Chapter 13

  Solomon slouched into his garage, only just noticing the small cardboard box tucked to one side. Huh, that's weird. I thought they normally put packages by the front door. He paused just long enough to pick up the box and went inside. He slipped out of his shoes, leaving them in the mudroom, and put the strange package on the kitchen table. By the time Luna and Mrs. Peterson came in, he had already grabbed a bag of Quasi Chips and was heading up to his room.

  "Thanks for picking us up from school, Mom!" he hollered down before Mrs. Peterson could object to his afternoon snack. By the time she could open her mouth to rebuke him, he was long gone.

  Solomon retreated to his room, thankful that he had brought his desk chair back from Luna's room the night before. He leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. A montage video of all the mistakes he made during football practice looped over and over again in his head. There seemed to be no end to the self-humiliation. He was forced to watch every stumble, every falter, and every trip. Seeded in between the clips of his failures was his disappointing lack of money, and the package deal of his life right now was almost too much to bear.

  But Solomon had gotten tired of beating himself up. He was usually very positive, and it was exhausting to be so depressed all the time. All right, it's time to be happy, he told himself sternly. Think happy thoughts. Puppies, kittens, rainbows, cupcakes, Quasi Quartet, superheroes, a thousand dollars... Nope - I can't do it! Everything always goes back to the money problem! He sighed and decided to flop onto his bed in despair instead. Pressing his face into his pillow (which had a Quasi Quartet cover), he wasn't sure whether he felt like yelling, crying, or laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

  "Hey." He was surprised to hear Luna's voice in his room, as he hadn't heard her come in. Postponing his avoid-reality-by-putting-face-in-pillow technique, he lifted his head. Luna sat in his chair, the package he'd found by the garage held in her hands.

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  "What's up?" he asked, sitting up in his bed. This might be interesting.

  "This box was sent to the two of us. No return address. It seems too light for a bomb, but who knows who sent it or what they put in it?"

  Solomon shivered at the thought of someone sending a bomb to their house, but then something came to mind. "Are you sure it isn't a listening device?"

  Luna's face paled. "Maybe it is... Hold on just a minute!" She raced out of his room and into her own. There were a few dings and clangs, and then she reappeared. "We're all good," she said, looking relieved. "I scanned it, and there's no detectable metal in it."

  “Whew… that could’ve been bad! Why don’t we just open the package, though? Since it’s not a bomb, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  Luna shrugged. “A lot of things could happen, actually, but I doubt they’re lethal. We’re more likely to get kidnapped than killed.”

  Solomon gave her a blank stare. “Kidnapped?” His brain chewed on that for a few moments before giving up and spitting it back out. Instead of trying to figure out what his sister meant, he took the box and tried to pull off the tape. Whoever had packaged it knew his stuff, though, and all his efforts did was to make his fingers hurt. He was just considering going at it with his teeth when Luna silently handed him a pair of scissors.

  A few snips of the scissors later, the box was open. Solomon grabbed the note that lay on top of its contents, while Luna carefully picked up a small, bubble-wrapped object. Solomon squinted at the note, trying to make sense of the strange, loopy handwriting. “Who on earth still uses cursive?” It took him a moment, but he was finally able to read it out loud: “You know what this is. Use it wisely. Signed, a friend.” Solomon rolled his eyes. “This has got to be the most boring mysterious note in the history of mysterious notes. What was even in the box?”

  Luna had unwrapped the object and was staring at it in confusion, surprise, and a bit of awe. “It’s a BBO crystal,” she said slowly. “It’s flawless. Perfect. Not a scratch on it.” She looked up, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “And it’s exactly what we need.”