Prologue

The Carlton Academy for Boys was old, there was no escaping that fact.  Everywhere you went, it was impressed upon you.  From buildings with plaques claiming dedication in 1764 to professors who may have been born only shortly thereafter, Carlton Academy seemed to imply that everything that was old was grand. 

If you have ever been to the Carlton Academy for Boys, you will know that old is not necessarily grand, and that many new things are worthwhile, especially in a school.  Air conditioning, for example, would have been grand, too.  However, there were some advantages to the oldness of the Academy.  The biggest, perhaps, is its secrets. 

Secret tunnels, secret halls, secret meetings, secret doors that looked like walls, secret walls that looked like doors; and the best part of it all was that the secrets were so old, that many of them had been completely forgotten by the people who assumed they knew so much. How, then, do I know about them?

I graduated from the Carlton Academy at the tender age of 19, more years ago than I care to think about. I was right in the middle of my class, and went on to a disappointing academic career at an underwhelming University.  But this story is not about me.  If it were, then I would have to apologize to you for the imminent boredom you were about to endure, and promptly offer you a refund for the price of this book.

Thankfully, this story is about Martin Chatsworth, who is, perhaps, the most average boy you’ve ever met.  Martin was the youngest of six boys.  His brothers, Nick, Jess, Thomas, Murphey, and Wilson, had all graduated from the Academy before he was old enough to enroll. 

I met the oldest brother very briefly while investigating Martin’s disappearance.  In my opinion, he was rather dull, utterly lacking an imagination; he was the sort of person with whom adults tend to get along splendidly.

Being of completely sound mind, he was, naturally, totally useless to me.  Nonetheless, despite the disturbing lack of cooperation from the immediate family, and a rather strongly worded condemnation from the local authorities, in whom said family puts their utmost faith, I believe that I have found the reason for our dear Martin’s disappearance, or rather his adventure.

If you researched the Carlton Academy, you would find that it had three dormitories, five academic buildings, two athletic fields, a fitness center, a Main Hall (used mainly for hosting dances with St. Teresa’s), a lake, a boathouse, a dining hall, a workshop room, a student center, a Commons building, and countless acres of land perfectly suited to exploration.  You would also find that it has one library, which may be the greatest lie ever told.

You see, the Carlton Academy for Boys has a second library, a Secret Library. I stumbled upon this library just once, towards the end of my stay at the Academy.  It would seem, however, that Martin had much more need for it than I ever did, and it is in this library where we must begin our story.