Thank him? Yeah, right!
Spencer felt sick. Daisy’s tears finally leaked out. They were being turned over to the janitors. Marv and Walter would be furious about the theft of the hammer.
Spencer knew he would have preferred imprisonment or exile. Heck, even a samurai execution might be less painful than what the janitors would do.
“In addition,” Principal Poach went on, “you shall both write a nice letter of apology to the Parent-Teacher Association, who organized the ice cream social. The parents will be glad to see that you are paying for your wrongdoings. Unfortunately, I must forbid you from attending any PTA activities for the rest of this year.”
With some effort, Principal Poach stood up and smiled a walrus smile. “That will be all, children. I expect that no further disciplinary action will be necessary. Do your homework, eat your veggies, and don’t go looking for any more trouble.”
But Spencer and Daisy didn’t have to look far to see trouble. Even as Principal Poach concluded his speech, one of Jamison’s creatures, a vulture-bat, crawled out from behind a painting of George Washington and took flight. The little creature swooped down to Poach’s desk and landed on the rim of an open can of peanuts. Both Daisy and Spencer had their eyes glued to the creature.
“What?” Poach huffed, following their gaze to his desk. Meanwhile, the vulture-bat folded its wings and dropped into the can, scavenging for nuts.
“Oh,” the principal said. “I guess it’s not professional to leave my snacks out, is it?” He picked up the can of peanuts. “But I just can’t help myself. I
love
a good peanut.”
In horror, Spencer and Daisy watched as the hot-dog fingers descended into the peanut can.
“Don’t!” Spencer finally shouted. The last thing he wanted was for the vulture-bat to get a good meal off the principal’s fingers. The walrus-shaped man paused for a moment and glanced in the can. Apparently seeing nothing, he plunged in and withdrew a few peanuts. Poach stuffed the nuts into his mouth and crunched noisily.
“What’s the matter with you?” the principal asked.
Spencer floundered for an excuse. Poach obviously hadn’t seen
or
felt the creature in the can. “It’s just that you . . . you forgot to wash your hands.”
Principal Walrus chortled, his belly bouncing. “Pish posh,” he said, pointing back at his desk. “I use instant hand sanitizer.”
Spencer peered around the principal and saw the bottle of sanitizer. It was the kind that doctors claimed killed 99.99% of all germs.
Unfortunately, a slimy yellow salamander creature was wrapped around the bottle, wide mouth drooling all over the top.
Chapter 23
“So far I’m grounded for a week.”
Mrs. Natcher’s classroom was relatively peaceful without Dez. At least, an artificial sense of peace could be felt if Spencer and Daisy avoided eye contact with Mrs. Natcher.
The rest of the school day passed normally. Spencer aced the spelling test and Daisy misspelled only
colonel.
When the bell rang at the end of class, Spencer and Daisy hung back, wondering if it was worth trying to escape before detention. But what did it matter anyway? Sooner or later the janitors would catch them and punish them for stealing the bronze hammer.
The chance to run was shot down when Mrs. Natcher took Spencer and Daisy by the arms.
“The principal informed me of your detention with the janitors,” she said. “Perhaps I could help you find them, so you don’t get
lost
along the way.”
Mrs. Natcher escorted them down the hall to the waiting hulk of Marv Bills. With a formal head nod, Mrs. Natcher turned them over.
Marv glowered over the kids for a moment. “All right,” he said once Mrs. Natcher was gone. “John Campbell isn’t here right now, so you kids’ll be scraping gum off the desks until he gets back.”
“Don’t you mean Walter Jamison?” Spencer said. He didn’t mean for it to sound so defiant. Spencer just wanted Marv to know that he and Daisy were aware of the janitor’s lies.
“Come on,” Marv said and led the children to Mrs. Cleveland’s sixth-grade classroom. Wordlessly, Marv withdrew two flat razor blades that retracted into a handle by sliding a button back and forth. From his other pocket, he took two pairs of latex gloves.
“You’ll need these. I want you to get under each desk, use the blade to scrape off the gum, and then throw it in the trash. If you finish this room, move to the next. I’ll come get you when Mr. Campbell arrives.” Spencer and Daisy accepted the razor blades and Marv pushed them into the room.
It was a disgusting and intimidating assignment. The classroom had at least twenty-five desks. As Spencer crouched under the first desk and saw four hard, dried blobs, he silently vowed never to chew gum again. For Spencer, there could be no worse punishment than chipping off someone else’s ABC gum.
Spencer pulled on his latex gloves. Last time he’d worn one, it had made him uncatchable. These gloves were plain and nonmagical, but at least they would keep the germs off his hands.
Daisy didn’t seem to mind the task. She was already on her second desk, holding the fragments of stale gum in one gloved hand while working vigorously with the razor blade in the other. Taking a deep breath, Spencer followed her example and was surprised at how easily the old gum came free.
“I bet your parents weren’t too happy last night,” Spencer said.
“They were just worried sick. So far I’m grounded for a week. But it will probably be longer once Principal Poach calls to tell them what we did at the social.”
“You didn’t tell them?” Spencer dodged a piece of gum as it chipped off and fell toward him.
“What could I say? That we were on a secret mission for the BEM?” Daisy shook her head. “My parents have heard all kinds of stories from me. I know what they’d say: ‘Daisy, dear, someone was trying to trick you.’”
“That’s what my mom told me,” Spencer said. “Minus the ‘Daisy, dear’ part.”
“She thinks Garth Hadley was tricking us?” Daisy stopped scraping. “Could that be true?”
“I don’t know. We just need to be careful.”
They chipped rock-hard gum in silence.
“You sure made a mess in the cafeteria yesterday,” Daisy reminisced, as though it were a pleasant memory. “Bet your parents were pretty mad about that. They were there, weren’t they?”
“Just my mom,” Spencer answered. “But yeah, she was pretty mad.”
“What’d she say?”
“Said I was like my dad.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Daisy asked, halting her gum scraping.
“At
your
house it would be,” answered Spencer. “But I haven’t seen my dad since I was about ten.”
“Where is he? On business somewhere?”
“His own business,” said Spencer. It sounded too bitter, so Spencer explained. “My dad used to teach biology at a junior high school. His best friend was this scientist guy named Rod Grush. Sometimes they’d travel to do experiments and projects. It really made my mom mad because sometimes he’d be gone for days.”
Spencer sat back. It was weird to tell this story. Like sharing a spoon with someone, which Spencer would never do for fear of germs. It seemed to link them together in an extra personal way.
“Got so bad,” Spencer continued, “that Mom wouldn’t even let us say Rod Grush’s name around the house. About two years ago, my dad and Rod went to Texas for a project. He never came back.”
“Must be a big project,” Daisy said, turning back to her gum chipping.
Spencer felt his face go red. Gullible Gates didn’t understand. How could she, with her funny, Ford-driving dad?
“No, Daisy,” Spencer said. “You don’t get it. He’s not coming back. Nobody knows where he is. The junior high fired him. Mom says that his projects meant more to him than his family, and that’s why he took off.”
“What?” Daisy’s voice was rich with disbelief. “I don’t believe it,” she said, a fresh piece of gum sticking to her razor blade.
“What do you mean, you don’t believe it?” Spencer asked. He was getting angry, the way he always got when he thought too much about his dad.
“I mean, your dad’s
got
to come back. Nobody loves their work more than their family.”
Spencer slumped against the leg of a desk, his anger fleeing. His face was still hot and there were tears in his eyes. “I used to think that too. I miss him. He was the coolest guy.”
“Did he say he’d come back?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, wiping a stray tear with his shoulder. He kept his head low so Daisy wouldn’t see.
“Then you’ve got to believe him,” answered Daisy.
“It’s easy for you. You believe everyone.”
“Not anymore. I only believe people that I trust.”
“Do you trust
me?
”
“Duh,” Daisy said. “I think you—”
Daisy stopped short and Spencer’s tears dried instantly as the classroom door opened. Marv stepped inside. “John Campbell is ready to see you now. Follow me.”
As Spencer tried to regain control of his emotions, the prospect of facing the head janitor made him weak. Daisy came to his side and they followed big Marv until they stood at the top of the janitorial steps. Spencer noticed a few spots of sticky, dried root beer that hadn’t been mopped. The stains made polka dots on the stairs.
“Down,” Marv pointed. The children obeyed, slowly descending the steps and feeling as if the janitors’ storage/office would swallow them like a shark.
The basement room had been tidied since the last time Spencer and Daisy were down there. At the center desk, two chairs sat vacant, side by side. On the other side of the desk was the head janitor. Marv moved into position behind him like an ogre awaiting commands.
Walter Jamison gestured for the kids to be seated. Once they were in their chairs, the head janitor cleared his throat. “Did the principal tell you that I’d recommended detention with the janitors instead of suspension?”
“Yeah,” Daisy answered.
“You should thank me,” Walter replied. “You have become involved with a very dangerous organization. Being with us is the safest place for you right now.”
“Why?” Spencer leaned forward. “So you can poison our brains with your magical experiments?”
Walter Jamison sighed and ran a hand across his bald head. “I need you to inform me of everything that Garth Hadley told you.”
Spencer wanted to resist, but Daisy plunged in. Once she started, she seemed unable to stop. After pouring out the whole story, she folded her arms and glanced at Spencer. He smiled briefly at her, grateful to have the truth out in the open.
“Spencer, Daisy,” Walter Jamison began, his voice low. “I’m afraid you’ve been tricked.”
Chapter 24
“A warlock, actually.”
Tricked?” Daisy shouted, jumping to her feet. “That’s what everyone keeps saying. But how do I know that
you’re
not lying? The BEM is a government agency—”
“He’s
not
lying,” Marv said.
“You won’t even tell us your real name!” Spencer said to the head janitor.
“We often use false names to protect ourselves from the enemy,” Walter said. “I have been using the alias of John Campbell for several months now, but I assure you, my real name is Walter Jamison, as you’ve already discovered. Please,” he continued, “allow us to explain.”
He waited for the kids to calm down, then said, “Garth Hadley has filled you full of half-truths in order to make me into an enemy. He wants the hammer and nail for himself.” Walter held up his hand. “I should start at the beginning.” He looked down to gather his thoughts.
“The United States was founded in 1776,” Walter began. Spencer instantly hoped that this speech would have nothing to do with Samurai exile. “But even before the nation was formed, many colonists came from Great Britain.”
“The pilgrims,” Daisy said. “We know.”
“All right. Once the American colonies were thriving and schools were established, a certain threat was discovered. Three types of creatures, or Toxites, began to reside in the schools. Pests of the worst kind. You’ve heard of termites, or dust mites? Well, Toxites are far worse. The winged one is called Rubbish, the furry one Filth, and the slimy one they named Grime.
“Three women spotted the creatures first. Their natural ability to see Toxites marked them as witches. They quickly discerned that, to everyone else, the little pests were invisible. These three witches discovered a correlation between the Toxite population and the learning curve. In other words, if there were more creatures in a school, students did poorly. Determined to fix the problem, the witches set about ridding the schools of Rubbish, Filth, and Grime.”
“How’d they do that?” Daisy asked, her gullible side already absorbed by the story.
“Well,” Walter said, “they tried sweeping them up, but the Toxites were resilient to ordinary brooms. So the witches developed new brooms that enabled them to crush the critters.”
“And let me guess,” Spencer said sarcastically. “Then the witches flew off on their brooms.”
“Exactly. The magic in the Toxites is indestructible. For example, if a Filth is crushed by a witch’s broom, the body turns to dust and the magic goes into the broom that destroyed it. When brooms are powered with Toxite magic, they gain the ability to defy gravity. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” answered Spencer. “I just don’t buy it yet.”
“Let him finish,” Daisy said.
“The witches knew they couldn’t live forever, but they needed to keep the schools Toxite-free. They developed a way to expose other people to the Toxites’ existence. The secret was carried on from generation to generation. When the United States was formed and the country began to expand, the need for Toxite-fighting janitors increased. The Bureau of Educational Maintenance was founded and the secret was kept between those of us in the BEM.”
“Those of
us?
” Spencer asked. “You’re part of the BEM too?”
“All school janitors are. But only about 50 percent know of the Toxites. You see, the creatures don’t live in high schools. Even some junior high schools are bad environments for them.”
“Why?”
“Many years after the witches, we discovered that the Toxites inhale active brain waves and exhale waves that interfere with the growing mind. They are most dangerous to younger students. In fact, by the time kids reach high school, the Toxites can’t stand to be around them. To the creatures, it would be like breathing in really stinky air compared to the fresh air of the younger schools. It might even make some of them sick.”