The Girl Who Knew Even More

by Commander S. T. Bolivar, III

  OH, THE MUNCHEM CEMETERY. SURROUNDED by a spiny fence and filled with tumbledown headstones, it’s where teachers bury all the kids who don’t graduate. Or maybe not. Maybe it was just something Carter told Mattie to freak him out.

  Considering it was Munchem and Carter, either was possible.

  Mattie and the Spencers trooped across the overgrown meadow, dragging their rakes. The cemetery lay at the very bottom of the hill, and when Mattie passed through the twisted iron gate, his chest got tight. There was just something about the long yellowy weeds brushing his legs and all the long-dead people under his feet that made Mattie sweat.

  But that’s the way cemeteries are supposed to be. In fact, if the cemetery had been a person, it would have been very good at its job and it probably would have written all about it on its résumé (which appears to be a document where people write fan fiction about themselves).

  But I’m getting distracted and I shouldn’t, because Mattie and the Spencers are currently weaving through the old gravestones and feeling distinctly creeped out. When Munchem had been scary and dirty and looked as if it might fall down, the cemetery seemed pretty much appropriate. Now it seemed like a big wart on Munchem’s shiny new face.

  “You think they’ll knock this place down?” Mattie asked the Spencers as they wove through the old gravestones.

  “I hope not,” Caroline said. “They’ll get a nasty surprise if they do.”

  All three of them looked toward the mausoleum, because behind those chained doors and under the tomb inside the mausoleum was where Headmaster Rooney had kept the real students after he cloned them. After Mattie and the Spencers freed everyone, they didn’t know what to do, so they’d locked the place back up. The pods and the computers and the cold, cold concrete were still down there.

  “I can’t believe Doyle’s joined forces with Delia,” Mattie said.

  “I saw them whispering yesterday.” Caroline scratched behind Beezus’s ears, sending fur swirling into the air. “I should have known they were up to something. I can’t believe Professor Shelley sided with Delia.”

  Eliot perked up. “Speaking of Delia, I need some advice. I want to get her a present. Girls like presents, right? What could I get?”

  Mattie shrugged. “I have no idea. Caroline?”

  “The heads of her enemies,” Caroline said, staring straight ahead.

  Eliot waved one hand as if to say, See? “This is why I don’t bother asking her anything,” he told Mattie and swiped at the tops of some weeds. Their yellowed heads went flying.

  “Eliot…” Mattie paused, trying to find the best way to say How can you possibly like Delia? “How can you possibly like Delia? She’s awful to Caroline, and she framed me for the glitter bomb.”

  Eliot nodded sadly. “Yeah.”

  Mattie narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t hearing me. She destroyed those computers!”

  Eliot winced. “But if anyone can fix them, Delia can! She’s even better than I am with computers—and did you see her throw that elbow at Doyle? She has brains and brawn.” He paused, thinking. “Maybe we can reform her.”

  Caroline blew out a winding sigh. “Great, now he wants a project girlfriend.”

  “Shut it,” Eliot told her. “Delia’s the total package—so I need a good gift. You have to help me come up with something, Mattie.”

  Eliot looked expectantly at Mattie, and Mattie nodded like he would eventually know what to suggest. “We’ll figure something out later. After we finish here.”

  “Great idea.”

  Mattie was very sure it wasn’t, but at least Eliot had shut up about Delia.

  “Hurry up,” Caroline told them. “I don’t want to miss study break”—she narrowed her eyes at Eliot—“with my friends.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Eliot said. “The friends you were hanging out with when you followed us to the computer lab.”

  Mattie swung his rake from his shoulder to the ground. “Shouldn’t Professor Shelley come down here to supervise?”

  “That would involve leaving her computer lab,” Caroline said. “She wants to punish us, not her.”

  Mattie studied the dead leaves coating one of the graves. “Everything is supposed to be new and improved, but is this any different than last term when we used to clean for the teachers?”

  “Not really,” the Spencers said in unison. They glared at each other.

  “Hey,” Mattie said, snapping his fingers to get their attention. “What are we going to do about Delia? She really is going to take me down.”

  The Spencers went silent. Caroline scratched Beezus’s back for a long moment and then said, “Maybe you should retaliate. Like, really squish her so good she never messes with you again.”

  “I’m not really into squishing,” Mattie said.

  “Yeah,” Eliot agreed. “Mattie’s more the type who gets squished. Look on the bright side: at least Delia notices you.”

  Caroline blew out an especially long sigh. “No, the bright side is at least you don’t have to live with her.”

  Now Mattie blew out an especially long sigh. The Spencers, however, didn’t notice. They were too busy arguing. Mattie dragged his plastic yard bag to the cemetery’s edge and began to rake leaves into it. This far away from Munchem, the trees were closer and darker. Shadows pooled along the forest floor and gathered in the branches. When the wind blew through them, the leaves rubbed together, sounding like a million whispers.

  Snap snap!

  Mattie jerked and peered into the dim woods. Something was in there. It was heavy and it was moving. Mattie swallowed and searched the trees. He spotted squirrel nests, cracked-in-half tree limbs, and a pair of red, red eyes looking straight at him.

  “Uh, guys?” Mattie whispered. He his voice caught. Someone’s watching me.

  MATTIE’S VOICE WAS LOCKED INSIDE his throat. He took a step back and the eyes took a step forward. Branches popped as they were shoved aside. Clone Doyle stepped out of the woods.

  Doyle grinned at them. “Hi, Mattie!”

  “Hi, Doyle.” Mattie slumped. His heart felt like it was trying to pound through his chest. The Spencers dropped their rakes and ran over to see the clone. “You really startled me.”

  “Sorry about that! Muffin?” Doyle stuck both hands out like he was carrying a tray. Only there was no tray and there were definitely no muffins.

  Mattie straightened. “Uh, you feeling okay?”

  “I’m great!”

  Mattie rather disagreed. Doyle’s great big bald head was dirty. His Munchem uniform hung in tatters, and through those tatters Mattie could see scratches, a smear of bird poop, and more dirt. His eyes were an angry traffic-light red and something black was caked in his teeth. In short, Doyle did not look great. Doyle looked like a hermit who would have a tea party with squirrels.

  “Are you sure you’re not hungry?” Again, Doyle thrust forward his invisible tray. “The muffins are awfully good!”

  “He’s lost it,” Eliot whispered and his sister shushed him.

  Mattie agreed with Eliot, but he wasn’t brave enough to say so. Those red eyes had a way of making Mattie’s joints feel all shaky. “Are you okay, Doyle? Are you getting upset?”

  “No! Of course not!” Doyle cocked his head. “Oh! Is it my eyes?” He blinked twice and the red disappeared, becoming his usual brown. “They do that now. I need a tune-up.”

  No kidding, Mattie thought. “Wow, uh, have you been out here all this time?”

  “Well, sure!” Doyle grinned at them again. “Miss Maple programmed us to stay in the woods. Every day at two o’clock, we have to wait for her here, and you gotta do what you’re programmed to do, right?”

  “Right,” Mattie said weakly. Just the mention of the school secretary made his insides feel cold and slushy. “She’s coming back?”

  The clone nodded, and Mattie’s insides went even colder.

  “Has she been back?”

  “Nope!”

  Well, at least that’s good, Mattie thou
ght. He studied the clone’s blue Munchem trousers. They seemed awfully loose. “You look hungry.”

  “I am hungry. These muffins don’t fill me up like they used to—but that’s okay because Carter brings us stuff when he can.”

  Mattie’s mouth fell open. “What? Why—I mean…that’s nice of him.”

  Doyle’s face lit up. “It is nice of him, and we’re nice right back. We bring him stuff too.”

  Mattie’s eyes narrowed as he remembered Carter saying, Live and let live, you know? “What kind of stuff?” he asked.

  “Candy mostly. There’s a gas station a few miles away. Carter says he can’t get there and back in time—someone would notice he was gone—so I go for him.”

  And then Carter sells it to Real Doyle, Real Maxwell, and the rest of the school, Mattie thought, and briefly, he was almost proud—and then he was mostly annoyed because Carter hadn’t told Mattie to stay away from the clones to protect him. Carter had told Mattie to stay away so he could continue using them.

  “Yeah,” Mattie said slowly. “So what do you do when you aren’t bringing my brother candy to sell?”

  “Oh, you know, baking and counting all the tree branches—I’m up to 2,654,838!”

  Mattie didn’t know whether to feel sorry for Doyle the Clone or to be amazed with Doyle the Clone. “Wow. That must keep you really busy.”

  “Completely.” Doyle sagged. “It is exhausting, but someone’s got to do it.”

  Yeah, this is so not good, Mattie thought, and turned to the Spencers. The Spencers looked as if they quite agreed with Mattie.

  “Hey, Doyle, do you think you could tell me how many branches are over there?” Mattie pointed to a thicket of small trees.

  Doyle brightened. “Of course I could tell you!” He trotted toward the trees and began counting aloud. “One…two…three…”

  Mattie and the Spencers watched. “Remember when you said we shouldn’t do anything?”

  Caroline winced. “Fine, you’re right. We can’t leave him here.”

  Mattie nodded. “I know.”

  “But we can’t take him back with us.”

  “I know.”

  Doyle pointed to the branches above his head. “Sixteen…seventeen…eighteen…”

  “Maybe it’s not so bad out here,” Mattie said slowly. “I mean, he gets lots of fresh air.”

  Eliot shuddered. “Oh yeah? If the outdoors are so great, why are bugs always trying to come inside?”

  Caroline studied her brother. “You really were scarred by Boy Scout camp, weren’t you?”

  “I have been telling you this for years!” Eliot gasped, face lightning up with an idea. “I know what we can do! We can take him apart!”

  “No way,” Mattie said. “He’s practically a person. We don’t know where the robot stuff ends and the human stuff begins.”

  Eliot frowned. “True—although you could say that’s an excellent reason to find out.”

  “No!” Caroline and Mattie shouted in unison.

  Eliot wilted. “‘Noooooo, Eliot,’” he muttered to himself. “‘You can’t have a clone. No, Eliot, you can’t take a clone apart. No, no, no.’ That’s all you ever hear.” He stomped off to help Doyle. Mattie watched nervously until he was sure Eliot wasn’t reaching for Doyle’s control panel.

  “Maybe we could find someone to take him,” Mattie said at last. “Like, a nice family with a farm where he could wander.”

  “Is this like when my dad said he was sending my dog to a farm?” Caroline crossed her arms. “Because that wasn’t a farm; he had him put to sleep.”

  “No, I really was thinking about a farm.” Mattie paused, a worrisome thought occurring to him. He lifted his voice: “Hey, Doyle? Are there any more clones in the woods with you?”

  Doyle nodded. “Maxwell is here too. Everyone else went with Miss Maple. Forty-one…forty-two…forty-three…”

  “Ugh,” Mattie muttered. “That makes it even more complicated. I don’t know what to do.”

  Caroline frowned. Clearly, she didn’t either, and that made Mattie feel even worse. They couldn’t leave the clones. They couldn’t take the clones with them. They had to do something. But what?

  “Okay,” Mattie said finally. “Um, Doyle?”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t have to do what Miss Maple says anymore, okay? She’s gone.” Mattie watched the clone’s face twitch as he absorbed the words.

  “Are you sure?” Doyle asked at last. “Because that sounds like you might be malfunctioning too. We’re programmed to listen only to Miss Maple.”

  Mattie paused. “How exactly did she program you?”

  Doyle’s eyes flashed. “Like this!” He fumbled with the back of his neck, turning so Mattie and the Spencers could see a small flesh-colored panel hidden beneath his collar. It popped open, revealing computer bits that made zero sense to Mattie, but made Eliot gasp and clap his hands together.

  Mattie eyed his friend. “Think you could reprogram him?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  “Yes?”

  Eliot gave him a disgusted look and hurried over to Doyle. For several minutes, there was nothing but the sounds of Eliot muttering and something beeping. “Okay,” Eliot said at last, shutting the panel and backing away. “What are you going to do when you see people other than us?”

  “Hide,” Doyle said.

  “And what will you make Maxwell do?” Eliot asked.

  “I’ll make Maxwell hide too—wait, does this mean we can’t talk to Carter anymore? He’s very nice. I would miss him.”

  “No,” Mattie said. “You can still talk to Carter, but no one else, okay? You have to stay a secret. We’re going to help you.”

  Caroline tugged at her ponytail. “How are we going to feed them, and not get caught, and what if”—she dropped her voice to a hiss—“what if Miss Maple comes back?”

  Mattie thought for a moment. “I don’t know, but I do know I’ve got this. Somehow.”

  But even Mattie knew he was in way over his head.

  THE LONG WALK BACK UP the overgrown meadow toward the school wasn’t long enough. Mattie needed a plan to deal with Delia, a plan to deal with the clones, and a plan to deal with the glitter that seemed to be stuck in his ears. Honestly? It was too much planning. Mattie’s head felt overstuffed.

  Or maybe that was just the pollen. It was everywhere.

  Mattie followed the Spencers through the courtyard gate as a gust of mucus yellow pollen billowed over them. Everyone sneezed.

  “Do you remember it being this bad last year?” Eliot asked his sister.

  Caroline ignored him, and it reminded Mattie he had yet another plan to come up with: making the Spencers like each other again.

  “Mattie!”

  Mattie looked up. His father was charging their way, dragging Carter behind him. Fresh sweat broke out between Mattie’s shoulder blades, because somewhere between purple glitter and dirty clones, he had entirely forgotten about getting in trouble with Professor Shelley.

  But Mattie remembered everything now and everything made him panic.

  He swallowed. “This is so not good.”

  “I want to talk to you!” Mr. Larimore was also sweating. It tended to happen a lot when he was mad or running or, in this case, mad and running. He clutched Carter by his upper arm and used his free hand to shake a finger at his youngest son. “What were you thinking?”

  Mattie didn’t even know where to begin. The Spencers didn’t seem to either. They looked at each other and then they looked at Mattie. They wanted to run and Mattie didn’t blame them. He wanted to run too.

  “Maybe you should go,” he whispered.

  “Are you sure?” Caroline’s eyes were enormous.

  “He’s sure!” her brother said and grabbed her arm. Eliot dragged Caroline away as Mr. Larimore stomped closer, a sullen Carter stomping along after him.

  Mr. Larimore jammed a finger in Mattie’s face. “Do you have any idea how much money it will
take to clean and fix those computers? And don’t even get me started on Professor Shelley! I thought the blasted woman was going to burn down my office. You know how she is about her computer lab.”

  Mattie did indeed. In fact, the memory of Professor Shelley bellowing at him was quite fresh in his mind. “Dad, I didn’t do it! I swear!”

  “Of course you did it! Professor Shelley saw you!”

  “She didn’t see anything!” Mattie burst out. “She’s just agreeing with Delia and Delia’s lying!”

  Mr. Larimore went very still. “That’s a serious accusation, Mattie. Why would either of them lie? What do they have to gain from it?”

  Mattie opened his mouth, then shut it. He had no idea. “I didn’t do it,” he said at last.

  “Well, Professor Shelley said you did.”

  “What’s going on?” Carter asked, brushing the wrinkles out of his sleeve. “What’d he do anyway?”

  “Mattie poured glitter on the ceiling fan blades.” Mr. Larimore took a heaving, wheezing breath. “When they were turned on, the glitter went everywhere.”

  Carter’s mouth hung so far open, Mattie could see his back teeth. “Wow,” he said. “Go big or go home, huh? Nice.”

  Mattie caught himself grinning. Wait. Nice? It wasn’t nice. It was horrible—and Mattie hadn’t actually done it—but somehow when Carter grinned at him like that, Mattie felt a million feet tall.

  “Nice?” Mr. Larimore’s eyes bugged and his forehead vein bulged. “It isn’t nice! It’s destructive! It’s indecent! It’s bad!”

  Their father took a moment’s breath and fished a handkerchief from his pocket. He mopped his shiny bald head. Carter glanced at Mattie and winked.

  Just like before, Mattie was suddenly soaring, and just like before, it bothered him. It seemed like he couldn’t win. To make his dad proud, he had to be a good kid, and that made his brother mad. To make his brother proud, he had to be a bad kid, and that upset his dad.