I turned to the Cobras.  They looked like child supermodels with their matching designer mourning outfits, silky black hair, and cinnamon-colored skin. They were talking to the preacher.

"They won't try anything during the funeral," Dan said hopefully. "They're after Grace's money like the rest of them. But they won't get it."

Amy frowned. "Dan . . . did you really believe what you just said, about us inheriting the mansion?"

"Of course! You know Grace liked us best, no offense Anastasia Marie. We spent more time with her then anybody."

Amy sighed like Dan was to young to understand.

"Come on," Amy said to us. "We might as well get it over with."

And the three of us waded into the crowd.

******** time lapse *******

The funeral was a blur to me. The minister talked about ashes. They lowered the coffin into the ground. Everybody tossed in a shovelful of dirt. Some "mourners" looked a little too pleased, especially the Kabras. (Amy corrected my spelling of it.)

Some caught my eye; a Korean dude with a walking stick, a Russian lady that had a twitch in one eye, a set of triplets, a kid from television who was dressed like a stereotypical hip hop star.

After the service, a guy in a charcoal-grey suit stepped to the podium. He looked like a vulture with his long nose and balding head.

"Thank you all for coming," he said gravely.

" I am William McIntyre, Madam Cahill's lawyer and executor."

"Executor?" Dan whispered to Amy. "He killed her?"

"No, you idiot," Amy whispered back while I tried to hold in my laughter. "That means he's in charge of her will."

"If you will look inside your programs," William McIntyre continued, "some of you will find a gold invitation card."

Excited murmuring broke out as four hundred people leafed through their programs. Then most cursed and shouted complaints when they found nothing. I leafed through my program. Inside was a gold card with a gold-leafed border. It read:

Anastasia Marie are hereby invited to the

reading of

the last will and testament of Grace Cahill.

           WHERE

The Great Hall, Cahill Manor

          WHEN

Now

"I knew it!" Dan said.

"I assure you," Mr. McIntyre said, raising his voice above the crowd, "the invitations were not done randomly. I apologize to those of you who were excluded. Grace Cahill meant no disrespect. Of all the members of the Cahill clan, only a few were chosen as the most likely."

The crowd started yelling and arguing. Apparently, Dan couldn't stand it anymore. He called out,"Most likely to do what?"

I silently agreed, what were we most likely to exceed at?

I heard Ian Kabra mutter "In your case, Dan, to be a stupid American git."

His sister, Natalie, giggled. She was holding an invitation and looked very pleased with herself.

William McIntyre answered before Dan could kick Ian. "To the beneficiaries of Grace Cahill's will. Now, if you please, those with invitations will gather in the Great Hall."

People with invitations hurried towards the house.

Natalie Kabra winked at Dan. "Ciao, cousin. Must run collect our fortune." Then she and her brother strolled up the drive.

I muttered some not so ladylike words I picked up on the street and Amy covered Dan's earsm as he tried shrugging her off.

"Forget them," Amy said. "Dan, maybe you're right. Maybe we'll inherit something."

But Dan frowned. One thing struck my mind, why did  Mr. McIntyre look so grim if the invitation was a good thing? From what Amy and Dan said Grace was a great woman, why would she invite the Holts and Kabras?

Going through the main entrance of the mansion, I glanced up at the stone crest above the door - a large C surrounded by four smaller designs-- a dragon, a bear, a wolf, and two snakes entwined around a sword. Why were these all over the place? But I've seen it before the library, where? My past has always been  messed up, my first memory being in an alley staring at a puddle of dirty water and wearing a dirtstained white hospital gown. Cuts and burns covering me. I was about 6 but what about the years before? No reclenition of parents. No soft touch, no hint of a smile. Just the smell of bleach that burned my nose and made me shiver.

No! I can't think of my past, Mrs. Williams, I can't think of her.

o-------------------------_o-------

The great hall was as big as a basketball court, tons of armor and swords lining the walls and huge windows that looked like a superhero could crash through at any moment.

William McIntyre stood at a table in the front with a projector screen behind him, while everybody filed into rows of seats. There was about forty people in all, including the Holts and the Kabras and Dan and Amy's aunt Beatrice, who did not look particularly happy to be there.

Mr. McIntyre raised his hand and the room quieted. He slipped a document from a brown leather folder, adjusted his bifocals, and began to read: " 'I, Grace Cahill, being of sound mind and body, do hereby divide my entire estate among those who accept the challenge and those who do not.' "

"Whoa," Eisenhower Holt interrupted. "What challenge? What's she mean?"

"I am getting to that, sir." Mr. McIntyre cleared his throat and continued" " 'You have been chosen as the most likely to succeed in the greatest, most perilous undertaking of all time -- a quest of vital importance to the Cahill family and the world at large.' "

Forty people started talking at once, asking questions and demanding answers.

"Perilous undertaking?" Cousin (right now everyone is cousin to me) Ingrid shouted. "What is she talking about?"

"I thought this was about money!" Uncle José yelled. "A quest? Who does she think we are? We're Cahills, not adventurers!"

I saw In and Natalie give a meaningful look. Twitchy Russian Lady whispered to something to Cane Korean Dude, but everyone else, like me, was as confused as a chameleon in a bag of skittles.

What were they hiding? Why would I be one of the most likely? What was this quest? One day with this family and I was already so confuzzled.