Vespers Rising (The 39 Clues #11)(42)

Check.

Piles of dirty snow on sidewalks.

Check.

Math test tomorrow.

Check.

Complete lack of preparation for test.

Check.

Social Studies Boredom Level: Ten.

(Sigh). Check.

Dan Cahill’s Existence: Situation Normal!

Dan tried to focus. Ms. Zapata’s mouth was moving, but the words were a blur of sound. Occasionally, something poked through, like Etruscans. Once, bloody battle got his attention until he lapsed back into boredom again.

He’d been trapped in social studies for about a hundred hours. Okay, forty-two minutes and thirteen seconds. It was the last class of the day, and it was so fascinating he could hardly stay asleep. He stared out the window at the slate-gray February sky and tried not to yawn.

Back in September, in the middle of the Clue hunt, if he’d thought about being in social studies class again? It would have seemed like heaven on a stick compared to getting chased, double-crossed, and almost killed by his relatives. When he and Amy had touched down at Logan Airport after their adventure, they’d both cheered. They couldn’t wait to get back to their lives. They couldn’t wait to be just like this: bored out of their minds.

They’d just made one major miscalculation. They’d forgotten how boring being bored could be. Why hadn’t Dan remembered Ms. Zapata’s nickname? Everyone called her Ms. Zzzzz because she put her students to sleep.

The funny thing was, Dan had actually experienced what Ms. Zapata was now droning about. He’d been to Egypt. He’d felt the heat and tasted the dust. He’d felt a thrill slipping down the dark Nile in a boat past the Valley of the Kings.

Ms. Zapata made it sound like she was reading instructions on how to install a dishwasher.

Just then a word floated out through the buzz saw of Zapata-speak: Nefertari. Dan tuned back in.

“... the most beautiful tomb in Egypt,” Ms. Zapata was saying. “You probably know the queen because there’s a famous bust of her.”

A photo flashed on-screen.

Dan raised his hand. “That’s Nefertiti,” he said. “Different queen.”

Ms. Zapata frowned. She looked at her notes. “You could be right, Dan. Uh … let’s move on.”

Another slide flashed on-screen. “Now, this is the inner chamber of the tomb, where she was laid to rest.”

Dan’s hand rose again. Ms. Zapata closed her eyes.

“Actually? That’s the side chamber.”

“Really.” Ms. Zapata’s lips pressed together. “And how do you know this, Dan?”

“Because …” Dan hesitated. Because I was there. Because I was locked inside the tomb with an ex-KGB spy, so I got to know it pretty well.

“Especially since the tomb is closed for conservation,” Ms. Zapata said.

Yeah. But we had this connection to an Egyptologist? Except he turned out to be a thief and a liar, so we captured him. I came this close to smashing him with a lamp….

Everyone was looking at him. Dan didn’t know what to say, and that never used to happen. He’d been back at school for four months, and the story for their five-week disappearance was that he and Amy had to take care of family matters after their grandmother’s funeral. Nobody was supposed to know that they’d been chasing Clues all over the world. Nobody was supposed to know that he’d been locked in a tomb. Or been shot at, buried alive, and almost blown up.

“I guess I saw it somewhere,” he mumbled.

Ms. Zapata tried not to look pleased. “Let’s try and remember not to make claims that aren’t true, shall we?” She let the moment hang there as everyone twisted in their seats to look at Dan. He knew they were waiting for him to be Dan The Man, to snap back a comment that would be funny but not disrespectful enough to get him in huge trouble.

“Sure,” he said.

Triumphantly, Ms. Zapata turned back to her notes. His classmates swiveled around again, disappointed that Dan hadn’t caused Ms. Zapata to turn that awesome magenta color she did when she was aggravated.

Four months ago, he and Amy had thought it would be easy just to go back to their old lives. But it hadn’t been easy. Dan knew that he’d changed. He didn’t know how, exactly — he just knew he was different. It wasn’t a kick anymore to contradict his teachers or make the whole class laugh.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Sometimes his nightmares scared him so bad he had to sleep with the lights on. He couldn’t seem to connect with his old friends. He couldn’t seem to care about the cool things he did before, like comic books and video games and the chances of the Red Sox taking the Series next season.

He’d become a loner. Which meant, in the world of middle school, he was tipping on the scale straight down toward Loser.

When the bell rang, he popped up quickly and scurried out the door. He made for the exit and didn’t breathe freely until he hit the cold February air.

Amy’s school was four blocks away, and they always met halfway, in front of a coffee bar. After school, if it was a good day, there would be a cinnamon roll left at the coffee bar. There was a loading zone in front so that Fiske or Nellie could park the car temporarily and wait if they had to.

It was a Wednesday, so it would be Fiske today. Nellie, their other guardian, had an afternoon class at Boston University. They usually heard Fiske before they saw him because of all the horns blowing as he cut across traffic. Fiske must have gone to the NASCAR School of Driving. He said that Boston traffic was a challenge and he was its master.