Heroes of the Dustbin

“What . . . ?” Spencer stammered. “Why are you smiling? I just told you that Bookworm is dead. The BEM ripped his head into two pieces. He’s gone!”

  “But the trash can,” Daisy said. “Which side of the sink was it under?”

  “Huh?” The question caught Spencer by surprise. Bookworm was dead, and all Daisy cared about was where the trash can ended up?

  “What did you say?” Daisy pressed. “Was it under the right side, or the left?”

  “The left,” Spencer said. “I remember, because your dad always says that thing . . .”

  “The garbage is right under the sink,” Daisy completed her dad’s phrase. She was laughing now, the very opposite reaction from what Spencer had anticipated. She turned and started down the garbage slope.

  “Come on!” she called behind her. “We have to hurry!”

  Spencer scrambled to keep up. “Where are you going?”

  “To my house, of course,” said Daisy. “It’s time for my garbology lesson!” She broke into a dead sprint, so determined that Spencer couldn’t catch up to her until they reached the concrete pad and the portal dumpsters. Daisy hoisted herself over the rim, and Spencer jumped in after her. A second later, the two kids were tumbling out the back of the garbage truck and into the Gateses’ driveway.

  “Would you please tell me what’s going on?” Spencer asked. They approached the house quietly and cautiously, side by side as they moved up the walkway.

  “Bernard’s been training me,” Daisy whispered, the porch steps creaking underfoot.

  “Training you to do what?”

  “To be a garbologist,” Daisy said, like it should have been obvious. The front door of the house was still cracked open and they slipped inside to find that all was empty and quiet. Daisy moved quickly through the darkened house, and when she flipped on the kitchen light, Spencer caught up to her.

  “Whenever Bernard comes by,” Daisy explained, “he leaves me clues in the trash can. If it’s a regular day, my dad says the garbage is right under the sink. But if Bernard came while I was at school, my dad says that Bernard left the garbage under the sink for me. Right, left. Get it?”

  “Got it.” Spencer nodded. “Your parents know Bernard?” Daisy had made Spencer pinkie swear not to tell a soul that her parents knew about Glop. He was surprised that she allowed Bernard to interact with them.

  “Of course,” Daisy said. “He’s my garbology teacher. Bernard has become a family friend. And if the trash can is on the left, that means that Bernard was here when the BEM attacked.” Daisy dropped to her knees and opened the cabinet below the sink. The garbage can was just as Marv had left it, tucked away on the left side.

  Daisy carefully lifted it out and peered into the trash.

  “What do you see?” Spencer asked impatiently.

  “This might take a minute to sort out,” said Daisy. “I’m already at a disadvantage since you disturbed the site.”

  “The site?” Spencer said. “It’s a trash can, Daisy. Not an archaeological dig.”

  “Bernard leaves his clues very carefully,” she said. “It might have messed things up when you dug around in here the first time.”

  “Technically,” Spencer said, “it was Marv. I couldn’t touch anything. My hands were glowing at the time.”

  Daisy began withdrawing items from the trash can, setting them aside in a specific manner that seemed very contrived to Spencer.

  The first to come out was Bookworm’s jaw. Daisy lifted the moldy textbook and examined the cover. “You can see where the lunchbox detached.”

  “I told you,” Spencer said. “The BEM ripped him apart.”

  But Daisy shook her head, pulling a razorblade from the trash. “The BEM didn’t touch Bookworm,” she said. “The lunchbox was surgically removed from the textbook.”

  “What?” Spencer said. “Surgically removed?”

  “Bernard disassembled him,” Daisy said, pointing at the book like it should be self-explanatory. “And Bernard wouldn’t do a thing like that unless he knew that Bookworm could be reassembled.”

  “Why would Bernard want to take Bookworm apart?” Spencer asked.

  Now Daisy was pulling a variety of objects from the trash. “The house was surrounded,” she said, placing a dozen blue M&M’s on the floor in a circle.

  “Wait a minute,” Spencer interjected. “How in the world do you know that M&M’s are supposed to resemble the bad guys?”

  Daisy pointed to them. “They’re all blue, which means they were put there for a reason,” she said, sounding an awful lot like Dr. Bernard Weizmann. “Blue starts with B, which is just two letters short of BEM.” She nodded. “The house was surrounded. Too many enemies for Bookworm to handle alone. Bernard knew my Thingamajunk would die to defend my house and parents. So Bernard must have cut him apart to protect him.”

  Spencer picked up Bookworm’s moldy jaw. “Where’s the other part?” he asked. “Where’s Bookworm’s lunchbox?”

  “I don’t know,” Daisy muttered, perusing the remaining contents of the trash can. She reached in and pulled out a latex glove. “Ooo,” she said, like she’d happened upon a real treasure.

  “What?” Spencer asked, clearly not seeing things like a garbologist-in-training.

  “The way the latex fingers are bunched up means that Bernard pulled off the glove in a hurry.”

  “How can you tell that he was wearing it at all?”

  “Most latex gloves are covered with a bit of white powder to keep them from sticking,” Daisy said. “Bernard wore it long enough to sweat. You can tell by the way the powdery stuff is crusted and dried on the inside.”

  Spencer scratched his head. “Why would Bernard wear the glove into the house, but then take it off once they were surrounded? He could have used it to slip past the BEM.”

  “I don’t think he wanted to escape,” Daisy said. “He disassembled Bookworm and abandoned his glove. He even left these behind.”

  Daisy reached into the can again and pulled out Bernard’s distinctive key chain. It was loaded with odd charms, and dangling among them was the key to the Glopified garbage truck.

  “I didn’t see Big Bertha outside,” Spencer said. The only garbage truck he’d noticed was the one Gia had parked in the Gateses’ driveway.

  “He must have parked it far away and come in on foot,” Daisy said. “Let’s see if he left us another clue.” She tipped over the trash can, spilling the remaining garbage across the empty kitchen floor.

  Spencer stared at the scraps of paper and bits of food decorating the floor. Daisy rifled through them carefully, unafraid of the germs that might be lurking in the mess. “Anything?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Daisy said, lifting a torn piece of cardboard from the garbage. It was a yellow scrap, obviously ripped from a box of Cheerios. She held the small piece up, squinting both eyes and twisting her head slightly to the side.

  “Looks like Big Bertha is parked at 5th East and Maple Street,” she said.

  “No way,” said Spencer, dubiously. “You got all that from staring at a scrap of Cheerios box?”

  “Cheerios?” Daisy seemed confused. “I was just reading the address Bernard wrote on the back of this cardboard.” She flipped the scrap around, and Spencer saw the garbologist’s small handwriting.

  “Let’s go,” Spencer said. If Bernard had left them the keys to Big Bertha and a mysterious address, then they had to see it through. He grabbed Bookworm’s textbook jaw and tucked it under one arm.

  Daisy reached out and shoveled all the spilled garbage into a pile. “Can you hand me the trash can?” she asked.

  “What are you doing?” Spencer asked.

  “Cleaning up,” said Daisy. “I can’t leave this garbage on the kitchen floor.” She reached into the pile and popped a blue M&M into her mouth.

  “You didn’t . . .” Spencer said, turning away. He’d seen Bernard eat stuff out of the garbage, and it looked like the practice was rubbing off on Daisy. “Is that part of your garbologist
training? Picking out the edibles?”

  “Don’t worry,” Daisy said, swallowing the candy. “We solved Bernard’s clues. This isn’t evidence anymore.”

  Spencer rolled his eyes. It wasn’t destroying the evidence that had him concerned.

  “Can you hand me the trash can?” she asked for a second time.

  Spencer grabbed the can. As soon as he touched the edge, he felt an unmistakable squish as his finger made contact with something that should never be touched with a bare hand.

  “Gum!” Spencer yelled, dropping the trash can and rubbing his fingers against his jeans. “Somebody’s nasty prechewed gum is stuck to the inside of your trash can.” He shuddered, mentally re-feeling the unexpected squish on his index finger.

  Daisy shuffled over on her knees to inspect the trash can. She put her face disgustingly close to the offensive wad of gum and took a sniff.

  “Strawberry Bubble Blaster,” she muttered. “Bernard chews this kind.”

  “Well, next time he comes over you should tell him to throw his gum in the garbage can instead of sticking it to the side,” Spencer said. “That’s so gross.”

  “Wait a minute,” Daisy said. To Spencer’s horror, she carefully reached into the can and peeled the pink gum away.

  “That’s a big wad,” Spencer pointed out, as Daisy laid the gum across her palm.

  “At least five sticks,” she said. “But look.” She pointed at the gum, and Spencer’s curiosity forced him to bend closer than he wanted to.

  Bernard’s huge wad of gum was stretched flat, with a few teeth marks indenting the side. Spencer saw a small smooth spot on the edge where he’d accidentally pressed his index finger. But centered in the gum was a perfect impression of a key. And below it, another, lying like a mirror image.

  “Two keys,” Daisy said.

  “Or two sides of one key,” Spencer pointed out. “It’s a mold.”

  “I don’t think it’s moldy,” Daisy said. “It’s only been here a day.”

  “No,” Spencer said. “It’s an impression. A mold that shows us the exact pattern of a key. Bernard must have pressed it into the gum to make a copy.”

  “Key to what?” Daisy said.

  “I bet we’ll find out at 5th East and Maple Street,” Spencer said, even more anxious to go now.

  Daisy stepped over to the kitchen cupboard and took out a Tupperware container. Popping open the lid, she stuck Bernard’s gum to the bottom of the plastic dish and replaced the top. In the excitement, she seemed to forget about the need to clean up the kitchen. Spencer didn’t remind her as they slipped out the front door and into the night.

  Chapter 22

  “I looked in the garbage.”

  There was nothing special about 5th East and Maple Street, except for the seemingly innocent garbage truck parked at the edge of Maple Park. Spencer hadn’t been back to this area of town since the beginning of the school year. He saw the apartments nearby and remembered how Garth Hadley had once lured him into a trap of relocated Toxites. Now Garth Hadley was gone, wiped to dust by the TPs in the Dustbin. So much was different. Spencer scarcely felt like the same person.

  It must have been past midnight when Spencer and Daisy stopped at Big Bertha’s bumper. Their foreheads glistened with a bit of sweat from the long walk across town. They’d cheated a little, using brooms to glide when they were sure no one was watching.

  Daisy dug Bernard’s key chain from her janitorial belt and inserted the key into the lock. The driver’s door swung wide, buffeting Spencer with the mixed smell of two dozen tree-shaped car fresheners hanging from the mirror.

  The two kids hoisted themselves into the cab and shut the door. They didn’t want anyone sneaking up on them, and Big Bertha’s cab was one of the safest places as long as the doors were closed.

  “What are we looking for?” Daisy asked.

  “This, I think,” said Spencer. He picked up an envelope that was resting on the truck’s dashboard. Across the front, Daisy’s name was scrawled in Bernard’s printing. “It’s for you.” He handed the letter to his companion.

  Daisy ripped open the envelope and withdrew a sheet of paper. She began to read aloud.

  “If you are reading this, it means I succeeded in getting caught. Your parents are in danger. I’m going to your house and I hope to be there when General Clean arrives. I wish I could save your mom and dad, but I’m afraid they’ll have to get captured with me.”

  Daisy paused. “He knew. Why would Bernard go to my house if he knew he’d be caught?”

  Spencer pointed at the letter. “Keep reading.”

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do about Bookworm. If he’s too strong, he could blow the whole operation. I’ll try to disarm the Thingamajunk by breaking apart his head. Don’t worry—I should be able to reassemble him later.” Daisy began reading faster than her lips could move, and she trailed off.

  “Hey,” Spencer said, reminding her that he needed to hear. “Out loud, please.”

  “Sorry,” she said, before resuming the narration. “The BEM isn’t just taking prisoners. They’re trying to erase all trace of the Rebels by emptying the houses of the people they abduct.”

  Daisy looked up, the realization finally dawning on her. “My parents weren’t deep cleaning the carpets.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Spencer said. “I think the BEM took all your belongings.”

  “But there was still stuff in your house,” Daisy pointed out.

  “The BEM must have been in a hurry when they took my family,” Spencer said. “It didn’t really matter since Clean came back to dissolve everything we owned with his Glopified drain clog remover.”

  “Why would they take all our stuff?” Daisy asked, horrified at the realization that the Gateses had been robbed.

  “It would look a lot less suspicious to the neighbors,” Spencer mused. “If a moving truck pulled into the driveway and loaded everything up, the people next door would just assume that you suddenly had to move away. They’d ask less questions when nobody ever saw you again.”

  “We would never move away without telling our neighbors,” Daisy said.

  Spencer shrugged. “It’s just a theory.” He pointed to the note in the girl’s hands. “Let’s see what Bernard says.”

  Daisy turned back to the paper. “I think the BEM is trying to stop us from finding something,” she read. “I’m not sure what.”

  Spencer knew it was about the scissors. The BEM didn’t necessarily have to find them, so long as they prevented the Rebels from ever locating the scissors. It was a good strategy.

  “Stealing all our possessions makes it so the Rebels can’t leave any important information behind,” Daisy read on. “But I’m betting that the BEM won’t take out the trash. So that’s where I’ll leave my clues.”

  Daisy looked up smiling. “Everyone underestimates the garbage,” she said. Then, glancing back at the note, she read on.

  “I know where the Rebels are being imprisoned. The BEM is transporting them and all their stolen belongings to a tiny island off the southern coast of Florida. A master key will unlock the gate to the island, as well as the individual cells where the Rebels are trapped. Unfortunately, the only person who holds a master key is General Clean. If everything goes right today, I’ll get captured at your house. I’m taking this gamble so I can get close to Clean. I’ll do my best to make an impression of his master key and leave it behind for you to find. The rescuing part is up to you and Spencer. Come save us. Your friend, Dr. Bernard Weizmann, garbologist.”

  Daisy lowered the letter and stared at Spencer. “He didn’t say anything about Bookworm’s lunchbox.”

  “He should have left it in the garbage can with the textbook,” Spencer said.

  “Maybe he tried,” Daisy said. “Maybe the BEM got to him before he could drop it.”

  “If Bernard had the lunchbox with him when the BEM attacked the house, that would mean . . .” Spencer trailed off, realizing the likely fate of Bookwor
m’s lunchbox.

  “The BEM took it,” said Daisy. “Along with everything else.”

  “Bernard said stolen belongings were also transported to that island,” Spencer said. “If we can break into that prison, we have a chance of finding the lunchbox and putting Bookworm back together again.”

  Daisy nodded, looking skeptical about their chance at succeeding. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “We should head back to the landfill,” said Spencer. “We need to talk to Marv and make a plan.”

  Daisy nodded in agreement. As she folded the letter, she noticed writing on the back of the page. “What’s this?” She turned the paper over and read the postscript.

  “P.S. If I happen to leave blue M&M’s in your trash can, don’t eat them. I found them rolling around under the driver’s seat of Big Bertha. Don’t know how long they’ve been there.”

  Daisy swallowed nervously.

  “See,” Spencer said. “I told you. It’s never a good idea to eat garbage.”

  “Well . . .” Daisy shrugged. “I’m still alive.” She stuffed the letter back into the envelope and placed it in the glove compartment. “What should we do with Big Bertha?”

  Bernard’s garbage truck no longer had an active portal to the landfill. The lids of every dumpster could be closed to prevent unwanted visitors. But Rho’s dumpster, which connected to Big Bertha, had been destroyed. The Dark Aurans had smashed it when the Rebels escaped the landfill back in February.

  “Let’s drive it back to your house,” Spencer suggested. “That way we can use Gia’s truck to get back to Big Bertha if we ever need to.”

  They were back at the Gates home in no time. Daisy drove Big Bertha, and she only hit the curb once. Spencer remembered fearing for his life the last time his friend had sat behind the wheel. But without a gang of Pluggers trying to run her off the road, Daisy was actually a pretty safe driver.

  The kids slipped out of the truck and Daisy locked Big Bertha, tucking the garbologist’s odd key chain into her belt. Spencer led the way, climbing the ladder up the side of Gia’s truck until he was staring into the dark bed through the open hopper. He slid his legs over the edge and jumped down, preparing himself to come tumbling out of Gia’s dumpster at the landfill.