Malcolm at midnight, p.6
Malcolm at Midnight, page 6
Malcolm's mouth was dry. Maybe there wasn't a way to explain it, but he did know that he and Amelia were different. He knew it down to the tip of his very sore tail.
Honey Bunny stepped back and eyed Malcolm like a nutter who had unpacked stewed spinach for a snack. "You know, Aggy was ready to take you under her scales. And now this. Do you know what can happen if you talk to nutters? It's not critter-wise! If the lankies knew we could talk—" He huffed air out of his pink mouth. "It upsets the balance. We're no longer secret. The Academy's whole work is in jeopardy now." He shook his head. "A rat fink, all along."
Malcolm's whiskers and tail wilted. But—wait. Malcolm raised his head. "Aggy doesn't know?"
"Know? Why do you think I came? I'm not here to sing Christmas carols." And Honey Bunny pushed past Malcolm into the classroom.
Malcolm hurried after him. "But Aggy's not here. I was coming to tell someone— oof!"
Honey Bunny had come to an abrupt halt. Malcolm mashed into his fuzzy rear end.
Malcolm looked around the huge rabbit to the mess of paste and paper and crackers and Jolly Ranchers on the floor. The coldness in the air felt like a weight, pressing him down. He smelled the chemical lemon of cleanser. Heard the frantic calls of the chicks. It seemed obvious now. Of course something was terribly wrong here. How could Malcolm have missed it before? And where was Aggy?
Honey Bunny slowly pivoted around to Malcolm. "What exactly were you coming to say, rat?"
"That—that Aggy is gone. That the window is broken."
"The window?" Honey Bunny loped to Aggy's cage. "By claw," Honey Bunny swore under his breath.
The rabbit glanced around, then hopped over to the desk. He jumped to the chair, then the desktop. He grabbed a dry-erase marker with his teeth. He knocked the phone off the hook and punched in a series of numbers with the marker. He pressed his fuzzy lips to the phone. "Ripe Tomato. 1B." The words squawked out of the PA system in the wall.
Only then did Honey Bunny hop back down and over to where Malcolm sat, frozen. Malcolm had been hoping that Honey Bunny was going to take charge and make things right here. But that snarled-up kindergarten shoelace feeling in Malcolm's stomach was growing worse, especially the way Honey Bunny was looking at him. Malcolm squirmed.
Finally, Honey Bunny drawled, "What exactly have you done in here, rat?"
The chicks chose that moment to pipe up. "Leap. Creep. Keep!"
Now Malcolm could hear the pitter-pat, pitter-pat. The scrape and thud of paws and claws on tile floor. Ripe Tomato. Of course, a code. A summons.
One by one, the rest of the critters hopped, scampered, and crawled into the room.
"What's up, HB?" Jesse asked, a little breathless, spitting out a string that was tied to a scooter from the gym. Pete and Tank sat aboard. Ripe Tomato must mean get here—fast. Not at hermit crab and turtle speeds.
Honey Bunny eyed each one of them. "Any of you critters seen Aggy tonight?" The Academy members shook their heads.
Harriet stepped forward. "What's this about, HB?" she wheezed. "I had an hour left to snooze before our subcommittee meeting—"
Honey Bunny cut her off. "Aggy's gone. Missing."
The Academy stirred. "Missing? What do you mean?" Billy asked.
"I mean, she's not here. She didn't report to the Ripe Tomato. Something's happened to her." He stepped back and gestured his paw at Malcolm. "That's not all. I found this, this rat —Malcolm—here. Alone. Inside a locked room. A locked room that's been vandalized, including a window broken from the inside."
What? Malcolm felt like the time he had been zapped by static electricity after Skylar rubbed his shoes on the rug.
The rest of the Academy was just as shocked. "What? A rat?" They all drew back from him. Not a lot. An observer probably wouldn't have noticed, but Malcolm felt it.
Honey Bunny nodded and nudged the folded note on the floor. "Yes, he's a rat. He's been lying to us. And worse—talking to nutters—and who knows who else? Maybe Snip." He gestured to the lettuce leaves. "It's him. He did this. There's gum all over the spilled stuff on the floor. The cage and window, too."
"What?" Malcolm felt the Academy's eyes take in his sticky whiskers. He fought the urge to wipe his face. Gristle, that stupid gum! "But—I was meeting Aggy. It was like this already. Really!" He turned to the chicks. "Tell them!"
The chicks flapped around. "Peep! Steep! Leap!"
Honey Bunny nodded. "Exactly. As I was saying..."
"Aw, come on, HB," Jesse said. "Maybe—"
Honey Bunny shook his head. "He's a rat, Jess. He said so himself. He lied. You don't know rats like I do. It's all about survival for them. They'll do whatever it takes to get their next meal, their next breath. They're cunning, sly creatures. Not to be trusted. We've seen it before. I don't know what it is he got out of this, but Aggy's the one who's paid for it. That's why I've called you here."
"But—" Malcolm tried again.
Honey Bunny jabbed at Malcolm with his front paw. "We'll deal with you later. We've got more pressing business." He turned to the others. "We've got to find Aggy. You know she can't last long at night without her heat lamp."
The words sent a jolt through Malcolm and seemed to mobilize the group, too. They formed into teams. Jesse and Billy shot down the hall. Polly and Tank took off at a slower speed after them, with Tank trudging along and Polly flitting in circles above him. Harriet sniffed and lumbered out the door in the other direction. Octavius crawled straight up the wall and disappeared into the ceiling tiles. Malcolm looked around to see how he could help, too, when— yeow!
"Not so fast, rat." The voice was low, barely above a whisper, and slightly accented.31
Malcolm turned. Pete, the hermit crab, had the end of Malcolm's tail pinched in his claw. The big one.
"I think you'll be heading back to your cage. Until we want to talk to you again." He tugged on Malcolm's tail and Malcolm squeaked in pain. "Let's go."
Malcolm hobbled out the door and back into the dark hall.
Oh, scrap.
Chapter 11
A Small Blue Box
Malcolm waited in his cage, licking off all that gristly gum. He waited and waited. The sun came up Sunday morning. Then it grew dark and dim Sunday night. The whole time Malcolm waited, that knot in his stomach grew. It was like there were two shoelaces. One was the worry about Aggy—alone and cold out there, maybe even hurt. And the other was Malcolm's lie. His breaking of the Academy bylaws. In short: his rattiness. These two laces snarled and grew and tightened inside him until Malcolm couldn't sleep. He couldn't sip his antibacterial water. He couldn't even nosh or nibble.
Have you ever had someone suspect you of the worst, Mr. Binney? It's a hard, heavy thing. And the heaviest part was Malcolm had no idea what to do about it. All he could do was wait. He couldn't even nibble his whiskers. They were already stubs.
Monday morning came and Amelia bounced in. She set a heavy book on their table. "Malcolm! I brought you something! Look, it's a dictionary." Her dark eyes shone.
Malcolm could barely lift his head and squeak a greeting. Still no word from the Academy. Surely, if they had found Aggy, she would tell them what had happened, right? That of all the dumb things Malcolm had done, hurting Aggy hadn't been one of them. But the Academy's silence must mean they hadn't found Aggy. Or worse—maybe they had, but they hadn't found her fast enough.
Amelia frowned and tapped on Malcolm's cage. "Malcolm? What's wrong?"
Malcolm didn't know how to begin to answer. But he didn't have to. Because then you came in, Mr. Binney. And in spite of his own feelings, Malcolm's ears pricked up. No offense, Mr. Binney, but you were positively disheveled.32 Your hair stuck up not only in the back, but all over. And you looked like you hadn't slept all weekend either. Even Jovahn stopped flicking chunks of playground mud at Amelia. "Whoa, Mr. Binney."
You ran your hand through your hair and took a rattled breath. "Jovahn. Class. Good morning. You know, I've been thinking."
The class inhaled all at once—I mean, we had never seen you so frazzled before, Mr. Binney. We were imagining the worst: The principal had outlawed recess for fifth-graders for the rest of the school year, maybe. Or you were going to be fired because our math test scores were so abysmal.33 Maybe even that your house was hit by a meteor and you were now radioactive.
"It's time we cleaned our desks."
"Aw, man!" You probably couldn't tell our relief with all the groaning.
You held up your hands. "I know, I know. But we've got a lot of special events coming up. Parent-teacher conferences, kindergarten buddies, and the Dedication Day carnival. As fifth-graders, we are the leaders and role models for all of those. And we want to be fifth-graders who are organized and take pride in our building, right? Well, it all starts with the inside of your desks."
Around the room, desk lids creaked open. Soon the room looked like the meteor had hit it instead of your house. Crumpled-up spelling tests, sticky granola bar wrappers, and broken crayons massed on the floor and tabletops. Skylar found his missing retainer (in Michael's lunch box). Tianna got mad at Kiera all over again by rereading six weeks' worth of notes.
Meanwhile, you were cleaning out your desk, too, Mr. Binney—dumping drawers and sifting through confiscated slingshots (Jovahn's) and paper footballs (Skylar's).
Amelia had nothing to do during this time, since technically, she didn't have a desk and she was already a role model of organization. So she bit her lip—and wondered. "Mr. Binney, are we looking for something in particular?"
You hesitated. "Yes. Please, class, if you come across something that isn't yours—other than Skylar's retainer—please bring it up here. I'm missing a small blue box. It's velvet and square and about this big." He held his hands up and made a shape with his thumbs and forefingers about the size of two of Skylar's paper footballs put together.
Now Malcolm's ears really perked up. Malcolm knew that box. It was the one you were always peeking into after school, Mr. Binney. But you had just had it ... when was that? Thursday? After school?
Kiera's ears perked up, too. "Velvet? You mean, like a jewelry box?"
Was that a flush on your cheeks, Mr. Binney? "Well, yes, Kiera. Now, about those notes."
Meanwhile, the rest of the class started cleaning again with renewed vigor. After all, it is much more exciting to search for something than to sort old worksheets into the recycling bin.
But Amelia hadn't asked only for your sake, Mr. Binney. No, now that the class was distracted, Amelia pulled out her hair elastic and scooped Malcolm out of his cage. She cracked open the dictionary and plopped Malcolm on it. "Tell me, Malcolm. Tell me what's wrong."
Malcolm guiltily thought of her unread note. How to explain? He sniffed the dictionary. This book, as thick as Malcolm was tall, seemed to be all words. Well, most books are, I guess, but this one wasn't a story, it was about words. Lists and lists of words. Any word Malcolm could want. Any word Malcolm could need.
Slowly, Malcolm extended a foot. Saturday. He pawed through a few pages. Pet. Disappear.
And before Malcolm knew it, he was dancing over the pages. Tapping, pointing, flicking, poking, stamping. The whole story. Everything. The Midnight Academy. Aggy. The lie. The note. And most of all, how Aggy was gone now and how no one knew where and how everyone thought it was his fault. Oh, it felt good. Telling Amelia felt as good as a quality burp that eases an overnoshed stomach.
Malcolm finished and stared up at Amelia. He panted. His feet were slick with sweat.34
Throughout it all, Amelia had been quiet. Simply listening. Have you ever known a person like that, Mr. Binney? Someone who just listens? Someone who doesn't interrupt or pipe in with their opinion or wince at your dumb mistakes? Anyway, it's one of the most wonderful and satisfying things to have. And Amelia listening like that made Malcolm Know. Know with a capital K. No matter what Honey Bunny said, no matter the rules of the Midnight Academy, Malcolm hadn't been wrong; Amelia was his friend. And if you can't tell your friends things—things that are making you feel as tangled up inside as a kindergartner's shoelace—well, then, what good are friends?
Malcolm got a sip of water. Then Amelia broke off a piece of graham cracker for him and finally spoke. "Well, I know you're not asking me what to do, but if you care to know, it's quite simple, really. You've got to find out for yourself where Aggy is and what happened."
Malcolm put down the graham. Amelia had spoken the very thing he most longed to do—help Aggy. But what could an undersized rat do?
Amelia leaned closer and continued, "Don't you see? That's the only way for the Academy to believe you—about any of it. Sure, you could wait here and maybe they'd figure it out, but you'd still be a rat who lied. And what if they don't find her? You'll always be under suspicion."
Malcolm considered. He stretched out his paw. What. If. I. No. Find?
Amelia shrugged. "You won't be any worse off then, will you?" She settled into her chair, her eyes gleaming. "Now. You must have some ideas about what happened."
Malcolm nibbled the graham. He had had a lot of time to think over the weekend. And all he could think about was that cat with the dusty, dry voice and the deadly breath to match it. Snip. How Aggy had hissed at her. How she had refused to come to the floor where Aggy was. How Aggy—even Honey Bunny—had said she was up to something. Was taking Aggy it? Or was there more?
A shout made Amelia and Malcolm jump.
"Hey, Mr. Binney, is this it?" Jovahn asked, pointing to a bookshelf near Malcolm's cage. Tucked at the back, on top of a row of books, was a small blue box. The small blue box you had opened and closed so many times before and after school.
"Yes!" You strode over to the shelf in two steps, Mr. Binney. "How'd it get over there? Thanks, Jovahn. Good eyes. Okay, the rest of you, two-minute warning. Finish up and be ready for math."
You scooped the box up, Mr. Binney, but before you shoved it in your pocket, you couldn't help peeking in it. You'd done it so many times before. Only this time, you stopped in your tracks. And your mouth fell open. Malcolm didn't know why at the time, but I know you do, Mr. Binney. And again, for the sake of the story—Malcolm's story and what happens later on—I'll write it here.
The box was empty.
Chapter 12
A Spy From Above
That night, as Malcolm listened to the beep and click of Ms. Brumble locking McKenna's doors and leaving, he wasn't at all sure that Amelia's idea was a good one. For starters, what exactly—besides a three-foot green lizard with orange bouncy ball-shaped eyes—should he even be looking for?
Nevertheless, Malcolm let himself out of his cage and snuck under the door. Because, as Amelia also had said, what did he have to lose?
Malcolm skirted the shadows of the hall. He slowly made his way to the stairs, the same stairs he had come tumbling down a few nights before. Snip seemed like the place to start—the Academy certainly seemed to think so. Hadn't Honey Bunny accused Malcolm of working with Snip?
But how do you spy on a cat if you are a rat? A smaller than average rat?
Malcolm hunched at the bottom of the stairs. If he marched up them, he'd be Snip's midnight snack faster than Jovahn could inhale a bag of cheese curls. But what other way was there?
Brrriiinnnnggg!
Malcolm jumped. Of course! With Aggy missing, the Academy would be meeting more often to discuss things. Maybe Malcolm could learn something from them. He scurried up a row of lockers. His Knack couldn't help noticing the orange cutout letters on the black bulletin board across from him, next to the library: MCKENNA'S DEDICATION DAY CARNIVAL!
Malcolm slowed. He had heard so much about this back in Room 11, but it still wasn't exactly clear.35 "Celebrate the 90th anniversary of McKenna's historic clock tower," he read. "Food! Games! Halloween costumes optional. 1-3 p.m., October 29." Malcolm squinted at the pictures. Nutters running. Playing. Nibbling. Crumb, too bad the Dedication Day carnival wasn't for critters. It looked like something a rat could really twist his tail around.
But there was no time for daydreaming about Nosh and Fodder, even if it came in the form of caramel popcorn and decorated goodie bags. The Academy was coming.
Thump, thump, thump.
Pitter-pat. Pitter-pat.36
Malcolm shrank in the shadows atop the lockers, and he followed the sounds of the critters, out of sight, out of scent. Honey Bunny thought Malcolm was a sneaky rat spy? Well, Malcolm would show him.
"Do you think they're okay?" That was Billy. Malcolm recognized her whisper.
Honey Bunny grunted a reply that Malcolm couldn't make out.
Harriet grumbled, "I still prefer the old way."
The critters went right past the library. Maybe they weren't meeting. But where were they going? Malcolm hesitated at the library door. Should he continue to follow? Or maybe, while the Academy was somewhere else, it was the perfect time for Malcolm to check out the library. He remembered the Academy notebook and the computer where Octavius took notes. If he could find and read them, maybe this all would make more sense to him. Maybe he could explain himself better.
Malcolm slipped through the transom, then down a bookshelf and over to the library counter.
He had taken about two steps when a splash of water jolted him.
Oscar! He had forgotten all about Oscar!
Malcolm skitter-skattered and bonked straight into the computer monitor. As he shook his head to get his bearings, he noticed that Oscar was nosing in his gravel. Gristle, was he going to report Malcolm to the Academy? Malcolm hadn't even found anything out yet!
"Hey! Hey, I didn't do it," Malcolm waved his front paws and whispered through the glass. "Oscar, I didn't do what the others think. I don't know where Aggy is. I'm not working with Snip."
Oscar studied him for a moment, his fins fanning. Then he went back to nudging the gravel. Malcolm closed his eyes, dragged some valor up from deep within, and peered at the words.
