The Secret Cellar by Michael D. Beil Read Free Book Online Page A

you
.
    If you want them, turn the page
.
    If you don’t, put this book back on the shelf, please
.
    “Sophie!” hisses Leigh Ann, who then drags me away by the arm. “Come on!” She grabs the notebook out of my hand and jams it between the two closest books.
    “But that’s not where it goes,” I protest, returning it to its proper place as Leigh Ann physically pulls me down the aisle toward the nonfiction section.
    Ugh. Nonfiction. A strange, alien place, this realm of books about real people. I glance back longingly at the fiction section. “But—”
    “No! Stay here, and start looking!” Becca scolds. “Do you even remember what we’re looking for?”
    “Y-yes. Of course. Nine … famous … guys.”
    Becca stares at me, openmouthed. “If we lose, you’re buying the ice cream.”
    “Okay, jeez. I get it. It’s
Nine Worthy Men
. And you think it ought to be around here? Where are Margaret and Malcolm?”
    “A couple of aisles over,” answers Leigh Ann.
    “Well, that’s probably a good sign,” I say, my eyes already scanning the top shelf. The fact is, when I want to find a book—even nonfiction—I have a gift.
    And my gift doesn’t let me down; less than a minute after I start looking, I spot a copy of
Nine Worthy Men
. It’s on the lowest shelf, and I dive to the floor to pull it out.
    “Hey—got it,” I whisper to my teammates.
    They join me on the floor just as I realize there’s a problem. “Uh-oh.”
    “Uh-oh?” they repeat.
    “There ought to be three books, but I only see volumes two and three. And Alexander the Great is in volume one.”
    “Naturally,” says Leigh Ann. “Nothing is ever easy. Maybe it’s around here somewhere. Maybe somebody took a look at it and put it back in the wrong place.”
    “Did you guys find it?” Margaret asks, puzzled by the sight of the three of us on the floor.
    “Sort of,” I admit, handing her volumes two and three. “The set seems to be missing the one we need.”
    She calls Malcolm over to join the search, but after ten minutes, we still have only six worthy men.
    “Now what?” Leigh Ann asks.
    “Plan B,” says Margaret. “Back to Sturm & Drang.” Her face looks like she’s sucking on a lemon as she says the name of the store.
    Becca pulls Leigh Ann and me close, putting her arms around our shoulders. “Since our team, you know, technically found the book, I think you guys owe us some ice cream.”
    “Hey, that’s right,” Leigh Ann agrees.
    Margaret starts to protest, but Malcolm the Peacemaker (could he be the Tenth Worthy?) holds up a hand to stop us before we even start arguing.
    “Let me settle this the easy way: the ice cream is on me. When we get back uptown, we’ll go by Perka—Oh, right. Tell you what. Will you take a rain check for the ice cream? Let me have a day or two to do a little digging.”
    “Oh, I get it,” I say. “Digging. Because you’re an archaeologist. Clever.”
    Leigh Ann, who lives in Queens, and Becca, in Chinatown, head home from the Strand, while Margaret and I take Malcolm’s offer of a cab ride home. He gets out at Third and Sixty-Fifth and hands the driver enough money to get us up to our neighborhood, which is very cool, indeed.
    We’re almost there when I remember the red notebook with the intriguing message back at the Strand. When I tell Margaret about it, I consider asking if she wants to go back for it, but it’s getting late and I have a ton of homework. I’m pretty sure it will still be there in a few days, and besides, maybe dealing with only one secret message at a time is a good policy.

Okay, okay, I admit it—my loyalty to Perkatory might be the teensiest bit irrational
    Raf calls at eight o’clock, and I stay on the phone with him for an hour, which is unusual for me: I’m just not a big phone person. But it has been a few days since I’ve seen him, and you can only convey so much information by texting. You see, ours is a long-distance relationship, New York