Janitors

“What now?” Daisy asked. The two kids had their backs to a wall. The two janitors slowed, spreading into attack formation Alpha Beta and coming slowly toward the children.

  “We’re cornered,” Daisy moaned.

  “No!” Spencer gritted his teeth. In desperation, he pulled off the latex glove.

  “Spencer Alan Zumbro!” his mother’s voice pierced the cafeteria. “You come here this instant!” But Spencer wasn’t listening. He couldn’t, or his mom’s voice would break his heart. Focus on the secret mission.

  “Hold my hand,” Spencer whispered to Daisy.

  “Wha–?”

  “Just do it!”

  Daisy grabbed Spencer’s hand. Walter and Marv pounced. Mrs. Natcher hung back in case the kids managed to break free.

  And they did break free!

  In the last possible instant, Spencer had shoved the latex glove over their clenched hands. The janitors’ grasp held them for only a moment before Daisy and Spencer slid easily between their fingers.

  It was awkward to run holding hands, trying to keep their palms close so the stretchy glove wouldn’t slip off. The mob of parents had filed outside along the back cafeteria steps. It was difficult to navigate the crowd, even though no one could hold them. With the parents forming a barricade, there was only one place to run.

  “You have to take off your shoes!” the bouncy castle worker screamed as Daisy and Spencer dove through the mesh flap into the air-filled arena. There were three first graders bouncing reluctantly, but they quickly vacated the castle as Spencer and Daisy leapt inside.

  The big inflatable castle was square, with four blowup turrets, one on each corner. Mesh walls connected the corners, but the top was uncovered. Spencer glanced up. If they could get over the back wall, it would be an open field to the rendezvous site.

  The inflated floor suddenly shifted. Spencer went down as Daisy went up. The motion caused their hands to release, and the latex glove fell to the floor.

  The cause of the disruption was Marv’s great bulk, leaping ungracefully through the castle entrance and displacing a lot of air as he landed. The entrance flap, designed for elementary-school-sized children, had proven to be tighter than Marv had apparently expected, and he was tangled up in it.

  As the janitor struggled, Spencer handed the nail and hammer to Daisy. Interlocking his fingers, Spencer made a quick stirrup for her. She stepped into his cupped hands and, with a bounce, he sent her over the wall.

  Daisy didn’t fly too gracefully. On her way up, she screamed, dropping both items. Daisy landed hard on the grass outside, but the hammer and nail landed with a bounce on the castle’s inflated floor.

  Spencer caught the bronze hammer on the first bounce. But before he could recover the nail, Marv jumped.

  It was like fighting on the moon. Spencer bounced out of reach. Marv came down, sending Spencer higher on his next bounce. Walter Jamison climbed through the castle flap, his gaunt face set with determination.

  The bronze nail was like a single kernel of corn in a popcorn popper. Every time someone landed, the nail went in a new direction.

  Spencer went for the glove, possibly his last chance of escape. Walter beat him to it, dive-bouncing across the castle floor. As Walter landed, Marv went up. The big janitor lost his balance and came down on his belly as the nail rolled under him. The sharp nail pierced the tarplike material of the bouncy castle with a tearing sound. Marv rolled away from the split and a gush of air went up. The castle turrets began to fold and tilt inward.

  The irate bouncy-castle worker shouted and switched off the air machine that kept the castle upright. As the castle collapsed, Spencer made a final leap and vaulted over the sagging mesh wall.

  Spencer ran so hard he felt sick. His legs pumped across the field till they were numb. He didn’t look back to see if the janitors were pursuing him. He didn’t want to imagine his family—his mom—so disappointed and upset. She wouldn’t understand what he was doing, why he had ruined the ice cream social and fled the premises.

  The blue Toyota was idling at the rendezvous corner. As Spencer got close, Daisy threw open the door and he dove into the car. Garth Hadley was at the wheel. Even before the door was shut, the car was speeding down the street.

  “Well?” Mr. Hadley asked. His clean, square face was anxious for the report.

  Spencer held up the bronze hammer. It was one solid piece of metal, very plain, with no special designs or jewel-encrusted handle.

  “We got the hammer,” he said. “And here’s the soap we borrowed.” Spencer dug the little bottle from his pocket and handed it over.

  “What about the nail?” Garth Hadley asked. “Did you get it?”

  “Nope,” said Spencer. “The bouncy castle did.”

  Chapter 20

  “You’re just like your father sometimes.”

  It was a quarter to midnight when the blue Toyota pulled into Hillside Estates and came to a gentle stop in front of Aunt Avril’s house.

  After their escape from the ice cream social, Garth Hadley had driven the kids out of Welcher to a small neighboring town. There, he bought them a late dinner at a twenty-four-hour dive. The bathroom was as dingy as they come, and Spencer held his breath the whole time as he washed his hands. The food was greasy, but as the adrenaline of the evening wore off, Spencer and Daisy found they were hungry.

  Garth Hadley was pleased with their work and assured them that Walter Jamison had been stopped—at least momentarily. He still had the nail, but without the hammer there was no way for Walter to set up a link with the school again.

  Hadley explained that the BEM would stay in town until they found a way to get the bronze nail, leaving Walter Jamison totally powerless.

  “We could really use your help,” Garth invited. “You two were great at the ice cream social.”

  “No, thanks,” Spencer said quietly, poking at his last bite of country-fried steak. Daisy just shook her head.

  “That’s all right, kids,” Hadley said. “The BEM is in your debt. You’ve been instrumental in crippling a criminal. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

  The drive back to Welcher was quiet and awkward. Daisy dozed in the backseat. Garth Hadley said nothing, his broad face studying the road ahead. Spencer watched the black night go by, wondering what kind of trouble he would be in with his mother, with the janitors, with the principal, with the angry, root-beer-stained parents . . . the list went on.

  Had it been a mistake to help the BEM? It had gotten him in serious trouble, and he’d dragged Daisy down with him. Part of Spencer wished that he’d never spoken to Garth Hadley. But the world of the janitors was also fascinating and enticing: magical creatures roaming the halls, a latex glove that made the wearer slip through enemy fingers. . . . What other awesome tricks might exist that Spencer was completely unaware of?

  Hadley dropped Daisy off first, the Gates’s savage dog greeting them with a chorus of barking. Daisy, ashen-faced at the prospect of meeting her parents, jumped quickly out of the car. Light illuminated the windows of the little house. Daisy’s parents were undoubtedly waiting up.

  Aunt Avril’s house, however, looked pitch-black from the street. For a hopeful minute, Spencer thought he might be able to slip upstairs to his bedroom and pretend like nothing had happened.

  Spencer opened the car door and put his feet out.

  “Hey.” Garth Hadley reached over. “You’ve got a career in the Bureau of Educational Maintenance if you want one, kid.”

  Spencer looked back at Mr. Hadley, BEM regional representative. Spencer wanted to smile, but the things he’d done at the ice cream social pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I’m only twelve.”

  Hadley laughed, showing straight, white teeth. “I’m just saying . . .” He trailed off. His face resumed a more businesslike look. “As you’ve discovered,
the BEM does a whole lot more than scrape gum. There’s another world out there, Spencer. You’ve only tapped the surface, but you show real talent.”

  “Thanks,” Spencer muttered, and he stood up. Garth Hadley was examining the bronze hammer again. Spencer thought he might say something more, but before Hadley had the chance, Spencer shut the car door.

  Spencer stood alone on the dead grass as the blue Toyota drove out of Hillside Estates. The wealthy country neighborhood was alive with the chirrup of crickets. Somewhere in the distance, Spencer heard the ch-ch-ch of a large sprinkler. With a sigh, he walked up the steps, opened the front door, and locked it once he was inside.

  “We have to talk.”

  Spencer’s heart jumped, pulling his feet off the ground in surprise. His mother was seated on a scratched leather couch, enveloped in darkness.

  “Mom! What are you doing in the dark? You totally freaked me out!”

  “I freaked you out? Spencer, it’s nearly midnight! Where have you been?”

  Spencer didn’t know what to do—ignore her and walk away, or spill everything and see what she believed. He needed time in his tidy bedroom. Time to sort everything out and decide what to do next.

  “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Spencer tried.

  “Are you kidding? You’re twelve years old, Spencer. I’m your mother and I have every right to know what’s going on. You made a huge mess, left your little brother covered in ice cream toppings, popped the blow-up castle, and then ran away from—”

  “I didn’t pop the castle. It was that fat janitor guy.”

  “Don’t make excuses for your poor actions! You’re just like your father sometimes!”

  Her words hit Spencer like a splash of icy water in the face. Comparing Spencer to Alan Zumbro evoked high emotion from both mother and son. Alice was trembling. Spencer didn’t know whether he should feel insulted or proud.

  They stared silently at one another, two dark silhouettes in an oversized living room. Spencer had never felt so ashamed, so afraid of tomorrow. It was dark enough to cry, wasn’t it? His mother was already doing it, so Spencer let a tear fall too.

  “I’m afraid,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Alice held out her arms. Spencer shuffled toward her, uneasily at first, like a toddler learning to walk. Then he collapsed on the couch and felt his mother’s arms wrap around his shoulders.

  “It’ll be all right,” Alice whispered. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  Spencer swallowed hard. How much could he tell his mother before she decided that his childish imagination was out of control? Besides, Garth Hadley had told him not to talk about the creatures anymore. And Spencer’s confession to the class had been met with laughter. Laughter that deeply hurt. If his mother didn’t believe him, if she laughed . . .

  But he had to tell her something! He needed to know what to do next and wanted someone else to decide it for him. Alice gave Spencer a comforting squeeze.

  “Last Thursday,” Spencer began. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. “After school, I met a guy from the Bureau of Educational Maintenance. Garth Hadley. He said the BEM needed my help to get something from the janitors. Something they . . . stole.”

  Spencer had to fib a little here. In the silent moments before he spoke, Spencer had already decided that telling the story would be much easier if he left out the magic altogether. There was no reason to mention the creatures. No reason to tempt his mother to laugh. After all, the janitors were the real problem. That was where he needed help.

  “I did what Mr. Hadley said and took a bronze hammer from the janitor. I don’t know what it was for. Maybe it was worth a lot of money or something.”

  Alice took a deep breath through her nose. One hand went to her forehead. “This isn’t helping my headache at all,” she muttered. “I’m worried, Spencer.”

  “I know.” He bit his lip. “Me too. The janitors will probably be waiting for me tomorrow.”

  “It’s not the janitors I’m worried about,” Alice said. “It’s Garth Hadley.”

  Chapter 21

  “Is this true, Spencer?”

  But Mom,” whined Erica over breakfast, “I don’t see why Spencer gets a ride to school while the rest of us have to take the bus.”

  “It’s about last night,” Holly guessed. “What Spencer did at the ice cream social.”

  Spencer stared at his soggy frosted flakes and tried to pretend that he wasn’t in the room. His sister’s words were painfully true. Mom was taking him to see the principal.

  “We’ve got to go now or I’ll be late for work,” Alice said. It was, after all, her first day at Quick ’n’ Speedy. “Just dump your cereal in the sink. I’ll be waiting in the car.”

  Spencer climbed into the station wagon and tossed his backpack next to the car seat behind him. Max had already been dropped off at the day care, and all that was left of him were a few fragments of Cheerios on the seat.

  They drove in silence. Spencer thought his mother seemed like a force to be reckoned with. She clearly wasn’t happy about Spencer’s involvement with the BEM. Now she gripped the steering wheel like it was Garth Hadley’s neck.

  Well before the morning busses arrived, Alice Zumbro pushed into Welcher Elementary’s front office, Spencer in tow. Mrs. Hamp looked up from her desk, already planning a greeting that would test this woman’s vocabulary.

  “Do you require the immediate assistance of someone in an administrative position?” She feigned politeness, poorly.

  “Listen,” Alice said, clearly in no mood for prose, “we need to see the principal. I’ve only got five minutes.”

  “Principal Poach has not yet arrived,” the secretary said. “His arrival is undoubtedly postponed by the traffic.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Traffic in Welcher is a contradiction. When will the principal be here?”

  “He always arrives for morning announcements.” Mrs. Hamp checked the clock on her computer. “Fifteen minutes, give or take.”

  “Shoot,” Alice said. “I’ve got to be to work by then.” She glanced at Spencer, but he was a statue.

  “If you have a pressing concern, I could make a note and pass it to the principal when he arrives.”

  “My pressing concern,” Alice said, leaning across the desk, “is for the safety of my children at Welcher Elementary School.”

  Mrs. Hamp leaned back defensively. “Has there been some betrayal of your trust in our school, Miss?”

  “Don’t Miss me, missy.” Alice was getting worked up. Spencer couldn’t decide if he should smile or not. It was kind of cool to hear how much his mom cared about his safety. Cool in an embarrassing sort of way.

  “My son was approached by a stranger in this school. Whether the man was actually from the Bureau of Educational Maintenance or not does not excuse the fact that he enlisted my son’s help to accomplish illegal acts.”

  Mrs. Hamp sat forward. Her eyes widened with the practice of someone with years of experience in meddling and gossip. “Illegal acts? Strangers in Welcher Elementary? Elaborate!”

  Spencer shifted awkwardly as his mother gave the one-minute version of how Garth Hadley had asked him to steal something from the janitors. When Alice was finished, Mrs. Hamp sat back. Now the secretary’s eyes narrowed and a smirk appeared.

  “Children,” Mrs. Hamp said knowingly, “have a way of leaving out important information.”

  Spencer slunk back as the secretary’s accusatory gaze pierced him.

  “Mr. Hadley is indeed a licensed member of the BEM,” Mrs. Hamp said. “Last Thursday, he arrived at the school to perform a routine inspection after the school had been vacated. If your son did meet Mr. Hadley that day, it would have been due to his lack of obedience in exiting the school when the final bell
rang.”

  Each word she spoke seemed to reduce Spencer. When she finished, he felt smaller than a toothpick.

  “Is this true, Spencer?” his mother asked. “Were you in the school after you had been asked to leave?”

  Wordlessly, Spencer nodded. Why hadn’t he just told his mother the whole truth from the very start?

  “But what about the other times he contacted you?” Alice asked. “Where did he meet you?”

  Spencer wished it were another yes-or-no question so he could simply nod again. But now his mother had called on him to speak an answer. And oh, how that answer was bound to disappoint.

  “I only met him once,” said Spencer. “Last Thursday.”

  “You see!” Mrs. Hamp jumped in. “Welcher takes great pride in knowing every visitor that passes through these doors. Rest assured that Mr. Hadley will not come again, unless on official business for the BEM. And in such an instance, the school will be empty of children. As it should have been last Thursday.”

  Spencer glanced at the clock. His mother’s time was spent if she wanted to be on time for her first day of work. But Spencer knew she wasn’t done investigating yet. She put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Did you contact this Hadley person on your own?”

  Spencer nodded.

  Then came the dreaded word. “How?”

  Spencer looked at his feet as if hoping to find a different answer written there. “E-mail,” he finally whispered.

  “Spencer Alan Zumbro!” Her hand dropped from his shoulder. “You know very well the rules of our family! That e-mail account is for contact with your friends in Washington. Anything else—anything else!—must be approved by me.”

  Alice put her hands on her hips. “I’m disappointed in you, Spencer.” Mrs. Hamp was smiling at the family tension until Alice pointed a finger across the desk. “And I’m not happy with you, either. I don’t care who Garth Hadley is. If the janitors stole something from him, it’s the police he should contact, not my twelve-year-old son! I suggest a background search on school visitors.”