The 100-Year-Old Secret by Tracy Barrett

They would go to Worthington, Robert Batheson's old boarding school and the home of the Knuckers, to search for the painting. Xander scribbled a note to their mother, saying that they were taking a bus to the school that their school was playing in soccer.
    â€œI didn't say we were going to a game,” he told Xena when she looked doubtful. “It's all true.”
    â€œI don't know,” Xena said, and then she shrugged. “Well, they know that we're pretty good at riding the bus and tube systems by now, so they shouldn't worry. And I thought of something else.” She let herself into their mother's study and pulled out the latest box of gadgets from the testing company. She picked out a fewand showed them to Xander.
    â€œGood idea,” he said as she shoved some of them into a backpack. You never knew what would come in handy.
    The trip took longer than they thought, since they had to ride the Tube to the end of the line and then catch a bus that seemed to stop at every street corner. It was agonizing.
    Pretty soon the houses started getting more and more widely spaced, and they saw yards and dogs and swing sets. Xena chewed her knuckle in exasperation. Would they never get there?
    The trees were big and most had lost their leaves. The sky was growing dark, even though it was still early.
    â€œStorm coming,” Xander said. He looked out the bus window as Xena consulted the directions to see how much farther they had to go.
    Finally Xena said, “Just another few blocks,” and the next time the bus creaked to a halt they climbed off.
    WORTHINGTON SCHOOL FOR BOYS read a tarnished metal plaque on the gate of a wrought-iron fence right next to the bus stop. They looked up at the school. It was a grim old stone place with sooty walls.
    â€œCheck it out,” Xena said, pointing at theround emblem on the metal plaque. Even through the tarnish the twisted shape of the knuckers, curled around on themselves, was just like the drawing in the casebook.
    â€œIt looks like the school's been here forever,” Xander said.
    â€œA hundred years, at least,” Xena said as she pushed open the gate. “Come on. Let's see if we can find the dorm.”
    They were farther away from the city than they had realized from the printed directions. Leaves swirled around their feet, carrying the spicy-sweet scent of autumn to their nostrils. A dog barked in the distance, and the wind picked up. Xander felt the back of his neck prickle.
    â€œHey, wait!” he called and trotted to catch up to Xena.
    A bell rang as some students hurried past them with books under their arms. A beefy boy squinted at Xander. Another boy said, “We're going to be late for study group if you don't hurry,” and the first boy turned and followed the others through a tall wooden door.
    Then Xena and Xander were alone again. “Who was that?” Xena asked. “He acted as though he recognized you.”
    â€œHe was that jerk at the soccer game,” Xandersaid. “The one who stole the ball from me.”
    â€œHuh,” Xena said. She opened the door the boys had gone through and stepped inside, followed closely by Xander.
    But the corridor was lined with classrooms, not bedrooms, and the smell of chalkboards told them that they were in the wrong place. Any minute someone could come by and accuse them of trespassing. Which was exactly what they were doing.
    â€œThere's got to be some kind of a dorm someplace,” Xena said. “But we can't just stumble around until we find it.”
    One of the doors facing them had a sign on it saying OFFICE . Xena paused in front of it. “Xander, in those letters, did Robert's mother say what his room number was?” she asked.
    â€œNo,” he said.
    â€œGreat,” Xena muttered. “We'll just have to ask someone.”
    She knocked on the office door. No answer. She knocked louder. Still nothing. She and Xander looked at each other. He shrugged.