[shared copy] The Starbuck family is anything but ordinary. There are two sets of Starbuck twins: preteens Liberty and July, and their little sisters Charly and Molly. But even more extraordinary is the fact that all four children have the ability to teleflash―they can talk to each other without saying a word! It's a power that comes in handy whenever these adventurous kids are on the trail of a villian. Before the Starbuck family embarks on a trip to New Mexico, a whisper comes through the wind to Liberty. It leads her and her twin, July, to an ancient hillside dwelling that was the site of a tragedy. In their quest to rectify the wrongs of the past, the twins encounter a group of thieves who will stop at nothing to steal the artifacts in the ancient home. Kathryn Lasky 's many books for young people have received such honors as the Parents' Choice Award, the National Jewish Book Award, and a Newbery Honor citation. Her picture books include Sugaring Time, The Emperor's Old Clothes, A Brilliant Streak: The Making of Mark Twain, and Marven of the Great North Woods. She lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with her husband, photographer and filmmaker Christopher Knight. 1. Vocabulary Tests and Other Diseases of the School Year diphtheria—d-i-p-t-h-e-r— No, July! Liberty Starbuck mentally sent the message to her twin brother through the hallway that connected their turret bedrooms. Their rooms were on the third floor of their big old shingled house on shady tree-lined Dakota Street in Washington, D.C. All four of the Starbuck children had amazing telepathic abilities. The younger set of twins, Charlotte and Amalie, nicknamed Charly and Molly, were six years old and identical. Liberty and July, born at midnight on the Fourth of July, were fraternal. But they were about as identical as a thirteen-year-old sister and brother could be, with their pale gray eyes, slashes of jet-black bangs, and the light bands of freckles that stretched across their noses. The strongest telepathic links existed within each set of twins. But when all four twins were together, they could cross-communicate and have entire conversations, which other people never heard, that they called teleflashing. At this moment, Liberty was tuned in to July and was monumentally weary of his frustrating attempts to spell the word diphtheria. He could remember the definition: an acute contagious disease caused by infection with bacillus. But the spelling got him worse than the disease ever would! Look, July, it’s got this rhythm to it: di-ph-th-er-ia. You just have to get the pattern: da-duh-da-duh-da-duh-da-duh-da-duh. The beat tripped through the telepathic channels and met a dead end, followed by a groan. Within seconds, Liberty and July were out from behind their desks; they nearly collided in Liberty’s doorway. "I can’t believe this!" July was muttering out loud. "This is our first test in years!" "It seems like forever since we’ve been stuck in regular school." Liberty sighed, flopping onto her bed. "First London, then Florida . . . Something always comes up." "Charly and Molly are already being assigned reading groups. They’ve got their phonics workbooks," July said ominously. As if on cue, the red-haired twins appeared at the doorway. Charly and Molly were mirror-image twins, as biologically identical as any twins could be. The only noticeable differences between them were their cowlicks and their birthmarks. Charly’s cowlick swirled to the right; Molly’s swirled left. And while Molly had a faint strawberry-colored birthmark on her right ear, Charly’s appeared on her left ear. They truly were mirror images of each other. The twins were sometimes a shock to the unaccustomed eye. Their blazing red hair stood out in defiant little spikes all over their heads—except when they were wearing their Davy Crockett coonskin caps, a present from Grandma Starbuck. Due to their habit of sucking on the coons’ tails, there were usually a few wisps of coon fur mingled in with the glaze that constantly glistened between the twins’ noses and upper lips. On any given day, at least eleven of their combined twenty fingers wore press-on nails. Sometimes the nails had fancy designs, such as polka dots or lightning bolts, but today the twins had toned it down—bloodred dagger tips clutched the workbooks in their hands. The smell of wet fur and hair mousse—Charly and Molly loved hair mousse—surrounded them. Add to this a dash of the salty smell of perspiration. Liberty looked at her little sisters and wrinkled her nose. Unbelievable! How could any two people who had started out so cute have become so totally revolting? Waves of their signature fragrance—mousse, kid sweat, and fur—swirled through the air. Charly and Molly looked absolutely miserable. Their immense blue eyes were swimming with sadness. "We don’t know how to read anymore," Charly wailed. "It doesn’t work," Molly whimpered. "What are you two talkin