spend a few hours simply chatting unworriedly with his best friend and his best friend's parents (the former slightly more so than the latter, of course). Kate and Milligan were having no worse a time in their truck. Indeed, the only person not satisfied by the experience – rather predictably – was Constance. She huffed and complained about the distance the entire distance, and pestered the soft Perumals into buying her two milkshakes along the way.
Sticky's grandparents owned more yard space than any house any of them had ever seen – with the exception of Kate, who had once lived on a farm with Milligan. They were all from a crowded metropolis where there was not a one-story building in sight. However, Brantford was not a hustling bustling city, but a pleasant town in which most people knew each other. Most people had a nicely sized front yard, and the Washingtons were no exception.
"I'd wager it's about one-twenty feet by sixty," said Kate with her hands on her hips, surveying the front yard.
Mr. and Mrs. Washington were already standing on the front porch waiting for them, waving and smiling. They were the parents of Sticky's mother, and one of them had arthritis like her. Constance and the Perumals had not yet arrived – mostly likely held up by ice-cream-purchasing – so Kate, Reynie, Sticky and his parents greeted his grandparents by themselves. It was Reynie's first time seeing them and they him, but Kate had met them once before.
"Oh, you've grown so much!" cried Mrs. Washington at Kate before hugging her.
Reynie shook hands with Mr. Washington in his wheelchair, and then they all went inside to get reacquainted and, in Reynie's case, introduced.
Constance and the Perumals pulled into the driveway a little over twenty minutes later, and they all went out for lunch. Of course, Constance was already full of ice cream and did not eat anything that was ordered for her.
It was not much of an exciting adventure, but at least they now had a new place to explore for the next fourteen days. Hopefully, they'd find something mildly interesting to occupy themselves with.
AN: For those who were confused, Kate wasn't walking from the ROOF of the house, just the second floor. She threw the rope to the roof of one of their NEIGHBORS' houses, which are a lot smaller than Mr. B's.