Dez grinned and stepped back. “That’s what I thought.” Spencer tried to relax as the bullies released his arms. “See, Batman,” Dez continued. “Isn’t it easier when you do what I say? We both get what we want. I get to hear you confess about your dumb lies. And you? Well, this should get you plenty of attention.”
With that, Dez hurled the milk carton. It struck Spencer in the chest with an explosion of putrid milk. The bullies ran off, laughing and whooping.
Spencer stepped away from the spot where the carton fell, glugging out yellowish milk. His shirt was ruined. It absolutely reeked. He wiped his face and noticed someone standing near.
It was Daisy. She looked sad and upset. Spencer was grateful that at least one person cared. But then she opened her mouth.
“You really did lie to me,” she said, and Spencer knew she wasn’t sad about him. “I heard you say it. You just made it all up for attention. And so you could draw on my face.”
“Look, Daisy,” Spencer said, rising to his feet, “I never lied to you. I really did see a creature on his lunch tray. I just had to tell those guys that I made it up so they’d leave me alone.”
“Why?” she said. “If it’s true, why did you tell them it wasn’t? No one will ever believe you if you don’t stand up for what you know is true.”
“But you saw. They were going to dump bad milk on me.”
“So you denied it.”
“Yeah. I denied it to them.”
“And they dumped bad milk on you anyway.” Daisy shrugged. “Either way, you got bad milk. Seems like it would have been better to stand up for the truth.” Daisy waved awkwardly, as if she were bidding him farewell forever.
Spencer stood alone on the soccer field. “Man,” he said. “This stinks.”
And it did.
Chapter 8
“What kind of maintenance?”
Spencer started the next day at school with the secretary’s voice crackling through the old intercom. “Good morning, boys and girls. We have a few announcements to make. Tomorrow there is a morning assembly. D.A.R.E. Officer Jacobs will be teaching us how to stay drug free.
“After-school clubs will not convene today. The Bureau of Educational Maintenance will be meeting with the janitors immediately after the bell. We ask that everyone leave the building as quickly as possible so the folks from the Bureau can do their routine checks. Have a great day.”
Click.
Spencer, who had been twirling his pencil around his thumb, stopped suddenly, and the pencil rolled off the edge of his desk. Bureau of Educational Maintenance? Like, building maintenance? A bureau of janitors, perhaps? If that was true, maybe he could get some info about them at lunch.
Spencer felt tired through all of Mrs. Natcher’s morning lessons. Not algebra-tired, like before, but still tired enough to ruin his focus. He hadn’t slept much the night before. Every time he closed his eyes, the scene with Dez and the milk carton replayed.
When he watched the instant replay in his mind, Spencer bravely stood up for what he knew was right and took the rotten milk like a man. Then Daisy believed him and together they tried to convince responsible adults to acknowledge that Welcher Elementary had a major pest problem. Together they investigated the janitors and found out more about the creatures.
But that version of the story wasn’t real. Spencer had denied the truth, shattered any hope of Daisy believing him, and still been hit with the sour-milk bomb. He was too ashamed to even tell his mom. The stinky shirt had gone straight into the garbage.
Spencer felt like a real loner. Dez hated him. Daisy wouldn’t believe him. If he wanted to learn more about the janitors, he would be doing it alone.
When the lunch bell rang, Spencer made his routine stop at the restroom to wash up. Then he kept an eye out for big Marv as he quietly made his way to the front office.
Spencer had entered the office only once before, with his siblings, a few days before school began. They’d been living in Aunt Avril’s house all summer, but of course his mom had waited until the last possible moment to register them and fill out the paperwork so the four Zumbro kids could be admitted to their new school.
“Can I help you?” asked the same voice that gave the announcements. Without the crackle and pop of the intercom, the secretary sounded much younger. Spencer had always imagined that the voice belonged to someone with an extraterrestrial in her family tree, but Mrs. Hamp was actually far too normal looking.
“Hi,” Spencer said. “I had a question about the announcements this morning.” He stayed a few apprehensive feet from her desk.
“After-school clubs will not be convening today. To ‘convene’ means to meet. Put it together. No after-school clubs today, sorry,” she answered mechanically, as though a dozen other kids had already been in to bother her about it.
“I know. I’m not in a club. I just had a question about the bureau that’s coming.”
“The Bureau of Educational Maintenance?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said. “What do they do?”
Seeing that his question was a cut above those of the pesky kids complaining about the cancellation of their clubs, Mrs. Hamp pasted on a friendly face. “The BEM is a very old agency. It oversees the maintenance of schools across the U.S.”
“What kind of maintenance?”
“Structural integrity, environmental conditions, HR,” she began with an I-know-big-words-and-you-don’t look on her face. She chuckled at her overabundant wisdom and glanced at Spencer with a look of feigned apology. “In other words, they make sure the building is safe and sound and everything is running correctly. The BEM is in charge of hiring and firing janitors across the nation.”
Then she tilted her head sideways and absently picked up a stapler. “But mostly they just do mundane things like deep cleaning and checking to make sure all equipment is functioning adequately.”
“And someone from the Bureau will be here after school today?” Spencer pressed. “To meet with Marv?”
“Marv?” Mrs. Hamp asked. “I think not. I would imagine they’ll meet with John Campbell.”
“Because he’s Marv’s boss?”
Mrs. Hamp set down the stapler. “My, you have a lot of questions,” she said, regaining her initial level of annoyance.
“I’m just interested in that kind of stuff,” Spencer lied. “Maybe someday I’d like to work for the BEM.”
“Ho, no,” Mrs. Hamp said, shaking her head. “You want to scrape up chewed gum and shampoo carpets for the rest of your life?” She tipped back in her chair. “Close the door when you leave. I have to eat lunch too, you know.”
Spencer could see that he’d exhausted Mrs. Hamp’s knowledge of the BEM, but it was enough. He shut the office door and headed to the lunchroom. He replayed his confrontation with Marv the day before. “Tomorrow, we’ve got an even bigger problem, so you’ll have to wait.”
One thing seemed clear: Marv was nervous about the BEM’s visit. And since he had said “we’ve got a problem,” Spencer guessed that John Campbell was also involved. But what could the janitors at Welcher Elementary possibly have to hide?
To Spencer, the answer was right before his eyes, scuttling across the carpet, leaving a wake of gray dust.
Chapter 9
“There!”
Spencer’s focus was even worse after lunch. Knowing that he might get answers from the BEM gave him anxious stomach butterflies. He also knew he would be breaking a rule to talk to the BEM, since the school was supposed to be empty for the routine checks. But Spencer was already planning a way around that.
Mrs. Natcher was droning on about what makes America great when Spencer felt drowsiness pull at his eyelids.
Not again! He sat up tall in an attempt to ward off the sleepiness. Then he caught a dreaded flash of movement that made his gut turn over
. There, under the chalkboard, where white dust fell thickly to the carpet, Spencer saw a creature. It was one of the dust gophers, really enjoying a meal of carpet dirt and chalk dust.
Spencer stared for a moment, then glanced hopefully at his classmates. The creature must have truly been invisible, because to Spencer it sat in plain sight, only a yard from Mrs. Natcher’s boring shoes.
Ignore it, Spencer thought. Just ignore it and it will go away. But even as he thought this, Spencer pointed a silent finger toward the creature.
“There,” he whispered. The word was inaudible, but once he felt it form on his lips, it was easier the second time.
“There.” The word got some attention this time and a few kids, including Dez, started looking where Spencer pointed.
“There!” This one was almost a shout and stopped Mrs. Natcher midsentence.
“If you have something to say,” she instructed, “please raise your hand and I’ll consider calling on you.”
“THERE IT GOES!” Spencer jumped to his feet as the dust gopher took off across the room. He traced its run with his finger.
“What is it?” one student shouted.
“A spider?”
“A mouse?”
In seconds, the classroom was out of control. Kids were screaming and climbing onto their chairs. To add to the chaos, Dez knocked over Jen’s desk, spilling pencils and notebooks.
Spencer watched the creature disappear into the hallway. He looked to see Daisy’s reaction, but all he saw was Mrs. Natcher coming right for him. She took him by the arm and dragged him to the front of the room.
“Class! Class! You will be silent in three, two, one.” Mrs. Natcher clapped her hands and, like magic, the room fell quiet. “I’m sure Spencer would like a chance to explain himself.”
Not really, Spencer thought. But it was too late now. Mrs. Natcher wasn’t giving him an option. “Well, I thought I saw something.”
“Not again,” Juan moaned.
“Again?” Mrs. Natcher inquired. “Has this happened before?”
Cutting Spencer off, Dez took over. “While you were gone, Spencer thought he saw a bat. But just like this time, he was making it up.” Dez turned to the class. “Come on, did anyone actually see anything?”
“Nope.”
“Nothing.”
“That’s right,” Dez said. “Nothing to see. Spencer made it up for attention. Told me so himself.”
Mrs. Natcher clucked her tongue at Spencer. “That behavior is inappropriate and unacceptable in my classroom. Apologize to your classmates.”
Spencer shifted uncomfortably. Couldn’t they tell he was speaking the truth? Why would anyone make this up? Sure, he was getting attention, but it wasn’t the good kind.
“Sorry,” Spencer said. “I didn’t mean to be disruptive. I thought I saw something, but maybe . . .” Then Spencer made the mistake of looking at Daisy Gates. Her eyes were trained on him, bolts of energy piercing him. No one will ever believe you if you don’t stand up for what you know is true.
“I . . . I mean . . . I . . .” Each stammer was like the crank of an engine, slowly building up the power to take off. He looked at Dez. The bully was massaging his fist, like he was itching to pound somebody.
“I see creatures in the school. Some are slimy, some are furry, some have wings. I don’t know why the rest of you can’t see them. I’m trying to figure that out. I don’t want to freak you guys out, but I had to tell you what I’ve seen.”
Dead silence.
Then, like an avalanche: laughter. Laughter! Even Mrs. Natcher was chuckling in her own stuffy way. Spencer looked from face to face, sheer embarrassment and disappointment in his eyes. Then he saw Daisy, the one who wasn’t laughing. Instead, her brown eyes gave a silent applause.
Chapter 10
“Walk with me.”
Spencer leaned his head against the pop machine and felt its steady vibration. Was that the machine’s way of laughing at him too? Spencer could barely see the clock from where he was hiding. A half hour after school ended and Spencer could still hear his whole class laughing at him. Mrs. Natcher’s tone lingered in his mind: “Sit down and remain silent.”
All that had hurt deeply. But hurt wasn’t the only feeling in his heart. A thread of courage had formed when he told the truth. Courage to stand up for what he knew was right. Courage to move forward with his plan to meet the BEM after school.
He was wedged between two vending machines in the teachers’ lounge. Spencer had never even been in a teachers’ lounge, let alone hidden out in one. But he’d also never seen demon dust gophers and slimy lizard things lurking around the school. Desperate times called for desperate hideouts. The bus was long gone, carrying his younger brother and sisters back to Aunt Avril’s house.
With no idea how long the BEM’s routine checks would last, Spencer could afford to wait no longer.
Spencer slithered out of his hiding spot. His backpack had gone home with his sister Erica so he would be able to maneuver swiftly if he needed to. He walked past a table and two couches before gripping the doorknob.
Spencer’s plan was simple. He would secretly locate one of the BEM representatives and share his concerns about Marv and the creatures. It might be tricky to isolate one of the reps, but Spencer was willing to wait for the opportunity to arise.
Silently, Spencer pushed open the door, hopeful that the coast was clear. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with shaggy Marv. Beside the janitor was a man with a sinewy neck, thick as a tree trunk. His blond hair was buzzed in a military crew cut.
Spencer’s first thought was to scurry like a dust gopher back into the teachers’ lounge. But that was a dead end. He could try to dart past them and sprint for the front doors. Hopeless. So Spencer decided to change his tactic altogether.
“You from the BEM?” Spencer asked the man with the thick neck. The stranger wasn’t very tall, but he seemed as tough and bulletproof as Kevlar. Next to Marv, the man looked sharp and clean, no trace of whiskers on his square chin.
“Garth Hadley, regional representative for the Bureau of Educational Maintenance,” the man affirmed with a curt nod.
“No kids allowed in the school right now,” Marv ordered. Spencer could tell that Garth Hadley made the grubby janitor nervous and twitchy. Marv began chewing on his fingernails, which were, Spencer thought, probably not very clean. Neither man seemed to mind that a sixth grader had just walked out of the teachers’ lounge.
“I’m working on a project,” Spencer lied, racking his brain. “It’s about . . . mops.”
“Mops?” Garth Hadley repeated.
“Yeah.” Spencer smiled. “Mops through the ages. It’s for a history unit. I heard you were going to be here and I wondered if I could interview you, Mr. Hadley, sir.”
Marv, shaking his dark head, took an intimidating step toward Spencer, his hairy belly peeking through a hole in his white T-shirt. “Get moving!” Marv said in a tone he might have used to scare a stray dog.
Spencer felt a chill run through him. There was no telling what the big janitor might do to keep Spencer away from the BEM rep. Spencer backed away from Marv’s intimidating bulk. The boy was silently pleading that Mr. Hadley would intervene before the janitor used Spencer’s face as a prototype for a new mop.
“Mr. Bills,” Garth Hadley said to Marv. A slow smile spread across the man’s square face, and one muscular hand gestured for Marv to back off. “I’ll see that the boy gets outside,” he said, directing Spencer by the shoulder. “And we’ll talk mops on the way.”
Instead of taking Spencer to the nearby front doors, Hadley led him down a long hallway to the exit that opened on the parking lot.
“How old are you? Eleven?” the man said.
“Twelve, actually. I just had a birthday at the end of August. I’m old fo
r my grade.”
The small talk was nice, but Spencer had more important things to discuss. Glancing over his shoulder, Spencer made sure that Marv’s hulking form was out of earshot.
“It’s not mops, really,” Spencer said quietly. In his peripheral vision, Spencer caught sight of a winged vulture-bat cutting a jagged path toward the lunchroom. “It’s the janitors, Mr. Hadley.”
“What about them?” asked the thick man.
Now that Spencer had Mr. Hadley alone, he didn’t know exactly how to say it. He couldn’t risk becoming the brunt of another joke. The last thing he wanted was for this new stranger to have a laugh at his story. Spencer decided to start small and go from there.
“The janitors are . . . weird.”
Mr. Hadley snorted. “Every profession has its drawbacks.”
“No.” Spencer decided to approach from a new angle. “It just seems like they can see things that other people can’t.”
“Like an extra layer of grime around the sink in the restroom?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, preparing to dive in. “Like an extra layer of grime that can tuck back its tail and slither down the drain.”
Garth Hadley froze, one hand on the metal bar of the door. He was apparently in some kind of deep meditation. Spencer studied his clean, strong face but was unable to read the emotions there.
“Get outside,” Hadley said firmly. At first, Spencer thought the man was angry. But to the boy’s surprise, Mr. Hadley also stepped out, closing the school door behind him.
The September afternoon was hot and dry. Spencer could feel the sun’s rays soaking into the asphalt parking lot, making the few remaining vehicles shimmer.
“What else have you seen?” Garth Hadley whispered, intensity in his eyes.
Spencer felt a rush of exhilaration. Mr. Hadley was believing him! Of course, Daisy had believed at first, but Spencer had gone too far and she was thrown off. Spencer chewed on his lip, carefully deciding how to pace his story.