Janitors Page 6

  A moment later, he was outrunning the dog and climbing into the Ford truck idling by the curb. Mr. Gates had already loaded Spencer’s bike in the back. The boy pulled the truck door shut and strapped on his seat belt. Daisy occupied the middle seat, but the cab was still spacious.

  Daisy’s father put the truck in gear and rolled away from the Gates home, leaving his garage door up and the house unlocked. The driver’s side window was down and the wind blew what hair was left on his head.

  “Where we going?” Mr. Gates asked.

  “Hillside Estates,” Spencer said.

  Mr. Gates whistled through his teeth again. “We’ve got a big shot here, Daisy,” he said.

  Spencer felt his face turn as red as the truck’s paint. He wanted to explain that the house wasn’t really his—that they were just living in it because Uncle Wyatt was away on business and Aunt Avril felt bad that Spencer’s dad had left them in the lurch. Instead, Spencer just fumed silently for a moment, wishing that he had a dad who drove a Ford truck and trusted the world enough to leave the house unlocked.

  The silence became awkward and Mr. Gates turned on the radio. When the stations only came in fuzzy, he snapped it off and turned to his silent passengers. “You go to school together, right? Don’t you two have anything to talk about?”

  “I haven’t decided about Spencer yet,” Daisy said to her dad as though they were alone in the truck.

  “Decided? What do you mean?” her dad asked. With each comment, Spencer grew more uncomfortable. He watched out the window in desperate anticipation for Hillside Estates.

  “Well, he’s very confusing. He told me the truth and lied to another boy. But that made me wonder if maybe he lied to me and told the truth to the other boy. Now I’ll never know for sure. He says some really interesting things, but I’m afraid he might be a chameleon.”

  “A chameleon?” Mr. Gates slapped a hand to his forehead. “Them’s the worst kind of folks.”

  Spencer cleared his throat to remind them that he was actually still in the vehicle.

  “And he drew on my face,” Daisy said. “But it washed off.”

  Another bout of silence hit the truck like a black hole.

  “Could someone please explain why I’m a chameleon?” Spencer finally muttered.

  “A chameleon,” Mr. Gates said as he turned into Hillside Estates, “is a type of lizard that changes color. Might be green one moment and black the next. It changes to fit the environment around it, sometimes to blend in, sometimes to stand out.”

  “But what does that have to do with me?” Spencer pointed out Aunt Avril’s house and the big Ford rolled into the driveway.

  “You don’t get it?” Daisy asked, a faint smirk on her face. “In our family, a chameleon is someone whose story changes. They might tell it one way, then totally twist it around and tell a different version. People do it when they’re insecure. Sometimes to blend in, sometimes to stand out.”

  Spencer wasn’t pleased about being called a color-changing lizard. He had a comeback worked up, but he let it die on his lips. Just wait. The soap was in Daisy’s drawer. Soon she’d see that he wasn’t a chameleon.

  “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Gates,” Spencer said, slipping off the edge of the seat. He checked his pocket for the flashlight and the latex glove. With both items secure, he walked to the back of the truck, but Mr. Gates had beaten him there. With a smile, Daisy’s dad lifted out the boy’s bike. Spencer jumped on and pedaled up the driveway. Ditching the bike on the steps, he opened the front door.

  The house was its usual mess. Spencer hadn’t seen the station wagon out front, which meant that his mother wasn’t home. She would most likely bring back dinner. His mom flaked out on a lot of things, but the kids could always depend on her for some kind of dinner. The house was quiet. Max was probably with Mom. The other kids could be anywhere.

  Spencer waded through a three-month-old box of clothes yet to be unpacked and found his way down the hall to the computer room. Photographs of Aunt Avril and Uncle Wyatt flashed across the screen until Spencer wiggled the mouse. Compared to the school computers, the internet seemed faster at Hillside Estates, and he had his e-mail open in no time.

  Spencer felt his heart race as he saw that there was one unread message from ghadley@bem.gov. “Instructions” was the subject heading.

  With a nervous hand, Spencer opened the e-mail.

  Chapter 13

  “I got more info.”

  Spencer and Daisy crouched behind the corkscrew slide on the playground. Daisy was breathing hard, as if she had just run a half marathon. In reality, she had barely run from the back door of the school to the playground before Spencer had intercepted her on his bike. Now the bike was ditched in the bark next to the tire swing and the two kids were using the slide for cover.

  “How can you go in there with those . . . those things crawling around the hallways?” Daisy asked again, shaking her head in disbelief. The second bell rang, making them both officially tardy for Mrs. Natcher’s class.

  Spencer was relieved and delighted that Daisy had tried the soap. Now that she had seen the creatures for herself, Daisy was the best listener. Spencer had told her all he’d learned from Garth Hadley about the BEM and how he’d been enlisted to stop the janitors at Welcher Elementary.

  “So they want you to do dirty work for the Bureau of Educational Maintenance?” Daisy asked. “I don’t know.” She sighed. “I met John Campbell when he came to Welcher at the end of last year. He doesn’t really seem like the magical-experiment type of guy.”

  “You don’t believe me again?” Spencer cried. “You think I’m still being a chameleon?”

  “I know you are telling the truth,” she said. “But what if the BEM is wrong about the janitors?”

  “Don’t be crazy,” Spencer said. “The Bureau’s a government agency.” He opened his backpack. “I got more info,” he said, handing Daisy a printed e-mail.

  She read intently, mumbling every fifth word or so. But Spencer didn’t need her to read it out loud. He’d read the message so many times he almost had it memorized.

  To: SpenceZ@wahoo.com

  From: ghadley@bem.gov

  Subject: Instructions

  Spencer:

  I believe we were able to determine the location of Walter Jamison’s bronze nail. At the end of the hallway by the gym is a boy’s bathroom. The restroom has been labeled “out of order.”

  The door is normally locked, but I managed to jam the lock during our routine inspection. Somewhere in the bathroom is the nail. Before you go for the hammer, you must know exactly where the nail is. Here’s the plan:

  At precisely 11:06 tomorrow morning, the power will go out at Welcher Elementary School. The power will remain off for eight minutes. You should be able to get inside the bathroom without anyone seeing. Also, with the lights off, your flashlight will come in handy. Use the flashlight to locate the nail, then get back to your classroom and wait for more instructions via e-mail. Be careful, and watch out for the janitors!

  Garth Hadley BEM regional representative

  “I always wondered about that bathroom by the gym,” Daisy said. “It was out of order for months last year. Wonder why the janitors haven’t fixed it yet.”

  “Because it’s not broken,” Spencer said. “They just say it’s out of order so they can hide the nail in there and nobody will go in.” Spencer checked his watch. “Hmm—11:06. That’s only two hours from now. Are you coming with me?”

  “You only have one glove,” Daisy said.

  “We shouldn’t need it,” Spencer answered. “Remember, this time we’re just scouting for the nail.”

  “Yeah.” Daisy swallowed hard. “I’ll come.”

  Chapter 14

  “Take the hall pass.”

  By the time the clock showe
d 11:00, Spencer’s hands were sweating. He kept glancing at Daisy. Her eyes shifted nervously from the clock to her worksheet and back to the clock. What was she doing? Daisy was supposed to be out of the classroom with the hall pass by now.

  Spencer checked his wristwatch. The digital screen showed 00:00. Since Mr. Hadley’s 11:06 might not be the same as Mrs. Natcher’s 11:06, Spencer was ready to hit “start” on his watch the minute the power went out. From there, he would have eight minutes to rendezvous with Daisy in the hallway, check the “out of order” bathroom, and get back to the classroom. If Daisy would ever leave!

  Finally, at 11:01 and a half, Daisy’s hand shot up, the gesture screaming urgency.

  “Yes, Daisy?” Mrs. Natcher said, peering over her glasses in the usual manner.

  “May I please go to the restroom, Mrs. Natcher?”

  Mrs. Natcher breathed deeply through her nose as she looked at the clock. With three pairs of eyes on the clock, Spencer wondered if the minute hand would freeze under pressure. Evidently deeming it a good time to grant Daisy’s wish, Mrs. Natcher simply said, “Take the hall pass,” and looked back at the computer screen on her desk.

  Mrs. Natcher, for some odd reason, used a bald baby doll wearing nothing but a diaper for a hall pass. Whatever the teacher’s reasons, the doll (nicknamed Baybee) usually embarrassed students enough to prevent unnecessary trips out of the classroom. But at 11:02, Daisy leapt up, snatched Baybee without reserve, and disappeared out the door.

  The next four minutes passed like hours for Spencer. His worksheet was untouched on his desk. He quietly clicked his tongue with each movement of the red second hand. Dissatisfied by the sluggish tempo of the clock, he began clicking twice for each second.

  “Shut up,” Dez grunted at his side, but Spencer didn’t hear him.

  Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .

  11:06.

  Nothing.

  Spencer glanced up at the fluorescent tube lights on the ceiling. Not so much as a flicker. Spencer’s stomach began to twist nervously.

  Then, without a sound, the lights turned off. The fan in the back of the room gradually slowed and Mrs. Natcher looked up from the black screen of her computer with an annoyed look, as though the power outage was planned. Well—it was, but Mrs. Natcher had no way of knowing that.

  Spencer hit the button on his watch and the seconds started rolling.

  Dez immediately jumped to his feet and did some awkward dance move while chanting, “Power’s out! Power’s out! Wahoo!”

  The classroom had one large window in the wall, but Mrs. Natcher kept it covered with outdated paisley curtains. Under the curtains was a shade that she’d pulled down the first time the overhead projector was used and she’d never put it up again.

  “Everyone sit down,” Mrs. Natcher said. “The power will return at any moment.” She crossed the room to pull up the window shade and let in the now-needed sunlight.

  Spencer waited until Mrs. Natcher’s back was turned. The class was still in mild chaos, and he attracted no extra attention as he slipped out the door.

  It took Spencer longer than he wanted to find Daisy in the dim hallway. At the sight of Marv, Daisy had retreated to hide in a remote corner, clutching Baybee as if it were her own child. Spencer wandered several halls before they found each other.

  Three precious minutes had passed by the time they stood before the boys’ bathroom with a wrinkled “out of order” sign thumbtacked to the wooden door. Spencer was holding the little gray flashlight in his hand, but he was afraid to turn it on. Baybee dangled in Daisy’s grip by one plastic arm, the doll’s diaper crooked from Daisy’s run down the hall.

  Here, by the gym, it was rather dark. Spencer knew that without a window in the restroom, it would be pitch-black inside. Not willing to waste any more time, Spencer clicked the flashlight’s switch with his thumb. A dull, yellow glow appeared at the end of the small bulb. As Mr. Hadley had explained, it wasn’t even bright enough to illuminate the door two feet away.

  Spencer was reaching out for the door when suddenly a bright white beam of light shot from the flashlight, angling sideways across the hallway. Spencer and Daisy jerked around to see the beam land on a winged vulture-bat. It was hanging upside down from the ceiling, but when the light touched it, the creature took flight. Spencer’s light tracked the jagged flight pattern masterfully, even though the flashlight was motionless in his hand.

  The flying beast dove and touched the ground. Wriggling forward, it disappeared through the gap under the gym door. The flashlight returned to its dull glow in Spencer’s hand.

  “What happened?” hissed Daisy in his ear.

  “Mr. Hadley said that other magical objects would draw out the light. I guess that means creatures too.” Spencer finally pushed open the bathroom door. A small card fell to the hard floor. Hadley must have used it to stop the door from latching.

  Spencer picked up the card. “Come on,” he urged, using the Indiglo feature on his watch to see that five minutes had passed. Daisy didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

  She hesitated. “I’ve never been in a boys’ bathroom before.”

  “Oh, please,” Spencer muttered. “They’re just like girls’ bathrooms, except we have couches and entertainment systems with surround sound.”

  “Really?” Daisy asked, her gullibility setting in again.

  Daisy stepped into the bathroom and Spencer inserted the card over the latch and carefully shut the door over it, plunging the restroom into nearly complete darkness. In the dim light from the flashlight’s weak bulb, Spencer saw two urinals on the wall next to a single stall. There was one sink with an old soap dispenser and a roll of paper towels.

  Suddenly, the flashlight flared to life. The white beam split the darkness, pinpointing its target near the sink. Then the beam flashed a different direction, toward the wall of the bathroom stall. Erratically, the light jumped between two objects.

  The target near the sink crawled forward. When the next flash of light highlighted it, Spencer and Daisy saw that it was one of the salamander creatures. The flashlight shifted targets and Daisy backed up, fearful that the little monster would crawl up her leg in the darkness. The next time they saw the creature, it was stretching its pale body through the grate on the floor drain. Then it was gone.

  With only one magical target now, the flashlight shone a steady white beam at the silver wall of the bathroom stall. All of the light honed in on one small area no larger than the head of a nail.

  “There!” Daisy whispered. They had just taken a step toward the stall when the wooden door of the bathroom banged shut behind them. Spencer whirled around, but the flashlight changed to a weak glow as he faced away from the nail. Spencer felt Daisy draw closer to him. The boy’s bathroom was almost completely dark again.

  But three people were breathing in the darkness!

  “Ha ha!” laughed the intruder. “Gotcha!”

  That voice was much too familiar—and the last one that Spencer or Daisy expected to hear.

  “Open the door, Dez,” Spencer spoke into the darkness. They’d seen the nail and, according to Spencer’s timer, had two minutes before the lights came back. Spencer had hoped to take a closer look at the bronze nail, but there wasn’t time now.

  “That’s a wimpy flashlight,” Dez said. His voice had drawn a step nearer.

  Spencer reached into his pocket and felt the latex glove. Then he quickly withdrew his hand, realizing that Daisy would be stuck in the boys’ room alone with Dez if he used the glove to escape. Facing away from the nail, the little flashlight wasn’t doing much. Spencer didn’t want to arouse Dez’s curiosity further, so he switched off the light.

  At seeing the dim bulb turn off, Dez laughed. “You can run, but you can’t hide!”

  Spencer grabbed Daisy’s hand and jerked
her against the wall as they heard Dez lunge through the blackness.

  “Oh, ho.” Dez chuckled. “Not bad, lovebirds.” The big kid was swiping his arms through the darkness, dirty fingers eager to find them. Spencer held close to the wall, dragging Daisy around the urinals toward the door.

  Thirty seconds left on Spencer’s watch.

  They were almost to the exit, Dez still blundering behind them, when Spencer and Daisy froze. On the other side of the door, they heard a heavy sigh followed by the sound of jingling keys. Someone else was trying to get in! Someone with a big ring of keys. In Spencer’s mind, that narrowed it down to two people: Marv, or maybe Walter Jamison himself!

  “Back, back!” Spencer hissed in Daisy’s ear.

  “I hear you,” Dez whispered back, trying to make his voice low and menacing.

  “Listen, Dez!” Spencer warned. “Someone’s trying to get in and we’ve got to hide fast.” Spencer was across the room, braving the germs on the bathroom wall and pushing Daisy into the stall.

  “What?” Dez asked. Obviously this was the last thing he expected Spencer to say. On the other side of the door, they heard a mumbled curse. It was definitely Marv. And he seemed to be having trouble finding the right key in the darkness.

  “Just get in here and shut up,” Spencer ordered.

  “In where?” asked Dez, taking a step toward Spencer’s voice.

  “The stall,” answered Spencer impatiently. Then, suddenly, the lights went on. Spencer blinked against the brightness and Daisy shielded her eyes. Dez stumbled across the bathroom toward them. Outside, Marv managed to get the key into the lock.

  The door opened and Marv stepped in.

  Chapter 15

  “What’s so funny?”

  The bear of a janitor glanced around the bathroom and then snorted. Marv didn’t see the three kids and the baby doll balancing silently on the cold rim of the toilet, holding on to each other and bracing themselves against the wall. The stall door was shut and latched, but Marv didn’t seem to notice details.