Chapter 1: The Discovery

1. THE DISCOVERY
Jorge wasn’t supposed to see the sword.

The only reason he did see it was because he was climbing the garage roof. Cooper Tumbor, the new neighbors’ son and the most pompous boy ever, had dared him to scale the back and do a handstand on top. The side of the roof was steep and sloped like a mountain, but Jorge never refused a dare.

His cousins Camila and Siggy were inside, so Jorge figured he would have some privacy to try out the stunt. Jorge was the youngest of the three cousins and they were all at their aunt Xía’s house, like every Monday after school. Tía Xía was loving but perpetually distracted.

Camila liked to act all motherly toward Jorge, even though she was only a year older. This sometimes posed a problem for Jorge, who was interested in dares (the more dangerous the better), but right now Camila was reading one of her animal books, and Siggy, the oldest of the three, was recording a video. It usually took Siggy a bunch of takes before he would upload anything—not that he had many followers, Jorge thought with a smirk.

As for his aunt Xía, she was history’s worst babysitter, which was what Jorge loved about her. She gave them plenty of snacks, hugs that were slightly too tight, and free rein of her house and yard. She was inside gabbing with a friend on the phone, and Jorge didn’t think she would be out to check on him anytime soon.

Jorge took a running leap, managed to hoist his body onto the gutter, and began the slow crawl to the top of the garage. It wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. The uneven shingles provided some footholds, and while it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, it wasn’t impossible either. He reached the top sweaty and triumphant. He plucked some hot-pink flowers from the bougainvillea that grew along the side of the garage—proof that he’d been up here—and shoved them in his pocket. He looked around, wondering where Cooper had gone. He had expected Cooper to stick around and heckle him.

Jorge turned his attention back to the garage roof, where there was a flat area just big enough for a kid to do a handstand. The trick would be flipping upside down without falling. Just as Jorge was about to try it, he heard a car pull into the driveway and the front door of the house slam. He watched as Tía Xía came running toward the driveway, her frizzy hair flying behind her. He crouched down, and to his relief, Tía Xía didn’t see him. Even Tía Xía’s permissiveness didn’t extend to balancing on rooftops.

Jorge couldn’t see much from his perch, but he heard Luisa, Tía Xía’s work friend from the museum, step out of the car. “I found this in the supply closet. You know how clean I keep that closet—someone must have planted it there!”

Jorge dropped onto his stomach and scooted toward the edge of the roof, where he could peer down at the driveway. He was expecting to see some history thing, like a broken butter churn or an old-fashioned typewriter—the kinds of things history nerds like Luisa and Tía Xía loved but no one else really cared about.

He did not expect to see a diamond-encrusted sword.

It was a dazzling sword with elaborate engravings and a solid gold hilt dotted with diamonds. In fact, the hot Miami sun was beating down hard on the driveway, and everything it touched seemed to sizzle and let off steam.

Tía Xía took the sword in her own hands and said, “How could this be? The sword was missing for more than a century and now someone just leaves it in a closet at the museum? It must be magic!”

Jorge shivered, despite the heat. Tía Xía liked to talk about how history is alive and how the past speaks. After all, she worked at a history museum. That was what she meant when she said it was magic, of course.…



Except. There was something about the way she said it that gave Jorge a funny feeling. He thought he had better get off the garage roof before he caught sunstroke, but he didn’t dare move while Tía Xía and Luisa were in the driveway.

“I have to bring this to Nacho,” Tía Xía said. “It would mean so much to him.”

“Be careful,” Luisa pleaded. Jorge wondered why she sounded so worried. Tía Xía was just going to bring the sword to some guy named Nacho.

“We don’t know who planted it,” Luisa said. “Someone could be after you, Xía.”

Either Jorge was hearing things or Tía Xía was keeping a big secret. Why would someone be after his zany, scatterbrained aunt? She was the last person you would expect anyone to be after, that was for sure.

“I’ll leave right away,” Tía Xía said decidedly.

“You can’t! The ships—”

“They’re ready.” Luisa must have known there was no point in arguing with Tía Xía once she had made up her mind. She climbed into her car and drove away.

Jorge stayed where he was, silent. The roof shingles were starting to dig into his stomach and scratch his knees, but at least the day was finally cooling down.

Tía Xía stood in the driveway, holding the sword, then rushed across the lawn. Jorge watched her carry the sword to the tinajón, the large clay pot that lay on its side in the corner of the front yard. She held the sword firmly in her right hand, like she was used to such things, then knelt down in front of the pot.

There were clay pots like these on lawns scattered all over Miami, but Tía Xía’s was unusually large. Even so, when Jorge saw Tía Xía crawl right into the mouth of the clay pot and disappear inside, he rubbed his eyes in confusion. She must have disappeared around the side somewhere—maybe she was burying the sword? Or maybe he really was having sunstroke. Not a minute later, Tía Xía emerged from the clay pot, wiped her hands and knees, and walked to the front door of her house.

Jorge didn’t move for several minutes, waiting to see if anything else astonishing would happen. When nothing did, he turned around and faced the steep back of the garage roof once more. He had totally forgotten about the dare. All he wanted now were some answers from Tía Xía, like where she had put the sword, and what was going on with her tinajón. More important, Jorge wanted to know who exactly was after Tía Xía. Now that he thought about it, there were some people annoyed at Tía Xía—her new neighbors were rich and grumpy. They complained about how Tía Xía maintained her lawn (she didn’t), how much her dogs barked (all the time), and how loudly she blasted Bad Bunny (as high as her speakers would go). But Luisa wouldn’t have issued a warning like that just for some grumpy neighbors.

“Well, well.”

Jorge groaned.

Cooper Tumbor was standing behind the garage again. He lived in the house behind Tía Xía’s, and he seemed to love nothing better than torturing Jorge. Considering Cooper was in the seventh grade and Jorge was only in fifth, it really was unfair.

“Couldn’t manage the handstand, I see,” Cooper mocked.

“Couldn’t tell the weather, I see,” Jorge mimicked, pointing at Cooper’s long pointy umbrella.

“Try again.” Cooper motioned upward.

Jorge looked. The brilliant blue Miami sky was rapidly turning dark with clouds. He was going to get soaked.

“Of course,” Cooper said airily, “I went to get an umbrella, because I prepare for the rain. Why, when my ancestors, the Tumbors of Massachusetts, were building a new dormitory at Harvard University—the most important university in the country—did they let the rain stop them?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jorge said. Cooper was always talking about his important ancestors. It was drizzling now, and Jorge wanted to climb down before the roof got any wetter.

“Of course, it’s all in my blood. I’m very lucky to have such important ancestors. Who did you say your ancestors were, Jorge? From some little island, right?”

Jorge gritted his teeth. He was half Cuban, half Mexican, and one hundred percent sick of Cooper Tumbor. “Get out of my way,” he growled, preparing to climb off.

BOOM!

There was a flash of electric-blue light, and rain pounded down, instantly drenching Jorge. Rivulets formed on the back of the roof, sliding swiftly between the shingles. The entire roof was slick with rainwater. Anyone who tried to climb down now would surely slip and break their neck.

“Well, well,” Cooper repeated in his pompous tone. “This should be interesting.” He opened his pointy umbrella and grinned.

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