Traps and Specters (5 page)

“Great …” Megan groaned as she steered her attention back to her tray. “Here comes bonehead.”

Walt continued toward them, his wide shoulders swaying. When one student was struck by Walt's elbow, his glasses fell off and plopped into his wet pile of noodles. When another student was bumped, his spork missed his mouth and instead jabbed his ear. Noah glanced around and saw there wasn't a single adult in sight.

“The Action Dorks,” Walt slurred, as if he were talking around a mouthful of pebbles. When he neared the scouts, his gaze fell to Ella's backpack. “What's in the bag?”

Noah watched his friends tense up. It was Ella who answered—a bit too quickly and defensively, Noah thought.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? What kind of an idiot walks around carrying a bag of nothing?” Dave and Doug nodded once, twice, three times. Noah thought they looked like bobble heads, the kind you stick on the dashboard of a car.

“Walt …” Ella said, “your head is a bag of nothing and
you
still carry it around.”

Walt's eyes opened so big that Noah could actually see their roundness.

“Talk a walk, White,” Ella said. “You're blocking our light, you gargantuan oaf.”

Walt's back stiffened. He studied the nearby students to calculate how many had witnessed the insult. Then he slowly drew down his eyelids and leaned so close to Ella that she could have puckered up and planted a kiss on his lips.

“What—did—you—just—say?”

Ella locked her stare on his. A fourth grader at the next table gasped. Another student began to whimper.

“Okay,” Walt said with a sneer. “I'll walk. But not without
this
.” With a clean jerk of his arm, he seized Ella's backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

The scouts jumped up. Noah reached across the table, spilling his chocolate milk. Ella swiped at her pack and missed, her fingertips grazing Walt's shirt.

“Whooaaa!”
Walt said, his voice quivering with laughter. “What do you got in this thing?”

“Give it back, Walt!” Megan shouted. “Give it back
now
!”

“Or what? What are you twerps going to do?”

Ella swiped at her backpack a second time, missing completely. Walt jumped back and allowed his friends to step in front of him like a shield. When Noah again reached across the table, Walt snickered. He juggled his stare between Noah and Ella, saying, “
Maaaan
… whatever you dorks got in here, it must be good.” He fumbled for the zipper.

Ella lunged forward, but Walt's cronies held her back. She reached around Doug, her open hand sweeping through the air. “Let—go—of—me!” she said, her words snapping out one at a time.

“Get your hands off her!” Richie hollered. He reached around Ella and shoved Doug, who didn't budge.

Just as Noah was about to yell for help, Walt unzipped the backpack and, without looking, plunged his hand inside. He immediately squealed, dropped the bag to the floor, and stared with wide eyes at several dots of blood on his finger.

Ella reached around the legs of Walt's friends and snatched up her pack. She pitched it across the table into the open arms of Noah, who zipped it, then tossed it over to Megan, who was farthest from Walt.

“You
freak
!” Walt poked his finger into his mouth to suck off the blood, then pulled it back out. “What the heck's in that thing?”

Dave and Doug backed away from Ella until they bumped against Walt.

“Not telling,” Ella said. “But for fifty bucks, you can have the antidote.”

Walt's eyes widened with worry. It was obvious he believed her, at least a little.

From across the cafeteria, a voice rang out:
“White!”

A hundred heads turned, and the room fell to silence. Standing at the end of the tables was Mr. Kershen, the toughest teacher in Clarksville Elementary. He marched between the benches and stopped at the scene, his hands propped on his hips.

“You guys haven't learned to get along yet?”

Walt uncorked his finger from his mouth with a slight popping sound. He shook his bleeding fingertip toward Ella and said, “That freak … she's got something in her bag! Something that—”

“You mind telling me what you were doing with her backpack?”

Walt's eyes shifted as he searched for a good lie. “I … I thought she took my library book.”

Mr. Kershen's face fell in a frown. He hooked his finger inside his shirt collar and pulled it away from his neck. “You got to be kidding me.” As he spoke, his mustache rolled like a wounded caterpillar. “White—the last time you checked out a book it was a
movie
.”

“But … Mr. Kershen … I …”

“C'mon …” He grabbed Walt's arm and led him down the aisle between the tables. “To the principal's office.”

Walt's friends, suddenly unsure about everything, dashed out of sight.

The scouts dropped into their seats and Megan slid the backpack over to Ella. Within seconds the normal cafeteria activity resumed. Among the chatter of the students, Richie found it safe to talk.

“‘Gargantuan oaf'?” he said to Ella. “Where in the world did that come from?”

Ella shrugged.“I guess stress brings out my vocabulary.”

Noah turned and watched Mr. Kershen escort Walt from the cafeteria. This was the third time in two years that Walt had gotten in trouble after an altercation with the scouts.

The thought made Noah very nervous.

CHAPTER 7

W
hen the final bell sounded that day, students poured out of their classrooms, running, hollering, and laughing. The twang of flimsy locker doors filled the air, and a few wads of paper sailed overhead. As Noah and Richie headed through the commotion, they kept a careful watch for Wide Walt. They'd learned that Walt hadn't been sent home after the incident in the cafeteria. This meant he could be prowling the halls, looking to retaliate.

Noah squirmed through the students to get to his locker, and Richie continued down the hall to his own. After spinning through his combination, Noah opened the door and pulled out his jacket. Megan and Ella approached, their coats and backpacks already on. Ella was wearing her pink earmuffs and Megan her fleece headband.

“We ready to roll?” Ella asked as she pulled her gloves tight.

Noah nodded. He slipped on his jacket and his backpack, then closed his locker. “P-Dog okay?”

“I guess. I can feel him moving around.”

Walt and his two cronies suddenly charged past on their way to the main entrance. Walt was laughing and gleefully pushing kids aside.

“What's that thug so happy about?” Ella asked. “He finally learn the alphabet?”

Noah shrugged. He stared in the direction from which Walt had come and couldn't spot Richie in the thinning crowd. But on the floor by Richie's locker lay his jacket and backpack.

“Uh-oh,” Noah said.

Ella followed Noah's gaze. “Did Walt just make a sardine out of Richie again?”

Noah shook his head in disgust. “C'mon … let's go get him.”

The three of them hurried down the hall, weaving through kids. When they reached Richie's locker, Noah said, “You in there?”

A voice came through the vent at the top of the locker: “Alas, it is I.”

Noah dialed in Richie's locker combination—each of the scouts kept it memorized for this exact situation. “You hurt?”

“Not really.” Richie's voice was muffled and tinny. “It's actually quite comfortable in here.”

Noah opened the door to see that Richie was turned half sideways, the curves of his skinny body fitted into permanent dents in the locker walls. His shoulders were slouched and his glasses were crooked. A few pens had fallen from his shirt pocket and lay on the steel floor.

Ella grabbed Richie's arms and yanked him out. She stared up the hall at the place Walt had been. “Someone really needs to lay out that clown!”

Richie bent over and collected his pens off the ground. “And, rest assured, that someone is
not
going to be me.” He donned his jacket and backpack and closed the locker door. “Forget about him,” Richie said as he made a move toward the exit. “We have more important things to worry about.”

The scouts watched their friend walk off. After a few seconds, Noah said, “He's right. Walt's nothing next to DeGraff.”

The girls nodded, and the four friends made their way through the crowd. Outside, they headed straight for the zoo, where crosstraining was scheduled to begin in just a few minutes at Koala Kastle.

CHAPTER 8

P
-Dog stuck his head out from the backpack and sniffed the ground curiously, his whiskers twitching about. As he raised his snout to investigate the air, the wind lifted a leaf and dropped it on his furry face, startling him.

“Hurry up, P!” Ella said.
“Go!”

He struggled out of the backpack and hobbled across the zoo lawn.

The scouts were at Little Dogs of the Prairie, the outdoor prairie dog exhibit in the Clarksville Zoo. It resembled a sandy prairie, one that was pitted with holes, and beneath it was a tunnel system that led first to the Grottoes and then the Secret Zoo. The four friends were all alone—on such a cold weekday afternoon, the zoo was practically empty.