Sean Cullen - The Prince of Two Tribes

“We still have three more days,” Greenleaf said softly. “Perhaps Charlie will be able to work a miracle.”

Kim merely scowled in answer. “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Greenleaf chuckled softly.

“What’s so funny?” Kim demanded.

“I never thought I’d see you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Jealous.”

“Jealous? Ha! Of that… ” Kim searched for a word scathing enough but failed. “You really are losing it, Greenleaf.” She spun on her heel and stomped up the stairs to the balcony.

Greenleaf watched her go with a wistful grin on his face. “Oh, to be young. Or at least younger.” He bent to examine the chalk circle on the floor.

“Here he comes,” Harold whispered. “Get down.”

They were hidden in a clump of juniper bushes off to the side of the main road leading to the Community Centre on Ward’s Island. From where they crouched, they had an unobstructed view of both the road and the building.

“Where did he come from?” Dmitri asked, puzzled.

“I don’t know,” Harold answered, equally confused. They had followed Brendan across to the island and all the way to the Community Centre. They had to be careful because the ferry wasn’t very big. Luckily, the boat was crowded with commuters on their way home from work on the mainland. Winter wasn’t high season on Ward’s Island. The amusement parks were closed and the tourists didn’t come. Only island residents were in evidence, people who lived here all year long.

It was a stroke of luck that the pipes in the girls’ washrooms on the third floor burst. Ms. Abernathy, in crisis mode, had been forced to let Dmitri and Harold leave without serving their detention. They’d been free to tail Brendan as he made his way to the island.

They had managed to hide at one end of the ferry, hopping on at the last possible minute. Brendan hadn’t looked back to discover them among the island commuters. He stood outside in the raw wind and stared straight ahead as Ward’s Island approached, lost in thought.

After they arrived at the island, they had followed at a safe distance until he reached the white clapboard Community Centre. He’d walked around behind the building and then disappeared.

Harold and Dmitri had waited for him to emerge on the other side. After fifteen minutes, they’d tired of waiting. Where had he gone? After debating the pros and cons they decided they had no choice but to go and take a closer look. Dmitri darted from tree to tree while Harold, red-faced and puffing, followed as quickly as he could. They arrived at the front door to find it securely locked.

Inching around the building, they circumnavigated the whole structure. There was a side door. Locked. They made their way to the back door on the side of the building where Brendan had disappeared, only to find another door that was boarded shut.

“I don’t get it,” Harold said, scratching his head. “Where did he go?”

“Perhaps we missed him somehow,” Dmitri suggested. “Maybe he went farther into the woods.” He pointed to the sparse forest behind the building.

“No way, Dmitri. We would have seen him. He must have gone in here somehow.” Harold laid a hand on the cracked and peeling paint of the wooden wall. “Do you think there’s a secret door?”

“What do you think this is, the Hardly Boys?”

“Hardy Boys, not Hardly Boys. Geesh!”

“Whatever. So what do we do now?”

Harold frowned and thought for a moment. “We wait.”

“For how long?” Dmitri asked. “It’s getting cold out here.”

When they left the mainland, it had been a sunny if chilly day. Here on the island, the weather was different. Grey clouds were gathering and the air was far colder. It was almost as if the island had its own weather system, distinct from that of the city across the channel. Somehow, it felt unnatural.^ 42 The prospect of hunkering down in the deep cold didn’t excite either of the boys.

“I don’t know. As long as it takes,” Harold vowed with grim determination. “He has to come back this way to get to the ferry, so we watch the road.” He pointed a chubby finger. “There!”

And so they found themselves in the clump of juniper bushes when Brendan emerged from behind the Community Centre. Harold was relieved. He’d been hungry before they’d begun their stakeout. Now he was positively ravenous. Sitting still in the cold and damp had only made his discomfort worse.

“Look at him,” Dmitri said. “He isn’t wearing his jacket.”

Harold grunted. It was true. Brendan walked along with his coat tucked under his arm and his school bag over his shoulder. He didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable, though the temperature was well below freezing. The sun was just about gone and it was getting dark. He walked up the road toward the boys’ hiding place. They sat very still, trying not to breathe.

Brendan came even with them and stopped suddenly. Harold and Dmitri sat stock-still, willing even their heartbeats to silence. When Brendan started talking, they thought he had discovered them. But then they realized he wasn’t talking to them.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brendan said. “I just got lucky. I doubt if I could surprise her like that again.”

Who was he talking to? He was alone, wasn’t he?

“All right! All right! I’ll put my coat on. There’s no one to see me. After that workout, I’m sweating like a pig.”

Harold and Dmitri peered through the branches of the juniper bush and watched as Brendan dropped his bag to shrug on his coat. His head steamed gently in the cold air. His hair was wet. What workout was he talking about, and who was he talking to?^ 43

Then they saw the bug.

“What is that?” Harold whispered in amazement.

The bug looked like a big hairy beetle, kind of a cross between a housefly and a bumblebee. Its shiny wings hummed as it hovered in front of Brendan’s face.

“Oh, sure,” Brendan laughed. “And who’s going to see me out here? Never mind. I’m gonna be late for dinner. Let’s get going. Climb in.” Brendan held his coat pocket open, and to the watchers’ amazement, the bug thing flew in. Brendan started off down the road again.

They waited until Brendan was a safe distance away before starting off in pursuit. The gathering darkness made their task easier. They crept from tree to tree, keeping Brendan in sight.

“What kind of bug could that be?” Harold hissed.

“Insects are not fond of the cold,” Dmitri whispered back. “I must admit I’m stamped.”

“Stumped.”

“Right.”

They were surprised when Brendan turned away from the road to the ferry terminal.

“Where’s he going?” Dmitri asked.

“I don’t know,” Harold whispered. “Just keep quiet.”

They came to the spot in the road where Brendan had turned off. The snow was uniform and white. There were no footprints or any other indication that Brendan had left the road at that spot. Harold looked off into the darkness.

“Are we sure this is where he left the road?” Harold whispered.

“I think so,” Dmitri said uncertainly. “But where are the footprints?”

They heard the unmistakable sound of Brendan’s voice in the trees calling, “Wait up!”

“Come on,” Harold hissed. They set off in the direction of Brendan’s voice, torn between speed and stealth. The snow helped dampen the sound of their footfalls.

“Look!” Harold said, pointing to the ground in front of them. Brendan’s footprints were now easy to see. They led toward a cluster of birch trees. Obviously, the tracks had been there all along, but for some reason they’d been unable to see them. “Why couldn’t we see them from the path?” Harold whispered.