Cragbridge Hall, Book 1: The Inventor's Secret Hardcover Read online

  © 2013 Chad Morris .

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Shadow Mountain®. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Shadow Mountain.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Text © 2013 Chad Morris

  Illustrations ©Brandon Dorman

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Morris, Chad, author.

  The inventor’s secret / Chad Morris.

  pages cm — (Cragbridge Hall ; bk. 1)

  Summary: When twins Abby and Derick start junior high at the prestigious academy their grandfather founded, Cragbridge Hall, they discover firsthand the dangers of time travel and must find a way to save their parents, who have been sent to the Titanic the night it sank.

  ISBN 978-1-60907-326-8 (hardbound : alk. paper)

  [1. Space and time—Fiction. 2. Boarding schools—Fiction. 3.Schools—Fiction. 4.Twins—Fiction. 5. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 6.Grandfathers—Fiction. 7.Inventors and inventions—Fiction. 8. Titanic (Steamship)—Fiction.] I.Title.

  PZ7.M827248Inv 2013

  [Fic]—dc232012041691

  Printed in the United States of America

  Publishers Printing

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To Shelly, Kirtlan, Maddie,

  Kimball, Cannon, and Christian.

  Thanks for believing.

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  acknowledgments

  Discussion Questions

  Recommended Reading

  1

  Grandpa

  Abby waved at various security cameras on the front

  porch. She knew they were just machines, but she waved just the same. They wouldn’t notice her sandy blonde hair, her light runner’s build, or her brown eyes. They simply scanned her, matching her fingerprints and facial features to those authorized to enter. Abby heard the locking mechanism slide open, and a thin light above the door handle turned green. She opened the door and stepped in, her twin brother, Derick, and her parents only a step behind her.

  “Hello, Grandpa,” Abby called out.

  She loved the smell of Grandpa’s place—a mixture of hot cocoa and ready-made dinners. There was also a hint of old smell—like the carpet and furniture hadn’t been replaced for decades—but she chose to ignore it.

  The floorboards creaked as the family passed the living room and walked down the hall toward the den. Abby couldn’t remember for sure, but she thought the house was built way back before the turn of the century—like 1997 or something. Funny that the man famous for making the greatest leaps in modern technology lived in such an old, dusty place.

  As they neared the den, Abby saw her grandfather sitting in his favorite chair in a room lined with bookshelves. A couple of slightly newer couches and a pair of tall lamps were the only other pieces of furniture in the room. Cracks lined the neglected brown leather chair like the wrinkles that covered Grandpa Cragbridge. Wrinkles had been cured back in 2047, but Grandpa wanted to age naturally.

  He looked up from the journal he was scribbling in and raised both of his boney hands. “Two of the most promising students in the world! Good to see you.” Grandpa set down his journal, picked up his cane, and hoisted himself up. As usual, he wore a simple collared shirt and the blazer he’d received when Cragbridge Hall had opened years ago. The school crest featuring a watchman’s tower was embroidered next to the lapel. His bald head reflected some of the light, and a white beard covered his face, except for his chin. Abby always thought he looked a little like an old explorer. “You didn’t wear your jackets?”

  Abby and Derick had both received similar blazers when they had been admitted to the school. “We’re only required to wear them on special occasions,” Abby said. “Not orientation.”

  Grandpa looked down. “Well, I guess much of my life must be a special occasion, then.” His bushy white mustache couldn’t hide his smile. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I hope so,” Derick said, standing a little taller than Abby. “I’ve never been excited about school before. I always liked it, but this is a whole new level.”

  Grandpa grinned and then turned to Abby for her answer.

  “I ...” Abby grabbed her sandy blonde hair and nervously twisted it into a temporary ponytail. “I’m ... hoping for the best.” Not only was she going to attend a new school, but it was the premiere junior high in the world. Yeah—in the entire world. She had the reputation of her genius grandfather to live up to, and she would be living away from home. And of course, there was the fact that she didn’t even deserve to ... She didn’t want to think about it.

  Grandpa lowered himself back into his chair and rubbed his bald head with one hand. “I’ve arranged it with security so that you can visit me whenever you want. You have permission to leave the grounds as long as you’re back before dark.”

  “Really?” Abby said, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Thanks, Grandpa. I ... might need it.”

  “Of course. I think the academy owes me,” he said, and winked. Grandpa’s inventions had not only made the school possible, but they’d given it notoriety and acclaim. There was a reason it was called Cragbridge Hall.

  “I’m sure your inventions are seriously amazing,” Derick said.

  “Yeah, I can’t wait to see them in person,” Abby added. When she was younger, she used to imagine contraptions with screens and gears and lasers. Of course, as she grew older, she began researching them. She’d seen photos online, but that was nothing like experiencing them for herself.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t show them to you before. One day you’ll know why.” Grandpa looked up at Derick and Abby’s parents. “Can you believe it?”

  Dad laughed. “I wish the academy had been open when I was a kid.”

  Mom smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek. Maybe it was as difficult for her to send her kids to live away from home as it was for Abby to go.

  “We are proud of you both,” Dad said. He gave Abby a quick peck on the forehead, then grabbed Derick by the shirt, pulled him in, and kissed the top of his head. Derick let out a cry as shrill as if his hand had been dipped in a bucket of maggots.

  The twins’ father bolted down the old hall with Derick chasing close behind. Abby knew how this would go. They would chase each other around, one would try to get the other in a wrestling hold, and then Dad would probably cheat by tickling, which, of course, would provoke Derick even more. The whole thing would end with violent laughter.

  “I’d better referee,” Mom said, and walked down the hall.

  “Boys.” Abby shook her head.

  Grandpa laughed, wheezing between chuckles.

  There was a moment of silen
ce, and then a playful scream from Abby’s father echoed down the hallway. He and Derick were running into the basement.

  Abby took a step closer to her grandpa. “Thanks for getting me into the school.”

  Grandpa looked sternly back at her, “I didn’t ‘get you in.’ The admissions review did. Just because you’re my granddaughter doesn’t mean you get special treatment.”

  Abby smiled. “Grandpa, you’re a genius, but you’re a terrible liar. I got a rejection letter. Then a week later, I got my acceptance. I don’t think schools like Cragbridge Hall change their minds like that unless someone is pretty persuasive.”

  Grandpa paled for a moment but then waved off his granddaughter’s accusation. “It doesn’t matter how you got in.” He stood and slowly made his way to one of a series of old pine bookshelves. Books were packed tightly along most of them, with an occasional knickknack wedged between volumes. He probably had more real books than most libraries. “Come here. I want to show you something.” Grandpa pointed to a small frame between To Kill a Mockingbird and The Three Musketeers. It could easily fit in the palm of his hand. Inside the frame were dark splotches interconnected on a lighter background, looking kind of like a maze. “That,” Grandpa said, pointing at the strange mass with his boney finger, “is a slice of Albert Einstein’s brain.”

  Abby stared back incredulously. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Haven’t I ever told you that story?” Grandpa asked. He shuffled back to his old chair and began, not waiting for a response. “In a small town classroom, a teacher asked what the students knew had happened recently in current events. One child mentioned that Albert Einstein had died. Another raised his hand and said, ‘My father has his brain.’”

  “What?” Abby said in disbelief.

  “The boy wasn’t lying. His father was Thomas Harvey at Princeton Hospital. He performed the autopsy on Einstein, and he took the liberty of keeping the famous scientist’s brain.”

  Abby raised her eyebrow. “Are you just trying to distract me? I know you got me into school.”

  “Excuse me,” Grandpa said. “I was telling you about one of the great relics of the world.”

  Abby sighed. “Alright, Grandpa, let’s talk about the brain. How did you get it?”

  “Good question,” Grandpa said, apparently satisfied. “Once, Einstein and I had a ... disagreement. It was about relativity. Anyway, he got upset with me and said he wanted to give me a piece of his mind.” He paused. Abby sighed—she should have seen it coming. He began to laugh, his giggles coming out as more of a light wheeze. “A piece of his mind,” he repeated between chuckles.

  “C’mon, Grandpa.”

  He was a genius in many areas, but comedy was not one of them.

  “Alright. Alright.” He waved his arm, but still snickered for nearly another minute before continuing. “I have a few friends in the scientific world, and someone thought I deserved to have it.” Grandpa got up and walked a few steps toward the shelf, his cane knocking against the wood floor before each step. “Pieces of it ended up all over the place, given as gifts to other scientists.” He picked up what looked like an old photograph from another shelf. “This is a picture of about one fifth of his brain. But look here. This is what I wanted to show you. Do you see that groove?” Grandfather pointed to a certain part of the brain. “That is the inferior parietal lobe—the part of the brain most used in mathematics and spatial thinking. Einstein’s is shorter than most people’s but fifteen percent wider.”

  “Is that why he was a genius?” Abby asked.

  “Maybe, or perhaps his brain became stronger because he worked so hard and learned so much, and because he practiced thinking so well.”

  “This is great,” Abby said. “But I’m no Einstein. I couldn’t even get in without—”

  Grandpa slammed the bottom of his cane onto the floor. “Abigail Cragbridge, you are just as good as, if not better than, every other student in that academy. When they said ‘no,’ I had to prevent them from making a terrible mistake. You’ll be one of the best things that ever happened to that place.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I’m completely serious,” Grandpa interrupted. He grabbed Abby’s face by the chin. “You have heart, Abby. The kind of heart some teachers and academics can only dream about. And I’m not saying that because you’re my granddaughter. You meet your challenges head on. I remember when you struggled with algebra. You spent hours every night studying and doing homework. The time you wanted to take guitar lessons, you saved up for months to pay for them. And when that Greenwich girl spread that dastardly gossip, you stuck it out with dignity. Eventually, you two even got along.”

  “Yeah, things ended up okay—”

  “You have heart." Grandpa’s eyes didn’t flinch. “I know it better than anything I’ve discovered, better than anything they’ve ever called genius. I’d stake all my reputation on your success.”

  Abby swallowed hard and blinked several times to keep tears from forming. She turned back to the jar.

  “Einstein said that he had no special talent,” Grandpa continued, “but that he was passionately curious. Very few people are born extraordinary. You have to earn it. And you, Abby, have the heart to earn it.”

  Dad and Mom walked in, with Derick a few steps behind. They were all breathing deeply—the aftereffects of a good laugh.

  Abby quickly wiped her eyes.

  “Give Grandpa another good hug, and let’s get out of here,” Dad said. “You don’t want to be late for orientation.”

  “Wait just a minute,” Grandpa said, his brow wrinkled. “Derick, come over here by Abby. I have something for the two of you.”

  Derick obediently stood beside his sister as Grandpa moved over to the fireplace. He picked up a brass-handled shovel and a poker from a matching set. He shoveled away the pile of ashes to one side of the fireplace, then pushed the tip of the poker into the corner of one brick. With a whir and a click, the brick rose out of the floor, and a small metal box appeared beneath it. Grandpa stooped and picked it up.

  What kind of a gift did Grandpa keep buried underneath a brick in his fireplace?

  “Are you sure?” Dad asked Grandpa, looking at the box.

  “Yes, I am,” Grandpa said confidently. “Now, could you grab me a towel?” Dad jogged into the other room.

  Grandpa turned to the twins. “I’m very proud of both of you. I’ve decided that you’re mature enough for a few very special gifts.” He wiped the beginnings of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

  Dad returned with a towel, and Grandpa used it to clean any last traces of ash and soot from the box and from his hands. He set the towel aside, then opened a flap, revealing a lock screen. After a couple of keystrokes, the entire casing unlocked. The box was made of thick metal, and Abby couldn’t see inside it.

  Grandpa reached in and pulled out two thin metal bands. “These are history attachments for your rings. Just slide them inside your existing rings.” He handed them to the twins. “They allow you to tap into my database, which means that you have access to some history not yet charted and open to the public. You’ll learn more about what that means after school starts. The attachments will allow you to access my personal files and memories through your rings. I have not kept an adequate journal, but in some ways, this is much better.”

  He returned to the box and removed two metal lockets, both attached to thin chains. “And I want to give you these.” He handed one to Abby and the other to Derick. Abby’s locket was heavier than she expected it to be. It had ornate designs around the front, but the locket itself was a simple flat circle.

  “I want you to put those somewhere very, very safe—preferably, you’ll wear them. And you’ll need to check them every day.”

  “What do you mean?” Derick asked.

  “Look at your locket every day,” Grandpa said. “If nothing has changed, then continue with your studies as before. But if something does change, you may be d
esperately needed. The locket will tell you what to do.” He wrung his hands. “I get especially nervous at the beginning of every school year. It would probably be the best time to ...” He let his sentence trail off as he became lost in thought.

  “To what?” Abby asked.

  “Please keep your lockets a secret—I cannot stress that enough. No one should know about them, especially not the teachers,” Grandpa said. “Do you have your book collections with you?”

  “Yes,” Abby said. “You insisted.”

  “Even though no one else in the world uses actual books anymore,” Derick added.

  “They should,” Grandpa said. “Nothing beats paper.”

  “Time to go,” Dad interrupted.

  “Wait,” Derick said. “What’s inside the lockets?”

  Grandpa gazed into Derick’s eyes, then into Abby’s. She wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes—concern? Love? Fear? Grandpa let out a sigh. “I hope you never have to find out.”

  2