We had come to the island in the middle of Lake Eerie to find the creature who had saved my life. What we found . . . was an explorer.
He said his name was Doctor Omen, and he knew all about our creature.
"It's not a plesiosaur," he said. "They all died out millions of years ago. What it is, is a kelpie. You know what they are?"
"Water horse," I said. "But aren't they supposed to be legendary?"
"Just because something is legend doesn't mean it isn't real, or was once. This particular kelpie is the last in the known world. Believe me, I've been tracking her for fifty-seven years, and I know!"
"Ha!" I said. "Knew it was a she!"
We were sitting on the patio outside the gift shop, sipping iced tea from glass bottles and sharing some cupcakes with pink frosting. No one else was around. I wondered where Dash had gone, then decided I didn't care. His loss.
"You say she saved you from drowning?" Dr. Omen asked me.
"Yeah. It was like I was getting sucked down to the bottom, but suddenly she was under me and pushing me back up to the surface."
"I thought kelpies lived in Scotland," said Simon. "How did she get all the way to Eerie? We're not even near an ocean!"
"That's what you think," the doctor told him. "Deep under the lake, near the spot where your friend fell in, is the entrance to an underwater tunnel which leads directly out to a river that eventually connects to the ocean. That's why the water in this part of the lake is so deep. You're lucky you weren't sucked into the tunnel and drowned," he said to me.
"How come they've never found this tunnel before?" I asked. "They've done geological surveys and stuff. How could they miss it?"
"Because," Dr. Omen said, "it's under thirty feet of bedrock, and the opening is less than a meter wide."
"Then how could the kelpie fit through it?" asked Simon.
"Kelpies are shape-shifters. My thinking is, she just altered her size to be able to fit through the tunnel, and expanded again when she was in open water. She's as big as she needs to be at any given moment. Shrinks down to hunt small fish, grows to frighten off predators."
"Is there something in this lake bigger than her?" I asked.
"Yes," Dr. Omen said, beaming. "Me. You'll notice my craft, the Illusionary, is painted to look like a whale; specifically, a beluga whale. It's a little out of their territory, but that actually lures the kelpie in. They're very curious creatures, you see. Or were. As I said, this is the last one in the world."
"What are you planning to do with her," I asked, "once you catch her?"
He nodded, grinning broadly. "Such a magnificent creature should be put on display for all the world to see. I plan to sell her to Sea World for a fortune."
"I get sixty percent of that action," said a voice from behind us. I jumped and looked over my shoulder. It was Dash, who had missed the science but taken an interest once money was mentioned. Typical.
"Friend of yours?" Dr. Omen asked.
"Sort of," I explained. We introduced him to Dash, and vice-versa.
Dr. Omen invited us aboard his submarine. "I'm afraid it's close quarters in here, boys, for the four of us. It's really designed more as a one-man operation, but you're welcome to come along as long as you don't . . . touch . . . anything!" That last part was mostly directed at Dash, who was reaching for something that looked like it should not be messed with. He looked at us, tried to look innocent, and shuffled away, whistling "Yellow Submarine."
Simon and I sat down on the storage locker at the back of the craft. There were no seat belts, but we could brace ourselves against the walls if things got rough.
"Okay, boys!" Dr. Omen called back to us. "Ready to get underway?"
Dash stopped pacing and looked at him. "Underway? You mean . . . under water?"
"Of course! You want to find the kelpie, don't you?"
"Let me out! I'll, um, wait for you topside." His face was paler than I had ever seen it, even when he was being sick on the island ferry.
"Oh, don't be silly! It's perfectly safe."
"You don't understand. I . . . I can't swim."
"Oh, that's all right. Neither can I!"
Simon and I looked at each other. This wasn't good. Briefly I wondered if this hadn't been a bad idea from the start. Then I remembered that I owed that kelpie my life. The chance to get to see this magnificent creature, to thank her in person, was worth the risk to my mind.
Dr. Omen pulled some levers and flipped some switches, and the Illusionary hummed to life. Dials spun and panels lit up. It was really amazing.
"Hold tight," Dr. Omen said to us. "Crash, you might want to sit down and brace yourself."
"It's Dash," he grumbled, but he squeezed in beside us. We sat back against the wall (bulkhead; that was what they called it on a ship) and held on wherever we could.
When we started moving, I didn't even feel it. "When do we get underway?" I asked.
"Oh, we're already underway," Dr. Omen told me. "We left the dock a few minutes ago, and we're proceeding northwest, towards the tunnel entrance. She likes to hang out there when I'm not around."
"We're underwater?" Dash looked panic-stricken. "How deep?"
"Right now, we're at a depth of about eight meters-that's twenty-five feet. We will be descending to thirty meters-one hundred feet-and then holding position until the kelpie arrives. If you want, you can look through the periscope and see the beach and the island."
"Is it safe to get up now?" Simon asked.
"It's perfectly safe. I'll warn you if we're about to maneuver, but for now, you're fine. Go ahead, boys, have a look around."
Simon and I jumped up and took turns adjusting the periscope. "Hey, wow, this is awesome! Come have a look at this," I said to Dash.
"Nope. Not moving." He clamped his hands on the edge of the storage locker and shut his eyes.
"Okay, fine," said Simon. "Ooh, look, Syndi's taking off her coverup."
"Gimme that thing." Like a flash, Dash got up and shoved us out of the way to get a look through the periscope. "Oh, man! The magnification on this is unbelievable! I can see right down her-"
"Okay, that's enough of that." I didn't want Dash ogling my sister any longer. It was . . . awkward. "Let's look at the island next."
I didn't feel it when we came to a stop, either. "Okay, boys. We're at thirty meters. We're not on the bottom, but we're pretty close. Keep an eye on the forward viewscreen, and you might just see Madame Kelpie."
"What viewscreen?" Simon asked.
Dr. Omen slapped his forehead. "I forgot to turn on the viewscreen! Hang on a moment." He fiddled with a few buttons, and then a panel at the front lit up. It wasn't much bigger than our TV screen at home, and all it showed was murky water.
"Great view," Dash said.
"Shut up," I told him. I was looking forward to seeing the kelpie, since I hadn't gotten a good look at her before. Having her in front of me instead of underneath would be a definite plus.
"I'm cutting the lights," said Dr. Omen, which was funny because I hadn't noticed any lights before, "and going to silent running until she shows up. Try not to make any noise or wave anything shiny around. We don't want to attract her attention until we're ready."
None of us was wearing anything shiny, so that was one good thing. We sat back down and tried to be quiet, though the tension was killing us.
"Dr. Omen," I whispered, "how exactly do you plan to capture the kelpie, once we spot her?"
"Watch and learn, my boy. Watch and learn."
"Watching and learning is boring," Dash muttered. "I wanna do something!"
"We will. Oh, yes, we most certainly will. But not yet. You just wait till I give you the signal."
"And then what?" Simon asked.
"And then-we spring the trap!"
"You're not gonna hurt her, are you?" I asked nervously.
"No, I want her alive. All in the interest of scientific research, of course. Now hush."
We hushed.
I didn't dare look at my watch-it was too dark to see the numbers, and flicking on the backlight might have attracted attention-but I guessed it was about ten minutes before Dr. Omen said, "Here she comes!"
"How can you tell?" asked Simon.
"Listen."
Very faintly, as if from miles away, we heard a sort of low moaning noise, like whale song. (I'd never seen an actual whale, but I'd watched that Star Trek movie a bunch of times.) On the viewscreen, a dark shape was rapidly approaching us.
"Let her get a little closer . . ." Dr. Omen had his finger poised over one particular button on the panel in front of him. "Closer . . ."
I leaned forward, eager to get a good look at my savior. She didn't look as big as she had when I had been in the water, but if she could change her size, that made sense. "Can you enhance the image without scaring her off?" I asked.
"Certainly!" He pressed a few different buttons, and the picture on the screen cleared. And I got my first look at a kelpie.
She was probably about the size of an elephant. In the back, her body was rounded, with a short, stubby tail like a turtle's. Her flippers were long and graceful. But what really struck me was the horse-like head on a long neck, and the eyes. Her eyes looked almost human.
"Hi, Kelpie," I said, though I knew she couldn't hear me. "Thank you for saving me. I'll make sure you're treated well, wherever you're going."
The kelpie drifted a little further, and that was when Dr. Omen shouted, "Now!" and hammered his fist down on the button.
A line shot out of the front of the boat, and a net unfolded in the dark water. But the kelpie was too fast; she saw it coming and reversed course, shrinking down and slipping into the tiny crack on the bottom that was the entrance to the tunnel.
"Blast it! Lost her again!" He pressed another button, and the net retracted. "Oh, well, we'll have to try again. Are you boys free tomorrow?"
I didn't answer at first, still enthralled by those eyes. It was like she had been staring directly at me, into my very soul. I'd never had a girl look at me that way before.
I became aware of a clicking sound somewhere in my vicinity. It was Dash, snapping his fingers in my face. "Yoo hoo! Earth to Mars! Wake up!"
"What?" I snapped at him.
"We're coming back tomorrow, aren't we?"
"I know I don't have any plans," Simon said. "C'mon, Marshall, we can't do it without you."
I didn't even have to think about it. "Of course we're coming back," I said. "If you guys help me clean out the garage."
"Oh, man!" Dash did not believe in chores. "Count me out, then!"
"You don't help," I said, "you don't get your sixty percent."
He glared at me. "You wouldn't dare."
"If we're going to be partners in this, then we're going to be partners in everything. I'll let you do the easy jobs."
"Oh, all right. But this had better be good. I'm not spending all day breaking my back for another lost chance."
"Don't worry," Dr. Omen said. "Plan B will not fail!"
Plan B? It sounded more like the guy was on Plan Z. I mean, if he'd been hunting the kelpie for fifty-seven years without success, he'd had to have tried everything, right?
We thanked him anyway when he let us off at the boat dock.
When the boat docked back at the beach, I could tell that Dash's Dramamine was starting to wear off. He was starting to look positively green, as the afternoon's activities caught up with him. "You may have to start cleaning the garage without me," he said. "I think I need a bit of a lie-down."
"It's okay," I said. "Can you get home okay? I can call my mom."
"No, I'm fine. I'll be over later, I promise. Tell me something: are you happy, now that you've seen her?"
I thought about it. "Yeah, I'm pretty well satisfied."
At the time, I thought that I probably wouldn't get to see her up close like that again.
Boy, was I wrong.
Simon and I got back to my house around three o'clock.
"See?" I said to my mom. "I said I'd be home in time to clean out the garage."
"Yes, well, you'd better get moving. I want all that old junk piled at the curb by the time your father gets home."
"Why? Where's he gone?"
"He got called into work for some emergency meeting. He said he'd be back by dinner time, so hop to it. Call me when you need help moving the heavy stuff."
"That's okay," I said. "We've got it covered." I figured we'd do the easy jobs first, and leave the heavy lifting for when Dash finally showed up. If he showed up.
You might think, since we'd only lived in the house a year, that we hadn't had time to pile up a lot of stuff in the garage. And you would be right. Most of the junk was stuff the previous owners had left behind. Some of it was in halfway decent condition, but most of it was old, broken, or used up, and only fit for the trash pile.
It was a couple of hours later when Dash finally showed up. By then we were almost done, except for the heavy stuff and a couple of small boxes we had saved for him to work on. He looked much better now.
"What is all this stuff?" he asked, looking into one of the boxes. "Junk. Trash. Worthless."
"Yeah," I said, "that's why we're doing this. If you find anything good in there, you can have it. Everything else goes to the curb."
"There's nothing good in here," he said, but he looked anyway. Meanwhile, Simon and I dragged some of the smaller pieces of ugly furniture to the end of the driveway. We had quite a pile there now. By five-thirty, the only thing left was the purple chair.
We stared at it.
"That is one seriously hideous chair," Dash said.
"Yeah," said Simon. "The people who lived here before . . . all their stuff was like this. Weird colors, weird shapes . . . you should have seen the stuff they took with them."
"Well, I can see why they left this thing behind." He tried to lift it, but it weighed a ton. "Hnnnnn! What's this thing made of, rocks?"
"I think we can do it together," I said. "Simon, you get on that side. Dash, you go over there. I'll lift from the back. Ready? One . . . two . . ."
I never got the chance to say "three." From out of nowhere, this girl came running up to me and kissed me.
Right on the lips.
It wasn't a long kiss, but it was . . . unexpected. I mean, it's not like random girls came up to me on the street and kissed me all the time. In fact, not counting my mother, my sister, and my cousin Clarice, I'd only kissed a girl once, and that had been in a cemetery. (It's kind of a long story.)
When we broke apart, I stepped back and looked at her. I wasn't sure if I'd ever seen her before. She looked like a lot of girls a few years older than me. She had long blonde hair, pulled back in a ponytail and tied up with a piece of twine. I had to wonder why she didn't have an elastic or a scrunchie or something more suitable. She was wearing an Eerie High T-shirt that was a little big for her.
"Hey!" Dash said. "That's my shirt!"
Simon looked at him. "You mean the one you 'borrowed' from someone else?"
"Yeah! I mean, no! I mean . . . shut up, squirt."
I paid no attention to them. Under the shirt she was wearing a teeny-tiny pair of shorts, and I wondered who she'd "borrowed" those from. Her feet were completely bare. It was her hands that gave her away, though, or to be more precise, her nails. Only one person I'd ever known had her nails painted in that delicate green pattern that looked like fish scales.
"Sylvie?"
"Hello, Marzhall."
"What are you doing here? How did you find me?"
"I told you I would see you again."
Then I looked into her eyes, and I realized that this wasn't the first time I had seen her here. "You're the kelpie."
"I am." She smiled, showing her delicate white teeth.
"How can she be the kelpie?" Dash asked. "We saw the kelpie! It was . . . bigger than her."
"Kelpies are shape-shifters!" Simon reminded him. "They can take human form!"
She looked at them, her dark eyes flitting from one to the other in confusion.
"Oh, sorry," I said. "These are my friends. This is Simon, and this is Dash."
"Hello, Szimon. Hello, Daszh."
"Hi, Sylvie."
"Okay, now that we're all acquainted," said Dash, "I think some explanations are in order."
"I'm afraid they'll have to wait," I said, and pointed up the road. My father's car was approaching. "I'll see you guys after dinner. Meet at the clubhouse, at seven?"
"Club house?" Sylvie inclined her head and stared at me.
"Um . . . yeah, you don't know where it is. You can wait in my room while we have dinner. Then I'll take you there after. Just stay out of sight and don't talk to anybody till I say it's okay."
"She can stay at my place," Dash offered, but I didn't like the look in his eyes. Neither, it seemed, did Sylvie, who moved closer to me and slipped one arm around my waist.
"Oh, fine, then. See you at seven." He stalked off, and then turned back. "And I want my shirt back!"
"It's not your shirt!"
"I should go, too," Simon said. "It's my night for dish duty. See you later, Mars. Bye, Sylvie!" He waved at her and then ran next door to his house.
Sylvie and I went inside before my dad could see her and ask about her. I wasn't sure what to tell him-or Mom, either. My plan was to sneak Sylvie in through the kitchen while everyone else was in the dining room, up the stairs, and into my room, where she could wait for me until dinner was over and the dishes cleared away. Then I would sneak her out again the same way while the rest of the family watched TV, and we could proceed to the clubhouse.
But you know what they say about the best-laid plans . . .
Everything went fine until we bumped into my mom coming from the living room into the kitchen. "Oh, great, Marshall, you're just in time. Can you set the-oh, who's this?"
"Mom, you remember Sylvie," I said.
"Hello," Sylvie said, ducking her head.
Mom widened her eyes and took a step back. "Oh, my goodness! It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, welcome to Eerie, Sylvie."
"I liked New Jerszey better."
"Are you staying here in town?"
"Yes, at my family's home in the-near the lake."
"Oh, that's nice." She didn't seem to notice the slip. "Marshall, you'll have to set an extra place at the table. I hope you like pot roast, Sylvie."
"Thank you, Mrs. Teller."
Dad came in at that moment. "Boy, something smells good-oh, who's this?"
"Dad, you remember Sylvie. From Buzzy's?"
He squinted at her behind his glasses. "The waitress? What are you doing here?"
"Visiting," she said. "For the summer."
"Oh, how nice. Well, enjoy your visit. I'll be down in a minute."
Sylvie poured the milk while I lined up plates and silverware and folded the napkins into perfect triangles. Well, nearly perfect. What the heck, I figured, no one would care.
It was the most awkward dinner in family history. And that included the Christmas that Uncle Norman got drunk and danced on top of the table.
The best thing that could be said about the food was that it was edible. Technically. In the same way that tree bark was technically edible. Luckily I could get away with not eating much of it, because I was talking a lot.
Sylvie didn't talk as much as I would have liked her to. She gave the simplest answers to every question, without going into detail. And she didn't look at anyone much. She kept her eyes on her plate most of the time, probably trying to figure out what the heck she was eating.
"So where is it you're from, Sylvie?" Dad asked her.
Sylvie looked over at me helplessly, and I said, "New Zealand." It was the most exotic place I could think of.
"Really?" Mom seemed interested. "Whereabouts in New Zealand?"
"In the water," she said.
"Sylvie was on the swim team in her old school," I said. "She won medals and everything."
"Oh, isn't that exciting?" Mom said. "And what were you planning to do in Eerie?"
Sylvie looked up at her, smiled, and said, "Marshall and I are going to have babies."
There was a clang as my mother's fork hit the floor.
Then every eye was turned toward me. I felt my face redden, and I wished I could just crawl under the table and die.
"Uh . . . ha ha. She's kidding! You're kidding, right?" I looked over at Sylvie helplessly, but she didn't look like she was kidding. "Tell them you're kidding."
She just looked at me with those big, dark eyes and said, "Don't you want to have babies, Marshall?"
"No! I mean, yeah, but not now! Not for a long time! I mean, there's school and stuff. And we'd have to get married, and find a place of our own . . . you're serious about this, aren't you?"
She didn't say anything.
"Well, um . . . I think it's wonderful that you're planning for the future already," Mom said, "but you don't want to get too far ahead of yourselves. After all, you've only just met."
"I don't know about that," Dad said. "I knew when I met you that you were the one."
Syndi and I rolled our eyes. We'd heard this story at least a hundred times before. Sylvie, on the other hand, looked interested.
"So you choose your mates for life as well?"
"Yes," said Dad. "That's a funny way to put it, though. It's not like New Zealand is on another planet."
"Trust me," I said, "there's plenty of weirdness on this planet."
"Which reminds me," Mom said. "What are you boys up to tonight?"
"Nothing!" I said, a little too quickly. "I mean . . . just hanging out. Maybe watch a movie."
"Really? Not tracking UFOs or sponge migrations or whatever it is you were doing at the beach last week?"
"Nope. Nothing unusual in any way. I promised I'd be there at seven, so can I get a pass on dish duty tonight?"
Mom gave me The Look. "Nice try. Your friends won't mind if you're a few minutes late. Make sure to scrub out the pans, too."
"I can help," Sylvie said. She started clearing the plates from the table.
"Thanks," I said. "Sorry to put you through so much trouble."
"Not at all. I came here looking for you."
"For me? Why?"
"I meant what I said. I want to mate with you. I want to have your babies."
"Okay, stop," I said.
She looked sad. "I have said something wrong?"
"Yeah! I mean . . . look, I like you. I mean, you saved my life and all. But I'm not ready to be a father yet. I'm still in junior high school!"
That puzzled her, and she did that head-cock thing again. "But why does this matter? Marshall, I am the last of my kind. I must mate with a human male in order to keep my species alive. If not . . ."
"I didn't mean not ever. Just not now. Maybe in . . ." I tried to think. Did I want to go to graduate school? Could I do it with a semi-aquatic wife and a family? "Maybe ten years or so."
"But you are ready now! For my people, mating begins as soon as we are fully mature."
"Yeah, well, it's different here." I put my head down and scrubbed the vegetable pan as if my life depended on it.
"My enemy follows me. If I wait too long . . . there may not be another chance."
"You mean Dr. Omen? Wait-he said he's been tracking you for fifty-seven years. But you don't look much older than I am. Was he chasing your mom, or your grandma, or something?"
She looked at me. "I am much, much older than you, Marshall. We live a long time, but we can be killed. We have been killed, hunted from one end of the ocean to the other, until only I remain. Please don't let us die out."
I was just glad that the sound of the running water kept my family from hearing any of that conversation. "If you can get back to the beach, maybe you can swim out to sea again. We'll see if we can slow him down long enough for you to get a good head start. Then, just keep moving. I'll see you again."
"Where? When?"
"Ten years from now. From today. June eighth, two thousand three. As for where . . . the Jersey Shore is good enough, isn't it?"
She smiled. "By the big rock that looks like a cat."
"Yeah, I know the one you mean. Meet me there in ten years, and by then I'll be ready to have babies with you."
We finished the dishes together, dried off the pans and put them away, and then we hurried through the woods to meet the other guys at the clubhouse.
The clubhouse was an old shack hidden in the woods that no one else knew about. Dash had been living there for a while before moving again and not telling us where.. It wasn't really fit for anyone to live in, but it was great to just hang out.
There wasn't a door, just an old blanket hanging down in the doorway, so I knocked on the side of the door frame.
"Who iiiis iiiiit?" Dash called out, in mocking falsetto.
"It's us," I said. "We're coming in."
"What took you so long? It's . . . what time is it, minion?"
"I'm not a minion!" Simon protested. "Get a watch!"
"I've tried. It's actually harder than it looks to steal one right off someone's wrist-"
I pushed the blanket aside and stepped in. Sylvie stayed outside until I looked back at her and said, "You coming?"
"Do you want me to?" she asked.
"Sure I do! Come on."
I held the blanket back for her, and she quietly stepped over the threshold.
The clubhouse was one big room, about the size of my living room, with a couple of rickety pieces of mismatched furniture and a bare dirt floor. There was a couch, though, big enough for three people if we squished, and a rocking chair painted a sickening shade of pink that looked like Dash had picked it up off the curb on trash day. I should have told him he could take the purple chair home. At least it was semi-comfortable.
Simon and Dash were already sitting on either end of the couch, leaning as far away from each other as possible. Sylvie went and sat between them. That left me with the rocking chair. At least it was better than standing.
"Okay," I said. "There have been some . . . developments." As quickly as possible, I filled them in on what had happened between me and Sylvie at dinner and afterwards. It was even more embarrassing the second time around.
"So we just need to get her back to the beach," I said. "Tonight, before Dr. Omen tries to catch her again. Then tomorrow, we'll just act surprised when we can't find her again. Maybe we'll find a way to block up the tunnel so he can't come after her."
"But . . ." Sylvie's face was white, and her eyes seemed to take up half her face, they were so huge. "If you block the tunnel . . . I can't come back."
"It's probably better if you don't," I said. "We'll meet in ten years, at the Jersey Shore. I promise I'll be there. We'll get married right there on the beach, if you want. But right now, you need to lay low."
"How will we get to the beach?" Simon asked. "It's like miles away! And they lock the gates at nine o'clock."
"I can hot-wire a car," said Dash.
I said, "We really shouldn't steal a car. What if we get caught?"
"We won't get caught. And we'll bring the car right back when we're done, boy scout. I didn't say we'd keep the car. And if we get stopped, I have a fake ID. You just let me do all the talking."
"Sure we will," said Simon. None of us thought it was a good plan, but it was the only one we had. Sylvie's life and freedom depended on it.
Dash got up and rushed out the door. "Wait for me out by the road," he said. "I'll be right back."
He wasn't right back at all. He was gone an awfully long time. I began to wonder if he was coming back at all.
"I guess we should walk out to the road," I said. "He might take off if he shows up and we're not there."
"I don't like him," Sylvie said. "He is . . . dark inside."
"He's our only hope. We'll never make it to the beach in time without a car."
We followed the path through the woods out to Woodside Road, where a bright blue convertible was just pulling up to the curb.
I recognized the car. It was my English teacher's. Mrs. Lovejoy treasured that car. If anything happened to it, she'd probably flunk me in revenge.
"I figured if we're gonna ride," Dash said, "we should ride in style. Hop in."
I really didn't want to, but it was quarter of nine, and Sylvie was looking at me with those beautiful eyes, and I couldn't let her down.
"Okay," I said, "let's go."
We got to the beach just as the gates were about to close.
"We'll leave the car here," said Dash, slipping the keys under the visor.
"No way!" I said. "You promised to bring it back!"
"What do you suggest? We ram the gates to get out of here?"
"You can pick the lock or something, right?"
"Yeah, but it'll take me a few minutes. We might get caught."
Sylvie lifted her head as if listening to something in the wind. But there was no wind; it was an extraordinarily calm night. "Something is wrong," she said. "We should leave."
"We'll be fine," Dash said. "This way."
Simon hadn't said anything since we'd left the clubhouse, and I asked him what was up.
"I just feel like something's gonna go wrong," he said. "We'll get caught."
"If we do," I said, "we'll just pretend we were sneaking in to swim. They'll just send us home."
"What about-?" He jerked his head towards Sylvie.
"She can come with me. For now, anyway."
"I don't like this, Mars. I think we should just go home."
"You scared, Red?" Dash teased him.
"Shut up! I am not!"
"Just a little further . . ."
All of a sudden, Sylvie took a step forward, and a huge net sprung up and surrounded her. She struggled against it, but it held pretty well.
"Excellent!" Dr. Omen stepped out from behind the bushes. "Exactly as we planned it, my boy. You have quite a devious mind."
I stared at Dash. "You traitor! That's why you were gone so long! You were telling him where we were going!"
Dash just smiled. "I'm not giving up my sixty percent."
"You can have it all!" Simon yelled at him. "You jerk!"
"What should I do with them?" Dash asked Dr. Omen.
He shrugged. "Let them go. There's no way they can stop us now. Tomorrow morning, this little beauty's on her way to a top-secret military facility."
"You said she was going to Sea World!" I shouted.
"Sea World?" Dr. Omen shook his head and sighed. "You boys think too small. What would the military pay for a secret weapon that can sneak into enemy territory, plant explosives underwater, and then get away by infiltrating the locals? She's priceless."
"She's a person! You can't sell her like a weapon!"
"My dear boy," Dr. Omen said, as Dash hauled the net up into a waiting truck, "I can do anything I want. Who's going to stop me? You?"
I had to admit he was right. He had all sorts of gadgets on his side, and we had . . . Mrs. Lovejoy's car. Which neither of us knew how to drive.
"See ya, losers," Dash said to us as he slammed the truck's back door. I caught one last glimpse of Sylvie's terrified face before the doors closed. I wanted to say I was sorry, but it wouldn't be enough.
"Let's just go home," I said to Simon. "Nothing we can do now."
"I'll send you a postcard," Dash smirked.
That was the last straw. "Screw you, Dash!" I shouted at him, and then I turned and ran the other way.
Not quite ready to go home yet, we went to the clubhouse to think about what to do next.