With both hands, Mr. Shute reached over his head, grasped the lower edge of the first banner, and yanked on the fabric. It wouldn’t give. The metal chains of the pulley system were too strong. He pulled again. Maggie could see the dark circles of sweat under his arms and the vein on his neck swell. But the banner stayed in place. Finally, with a grunt of effort, he jumped off the chair. There was a tremendous sound of ripping fabric and the clatter of his feet landing on the hard tabletop. Lena sucked in her breath. She had spent nearly twenty hours making that banner and Principal Shute had destroyed it in less than thirty seconds. He quickly bundle-wrapped the tangle of fabric and handed it to Mrs. Matlaw, who looked grieved to be receiving it, as if it was a body.
Mr. Shute jumped to the ground. He threw his weight against the table, exhorting, “Move it. Slide it along.” The next minute he was back on top of the table, climbing up the chair and reaching for the bottom edge of the second banner. Because of the location of a water fountain just underneath the banner, it was harder to press the table up against the wall, so it was more difficult for Mr. Shute to reach the second banner. By stretching far over his head, he just managed to gather up a handful of the soft, slippery satin. He tugged, but the fabric held. He reached with his other hand and just managed to catch the bottom corner of the banner. He pulled, nearly lifting himself off the chair. Maggie felt Lena’s hand grasp her upper arm, squeezing tightly.
“This is not going to end well,” intoned Lyle.
It was inevitable, Maggie realized. The reaching, the pulling, the instability of the table, as well as the general unreliability of sixth-grade boys who can’t resist the opportunity to pull chairs out from under people. Before anyone could figure out what had really happened, Principal Shute was hanging by the banner, his face pressed against the wall, his two legs desperately churning underneath him, trying to find the chair, which had fallen over.
But Lena had done her work and done it well. The banner held. It held, and it held.
And then it didn’t.
With the same ripping sound that had accompanied the triumphant removal of the first banner, the second one came down. And with it came Principal Shute, landing on the water fountain and soaking a particularly embarrassing spot on his pants. He clumsily dropped to the floor, the silky banner fluttering on top of his head.
At the same time, the rigging that had held the banner in place dislodged a blue paper airplane, which came floating down to the outstretched hands of the sixth graders. Lyle was in the right spot (and the tallest) to reach up and grab it. He opened it and quickly read the words on the page.
FOURTEEN
“WHAT DOES IT SAY?” ASKED BECKY, crowding close.
“I should be the one to read it,” said Kayla, stepping forward. “I am the class president!”
Maggie noticed that Jenna and Colt had both gathered behind Lyle, trying to catch a glimpse of the note, too.
“The banners are safe!” announced Lyle.
“Give that to me!” shouted Mr. Shute, snatching the note out of Lyle’s hand and reading it quickly. He pointed at Kayla. “You come with me.” Then he turned to the assembled sixth grade and shouted, “Lunch is dismissed! File out! That’s an order!” He stormed out of the cafeteria followed by Kayla, who was pleased once again to be chosen above all the others.
After a moment of stunned silence, the other sixth graders returned to their lunch tables to dispose of their trash and walked back to their classrooms.
The students assigned to Table 10 were the last to leave. Jenna turned to Lyle and asked, “What was on the piece of paper?” Maggie had hardly ever heard Jenna speak and she was surprised to hear a hint of determination behind her quiet words. Colt, Maggie, and Lena gathered closer to hear his answer.
“It’s a scavenger hunt!” said Lyle. “A scavenger hunt that leads to the hiding place of the original banners. And that piece of paper was the first clue.”
“What was the clue?” asked Colt. He was still holding the action adventure book he was reading, but he had closed it, marking his page with a bookmark.
Lyle closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in, then exhaled slowly.
Hydrogen, lithium,
Sodium, barium.
The airplane’s a must.
Beware. Don’t combust.
“How did you remember that?” asked Maggie. She’d written the poem, and even she couldn’t recite it.
“I have amazing mental faculties,” said Lyle, his eyes regaining their usual sleepy appearance. “You’d never guess it, would you?”
“Not in a million years,” said Colt.
Jenna meanwhile had scribbled down the clue on a piece of paper. She showed it to the others, circling the first two lines. “Chemistry.”
Colt pointed to the word airplane. “B-1 Bomber.”
And Lyle repeated, “Combust.” He smiled. “My favorite: Bunsen burners.”
The bell rang. Lunch was officially over. The sixth graders had to go to their next classes. In two minutes, they would be marked late.
“I’ve got science next,” said Jenna.
“I’ll escort you!” said Lyle.
“And we’ll escort Lyle,” said Colt. “Because—he really can’t be trusted on his own.”
“Too true,” agreed Lyle, solemnly nodding his head. “Too true.”
Jenna, Lyle, Colt, Maggie, and Lena raced downstairs, bursting into Mrs. Dornbusch’s classroom just before the late bell.
FIFTEEN
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” THE B-1 Bomber demanded of Colt, Jenna, Lyle, Maggie, and Lena, who were spreading like ants across the classroom and disappearing behind the lab tables. “And why are you opening my supply cupboards?”
“We’re looking for mice!” said Lyle. “We heard they’re coming out of the walls and might be in your cupboards.”
Mrs. Dornbusch strode forward, nostrils flaring, fists at her sides. “They wouldn’t dare,” she said.
“Found it!” said Colt, popping up from behind a lab table. In his hand, he held a piece of blue paper rolled into a scroll, which he had just plucked from the neck of an Erlenmeyer flask.
“Well, thank you!” boomed a voice from across the room. It was Principal Shute, followed closely by Kayla, who had clearly helped him unravel the clue. Principal Shute crossed the room and snatched the paper from Colt.
The Gray Gargoyle looked stonily at the principal. It was clear she’d rather have a herd of flatulent elephants in her classroom than him, but Maggie could see she wasn’t about to come to the rescue of the sixth graders—especially when she didn’t know precisely what was going on.
“Jenna, in your seat,” she said. “The rest of you—out.” It was unclear whether she meant only Lyle, Colt, Maggie, and Lena—or Principal Shute, too. In any case, Mr. Shute left first, and Maggie could see him hurrying off in the direction of the school’s trophy case—the hiding place of the next clue in the scavenger hunt.
“Mrs. Dornbusch?” asked Maggie urgently. “Could we please have late passes? The bell’s about to ring.”
Mrs. Dornbusch waved impatiently at them. “I don’t care,” she grumbled, and tore four blank late passes off the pad in her desk. “Fill them out yourselves.”
Once out in the hall, Lena looked sharply at Maggie, who gave her a what do you want me to do? look in return. This hack was not turning out as they had planned, at all.
Lena turned to the others. “It doesn’t seem in the spirit of the thing, does it? A scavenger hunt is supposed to be fun. And everyone is supposed to join in.”
“Not in Principal Shute’s Army,” said Lyle glumly. They were climbing the stairs to the main floor, heading to their next classes.
“Marines,” corrected Colt. “Semper fidelis. Always loyal,” he said.
“The worst part is that it isn’t even a fair fight, because he stole the clue from us,” said Lyle just as he reached the top of the flight of stairs. “We don’t even know what it said. And we found it!”
&
nbsp; At that moment Maggie tripped on the top step. She started to stumble forward, but before she could catch herself, Lyle reached out to grab her. Unfortunately, instead of helping to hold her steady, he accidentally shoved her backward. As she fell, she saw Lyle’s face expand in terror: his eyes grow wider, his forehead stretch, his mouth open in a giant O. She was so surprised by what his face looked like (fully inflated!) that she hardly realized she was falling down an entire flight of stairs.
Until she landed.
“Oh my gosh, Maggie!” shouted Lena, racing down the steps. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding!” She leaned over and used her T-shirt, which happened to be the Dada one, to wipe at Maggie’s lip.
Well, that’s appropriate, said her father. Anarchy leads to bloodshed.
Colt stripped off his hoodie and handed it to Lena. “In case she goes into shock.”
“I am not going into shock,” said Maggie. She was embarrassed by her own clumsiness, and more than a little frightened and stunned by the amount of blood running from her mouth.
Lyle shoved his hand in her face. “How many fingers do you see?”
“Four,” answered Maggie, pulling herself to a sitting position and gently probing her lip. It was definitely swelling up. But she ran her tongue over her teeth and was relieved to feel that they were all where they were supposed to be.
“Wrong,” said Lyle. “I’m holding up five fingers.” He turned to Lena. “Is that a sign of a concussion?”
“Four fingers!” insisted Maggie. “The thumb is not a finger. It’s a digit.”
“She’s fine,” said Colt flatly. “And she’s right about the thumb.” But when they helped her up, she couldn’t put weight on her right foot because she’d twisted the ankle.
“I’ll run ahead to Mrs. McDermott and tell her she needs to telephone the nurse on call,” said Colt. Maggie couldn’t help but notice that Colt was pretty good in a crisis.
Lyle and Lena offered to form a chair with their arms and carry her, but the thought alarmed Maggie so much that she insisted she could walk on her own. And really, by the time they got to the office, she was feeling okay. Her ankle was a little banged up, but she could walk on it. She just wanted to rinse her mouth out with some salt water and stick a Band-Aid on her left knee. But Mrs. McDermott made her sit on the sick bed while she went back to the main office to call the nurse. There was no way of knowing how long it would take her to arrive. She covered five towns.
Colt read his book while Lyle leaned against the wall. Lena wandered the room, taking photographs of the nurse’s office. There was a glass apothecary jar filled with cotton balls on the nurse’s table.
“Have you ever noticed,” said Lena, “that cotton balls look like marshmallows?”
Maggie and Lena exchanged a look. Colt continued to read his book, but Lyle straightened up to get a better view of the jar.
“I think they look like cotton candy,” said Maggie.
“Or meringue!” said Lena.
“Or those sugary candy eggs at Easter.”
“Or delicious scoops of vanilla ice cream!”
Lyle ambled over to the jar and reached a hand out for one of the cotton balls. He slowly pulled it apart and delicately sniffed it.
Unbelievable! whispered Maggie’s father. He’s actually going to eat it!
But before Lyle could pop the cotton ball in his mouth, he caught sight of something underneath the glass jar. It was a piece of blue paper exactly like the one that had fluttered out of the banner in the cafeteria. Lyle unfolded it.
“Unbelievable,” he said, as though echoing Maggie’s father. “It’s the final clue in the scavenger hunt. The last clue.”
Colt hurried over. Maggie jumped up from the sick bed, wincing slightly as she put weight on her twisted ankle. Lena followed close behind, ready to catch her friend in case she fell.
“What are the chances?” asked Colt.
“It’s fate!” said Lena. “Destiny. We were meant to find the football banners. Not Principal Shute and Kayla.”
“Read it!” said Maggie to Lyle. “Mr. Shute has the other clues and Kayla is helping him, which means they’re headed here. They could walk in at any moment!”
Lyle read the words in his slow, unhurried voice.
THE FINAL CLUE
Sometimes feel like you’re the new kid in town?
Nobody gets you, thinks you’re a clown?
Like a mammal that lays an egg, you don’t fit,
“And” in Spanish, stuck in the middle of it.
Lena, Maggie, Lyle, and Colt all looked at one another.
“Huh?” said Colt.
“Like a Dada poem,” said Lena wryly, looking at Maggie with great meaning.
“Well, even Dada poems have a purpose,” Maggie responded, a little defensively. “If you can figure them out.”
“But that’s the problem, isn’t it?” said Lena. Maggie and Lena had argued last night for nearly an hour about that final clue. Lena was sure that no one would be able to decipher it.
“Is it about you?” asked Lyle, looking at Lena. “You’re the only new kid in town.”
“It doesn’t matter!” said Maggie. The bleeding from her lip had stopped. She grabbed a few Band-Aids to cover up her scraped knee. “We have to get out of here. As long as we have the last clue . . .”
Colt pushed open the door that led to the hallway but backed up so quickly, he stepped on Maggie, who let out a small shriek of pain.
“He’s coming. Straight this way.” Colt didn’t have to say who he was.
Wow, thought Maggie. Kayla is fast.
Lyle still held the piece of blue paper in his hand. “What should we do?” Lena asked, frantically looking around the room. “Should we hide it under the mattress? Or throw it in the trash?”
“He’ll find it, no matter where you put it,” said Maggie. “He’ll tear the room apart looking for it.” She understood people like Mr. Shute. Sometimes, she was like Mr. Shute.
“Now would be a good time to have a Bunsen burner,” said Lyle philosophically.
“Can’t you memorize it?” asked Colt impatiently.
Lyle looked at the paper. “I can’t memorize something that doesn’t make any sense. Not in five seconds.”
“We need to do something!” said Lena. She grabbed the paper out of Lyle’s hand and quickly snapped a close-up of the note with her camera. Then she waved the paper, as if it were a grenade that was about to explode. “How can we get rid of this?”
Lyle grabbed the piece of paper out of her hand and quickly tore it into tiny pieces. Then he shoved the scraps into his mouth, chewed five or six times, and swallowed. Lena and Maggie stared at him as if he had just eaten a live squid.
“That was truly awesome,” said Colt in a hushed voice.
The door opened. Mr. Shute barreled in, then pulled up short. “What are you doing here?”
Lena pointed at Maggie’s swollen lip. Lyle burped.
“I’m okay,” said Maggie. “I’ve got these.” She held up the Band-Aids in her hand.
“We better go,” said Lena. “We don’t want to miss any more social studies. We’re studying the Mayans. They invented chocolate. I love chocolate.” She inched toward the door and was the first to pass Mr. Shute. Then came Colt, followed closely by Maggie, who was limping just slightly. Lyle brought up the rear.
“Wait!” said Mr. Shute. “What is that?”
Lyle poked his head back into the room as Mr. Shute bent down and picked up a single scrap of blue paper the size of a postage stamp.
There was a long moment of silence. Maggie held her breath.
“Trash?” said Lyle, shrugging, and they all walked out.
SIXTEEN
HIDDEN IN THE STAIRWELL, LENA PULLED up the photo on her camera screen and read the clue aloud.
Sometimes feel like you’re the new kid in town?
Nobody gets you, thinks you’re a clown?
Like a mammal that lays an egg, you don’t fit,
>
“And” in Spanish, stuck in the middle of it.
“What’s that animal that’s like a beaver with a big nose?” asked Lyle. “It starts with a p.”
Oh, Lyle, thought Maggie, or maybe it was her father whispering the words inside her head.
“Platypus!” Colt said. “A platypus is the only mammal that lays eggs.”
“Actually, no. Echidnas lay eggs, too,” said Maggie.
“Maggie!” said Lena, turning to look at her severely. “No one’s ever heard of that animal.”
“Well, you still can’t rule it out,” said Maggie. If there was one thing she’d learned from her father it was the danger of skipping over possible solutions just because they seem unlikely.
“Yes,” said Lena meaningfully. “But that isn’t particularly helpful at this moment.” She turned back to Colt. “I’m sure you’re right. The clue must have something to do with a platypus. The only well-known mammal that lays eggs.”
Lyle and Colt were quiet, each thinking in his own way. Finally Lyle spoke. “The Spanish word for ‘and’ is y.” Lena, Maggie, and Colt all took French with Mr. Esposito, but Lyle studied Spanish.
Oh, thank you, Maggie said inside her head. When she and Lena had imagined the scavenger hunt, they had thought the whole school would take part, teaming up to compete, which was why the last clue had to be challenging. She had never imagined it would come down to Lyle Whittaker and Colt DuPrey figuring it out all by themselves. Or else losing to Principal Shute.
Lyle looked at the camera screen again. “Plat-y-pus,” he said slowly. “Plat and pus.” He looked stumped.
“Wait,” said Colt. “Platt and puss.” A huge grin spread across his face. “Detour! Math class!”
As Colt and Lyle hurried ahead, Maggie whispered to Lena, “I thought they’d never get it.”
Lena whispered back, “Did you really mean to fall down the stairs?”
“No! I was just going to pretend to bang my shin. But Lyle got in the way!”
Lena wrapped an arm around Maggie’s shoulder. “Talk about taking one for the team! You’re an inspiration, Maggie Gallagher.”