The Dez that Spencer had met a year ago would never have done such a thing. They might not have transformed him into a scholar, but Spencer counted it a huge success that they’d transformed him into a friend.
“Don’t count on me to do it again, Doofus,” said Dez. “I’m blind forever because of you! You totally owe me one.”
“Yeah,” Spencer said. “I guess I do.” He looked at the boy’s sightless eyes. “I have an idea that might make us even. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You can’t do anything cool,” Dez grumbled. “I can’t believe I saved you.”
For a moment, Spencer was glad Dez couldn’t see them all smiling. That was as close as anyone got to getting a “thank you” from Dez Rylie.
Chapter 49
“If you make a mess, clean it up.”
Min and the Monitors were waiting in Mrs. Natcher’s classroom with the Auran girls. Spencer and Daisy came in, guiding Dez through the open doorway.
Across the hallway, Spencer couldn’t help but notice the smashed drinking fountain. What had once been the Glop source now looked plain and ordinary. The Witches’ pedestal sink, still brimming with surveillance soapsuds, stood in the corner of the classroom next to the bookshelf.
“I must admit,” Min said, when Spencer had finished recounting the story, “I wasn’t counting on Dez’s brain to save the day.”
“Hey,” Dez protested. “It was my muscles. I totally stopped that stupid Refried Dust.”
“Refraction Dust,” Min corrected, before Spencer could say anything.
“What will you guys do now?” Daisy asked Min.
“I will personally see to it that each Monitor makes it home safely,” Min replied. “They have acted with extraordinary bravery today, and we are fortunate that no one perished.”
The Monitors nodded, looking shell-shocked from the night’s battle. Some of them were still wearing their white wigs, too afraid that someone would attack if they removed them.
“Bookworm can help move squeegees again,” Daisy volunteered her pet. “He might even be able to talk some of the other Thingamajunks into leaving the landfill. He’s very respected—for a guy made out of garbage.”
Min accepted the offer with a nod, ushering the Monitors out of the classroom to begin the task of returning them to their homes.
“Thanks for everything,” Spencer said, catching Min by the arm at the doorway.
“I will have my Monitors inspect their schools for these newly transformed Toxites,” Min said. “I will be anxious to find out if the change affected all of them.”
Daisy smiled nervously and shook Min’s hand. “Write me?” she said.
“Of course,” he replied.
Spencer rolled his eyes, telling himself that the feelings in his stomach did not come from jealousy. Then Min and the Monitors were gone.
“I have something for you,” Spencer said, facing the nine Auran girls. They were dirty and battle worn, their white hair still matted from the storm around the Broomstaff.
Spencer reached into his belt pouch and withdrew the bangle bracelets that he’d taken from Belzora. Studying them closer, he discovered a name etched onto the inside of each one.
“These are your Timekeepers,” Spencer said.
“All of them?” asked Rho.
“All but mine,” Spencer answered.
“What happened to yours?” Gia asked.
“The Witches didn’t know I was going to be an Auran,” Spencer said. “They didn’t make me one.”
“I thought the years were captured in the nearest piece of bronze,” Rho said.
“Yeah,” answered Spencer. “But there’s no way to know what that was for me. The circumstances weren’t ideal when I became an Auran. Basically everything around had been sucked into the Vortex.”
“I thought the Timekeeper killed V,” said Shirley, a hint of concern in her voice.
“It did,” Daisy admitted. “Because she couldn’t take it off.”
“If you keep these safe,” Spencer said, “and touch them for only a moment at a time, you should be able to age at whatever pace you choose.”
Rho stepped forward, her gloved hand outstretched. “I’ll take it,” she said.
Spencer sifted through the bracelets until he found the one inscribed with Rhode Island. He dropped it into her palm. The latex glove prevented any contact with her skin, and Rho remained the ageless girl she’d always been. Her fingers curled around the Timekeeper, and she dropped it into her belt pouch.
After seeing Rho survive the bracelet, the other girls lined up to get theirs. Spencer literally gave their lives back to them, one at a time.
New Jersey for Jersey. South Carolina for Lina. Connecticut for Netty. New York for Yorkie. Delaware for Dela. Pennsylvania for Sylva. New Hampshire for Shirley. And Georgia for Gia.
The Auran girls quietly filtered out of Mrs. Natcher’s classroom, wanting time to contemplate the decision they would have to make.
Rho was the last to leave. She hung back, and Spencer could tell she had something to say to him and Daisy. “When I met you two,” she started, “I never would have thought I could owe you so much. A fraction of my age, and yet I leaned on you for wisdom.” Rho pulled them both into a hug.
“Remember when you were Jenna?” Daisy asked. She gave a nervous laugh. “That was weird.”
The memory made Spencer blush. He was almost embarrassed to have had a crush on Jenna. He’d quashed his feelings for Rho a long time ago. She was just so . . . old.
“Are you guys having a group hug?” Dez asked. He pretended to gag.
“Where will you go?” Spencer asked.
“I was thinking of settling down,” Rho said, releasing them from the hug. “Maybe I’ll try middle school for a while. If I don’t like that, I can always bump up to high school or college.”
“Will we ever see you again?” Daisy asked.
“I think that can be arranged,” answered Rho with a smile. “Who knows, maybe I’ll even be in your class next year.”
She gave them one more squeeze and vanished down the hallway. Spencer’s attention turned back to the three bangle bracelets in his hand.
North Carolina, Maryland, and Massachusetts.
“Are those for us, mate?” came Aryl’s unmistakable voice from the back of the classroom.
Spencer and Daisy both jumped in surprise to find the three Dark Aurans sitting behind Mrs. Natcher’s desk.
“Whoa,” Dez said. “I didn’t even see you guys come in . . . thanks to Spencer.”
“Didn’t expect you would,” Sach pointed out.
“We didn’t either,” said Daisy. “And we can see fine.”
“That’s what happens when you have a few hundred years of practice sneaking around.” Olin smirked. “The window was open.” He pointed over his shoulder to where Mrs. Natcher’s paisley curtains fluttered in the post-storm breeze.
“Let’s get you out of those Pans,” Spencer said. “Again.”
“Hey,” Sach said. “That’s not funny. We let our guard down for one second and what happened?” He paused like he was waiting for an answer. “No, seriously,” Sach said. “What happened? We don’t remember a thing. Just woke up with an old familiar Pan around our necks.”
“General Clean hit you with the green spray,” Daisy said. “He had a Sweeper potion hidden in a fountain pen, and he turned himself back into a half-Grime.”
“Ha ha!” Olin laughed. “Now, isn’t that ironic?”
“Why?” Spencer asked, failing to see the irony.
“Sweepers have to die twice,” Olin explained. “But since Clean already lost his first life, now he has to remain a Sweeper until he dies.”
“He probably wanted that,” Spencer said.
Aryl chuckled. “He definitely didn’t want what he got.”
“What do you mean?” asked Daisy.
“Let’s just see if we can find the old General,” Sach said, stepping over to the sink of soapsuds by Mrs. N
atcher’s bookshelf.
Sach squinted at the foamy suds, fishing a few out with his finger until he found the viewpoint he was searching for. Taking the tiny soapsud between both hands, Sach stretched the image for everyone to see.
Through the fish-eye lens, Spencer saw the muddy hill leading up to the forest of oversized utensils. It wasn’t far from the Broomstaff and the spot where Welcher had been deposited. The hill was bare, aside from the bits of scrap and trash that littered all of the landfill. Then Spencer saw a figure moving against the muddy slope. When Sach zoomed in even closer, Spencer realized that it was General Clean, trying desperately to climb away from the battlefield.
“It wasn’t hard for us to escape once he looked like that,” Olin said.
Spencer shook his head in amazement. The Sweeper slipping in the mud didn’t look anything like the terrifying General Clean. With the Toxites’ recent transformation, Clean’s Grime half had been affected. Now the man was heavy and round, his stomach stretching out of his white lab coat. In proportion to his torso, Clean’s legs and arms looked small and comical.
His face and neck were covered in silver scales that sparkled in the faint moonlight. Clean’s tail was half the length it used to be, swishing rapidly back and forth like that of an excited dog.
The Sweeper man was scrambling up the hillside. But the task looked very challenging with his missing left hand and portly belly. He toppled back, his stubby legs failing to support his weight. Clean rolled down the slope and came to rest on his posterior, kicking and flailing like a turtle on its back.
“That’s the great General Clean?” Spencer asked in disbelief over what his eyes were seeing.
“What?” Dez said. “What does he look like?”
“He looks like a giant disco ball with legs,” Daisy said.
“The Sweepers changed just like the rest of the Toxites,” Aryl said. “I have a feeling General Clean won’t be bothering schools anymore.”
Olin grinned. “Now every time the Sweeper General takes a breath, he’ll actually be helping students focus.”
Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle at the way that had played out. General Clean had dedicated his life to bringing down education. Now, with every breath, the Sweeper would have no choice but to build it up.
“That’s not going to make him very happy,” Daisy pointed out. “I think Clean would rather be blind than help education. I’m sure he won’t stay a Sweeper for very long.”
“He has no choice,” Sach answered. “His first life ended in the Hoarder’s dwelling. If he dies again, it will be permanent.”
Looking into the soapsud, Spencer saw that Clean had managed to rise to his feet once more. He glanced nervously over his shoulder, as if afraid of pursuit. Then he began another attempt at scaling the muddy slope, apparently hoping to find refuge in the forest of utensils.
“What will happen to the BEM now that Clean has . . . changed?” Spencer asked. He couldn’t imagine the Bureau keeping that pitiful figure in command.
“They’ll pick a new leader,” Aryl said. “Someone else will take his spot in overseeing janitorial work in schools across the country.”
“It might take a while,” said Sach, “but the Bureau of Educational Maintenance should return to what it once was—an organization established to maintain a positive learning environment for students in schools.”
“But the Toxites have all transformed,” Daisy pointed out. “The BEM won’t have any creatures to fight against.”
“You’re right,” Olin said. “Instead of fighting Toxites, the Bureau will feed them. Instead of scaring them away, they’ll make sure the new Toxites are comfortable and plentiful in each school across the nation. Every new Toxite breath is a boost for education.”
Sach gestured once more to the bubble in his hands. The ridiculous new version of General Clean had reached the top of the hill, and his shimmering tail flicked back and forth like an excited puppy’s. Sach pushed his hands together, reducing the image to a tiny soapsud. Then he replaced the bubble in the sink of foamy surveillance. Aryl tapped the metal Pan around his neck, a not-so-subtle reminder that Spencer needed to free them once more.
Pulling out his spit sponge, Spencer dribbled a bit of saliva into his left hand. His palms came together, and the Glop ignited, turning his fists to golden spheres. He released Sach first, touching the bronze Pan with his left hand. Then, using his own spit sponge, Sach freed Aryl while Spencer un-Panned Olin.
“What are you guys going to do now?” Daisy asked the three boys as they kicked their fallen Pans aside.
“Well,” Aryl said. “I’ve been Panned twice, and I’m kind of afraid if I stick around here, it could happen again. I think I’m ready for a trip to the city.”
Olin nodded. “I’d say it’s time we try McDonald’s.”
“It’ll be nice to eat a hamburger that doesn’t already have a few bites out of it,” Sach said. “We’ve been living off trash food for far too long.”
The Dark Aurans headed for the hallway, true freedom at their fingertips.
“Wait!” Spencer said. “Your Timekeepers.”
The boys turned back, studying the three remaining bracelets in Spencer’s hand. They looked at each other, as if to reaffirm some previously made commitment.
“You hold on to our Timekeepers,” Aryl said.
“What?” said Daisy. “But you’ll never age. Don’t you want to grow up?”
“We do,” Sach said. “And that’s exactly why we need you to keep the bracelets.”
“I don’t understand,” said Spencer.
“Everything is changing,” explained Olin. “After Dez’s Refraction, the Toxites are actually going to help society.”
“My bad,” Dez said.
“But the critters are still tied to us,” Sach said. “Dez changed their natures, but the brain nests will continue to exist only while we’re alive.”
“It’s our fault the Toxites came to be in the first place,” Aryl said. “We gave those monsters almost three hundred years of corruption. The least we can do is give another century or two for these new Toxites to undo the damage.”
It was noble of them. Spencer knew they would probably rather age with the others. But the Dark Aurans were determined to right the wrongs they didn’t even know they’d caused.
“Why me?” Spencer asked, curling his fingers around the bronze bracelets. “Why do I have to keep them?”
“If we hold onto them, the Timekeepers will be a constant temptation to go back on our commitment,” Sach said. “We trust you to keep them safe.”
“And when you get old,” said Olin, “you can pass them to your children, and they can pass them to their children, and so on. We’ll come get them eventually, when we feel like education is ready to step out on its own.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear,” Spencer said. “But I don’t have a Timekeeper. So I guess you’ll be getting the bracelets from me, even if it’s three hundred years from now.”
“A lot can happen between now and then,” Aryl said. “Things that are lost can always be found.”
Spencer slid the bronze bracelets into his belt pouch. “Take care of yourselves,” he said. “Don’t eat too many Big Macs.” The Dark Aurans grinned, Olin and Aryl slipping out the door. Sach paused at the threshold, reaching back to shake Spencer’s hand.
Sach’s voice was soft, his words deliberate and reflective. “The Witches once called us the heroes of the Dustbin. They said we were the only ones with the power to change the fate of the Toxites.” He glanced across the room toward Dez. “The Witches were wrong.” Then he slid silently out of the room.
Spencer, Daisy, and Dez stood in silence in their old classroom. If Spencer hadn’t personally seen the school move, he might have thought he was still in Welcher, Idaho.
Sach’s words lingered in Spencer’s mind, the implication thick. Something else had transformed the Toxites—something the Witches would never have predicted. Spencer’s bravery had led
him into the Dustbin. Daisy’s loyalty had rescued him. And, most surprisingly, Dez’s selflessness had changed the Toxites forever.
They had done it. What they had accomplished was even better than destroying the Toxites. Spencer looked at his comrades and grinned.
They were the heroes of the Dustbin.
“We better get going,” Alan said, appearing in the hallway and leaning into the classroom. “You kids have school in the morning.”
“Umm . . .” Spencer said, pointing at the relocated building. “I think school might be cancelled.”
“What?” Daisy cried. “They can’t cancel the last day of school! There was going to be ice cream!”
“Daisy’s right,” Alan said. “First rule of janitorial work: If you make a mess, clean it up.” He glanced down the hallway. “The Rebels are almost finished up out here; then we’ll be ready.”
“Ready for what?” Spencer asked.
“We’re going to put the school back where we found it,” Alan said. “And hopefully we’ll get back to Welcher in time for you three to catch a bit of sleep. It’s still a school night.”
Dez rolled his head back and groaned. “School never gets cancelled. Next time, I’m moving Welcher all the way to Antarctica.”
Chapter 50
“You’ll need to hire some good janitors.”
It was a sunny day in Welcher, Idaho. Young students laughed and joked, running across the playground and into the school, totally clueless to the fact that the entire building had traveled halfway across the country and back last night.
Anyone who took a moment to pause and study the school would quickly realize that things were out of place. The school hadn’t quite settled back onto its proper foundation, and many of the walls were cracked and crumbling. The morning news had attributed the damage to a very localized earthquake. But these weren’t details that a student stopped to notice on the last day of school.
Spencer, Daisy, and Dez were standing in the school’s back parking lot. Much of the asphalt was broken up from its brief time as a glass portal. Marv had put up some orange cones to stop parents from driving into the wreckage.