“A map made of stars,” she said out loud. “Or a star map?”
Theo’s brows bunched, then flew up in surprise. “I think you might be right!”
“Wait, how is a star map different from a regular map?” Jaime asked.
“The stars look different depending on the exact date and time you’re looking at them. If Tess is right, then the star map will give us a specific date. Maybe another clue.” Theo turned to Edgar. “Is that something your computer can calculate?”
“Well,” said Edgar, leaning back in the chair, considering. “Yes. I think it can.” He slid the chair closer and typed in some more commands. “This should identify the positions of the lights, er, stars, and tell us what day we need to pay attention to. It should also give us the vantage point from which the stars need to be viewed. It will take a minute or two.”
Nobody spoke as the computer calculated.
And calculated.
And calculated.
Tess tapped her foot. Theo pulled his lip. Jaime’s fingers drummed a rhythm on his leg.
The computer gave a soft ding!
They all leaned forward.
December 3, 1844. Brooklyn.
Edgar leaned back in his chair, blinking.
“Brooklyn?” said Tess. “What happened in Brooklyn in 1844?”
“Brooklyn wasn’t even a part of New York City then, was it?” Theo asked.
“No, it wasn’t,” said Uncle Edgar. “Let’s see, 1844, 1844.” Into the computer he typed the date and place. On the screen appeared inventions from the nineteenth century, notations from history books, photos and bios of dead presidents, endless lists of information. He frowned at the search results, lips working, fingers scrolling, until he stopped, took in a sharp breath, let it out with a long hiss.
“What?” said Tess.
Uncle Edgar didn’t answer but again walked over to one of the towering bookshelves. He consulted one volume, then another. Then he pulled a third. He opened the book.
“What is it?” Tess said.
Uncle Edgar spread the volume out on the desk, showing them a yellowing newspaper article. “On December 3, 1844, the Atlantic Avenue Tunnel officially opened in Brooklyn.”
Tess looked down at a drawing of a train entering a dark shaft. “What’s the Atlantic Avenue Tunnel? I’ve never heard of it!”
“That’s because it was only open for twenty years, and then it was closed, buried, and forgotten,” said Edgar.
“Until now,” said Tess.
Uncle Edgar laughed, and his laugh was equal parts shock and delight and belief. “Yes. Until now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Theo
They only had a few minutes to celebrate the discovery of the Atlantic Avenue Tunnel, because they soon found out that only way to access the tunnel was through a manhole cover smack in the middle of Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn. If they didn’t want to be seen, they would have to make the journey in the middle of the night and would only have a few hours to find the next clue. And since the tunnel was seventeen feet high and some 2,500 feet long, it was way too much ground to cover in so short a time, especially if you had no idea what you were looking for.
So, they would have to be prepared before they went anywhere, Edgar insisted. And to be prepared, they had to find out everything they could about the tunnel. Edgar Wellington dug up books and articles in the archives. Jaime searched the internet. Tess helped Omar and Priya and Ray continue to pack up Grandpa Ben’s apartment, just in case Grandpa had a relevant letter or a book or an artifact stashed somewhere, something that might describe the precise location of a new clue in the tunnel. She did this with the energy of a squirrel searching for a nut.
A few days into their research, however, Theo’s mom announced that they would be making a trip out to Long Island, and it was as if someone had stuck a pin in Tess and all her excitement and energy drained out. She sat deflated in the car next to Theo as Nine nibbled at her fingers and Mom issued her normal warnings: Grandpa could be having a good day, or he could be having a bad day, or he could be having an in-between day when one minute he was good and the next he was bad. They had to be ready for anything.
They were never quite ready.
The drive to Grandpa’s took about an hour. The place was a smallish white building situated on a wide lawn so green you might think it was spray-painted. Maybe it was. It also had lots of trees, winding paths for walking, and benches for sitting. If it was one of Grandpa’s good days, they could stroll around the grounds, maybe even go out to dinner. If not . . .
Well.
They found him in the sitting room, a sunny space decorated with gauzy curtains that let in as much light as possible. He was sitting by one of the windows, white hair swept back from his brown, regal profile like a bust you’d find in a museum. When Theo’s mom knelt next to Grandpa’s wheelchair and kissed Grandpa on the cheek and Grandpa said, “Hello, Rabbit,” they knew it was a good day, or at least a day with some small good in it, because Rabbit was Grandpa’s old nickname for Theo’s mom—no Yiddish for her. “I call you Rabbit because you’re so easily spooked!”
“Not so much anymore,” Theo’s mom said, her voice thick.
Grandpa patted her hand. “Sometimes, though?”
“Maybe,” Theo’s mom said.
Grandpa turned to Theo and Tess. “Look at you! So tall!”
“Hi, Grandpa,” said Tess, bending to give him a hug.
Grandpa held Tess by the shoulders, beaming at her fondly, his eyes still clear and blue as ever. “And what do they call you?”
Tess swallowed hard. “Tess. And Gindele. You always called me that.”
“Ah,” said Grandpa. “Rabbit is a rabbit and you are a deer. That’s nice.”
So maybe a bad day, too.
Grandpa turned to Theo. “And you, young man? Are you a rabbit or a deer or something else entirely?”
“I’m Theo,” he said. “Just myself.”
“Hmmm,” said Grandpa. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” said Theo.
“Because Rabbit has had imaginary friends before, right, Rabbit?”
Theo stuck out his arm. “Not imaginary, Grandpa. I’m real.”
Grandpa squeezed his hand. “So, you are,” he said, still smiling. “The other man was real, too.”
“What other man?” said Theo’s dad.
Grandpa Ben looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected Theo’s dad to speak, as if he were a painting that had suddenly offered an opinion. “The tall man. Very tall. Had to look up so far I hurt my neck.”
Theo’s mom said, “What was his name? Did he tell you?”
“Oh, I’m sure he did. He was very polite,” said Grandpa. “He sat and helped me with my crossword.” He gestured to a puzzle that lay on the table next to him. The puzzle was blank.
“What color was his hair?” said Theo’s mom.
“Hair?” said Grandpa. “He had hair. I told him that you had what he wanted.”
“What? What do I have?” Theo’s mom said. She looked as if she were about to cry.
Grandpa Ben laughed. “Not you, Rabbit, you!” He pointed at Tess. “The little deer that isn’t so little. Little deer grow up so fast.”