The Curse on Spectacle Key, page 1
Dedication
For Orlando, my beloved mad scientist
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1: Reading Between the Lines
Chapter 2: Goodbye, Train Station
Chapter 3: Welcome to Spectacle Key
Chapter 4: Ding-Dong-Ditch
Chapter 5: A Name in the Sand
Chapter 6: Gazing out the Window
Chapter 7: An Experiment Goes Wrong
Chapter 8: A Girl Without a Name
Chapter 9: Zirconium
Chapter 10: Mama Z
Chapter 11: The Arrival of Something Else
Chapter 12: The Spotted Whale All-You-Can-Eat Buffet
Chapter 13: Video Games and Not-So-Funny Pranks
Chapter 14: Connie’s Lullaby
Chapter 15: Connie Is Good at Names
Chapter 16: The Trouble with Fairy Tales
Chapter 17: SCARE
Chapter 18: Apologies
Chapter 19: Whispers in a Sudden Storm
Chapter 20: Never Mind the Swamp Ape!
Chapter 21: The Zoning Meeting
Chapter 22: A Touch of the Wind
Chapter 23: Memories
Chapter 24: Ms. Shiverton’s Secret
Chapter 25: Hurricane
Chapter 26: The Group at Central Keys Middle School
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Reading Between the Lines
The clock above the chalkboard ticked away the final few seconds of fifth grade. Around me, kids cleared out their desks, shoving books, old handouts, pencils, and notebooks into their backpacks until they were puffed up like pillows. All the while, my teacher, Ms. McCartney, shouted, “I want those desks CLEANED OUT, children!”
The room buzzed with excitement. We’d had a pizza party earlier, and Principal Hawkins even arranged for an ice-cream truck to give away Popsicles! At PE, Coach Rhodes set up a race where we put water balloons on our heads and tried to keep them from falling. The librarian, Ms. Parsons, handed out bookmarks, while Ms. Valdez, the art teacher, set up a splatter paint station in her classroom. Green paint had settled under my fingernails, and my hands looked like they belonged to a swamp monster.
Why didn’t anybody tell me that the last day of school was the best day of the year?
I’d always missed it before because I’d be busy packing up my bedroom, getting ready to move to a new city or town thanks to my parents’ work. But not this time. Mom and Papi had said we would stay in Auburn, Alabama, for another year, at least! I’d never been in one school for this long. It seemed that whenever I’d start making friends, we’d have to move again. Friendless Frank, that was me.
Around me, kids were discussing their summer plans. I overheard Lane talking about how his parents got him passes to the aquatic center in town. And Audrey was going on about her upcoming trip to Tennessee to visit her aunt. As for me, I had zero summer plans. Not that I minded. The fact that I didn’t have anything to do was . . . amazing, actually.
No loading moving boxes into a truck in the summer heat. No unloading boxes either.
I leaned back in my desk chair and sighed happily.
Lane tapped my shoulder. “Hey, you, me, and the lazy river this summer, yeah?”
“Awesome!” I said. “Count me in!”
“All right, bro. See you later,” he said with a laugh.
For most of the year, I’d kept to myself, expecting my parents to change their minds about staying in Auburn at any moment. But then one day Lane and I got grouped together for a science lab, and I noticed he had a comic book I’d read the year before at his desk, The Legend of the Vampire Uncle. “That’s a good one!” I’d told him. Lane went on about his collection of horror comics, while I told him about all the scary novels I had at home. On top of that, we aced the science lab. We both loved books, especially the ones that made you afraid to sleep alone at night, and we both thought science was the greatest subject in school.
If Dr. Frankenstein himself had built a perfect friend for me, based on the things I liked, then Lane would have been it. But I didn’t let myself get too hopeful. My parents said we weren’t moving this year. So I knew that living in Auburn wouldn’t be a forever thing and at some point, I’d have to say goodbye again. Still, I was determined to enjoy my stay-at-home summer, and I was especially looking forward to not being the new kid in the fall for once.
The bell rang at last, and cheers filled the classroom. One by one, I watched as everyone pushed out of the room until it was just me and Ms. McCartney.
When I looked up, she was waving an envelope at me. I rushed to the front of the room to get it. It had my name on it, written in cursive.
“I think we both know what this is,” Ms. McCartney said, giving me a wink.
My knees felt a little wobbly. Could it be?
I tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter. It read:
Dear Frank Fernández,
It is with great pleasure that the Auburn City Library admits you to its Junior Librarian Program! You’ll get a chance to help organize our Summer Reading Bash, serve as a Reading Pal to a younger child, and meet visiting authors. At the end of the summer, you will get to choose three books of your own to keep!
Please sign and return the attached form to accept your spot in the program. Congratulations!
Keep reading,
Tonia Harrison
Librarian
“I can’t believe it!” I shouted. I’d applied to the Junior Librarian Program back in the spring, reminding myself not to get my hopes up. I’d never applied to anything before, so in the “Experience” box of the application I’d had to write “None.” As for the list of “Previous Schools Attended,” I’d had to attach a separate sheet because there wasn’t enough room on the form. But I thought my essay on my love of scary books was pretty good, and Ms. McCartney only had to correct about ten grammar errors.
Ms. McCartney gave me a fist bump. “Well done, Frank!”
“Thanks, Ms. M,” I said, still grinning.
“I have something for you, by the way,” she said, and started rummaging through the giant plaid bag she brought to class with her every day. I didn’t know what to expect. One time, she pulled a basketball out of that bag when the one on the playground court deflated. She always had the perfect size Band-Aid in its depths, plus chargers for various devices. I’d seen a power drill, an inflatable Santa Claus, and even a stray calico kitten come out of there. Someone would always whisper “Mary Poppins” whenever she started digging into it. With Ms. McCartney, anything was possible.
“Aha!” she said at last, and handed me a heavy brass magnifying glass. The glass had a sculpted wooden handle, and engraved in the brass it read: For reading between the lines.
“Between the lines?” I asked, turning the object in my hand.
Ms. McCartney nodded. “When you read between the lines, you understand more than just what the words mean. You understand what the author was trying to really say. How they were hoping to tap into your brain and your heart. When you read between the lines, you notice patterns, and where there is a pattern, there is meaning. Read between the lines, Frank, and you won’t go wrong.”
I didn’t entirely understand what Ms. M was trying to tell me, but I loved her gift anyway. An antique-looking magnifying glass seemed like just the kind of thing a real librarian would have in their desk!
“Thanks, Ms. M. I love the magnifying glass. See you in the library this summer?”
Ms. McCartney smiled. “You bet. You’ll find me in the horror section, between the ghosts and the werewolves. Deal?”
“You got it!” I said. Just like Lane, Ms. M and I had the same taste in books. When I left the classroom, my cheeks were aching from smiling so much.
For the first time ever, my summer would consist of fun things, not boxes and moving trucks. Not only was I going to go to the pool with Lane a bunch of times, but I’d get to volunteer at the library, which was my favorite place in the world. There would be tons of books to read, maybe even new friends to make.
I would be Friendless Frank no more!
I had never, ever been happier.
Chapter 2
Goodbye, Train Station
My family lived in a converted train station right in the middle of town. It had high ceilings and the brass ticket booth still standing in one corner where I’d pretend to buy train tickets to anywhere and everywhere. Papi had found the station so he and Mom could renovate it and turn it into a home. Before my parents came along, the ceiling was caved in, and college kids used to sneak in at night to throw parties. But Mom and Papi had turned it into a beautiful house, the kind people put in magazines and, more importantly, buy from my parents. Their business, Fernández Home Conversions, was dedicated to taking unusual structures and turning them into great homes for families to buy.
The renovation wasn’t done yet, which was why we were sticking around in Auburn for another year. The front door still stuck, for example, so I had to kick the door while wiggling the key at the exact same time for it to open. It wasn’t an easy thing to do with a backpack full of books, paper, old projects, and school supplies. I couldn’t wait to tell Mom and Papi about Lane’s passes to the aquatic center and the Junior Librarian Program!
As soon as I walked inside, I heard my mom call, “Mister, we need to talk.” At first, I wondered if I’d left my stinky PE shoes in the middle of the hall again. Papi tripped on them last week and I’d gotten a huge lecture on putting my things away.
“Hijo, come here,” Papi said softly, and my stomach dropped. Oh no. This wasn’t about the shoes. I knew what was coming, and it never got easier.
“When?” I demanded, flinging my loaded backpack onto the kitchen table. Papi had made the table out of railway ties, with strong iron clasps holding it together. A team of people could barely lift it.
“Oh, mister,” Mom said sadly.
Papi wandered into the kitchen, blueprints rolled up under his arm. “Wait till you see our next project, Junior. You’re going to love it.”
“I doubt it. I love this place,” I said, sitting at the table and hiding my face in my hands. I mumbled through my fingers. “I like living in Alabama. And I was going to hang out with Lane this summer! We made plans and everything. Besides,” I added, “you said this renovation would take longer than the others. You said I’d get to have two years in one school! You said so!” I stopped talking when my voice started to quiver. One of the bathrooms was still incomplete, and the backyard was torn up. Why were we leaving this place already?
Mom and Papi pulled chairs up to the table, their legs screeching against the concrete floor. “I know, hijito,” Papi was saying. “We have a buyer eager to move in and finish the renovation on his own. Plus, an opportunity came up that we can’t pass on. You know the deal. This is how we make a living.”
I slid the Junior Library Program letter across the table, keeping my eyes closed as my parents read it silently.
“Ay, Junior,” Papi said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Unless the next home conversion is in a library full of books, I don’t want to hear it,” I complained. I loved books the way my parents loved renovating places to live. They’d transformed an old schoolhouse in Pittsburgh, a church in upstate New York, a water tower in Atlanta, even a car repair shop in New Haven all into amazing houses. We’d lived in each of the places my parents renovated, so my whole life had been one big construction site. I was used to dusty rooms, stepping on nails (I always wore shoes indoors), Porta-Potties for when the bathrooms didn’t work—and living in the coolest house in town.
I still thought about Mikey in Pittsburgh, Valentina in New York, and Jerome in Atlanta. They’d all promised to keep in touch, but none of us had cell phones yet, and, well, moving day was the last I’d seen of them. So when I got to New Haven, and later Dallas, Mission Viejo, and Saint Paul, I’d made up my mind not to make any new friends.
And now I’d let my guard down and gotten my hopes up. I’d made a friend, and even worse, made plans with that friend. Plus, I’d applied to a summer program and gotten in. Shouldn’t have done that either. Then there was Ms. McCartney, the best teacher I’d ever had. If I hadn’t become Lane’s friend, or applied to the Junior Librarian Program, or gotten to know Mrs. M so well, I wouldn’t be feeling so awful about moving. Auburn would be just another pushpin in the map of places we’d left behind.
Why had I believed my parents when they’d told me we’d be sticking around this time?
I felt Mom’s hand on the top of my head. “But we’ve got good news,” she said.
“Actually,” Papi put in, “there are three pieces of good news.”
“You’re right,” Mom said. “Which do you want first, mister? The good news, the good news, or the good news?”
I pretended to think for a minute. “Um, I’ll take the good news, I guess.”
“¡Perfecto!” Papi announced. He rolled out the blueprints in front of me. What I saw made my jaw drop.
“A lighthouse? You’re renovating a lighthouse?” The line drawings showed a tall structure with a spiraling staircase inside. Each floor had its own room, with the kitchen and living room downstairs on the ground level. I hated to admit it, but it looked awesome.
“¡Sí, señor!” Papi said.
Mom’s eyes were shiny and her cheeks were glowing. I’d never seen her look so happy about a new place. “I took one look at the advertisement and I just knew we had to renovate the place. It was like I felt it in my bones,” Mom said. “There was a competing offer, but we won the bid.”
“Meant to be!” Papi added.
“And it’s our last move. I promise. From now on, the lighthouse on Spectacle Key will be our base of operations.”
I shrugged. I’d been so excited when they’d promised we would get to stay in Alabama for a little longer. I wanted to believe them, but could I? “Yeah, right. You said we would stay in Auburn for two years.”
Mom and Papi looked at each other. Sometimes I thought they were communicating telepathically.
“This time it’s different,” Mom said.
“We promise,” Papi added.
No more moving? I thought, hardly believing it. I rolled my eyes, which would normally get me in trouble, but Mom and Papi let it slide.
“And do you know why it’s different this time?” Mom asked.
I shook my head.
“Well, can you guess where Spectacle Key is?” Mom went on.
I wondered for a moment. It had to be near the ocean, of course. East Coast or West Coast, though? I took a stab at it. “North Carolina,” I guessed.
“Close,” Papi said. “Head south.”
“Florida!” I exclaimed. My heart started pounding. If we were moving to Florida, that meant we were going to be closer to my pop-pop, who lived in Miami.
Mom clapped. “The Florida Keys, to be specific. You got it in two!” she said.
Suddenly, I felt as if I could float. Pop-Pop! He was the greatest pal in the world. There was nobody like my grandfather. Plus, if we were staying in one place, for real this time, then maybe I’d get to make new friends my own age. Maybe I’d make a best friend, somebody I would know for years and years.
“We’re going home, Frank. Home,” Mom said, her eyes shining.
My mom grew up in the Keys. Technically, she’s from Key Largo. We didn’t visit that often, though. Nobody in the family lived there anymore. My cousins were scattered all over the country, having gotten away from the heat and the hurricanes as soon as they could.
“And I’ll be closer to mi país, too,” Papi added.
My dad was from Cuba, and the Keys were only ninety miles away from the island he had left when he was a kid.
“Home,” I repeated.
“Home,” my parents said at the same time. Suddenly, the Junior Library Program seemed a little less important. My heart still clenched when I thought of Lane, though. He was the coolest kid I’d ever met. It stung to think about missing out on the Auburn summer I’d planned, but . . . I’d never have to move again. That was the best news I’d had all day. It was the best news ever, in fact.
Mom looked up Spectacle Key on her phone and showed me the website she found. “Spectacle Key is one of many small islands that make up the Florida Keys all the way at the end of the state. Key is just another word for island. The key we’ll be living on is called Spectacle Key because it’s in the shape of a pair of glasses. The lighthouse sits on one of the ‘lenses,’” she read out loud.
“What’s on the other lens?” I asked. A picture of Spectacle Key had already started forming in my brain. Water all around, palm trees, warm weather, Pop-Pop nearby. It sounded like a dream.
“An abandoned, run-down building,” Papi said. “It came with the lighthouse. Maybe we’ll convert that one, too.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Mom warned him. “The keys are all connected by one street and a series of bridges. One road in, one road out,” she added. “And Pop-Pop will be just two hours away by car. He’s getting older, and it’s time we moved closer to him.”
Pop-Pop lived in Miami, where he had been a professor of chemistry at the university. When he gets going on his theories about nanotechnology or molecular structures, he sounds like a cross between a mad scientist and a wizard. I missed him like crazy.
“Good news numero tres is . . .” Papi drummed on the table while Mom jumped up and ran to the laundry room, putting her hand on the door handle.
“You always say it’s hard to make friends,” she said, her voice cracking a bit like she was getting weepy. I looked down at my hands. It didn’t feel so great to be reminded of how lonely I was at times. “And your papi and I know how difficult all this moving has been for you. So to make it up to you, and to make sure you always have a friend nearby, we got you this.” Mom slowly opened the door to the laundry room and beckoned me over with her finger.
