Simon’s enthusiasm faded. “Nolan’s coming, too?” he said.
“Of course. We’re not leaving him behind.”
That would be a problem, though Simon wasn’t entirely sure how much of one yet. Maybe Nolan would be miserable about spending Christmas in California and sulk the whole time. Or maybe he would insist on following Simon everywhere. Hard to say.
“Your friends have been invited, too,” added his uncle. “The General wants Jam present for the summit, and the Black Widow Queen has apparently requested the same of Ariana.”
“What about Winter?” said Simon. “She doesn’t have anywhere to go for the holidays.”
“I know. I explained the situation to General Fluke, and while he’s … reluctant, he did agree to let her come along.” He straightened to his full height. “The General wants to meet as soon as possible, so we’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. That meant they would miss the tournament. “Good,” said Simon with a touch too much ferocity. Malcolm chuckled and started down the spiral staircase.
“I’m postponing finals until January. Sorry, Simon,” he added. “One way or the other, you’re going to have to fight.”
As Simon watched his uncle join the mammal students, a heavy weight settled over him. Malcolm had no idea how true that was, but Simon was the one who was clueless about what Avalon and the underwater kingdom would bring—or where in the vast Pacific Ocean the General might have hidden his piece.
4
MOUSETRAP
“What do you mean, I’m not coming?” squeaked Felix after dinner that evening. The little brown mouse perched on the edge of the bed while Simon threw some clothes into a suitcase he’d borrowed from Nolan.
“It’s too dangerous,” said Simon. “Jam said if you get caught—”
“I don’t care. I want to come with you.”
“Why?” said Simon. “You hated flying the last time, remember? I had to clean up mouse vomit from my socks. So why do you want to take two flights this time?”
“Because—” Felix sniffed, and he pulled indignantly on his tail. “You’re going to LA. Do you have any idea how many television shows they film out there?”
Simon sighed. Though Felix was a normal mouse—if not a little smarter and sassier than Simon would have preferred sometimes—he had a penchant for watching television, a luxury he couldn’t indulge in while at the L.A.I.R. Simon didn’t know what he did all day to amuse himself while Simon was in training and his classes, but he did know that almost every evening, Felix made sure Simon knew exactly how bored he was. And how many episodes of his favorite series he had missed.
“We’re going to Avalon, not LA,” said Simon. “It’s not the same place.”
“Close enough.” Felix sat back on his haunches. “Like it or not, I’m coming with you. Now, what’s the plan?”
There was no use arguing with him when he got like this. The last time Simon had refused to let him come, he’d sneaked into his backpack, and Simon still shuddered every time he thought about how easy it would have been to accidentally crush him without ever knowing he was there. At least this way, Simon would have time to come up with an excuse if the underwater kingdom caught him. “I’m going to look for their piece while everyone else is busy with the summit. Malcolm will expect me to try to find Orion, not go underwater. If he asks, I’ll tell him I wanted to go swimming.”
“What if that’s what Orion’s waiting for?” said Felix. “You to show up and lead him right to the piece?”
Simon hesitated. He hadn’t thought of that. “Orion doesn’t know I can shift into anything I want. He’ll be looking for a golden eagle, not a shark.”
“Unless he figures out that you are the shark. Then your secret’s out, and everything gets a million times worse than it already is.”
Felix was right, as much as Simon hated to admit it. He frowned. “Maybe he’ll think I’m Nolan.”
“Not when any idiot can tell the difference between you two,” said Felix. “You have a perfectly good identical twin, yet you insist on keeping your hair longer than his. How is anyone supposed to mistake you for each other if you look different?”
Simon touched the ends of his shaggy hair. “You think I should let Malcolm cut my hair?”
“I think if you’re banking on anyone mistaking you for Nolan, you’re gonna have to.” Felix stood on his hind legs, nose sniffing the air. “I smell food. You’re holding out on me.”
Simon pulled a napkin from his pocket and opened it, producing a few crumbling crackers. “If you keep eating like this, you’re never going to find out how your shows end.”
Felix shrugged, his mouth already too full to reply. Simon pulled open his sock drawer and, after emptying his socks onto his bed and shoving several pairs into his suitcase, he gingerly undid a nearly invisible latch and lifted the false bottom. Hidden beneath the wooden panel was a notebook full of his mother’s scribbles on the Beast King, research she and his father had done together, as far as Simon could tell. He had also tucked away the pocket watch she had given him the night she had been kidnapped, which boasted the Beast King’s crest. Simon wasn’t sure why she’d insisted on him having it, but it had been his father’s, and he had discovered a strange thing in Arizona: it grew warm whenever it was around a piece of the Predator.
As a result, Simon had wrapped the reptiles’ piece in an old sock on the opposite side of the drawer, though that foot or so didn’t seem to make much difference. Both were hot to the touch. Reluctantly, though Simon slipped his father’s pocket watch into his jeans, he left the piece where it was. It wasn’t the most ingenious hiding spot ever, but he couldn’t risk taking it to Avalon with him, either. The fake bottom in the drawer would have to do.
As soon as Simon finished packing, he went to find Malcolm. Despite the evening hour, he was in his office on the upper level of the school, and he waved Simon inside while he completed a phone call, a deep line furrowed between his brows.
“… not even a teenager. How—” He paused and glanced at Simon. “We’ll speak when I arrive. But this discussion isn’t over. It would be a burden for anyone, let alone—” He stopped again and sighed. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, Colonel. Give the General my regards.”
As soon as he hung up, Simon said, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” said Malcolm, even though he looked worried enough for the both of them. “What can I do for you, kid?”
Simon hesitated. Now that he was here, he was reluctant to go through with it, but he knew it was necessary, especially now that Nolan was tagging along with him. “I was wondering …” Simon paused and touched the ends of his hair. The last person who had given him a haircut was Darryl. This felt wrong, but logically he knew his hair had nothing to do with remembering his uncle. He could let it grow out as much as he wanted, but Darryl would still be dead. “Do you have time to cut my hair before we leave?”
Malcolm’s expression softened. “Sure,” he said, pushing his chair back. “Just let me get a pair of scissors.”