Liesl Shurtliff - Time Castaways #1: The Mona Lisa Key

4:17 p.m., April 25, 2019

New York, New York

It was a typical afternoon in New York Citycars and taxis honking in the streets, pedestrians and pigeons crowding the sidewalks. Tourists took selfies and browsed the street vendors for cheap souvenirs, and the food carts lined all along Fifth Avenue spread their smells of meat, cheese, and grease. But Matt Hudson didnt notice any of it. He walked down the bustling street deep in concentration, as if he were in a completely different world altogether.

Matt was thinking about probabilities. For instance, what was the probability of someone winning the lottery? About a 1 in 150 million chance, according to the last one. And the probability of being struck by lightningtwice? Attacked by a shark or striking a gold mine? Very low, he thought. And yet, improbable things happened all the time to people all around the world. Therefore, Matt reasoned, improbable was not the same as uncommon, and he could reasonably expect improbable things to happen to him at any time, perhaps even today. And so Matt walked purposefully down the street with a rolled-up piece of paper in his hand. The paper was most certainly an improbability, he knew, but he was feeling quite optimistic anyway, at least until his brother and sister decided to throw in their two cents.

I dont know why youre even bothering to ask, said his sister, Ruby. Theyre going to say no.

Oh come on, Ruby, said Corey from his right. Dont be a killjoy. I give it a solid one percent chance.

Mom and Dad barely let us walk to and from school by ourselves, said Ruby. They wouldnt even let me ride the bus a mile by myself once a week to take judo classes.

You know how they feel about us riding transit, said Matt. And this is different from judo classes. Its education.

Ooh, education, said Corey. Ive underestimated his chances, I think. Im bumping it up to two percent.

No chance. Its never going to happen, said Ruby.

Matt suddenly wished he had kept his grand plans to himself, but he had been so excited he couldnt help but spill it to Corey and Ruby right after school. He didnt really have anyone else to tell, and he had hoped his brother and sister would be excited for him, but they had been less than encouraging. Matts optimism was starting to deflate. He began to absentmindedly rub his thumb over the stone on his bracelet, his nervous habit.

Watch it! Ruby yanked on Matts arm, but it was too late. Hed stepped in a fresh pile of doggy doo-doo.

Grooooss! said Corey.

Matt scraped his shoe on the cement for the final block before they reached the Metropolitan Museum of Art. People were spread all over the steps, eating food and taking pictures in front of the museum with its stately columns and arched windows.

Matt hobbled over to the fountains at the side of the steps, pulled off his shoe, and swished it around in the water. He inspected the bottom. There was still poop stuck in all the grooves.

Nope. No chances now, said Corey. Theyre not even going to let you set foot in the office.

Will you be quiet, said Matt. His head suddenly ached, a dull throb at his temple.

Were not trying to be mean or anything, Matt, said Ruby. Were just trying to prepare you for the inevitable. It seems even the universe is trying to warn you. She motioned to his shoe.

Actually, maybe the universe is trying to encourage me, said Matt. Do you know how unlikely it is that I should step in dog poop right here, right now? I mean, the chances are very low, but it happened, didnt it?

Ruby scrunched up her face. She and Corey looked sideways at each other. He could almost hear their thoughts.

Our brother is crazy.

I know, but is there any point in telling him?

Though Corey and Ruby were twins, they rarely agreed on anything. They were opposites in nearly every way. When Corey joked, Ruby was serious. While Corey bounced, Ruby kept her feet firmly planted. But there was one thing they usually agreed onthe complete perplexity and misunderstanding of their (only slightly) older brother.

Matt knew he was a little different, and he knew that others noticed. He regularly got teased for talking to himself in the bathroom and hallways (he thought better out loud) and no one ever let him live it down that he was a Mets fan. In fact, just last week his Mets hat had been stolen out of his locker, a scribbled note left in its place that said Its for the best. Matt took this all in good stride. He couldnt care less what others thought about him, but when his own brother and sister pointed out his oddball tendencies it made him feel especially freakish and just a tad irritable.

Just dont say anything, said Matt, slipping his smelly shoe back on. Ill handle this myself. He stomped toward the museum steps and began to ascend. Corey and Ruby hurried after him.

Hola, nios! said Javier, one of the security guards usually on duty whenever the Hudsons came in.

Hola, Javier, said Matt. He gave him a fist bump.

Cmo est?

Bien, gracias.

Yeah, hes muy bien, said Corey. He stepped in dog poop, so the universe is on his side.

Javier looked at Matt quizzically, almost as if he wasnt sure he understood Corey correctly and wanted Matt to translate. Never mind him, said Matt. Are our parents in my dads office?

S, he said. But be careful. Your madres got a whole bunch of swords back there. Ooh, she scares me sometimes!

Us too, said Ruby.

Ha! I believe you, nia!

Adis, Javier!

They walked through the great hall, dodging meandering patrons walking around with their heads tipped toward the high ceiling, where light poured through the windows and skylights.

They turned right at the grand staircase and walked down a corridor that eventually opened up to the Arms and Armor exhibit. They passed the glass cases of swords, daggers, spears, and suits of armor from various countries and centuries, many of which their mother had curated or restored, but the Hudson children didnt even glance at them. Theyd practically been raised in this museum and knew it almost as well as their own home.

Finally they came to a narrow hallway. Their fathers office was the third door on the leftMatthew B. Hudson, Director of Museum Archives. Matt knocked lightly and opened the door.

Mr. Hudson sat in the chair behind his desk, tapping away on his computer. He was a little disheveled. His dark hair looked like it had been through a windstorm, he hadnt shaved in a couple of days, and he had the misty look of someone who was not totally present, a result of years of history research and obsessing over old maps. He didnt even look up when the children entered. Matt hoped he was in an agreeable mood, but for his current plans he was more concerned with his moms mood.

Mrs. Hudson was standing to the side of her husbands desk, behind a folding table. She was a beautiful woman with long dark hair, tan skin, and warm, intelligent brown eyes that were now knit in fervent concentration as she sharpened an old dagger. She was indeed surrounded by swords and knives, just as Javier had said. As a renowned freelance art restorer and authenticator, Mrs. Hudson worked on anything from old paintings to antique furniture and valuable memorabilia, but weapons were her specialty and passion. She had a soft spot in her heart for sharp objects.

Mrs. Hudson finally paused in her knife sharpening and looked up. Her face instantly brightened at the sight of her children.