“No. I dropped it. But I have the picture.”
Davery frowns. “Well, now he knows you were there.”
“It’s better than letting the photo fall into his hands, right?”
“Probably,” he agrees. “But now that he knows you saw him at your house, he may not wait until after school to get you. He may come here.”
As if on cue, the overhead speaker crackles to life. We pause, listening as our principal, Mrs. Peterson, comes on. “Would Nizhoni and Marcus Begay please report to the office?” she asks in her feathery voice. “Nizhoni and Marcus Begay. It’s a…family emergency.”
“Oh no,” I whisper. “Mr. Charles.”
Davery blinks. “What are you going to do?”
“My dad said to run. So I’m going to get Mac and run.”
“I don’t know, Nizhoni. Maybe you should go to the police. Or tell Principal Peterson.”
“You know the police won’t take my side. Not in this town. And Principal Peterson’s already compromised. Nobody’s going to believe me when someone like Mr. Charles tells them I’m lying.”
Davery doesn’t argue. He knows I’m right.
“I better go,” I say. “I’ve got to stop Mac from going to the office.”
“Do you have a plan? I mean, what are you going to do after that?”
“Do you remember how I had you google ‘Na’ashjéii Asdzáá’?” I ask, an idea forming in my mind. “Well, it’s sort of a long story, but I need to find her. I had this dream.…Someone told me she could help me get weapons to fight monsters. Now that Mr. Charles has my dad, I think that’s what I have to do.”
Davery doesn’t even look at me funny. He just marches us back to the computer, types in his secret password, and searches for “Na’ashjéii Asdzáá” again. “It says here that not only did she bring weaving to the Navajo people, but she is a helper and protector, too.” He scrolls some more. “Her traditional home is at the Spider Rock in Canyon de Chelly.”
“Oh.” I blush. “I honestly thought it would be harder to find her.”
“Apparently not. She is near Chinle, Arizona, on the Navajo Nation.” He quickly pulls up a map. “It looks like you can take the train as far as Gallup, New Mexico. From Gallup, it’s another ninety-one miles to Chinle.”
“Ninety-one miles?” That’s too far to walk. “We’ll just have to take the train now and figure it out once we get there. Maybe they have Uber.…”
Davery pulls up the Amtrak schedule. “Okay, there’s a train leaving in an hour. Can you get to the station downtown?”
“I’ll have to find Mac first, but we’ll make it.”
I watch as he fills out passenger information forms for Mac and me. When he gets to the payment screen, he doesn’t even pause, just types in the numbers.
“When did you get a credit card?” I ask, surprised.
For the first time, Davery looks guilty.
“Davery Dallas Descheny! You better explain.”
“It’s my big brother’s,” he says sheepishly. “I use it for buying games online, and I pay him back with my allowance. But this is an emergency, right? The principal said so.”
I lean over and hug him, squeezing until he coughs. “You’re the best.”
“Yeah, I know. So”—he hits Print—“three tickets to Gallup.”
“Three?” I ask, confused.
“One for you, one for Mac, and one for me.”
“You’re coming?”
He nods. “I can’t have my best friend running off to fight monsters by herself.” Smiling, he adds, “Besides, you might need a credit card again.”
I grin, ready to burst with happiness and relief. He hands me two of the printed tickets.
The loudspeaker crackles on, and Mrs. Peterson comes on again, repeating her request for Mac and me to come to the office.
Davery’s got his thinking face on. “I’ll stay behind, try to hold them off for a while.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll think of something. You get Mac and head for the station. I’ll meet you there. You’ve got your phone?” Davery asks.
“Yes.” I pat my pocket.
“Text me if there’s a problem. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
I give Davery one last shoulder squeeze before I fast-walk past the Ancestor Club kids, who stare openmouthed at me again, and rush into the hallway to look for my brother.
I can’t find Mac anywhere.
My heart’s beating so fast it’s hard to think past the panicked thumping in my chest. What if he’s already in the principal’s office? Would she hand him over to Mr. Charles without a note from my dad? Maybe the monster forced Dad to write one.…What if I’m all alone now?
But then the loudspeaker comes on again and Mrs. Peterson, sounding increasingly annoyed, orders Mac and me to come to the office. This time she adds, “Now!”
I exhale, relieved. My brother’s still free.
But if that’s the case, where is he?
Not in the school, or he would have gone to the office.
Which could only mean…
Adrien Cuttlebush.
I take my family picture out of the frame and tuck it in my back pocket along with our train tickets. I wish I could keep the frame, which I made for my dad years ago, but it’s too bulky, so I regretfully drop it into the nearest garbage can and head over to the baseball field.
Sure enough, Adrien’s still there, along with his three friends. And in the middle of their circle stands one terrified-looking Mac. His backpack is lying by his feet with the tip of his iPad sticking out, and his new box of fancy colored pencils has spilled on the ground.
Rage rises in me, turning my vision red. I clench my fists. Nobody messes with my little brother on my watch! But just as quickly as the rage came on, doubts begin to swirl in my mind. What if I mess this up the way I messed up the basketball game? And confronting Mr. Charles. And everything else I do.
I shake it off. Doubts or no doubts, I have to help Mac.
Besides, I have monster-fighting skills now. This will work!
Right?
“Hey!” I shout, stalking forward. “Leave him alone!”
Adrien and his buddies turn to look at me.
“Well, if it isn’t Nizhonee Baloney,” Adrien drawls in that irritating voice he has, deliberately mispronouncing my name. “Heard about your epic fail at the basketball game.”
“My nose, my nose!” one of the other boys squeaks in a voice that sounds absolutely nothing like me. Okay, he sounds exactly like me.
I can feel my face heating up in embarrassment.
“Hey, Marcus,” Adrien sneers, “too bad you have to have your sister come and protect you. Especially when everyone knows she’s a loser, too.”
They burst into belly-clutching laughter, as if Mac and I are the most hilarious kids they know.
I remember what Dad said about not attacking people, no matter what, but I can’t help it. I just want Adrien to shut his stupid face. So, like I did last night with Mr. Charles, I lash out. My fist flies before I can even think to stop myself. But Adrien’s way more agile than Mr. Charles was, and he dances out of range. My glorious punch passes in front of his nose, missing by inches. Momentum makes me stumble forward. My foot gets caught on Mac’s backpack strap, and I trip. And smash! I fall face-first into the dirt with an Umphhhh!