When Marv finished, Walter glanced disapprovingly at him. “I don’t think that was necessary, Marv Bills,” he said. “We’re teaching the kids to defend against the Toxites, not to fear them.”
“It’s okay,” Spencer said, but Daisy indeed looked frightened.
“Just thought they might like to know,” Marv said defensively. He trudged down the hall, the other three falling in behind him.
When they reached the corner, Marv stopped, lifting a thick finger to his lips. Spencer and Daisy peered around the corner, eyes scanning the area.
Daisy saw them first—two Grimes relaxing in the drinking fountain. One pale body was curled around the spout where the water came out. The other had flattened its slimy body over the drain and was basking in a pool of stagnant water.
Spencer shuddered, feeling weak in his stomach. He would never, ever drink from a school fountain again. He swore to bring a personal water bottle from now on.
“Grimes,” Marv whispered. “The only amphibious Toxite. They prefer moist areas like bathrooms and water fountains. But don’t be surprised if they show up in a classroom. They can go anywhere.”
“What do they eat?” Daisy asked, unable to take her eyes off their nasty little bodies.
“They can live on water alone,” Walter said. “But they eat anything wet. The slimy buildup between tiles or around sinks is like candy to them.”
“Yuck,” Spencer said, trying not to gag. “Kill them already. I can’t stand it.” Could he ever wash his hands at school again? If the sinks were contaminated, what was the use? Even Principal Poach’s instant hand sanitizer wasn’t safe from the Grimes.
“They move fast,” Marv said. “And they use the pipes like a subway system. Best way to sneak up is by coming directly at them. Their eyes are so far apart that Grimes have a small blind spot directly in front of them. That’s why they turn their heads like that.”
Spencer peeked around the corner again. Sure enough, both Grimes were lazily moving their heads back and forth, glazed white eyes half open in their relaxation.
“What are we doing here?” Daisy asked loudly. “Where’s everybody else? Hey, look at that door, it’s so cool!” She started walking down the hall toward a classroom door.
“Marv,” Walter scolded. “We’ve waited too long.”
Marv instantly jumped around the corner. The Grimes’ bulbous eyes opened and the creatures scattered. Before Marv reached the drinking fountain, both Grimes had folded and stretched themselves to fit down the tiny holes of the drain.
“Whoa!” Daisy said. “Where am I going?” She turned around and rejoined the group.
“Sorry about that,” Walter said. “Grimes exhale confusion and distraction. They stop kids from understanding simple instructions and often cause the sudden need to get out of your seat and move around. Teachers hate Grime breath. Don’t know about it, but they hate what it makes kids do.”
“I don’t like it either,” Daisy said. “How come Spencer didn’t get confused?”
“Certain Toxites work better on certain students,” Marv answered. “By the time you reach high school, Toxite toxins probably won’t affect you at all. That’s why the critters love younger schools.”
“Sorry we waited so long to chase off the Grimes,” Walter apologized. “We thought we were far enough away that you wouldn’t feel the effects. Apparently not.”
“What I want to know,” Spencer said, “is what would have happened if I wanted a drink?”
“You saw,” said Marv. “They run away.”
Spencer shook his head. “What if I couldn’t see them? What if I was an ordinary student? Would they still scatter?” He was thinking of all the times he’d sipped from a school fountain, wondering if he’d sucked up Grime germs in the process.
“If you can’t see them, they aren’t there,” Walter said.
“No,” Spencer said. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You’ll see,” Walter replied. “If a Toxite knows it can’t be seen, it’ll stay right where it is, breathing in brain waves.”
Spencer suddenly remembered Principal Poach’s hot-dog fingers reaching through the Rubbish in the peanut can. “What if someone touches them?”
“If they don’t see them, they won’t feel them, either. But now that you two can see them, Toxites will probably stay farther away from you.”
Marv bent down and took a swig from the drinking fountain. Spencer almost hurled. The big man stood up tall again, water in his black beard. “There’s one more kind of Toxite we’d like to show you,” he said.
They walked up by Mrs. Natcher’s class, then down by the gyms. Marv started to grow impatient as they looped back, the four figures moving stealthily through the hallway. They passed through a set of doors and found themselves in the school library. Using the bookshelves as a shield, the janitors and the kids crawled forward until, at last, they saw what they were searching for.
“Filth,” Walter whispered.
Spencer and Daisy took turns looking around the corner of the shelf. A dust gopher was sniffing the floor nearby. It was the size of a guinea pig but, on closer inspection, looked more like a porcupine. Along the creature’s back were spiky, dust-covered quills, almost unseen below its long, dusty hair. The rodent face was downturned, and long woodchuck teeth tilled the carpet in search of fresh dust.
The Filth waddled a few steps, found a particularly rich spot, and began scratching at the carpet with its clawed feet. A cloud of dust arose and the Filth snapped and licked at the carpet.
“Can you guess what they eat?” Marv whispered, but Spencer wasn’t listening. He was curled on the carpet, his breathing deep and regular.
He was asleep.
Chapter 28
“It doesn’t seem fair.”
Shoo!” Walter cried, rolling out from his hiding place behind the bookshelf. The Filth’s quills bristled, an act that sent up a puff of gray dust. If Walter had brought a Glopified vacuum, the creature would have been a goner. But since he was unarmed, the Filth scuttled away, ducking out of sight beneath the historical fiction shelf.
Spencer revived quickly, distantly aware of Daisy calling his name. He quickly shrugged off the fatigue and sat up, his face reddening with embarrassment.
“What happened?” he asked.
“The Filth got you,” Marv said. “That was a big one. Had potent breath.”
The four of them stood, Spencer leaning against the bookshelf and yawning.
“Filth breath will plunge you into such a deep sleep, you won’t hear a word the teacher says.”
A light clicked on in Spencer’s mind. All the times he’d been drowsy in class . . . especially during Miss Sharmelle’s lecture on algebra. Maybe it hadn’t actually been so boring. There must have been a Filth in the room. But why did the Filth breath attack Spencer so hard, while kids like Dez didn’t even blink a heavy eye?
“It doesn’t seem fair,” Spencer said. “Some other kids in my class, like Dez, for example—he doesn’t seem affected by any of the Toxites. Is he just strong enough to resist their breath?”
Walter gave a half smile, a reminiscent look on his old face. “I was eighteen when I got my first job as a janitor. My mentor was a wise Toxite hunter who answered that same question for me.” Walter folded his arms.
“One day, I was observing the Toxites during school lunch. There were two particular boys that I noticed—complete opposites. The first sat in the corner. His table was swarmed with Toxites. The poor fellow was caught between bouts of distraction and fatigue so severe he could hardly eat.
“The second boy sat across the room. He ate his food quickly, and I noticed that not a single Toxite lingered near him.”
Spencer could imagine himself in the story, surrounded by Toxites.
“After observing the
scene, I commented to my mentor, ‘That first boy must be very bad, all surrounded by Toxites as he is. And I’ll bet that second child is well-behaved, strong, and smart.’
“My mentor chuckled. ‘Walter,’ he said, ‘how little you understand. The truth is rather the opposite. The first boy is trying very hard. His mind is active and he wants to learn. Those are rich brain waves, and the Toxites swarm around him to feed. That second boy is a ruffian with no desire to be in school. Even in a school that was Toxite-free, that child wouldn’t learn a thing.’”
Walter nodded at Spencer and Daisy. “I hope you understand. We’re not fighting for the Dezmonds of the school. The Toxites don’t waste their breath on kids like him. We’re fighting the Toxites for you. You are the ones in danger, because you have a great desire to learn and to grow.” He sighed. “It may not seem fair. But it’s true. Take it as a compliment from the Toxites. Take it as a challenge. There’re only two ways to get rid of the creatures. Either you give up and quit learning so they leave you alone . . . or you fight for your education.” Walter clapped them on the shoulders. “What’s it going to be?”
Spencer and Daisy shared a glance. “We fight.”
“Good.” Walter smiled. “Let’s head back to the office. I need to get on with my search for the local BEM hideout.”
As they walked down the hallway, Spencer thought back to the time he was employed by Garth Hadley. With the janitors, he felt so positive and confident. Something he’d never felt with the BEM. Walter and Marv never asked Spencer to do things he didn’t want to do. They were teaching him, helping him to protect himself. It wasn’t something Spencer could explain with words. It was more of a feeling. A feeling of trust in the janitors.
“I can’t believe we saw so many Toxites today,” Daisy said, as they rounded a corner.
“That’s nothing,” said Marv. “The few schools that are staffed by the Rebel janitors are keeping the Toxite population very low. In schools where the BEM has taken over, the hallways are crawling with Toxites. Hundreds of them. Disgusts me. For more than three hundred years, the BEM has kept schools creature-free. Now they’re tracking down all Toxite-fighting janitors and firing them. What’s this world coming to?”
Hundreds of Toxites? Spencer couldn’t imagine what that would be like. What, Spencer wondered, could possibly have motivated the Bureau of Educational Maintenance to withdraw support from the schools? Why did they want the creatures to ruin education? A single Filth had sent him snoring. A single Grime had caused Daisy to take special interest in a door. What would happen to Welcher Elementary if the BEM fired Walter and Marv?
Spencer felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had crippled the Rebel janitors by turning the hammer over to Garth Hadley. Now all the BEM needed was the nail. Hadley was powerful and determined. If he got it, all hope for the Rebel janitors would be shattered.
The seed of an idea rooted in Spencer’s mind. It grew as he and Daisy left the school and walked to the Gates home. It probably wasn’t a safe idea. It meant doing things he shouldn’t do. But it might make all the difference.
The idea was almost fully grown by the time Mr. Gates dropped Spencer at Hillside Estates. He had talked himself out of it two or three times, but it kept coming back. The need to help the janitors, to save education, outweighed all risks.
A quick search of the house assured Spencer that his mother wasn’t home yet. She was probably picking up his siblings from day care, so he’d have to be fast. It would be a short message; he already had the words planned out.
Spencer sat down at the computer and swallowed hard. The thought of disobeying his mother caused his heart to sink into his stomach, as if someone had suctioned it with a strong puff of vac dust. Spencer wiped his sweating palms on his pants and tried to overcome the guilty feeling that threatened to undermine his plan.
“For the good of education,” he whispered, almost inaudibly. “For the future.”
With a cautious glance over his shoulder, Spencer logged into his e-mail and typed as fast as he could.
To:
[email protected] From:
[email protected] Subject: None
Dear Mr. Hadley,
I changed my mind. Daisy and I can get the nail from Walter Jamison tomorrow after school. People are suspicious of you at the school. Why don’t we meet at your local hideout to hand it over?
Let me know where and when.
Spencer
Chapter 29
“Let’s hunt.”
Friday dragged on and on. Even though it was the last Dez-free day of class, Spencer couldn’t wait for the bell to ring and their final training with the janitors to start. In his backpack, Spencer had the key to their success. It was the printed e-mail, including his original message and Garth Hadley’s response.
Spencer had kept it a secret from everyone, even Daisy. At the end of training with the janitors today, Spencer would present the information to Walter Jamison. Garth Hadley’s local hideout.
So much anticipation made it hard to sit still.
At last, the bell rang and he and Daisy rushed down to the janitors’ storage/office. Walter was seated at the desk, nervously rubbing his bald scalp. Marv was straightening a rack of spray bottles on the wall. The entrance to the Rebel Closet was hidden behind the sliding tower of boxes.
Greetings were short and terse, totally unlike the last few days. Something had happened—Spencer could almost taste it in the air.
“What’s up?” Spencer asked, trying to play it cool.
“Things are getting tight without Ninfa,” Walter said. “Supplies are running out. The BEM shut down a Rebel school in Colorado last night. Two of our janitors were fired. And Garth Hadley attacked Welcher Elementary at one o’clock this morning.”
“What?”
“We were here late, shampooing carpets and brainstorming possible BEM hideouts. Luckily we saw them coming,” Marv said. “I stalled them with vac dust while Walter got safely outside with the bronze nail.”
“It was too close,” Walter said.
“Any idea where they’re hiding?” Spencer asked. He couldn’t help it, but he was setting himself up to look like a real hero.
“None,” Walter said. “My lead last night was a dead end. Welcher’s not that big. I’ve checked everywhere. Garth Hadley must be using an alias.”
“We should get started,” Marv said. “Time’s running out. We need to get these kids prepared.”
“Right,” Walter agreed as Marv pulled aside the boxes to expose the Rebel Closet. Light glinted on the painted emblem of the janitor key ring as the warlock unlocked the door and strode into the secret closet.
The room looked undisturbed since the last time they entered. Without the hammer to drive the bronze nail, Walter was still unable to touch the swirling vat of Glop in the center of the room.
“Everyone should take a baggie of vacuum dust,” Walter said. From the table, Marv retrieved four Ziploc bags, each with a premeasured amount of gray dust.
“And everyone should take a Glopified weapon,” said Marv. “I’m taking a vacuum.” He wheeled an upright vacuum with a white cord out of the closet. Walter reached for a pushbroom.
Spencer and Daisy walked around the closet like kids in a candy shop. There were so many Glopified, Toxite-killing weapons that the kids had never seen before. Spencer wondered at each one, hoping he could have detention the following week to be trained with more.
“What’s this?” Daisy asked, picking up a bulging vacuum bag.
“Careful,” Walter warned. “That thing’s got more charge than any other object in this room. It really belongs in the dumpster.”
“Can’t you get some vac dust out of it?” Spencer asked. “It would probably be super powerful.”
“That bag’s been overcharged. It contains the power of n
early three hundred Toxites. For some unknown reason, it didn’t max out at fifty like all the other supplies. We call that bag the Vortex.”
“So it has different powers than vac dust?” Daisy asked, examining the thick, papery bag.
“The Vortex is unstable,” said Walter. “The dust inside is extremely powerful, but by the time the bag is pierced, it would be too late. Everything in this room would get sucked into the bag. BEM journals account for one other Vortex that was created somehow in the 1980s. When the bag was punctured, the suction was so strong that it pulled the paint off the walls and the carpet rolled up like a burrito. Only the person holding it didn’t get sucked inside. Think of it like a black hole inside a vacuum bag.”
Daisy set the Vortex gently back on the shelf where she’d gotten it, saying, “I don’t think I want to use that today.” Instead, Daisy chose a mop with a splintery wooden handle.
Spencer looked at the brooms hanging on the rack before him. Above each broom was a number written in marker.
“Is this the Toxite charge?” Spencer asked.
“Exactly,” Walter said, hefting his pushbroom. “This one has a 6T charge. That means I’ve crushed six Toxites with this pushbroom. Every Toxite I destroy with it will increase the speed and strength of my pushbroom until I max it out at fifty.”
“Is a pushbroom different from a normal broom?” Spencer asked.
“Quite opposites, actually,” Walter answered. “Instead of lifting me off the ground, my pushbroom will send the Toxites flying, if I hit them right.”
Daisy looked back at the spot where her mop had hung. It had a 1T charge. She quickly put it back on the rack in exchange for a 12T mop.
Spencer picked out a 4T broom with straw bristles. Checking his baggie of vac dust, he followed Daisy and Walter out of the Rebel Closet.