Lost in the Tunnel of Time Read online

  LOST IN THE

  TUNNEL OF TIME

  Be sure to read all the

  Clubhouse Mysteries!

  The Buried Bones Mystery

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This Aladdin paperback edition July 2011

  Text copyright © 1996, 2006 by Sharon M. Draper

  Illustrations copyright © 2006 by Jesse Joshua Watson

  Originally published as the series title Ziggy and the Black Dinosaurs.

  This book, in a slightly different format, was originally published by Just Us Books. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Also available in an Aladdin hardcover edition.

  ALADDIN is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc., and related logo is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  Designed by Karina Granda

  The text of this book was set in Minion.

  Manufactured in the United States of America 0611 OFF

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

  Library of Congress Control Number 2005927491

  ISBN 978-1-4424-2704-4

  ISBN 978-1-4424-3153-9 (eBook)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Shadows of Caesar’s Creek!

  LOST IN THE

  TUNNEL OF TIME

  LIKE COOL, SWEET MILK ON A BOWL OF CRUNCHY cereal, the Thursday morning breeze splashed the crisp, dry leaves under Rico’s feet. He liked this time of year. It would soon be time for warm fires in the fireplace and frosty snow on the sidewalk. His mom had made him wear a jacket to school today, and it felt good. As he crossed the street to the school building, he spotted his friend Ziggy and waved.

  Ziggy sat on the front steps of the school, digging wildly in his book bag. He pulled out two broken pencils, a half-eaten apple, a red spiral notebook, a sandwich wrapped in plastic, a doorknob, and a green tennis shoe. “Hey, Rico-mon! Did you do your history homework?”

  Rico chuckled. “Sure, Ziggy. It was easy. Didn’t you do yours?”

  “Of course I did it, mon—Ziggy is no fool. But I can’t find it!”

  Ziggy continued to empty the contents of his book bag on the school steps—his math book, seven small smooth rocks, five nickels, and a purple three-ring binder. “It’s gotta be in here somewhere,” he mumbled to himself. His long braided hair, covered with a small, green and yellow knitted cap, hung over his shoulders.

  “What are the rocks for?” asked Rico.

  “I call them the Seven Special Stones of the Sun,” replied Ziggy mysteriously as he held the rocks in his hand for Rico to see.

  “Why do you call them that? What makes them so special?”

  “My grandmother gave them to me, mon. She brought them all the way from Jamaica. She told me they would bring me good luck.”

  “They look like ordinary rocks to me,” Rico said with doubt.

  “Well, that just shows how much you know, mon,” Ziggy said as he rolled the stones in his palm. He looked thoughtful, then asked, “Can you keep a secret, Rico?”

  “Sure,” replied Rico, who never knew what Ziggy would do or say.

  “These stones …” Ziggy paused for a moment. He looked around to make sure no one was listening. His voice dropped to a whisper. “These stones keep away ghosts!”

  “Ghosts?” Rico laughed nervously. “There are no ghosts around here!”

  “See how well the stones are working, mon?” Ziggy replied with glee. Rico laughed again, shaking his head at his friend. Ziggy plopped the stones back into his book bag.

  Just then a gust of wind blew through the schoolyard and across the steps. The pages of Ziggy’s red notebook fluttered and gently released the one sheet of paper that had been tucked inside. Ziggy’s large, round handwriting boldly filled both sides of the paper.

  Ziggy grabbed it triumphantly. “I found it, mon! Let the bells ring and the school day begin!”

  The early bell seemed to hear him, for the signal to go into the building sounded just as he spoke. Ziggy stuffed the rest of his things back into his bag, tossed it over his shoulder, and called to Rico, who never ceased to be amazed at Ziggy, “Let’s go, mon. We’ll be late!”

  Their school building was very old. It had five floors, with a large marble staircase leading from the front door on the main floor to the upper floors. The long, dark hallways were shiny with wax and worn by footsteps.

  As Rico and Ziggy reached their lockers on the third floor, they saw Rashawn and Jerome sitting on the linoleum waiting for them.

  “What’s up?” asked Rashawn, yawning. He uncurled his long legs, stood up, and stretched. He had grown taller during the long summer vacation and was proud that his size-ten shoes were the biggest of all his friends’. Lots of people said he looked like a basketball star. He liked that.

  “Nothin’ much,” replied Rico. “Ziggy was having a homework attack, but he found it.”

  “So what else is new?” asked Jerome. “Ziggy loses his homework every day.”

  “It’s not always my fault,” replied Ziggy cheerfully. “Monday it was the jelly’s fault, Tuesday it was my mum’s fault, and Wednesday it was my new kitten’s fault!”

  “How do you figure?” asked Rico.

  “It’s simple, mon. Somehow, when I made my bologna and jelly sandwich on Monday, the jelly jumped up, landed on my math homework, and made my paper stick to the bottom of my book bag! The next day, my mum washed my favorite blue jeans with my science homework in the back pocket.”

  “I know you’re gonna tell us,” said Jerome with a grin, “but how did the kitten lose your homework?”

  “She didn’t lose it, mon—she attacked it!”

  “What?”

  “There’s a reason I named that crazy kitten Jungle Kitty. She runs around the house acting like she’s a lion or tiger, and attacking dangerous creatures like shoes and pieces of paper.”

  “What if she saw a mouse?” asked Rashawn.

  “She’d probably run the other way, mon,” Ziggy said, laughing. “But she really had fun beating up my homework paper that night!”

  “Did Jungle Kitty get last night’s history homework too?” Jerome asked.

  “No way, mon. This one was too important. It tried to hide from me, but I knew where it was all the time. There’s no way I’m gonna miss that field trip!”

  Mrs. Powell, their teacher, was taking them on an all-day field trip to the Ohio River. Only the students who turned in their homework would be allowed to go, so Ziggy and the rest of the class had been extra careful to have it ready.

  Jerome was shorter than Rashawn, but was strong and tough-looking. His face was brown and leathery, like the bomber jacket he wore every day. He checked his book bag for his homework, and grinned at the other boys. “This is gonna be an awesome field
trip—lunch on the riverbank and a boat ride!”

  “You got that right,” replied Rico. He was neatly dressed in dark blue pants and a light blue shirt. His coffee-colored, smiling face was surrounded by thick, curly brown hair. His book bag, unlike the other boys’, was neat and organized. His history homework was always in his green history folder, and his math homework was always in his blue math folder. He liked to draw pictures of houses and kept those drawings in a special red folder—he said one day he’d like to be an architect.

  Mrs. Powell came around the corner just as the bell rang to begin class, jiggling keys and balancing a coffee cup on a large stack of papers.

  “Looks like I made it just in time,” she called out cheerfully. “I was making last-minute plans for our trip,” she explained as she unlocked the classroom door. “Now where did he go? He was right behind me.”

  “Who?” asked Jerome.

  “Oh, there he is! Come on in, Mr. Greene. Welcome to our classroom.”

  Mr. Greene walked slowly around the corner. He was almost bald, with wisps of curly, gray hair, and golden copper, slightly wrinkled skin. His dark eyes twinkled as he saw Rico, Rashawn, Jerome, and Ziggy standing in the hallway, staring in surprise.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Black Dinosaurs!” said Mr. Greene with a chuckle. “Good to see you again!”

  “HEY, MR. GREENE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, mon?” asked Ziggy.

  “Your teacher asked me to go along on your field trip today,” replied Mr. Greene with a smile.

  “Why would an old dude like you want to go on a trip with a bunch of kids?” Rico asked.

  “Just wait and see,” whispered Mr. Greene with mystery in his voice. “But tell me about you—have you had any meetings of the Black Dinosaurs lately?”

  The Black Dinosaurs was the name of the club that Ziggy, Rashawn, Rico, and Jerome had started that past summer. They had built a clubhouse in Ziggy’s backyard, and Mr. Greene had helped them solve a mystery about a buried box of bones.

  “Sure, mon,” replied Ziggy, “but since school has started, we usually only meet on Saturday. Stop by sometime and see us. I’m bringing peanut butter pizza this week!”

  Mr. Greene grabbed his throat, pretended to gag, and groaned, “No thanks—not this time.”

  Rico and Jerome giggled, and Rashawn whispered, “If Ziggy brings it, I’m gonna make him eat the whole thing!”

  They walked into the classroom, talking and laughing, found their seats, and waited to find out why Mr. Greene was joining them on their field trip.

  Mrs. Powell, who was dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes instead of her usual suit and black, patent leather heels, was in a good mood. She took attendance, collected the homework, and cheered when every single homework paper was turned in.

  “Class, the bus is here. Be sure you have your lunch with you. Let’s go! Mr. Greene, it’s right this way, sir.”

  They all trooped noisily down the stairs, while Mrs. Powell told them, “Hush! You’ll disturb the other classes.” Nobody really got any quieter, but at least she tried. Mrs. Powell checked names as each person got on the bus, and when everyone was seated, the bus roared away from the school while the kids inside cheered.

  Ziggy was sitting next to Rico and right behind Mr. Greene and Mrs. Powell. “So what’s going on, mon?” he whispered in Mr. Greene’s ear.

  “I like the river,” replied Mr. Greene.

  “You like it so much that you got on a school bus full of kids just to see it?” asked Rico. “You could have walked down to the river from your house.”

  “I often do, Rico,” replied Mr. Greene. “Sometimes before daybreak I walk down here and watch the morning wake up and the day begin its business. It’s a wonderful sight.”

  “Awesome, mon,” replied Ziggy as he settled back into his seat.

  The school was not very far from the river, so it wasn’t long before the bus stopped at Eden Park and the kids got off the bus. The weather was a little chilly, but the bright sunlight made the day seem warm and cheerful. The trees had lost most of their leaves; they looked as if they might shiver when the warmth of the sun left for the night.

  Ziggy and his classmates walked through the park a short way, then stopped at a low stone wall. Suddenly there was silence. Fifty feet below them, shining in the sunlight, was the Ohio River.

  “Wow!” whispered Rashawn. “My mom and dad and I have driven over the bridge lots of times, but all you can really see from the car window is a little bit of dirty brown water. I never knew the river was so pretty!”

  Silent and powerful, and filled with dark mysteries, the river relaxed at their feet. Like a long, purple serpent, it curled lazily as it wound its way from there to wherever. Although it was crossed by modern bridges and dotted with boats and barges, the river seemed strong, as if it were ignoring the dirt and pollution of the present and remembering the glory of its past.

  “That’s Kentucky, isn’t it, Mrs. Powell?” asked Rico, pointing to the buildings across the river. “It seems like it’s close enough to touch, but it also seems like it’s a million miles away.”

  “You’re right, Rico, and I know what you mean,” Mrs. Powell agreed. “When we get on the boat this afternoon, you’ll be able to see how far away and yet how close it really is.”

  Suddenly Ziggy pointed and cried out, “There’s our boat! Look! It says ‘BB Riverboat’! They’re loading up! We’re gonna miss it, mon!”

  “Calm down, Ziggy,” replied Mrs. Powell patiently. “We don’t have to be on our boat for another hour. They won’t leave without us. I promise.”

  The children sat or stood near the wall, and the river seemed to quiet them as they listened to its silent story. “This is nice,” said Jerome softly. “The wind is blowing, the sun is shining, and there’s no bugs!”

  “I bet if that old river could talk, he’d have some mighty stories to tell,” Rico said thoughtfully.

  “Is the water very deep?” asked Nicole, a girl with long black braids and a questioning look constantly on her face. Rico thought she looked confused. Jerome thought she looked cute. Ziggy hadn’t noticed her at all.

  “It sure is,” replied Mr. Greene, “very deep and cold. And you’re right, Rico. There are some really powerful stories from the river. That’s why I’m here today.”

  “True stories?” asked Tiana, a tall, thin, toffee-tanned girl. She moved closer to Rashawn, who was the only boy in class taller than she was. Rashawn pretended he didn’t notice and looked only at Mr. Greene.

  “Oh, yes—very true,” replied Mr. Greene. “My daddy and my granddaddy both grew up down here on the river. My granddaddy worked on the big riverboats that went from here all the way down the Mississippi River to New Orleans. And my daddy worked on the docks, lifting and loading, all his life. From the time I was a very small boy, they told me stories from the river—tales of sailors and chases and losers and lovers.”

  At the word “lovers,” Tiana edged one step closer to Rashawn. He pretended he had to sneeze and moved one step away.

  “Tell us about some of the chases, mon!” cried Ziggy with excitement.

  Rashawn quickly joined in. “Yeah! We want to hear some adventure stories!” The rest of the class loudly agreed. Tiana sighed and whispered to Nicole, “I’d rather hear some of the love stories.” Nicole smiled and nodded her head.

  “Did you know,” asked Mr. Greene, “that the Ohio River was a major route of the Underground Railroad?”

  “That’s wacko, mon! I thought you said these were true stories!” argued Ziggy. “What kind of railroad goes under the ground or under a river?”

  “Don’t you ever do your homework, Ziggy?” sniffed Tiffany with a knowing look. “It was all about—”

  “Slaves and stuff!” replied Ziggy. “I know because I did it while I was watching TV.”

  “If you had turned off the TV and read the last page, you would have come to the part about the Underground Railroad. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Pow
ell?” asked Tiffany, even though she was sure of the answer.

  “She’s right, Ziggy,” Mrs. Powell replied with a smile. “The last part of your homework was to read those pages in the book on the Underground Railroad.”

  “Oh, no!” cried Ziggy, who smacked himself in the forehead as if he were really upset. “Did you say ‘read’ those pages? I thought you said ‘reach’ that part! So I reached it, and closed my book. Then I fixed myself a tomato and banana milkshake and went to bed, mon!”

  Nobody believed Ziggy, but everyone laughed—even Mrs. Powell. Ziggy grinned, and Mr. Greene spoke softly. “I’m going to tell you a tale that you can’t find in your history books, and it’s a true story. Listen!”

  The class gathered in a circle, sat on the grass and waited for Mr. Greene to begin.

  “THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD,” MR. GREENE began, “was not a railroad at all. It was a method used to help slaves escape from the South and get to the North, where they could be free. It was very dangerous, but it was daring and mysterious, too.”

  “So why was it called a railroad?” asked Rashawn.

  “Let me explain. It was run like an invisible train. The escaped slaves had to travel long distances, and they made stops at safe houses—homes of people who helped them to the next location. Folks who didn’t understand about the secret hiding places would say that it seemed like the people just disappeared underground.”

  “Awesome, mon!” whispered Ziggy.

  “Everything had to be kept secret because it was against the law for a slave to try to escape, and it was against the law for anyone to help a slave to escape,” continued Mr. Greene.

  Nicole was shocked. “You mean you’d go to jail for wanting to be free?” she asked.

  “No, you wouldn’t go to jail—if you were an escaped slave who was captured, you would go back to your owner and back to slavery, where you would probably be punished severely.”

  “They’d never catch me!” said Jerome with his head held high.