by Brian Lies
“Lucky?” Malcolm wheeled around. “We’re supposed to be together forever!”
Aggy lifted her head and her orange golf-ball-size eyes crinkled in concern. “Forever? Oh, Malcolm. No. They all leave eventually. You know that, right?”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed. “Sometimes I forget that this is your first year in the Academy. You’ve done so much. This should have been in your pledge training. But you really didn’t get all your training, did you?” She slipped her tail around Malcolm. “They leave, Malcolm. The nutters leave. All of them. The school year ends. And next fall . . . you’ll have a new class of nutters.”
Malcolm pulled away to stare at Aggy. He remembered those comments that had niggled at him. You had said it, Mr. Binney, after the disastrous music rehearsal: “We have a long way to go before this bunch is ready to leave McKenna for middle school.” And Tianna, too. “We’re out of here anyway at the end of the school year.” Was this what everyone had been talking about? How did everyone know this, but Malcolm didn’t? What else had he been missing?
“What? All of them?” It was bad enough that Amelia was leaving, but Jovahn, too? Malcolm would even miss being crammed in Skylar’s pocket. “But . . . where do they go?”
“Summer vacation. It’s like a really long weekend. They stay home for a couple of months. Then in the fall, your nutters will be sixth-graders. They move over to the middle school. You’ll still have Mr. Binney,” she said in a rush after catching a glimpse of Malcolm’s face. “And you’ll likely have a glorious summer in one of your nutters’ homes before a new year and new nutters come to be fifth-graders.”
Malcolm felt like he was falling through the wall all over again.
“I’m sure they’ll come back to visit you. Many will never forget you—for their entire lives. But it’s how things are, Malcolm. Don’t think of it as sad. Think of it as how there are more nutters to love every year. Maybe there will even be another Amelia.”
Malcolm knew Aggy meant well, but this made the apple-scented-eraser ache start again in his belly. Another Amelia! What was she saying? He closed his eyes. He tried to imagine knowing other nutters the way he knew Amelia. And then losing them. Over and over again.
There was a long pause, and then Aggy said, “It’s worse to not love them, Malcolm. To be there, but not be there.” She squeezed her tail around him. “It’s like when I first came to McKenna. My lanky always brought in butternut squash for me. Oh, how I loved butternut squash. But then one day, he replaced it with this strange, leafy stuff called kale. I turned up my snout at it for the longest time. Then I finally tried it. And guess what? Delicious.”
What the crumb was Aggy talking about now? Butternut squash? Kale? For once in Malcolm’s life, he couldn’t imagine eating.
She squeezed him again. “The point is, things change. You may want butternut squash with all your heart, but sometimes it’s kale. And it’s okay if you like it, too. Because it’ll never take away how much you love butternut squash.”
“But there must be something we can do,” he whispered.
Aggy smiled. “Oh, there is. Love them. Be there for them. Your Amelia—likely she’s feeling worse about this move than you are. Comfort her. It’s the noblest role of a pet. Then, be open to the possibilities of kale.”
And with that, she slipped out of the room, leaving Malcolm alone in the dark. He lay in that beanbag for a long time, staring at the dark ceiling, imagining the stars above it.
He thought he might know what Aggy was asking of him: to move on. But he wasn’t sure he had it in him. Eventually, though, Malcolm rolled out of the beanbag and plodded down the hall to the second grade classrooms. He knew Honey Bunny was wondering about his meeting, and Malcolm guessed he owed it to HB for going with him up to the clock tower in the first place. He’d just keep it all business. That’s how Honey Bunny preferred it, anyway.
Malcolm had never been inside Honey Bunny’s second grade classroom. He stopped short at the sight of Honey Bunny’s cage. “Wow, they really like pink in here,” Malcolm said carefully.
“The nutters think it matches my eyes,” Honey Bunny said, holding the door open. He paused a second, leveling those pink eyes at Malcolm. “Don’t mention it.”
Malcolm nodded, but Honey Bunny poked a claw—a pointy one that had been hiding inside his silky coat—at Malcolm’s chest. “No, really. Don’t mention it.”
Malcolm nodded again and started nibbling on a carrot.
Honey Bunny didn’t hesitate. “So . . . what did the Striped Shadow say?”
Malcolm suddenly felt tired. The Striped Shadow. Snip. Amelia. It was all too much. “He had some actually useful information, but I think we’re going to have to have all the Academy working on it around the clock.” And Malcolm explained about the underlined words in the books.
“Yeah, that’s a lot of books,” Honey Bunny agreed. “But if we each take a couple rows, we should be able to do it. Good work. So . . . anything else?”
Malcolm shifted his eyes. “Not really. Why?”
Honey Bunny chewed for a minute. “Just wondering. Your . . . friend Beert seemed to think that the Striped Shadow didn’t help for free.”
Malcolm nodded, his mind whirring. He should tell Honey Bunny about Snip, about what Snip wanted. He knew he should ask Honey Bunny if he had lied. But it was just too much. Have you ever had that happen, Mr. Binney? Something that is all you can think about, but your thoughts are so tightly wrapped around it that you can’t really put them into words? So, then, the thing you think about most—that is consuming you—is the one that nobody ever even knows about? Like moving, maybe. Even though everyone’s asking you about it all day long, and you’re dreading it and scared of it and hate the idea of it—so much—it’s too hard to speak of it.
So you don’t. That was Malcolm right then.
Instead, Malcolm ended up shrugging and offering an easy lie. “He just wanted access to the dumpster. I showed him how to get in. Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “I made sure he knew not to leave a mess. If there’s one thing the Striped Shadow is, it’s smart.”
Which was actually true. Which was another worry. What happens if you don’t help the Shadow in return?
Chapter 18
A Secret
“So what were you saying about ‘bobo nickels’ the other day?” It was the day before the listening session—and two days before Amelia’s last day. The group was putting the final touches on their presentation and their posters, and lamenting yet again about not being able to share the time capsule or McKenna’s portrait. Amelia pointed to Skylar’s poster board. “Hey, you’ve got to use punctuation. And you spelled ‘board’ wrong. ‘We need you bored!’ means something totally different from ‘We need you, Board!’” She reached over to mark the changes. “Commas matter.”
Malcolm winced as Skylar rubbed out his work. In the days since her move had been announced, Amelia’s mouth pinched tighter and tighter and her words stung. It was like she was trying to make everyone mad at her.
“It’s not ‘bobo’—it’s ‘hobo,’” Jovahn corrected gently.
Amelia frowned. “Like homeless people?”
“Kind of,” Kiera answered. “But different. Mr. Binney said back in the 1930s when that nickel was made, a lot of people were out of work. They traveled all over the country, looking for jobs, riding on the trains, walking, whatever they could do. And some tried to make things to trade or sell. Like carving a nickel. That’s what Mr. Binney thinks this is. He had, like, a great-uncle or someone who collected hobo nickels.”
“Weird,” Amelia said. “But I don’t think that’s going to help with our presentation—Jovahn! Can’t you make that neater?”
Jovahn sighed and erased.
Amelia stared out the window. The rain had turned the snow into icy gray scabs across the playground. She kicked the table leg. Malcolm squeaked at the jolt.
She opened his cage and rubbed behind his ears. “I’m sor
ry, Malcolm. I just . . . we’re so close! I thought we’d find the time capsule or your Loaded Stash or something. But it’s like the closer we get, the foggier it gets. All we’ve got are some pictures and misspelled posters.” She grabbed a handful of newspaper clippings. “I mean, will anyone really care how McKenna donated the land and money for the school to be built?” She jabbed her finger sarcastically. “Oh, and don’t forget how his daughter won her ‘exotic South American’ pet guinea pig at the Wisconsin State Fair! I’m sure that will make all the difference.” She shook her head. “Somehow it felt like, if I could do this . . . Oh, never mind.” She got up and walked over to the windows.
Malcolm wandered around the table, tripping over the books, markers, and scraps of paper. He knew what she was going to say: if she could save the school, somehow it wouldn’t hurt as much to move from it. Malcolm knew because that’s exactly how he felt too.
And then, he saw it. On the spine of one of the yearbooks.
A Mark!
Four triangles in a row, scratched above the date on the spine. A Marked book! It had to be. After all this time, the Midnight Academy looking through the shelves in the library—they had forgotten that some books were checked out!
Jovahn rubbed Malcolm’s belly. “What’s up, mousie?”
But Malcolm shook him off, instead hopping onto the yearbook. He riffled through the pages.
“Hey!” Kiera said.
Amelia turned back from the window, watching Malcolm as he wrestled with the heavy paper. “He’s trying to tell us something,” she said softly.
Yes, here was one! An underlined word! “In.” Malcolm pointed to it with his tail. And another! “Times.” The nutters stared at him. Amelia’s eyebrows drew together in either a frown or a look of concentration.
Malcolm pointed to the first underlined word again. “‘In,’” Amelia read aloud. “In what, Malcolm?” No! It wasn’t the word “in,” it was the underlining he wanted her to notice. He flipped back to the other page. “‘Times,’” she read. She looked at him. “In times?”
Gristle! How to make her understand? He pointed to the word “times” again.
Kiera was staring with her eyes round. “Is he talking to us?! I knew it! I knew he talked to you!” she crowed. “I knew there was more going on than you just reading to him. This whole time, you’ve been talking. Wait until the other kids—”
Jovahn elbowed her. “You can’t tell anyone!”
Amelia frowned. “Seriously, you can’t. Think about if everyone knew.”
Kiera paused, chomping her gum for a few seconds. “I have to keep it secret?”
Amelia and Jovahn nodded. “Even from Tianna,” Jovahn said.
Kiera grumped, “That’s no fun. What’s the fun in knowing a secret if you can’t tell it?”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “I thought the point of a secret was to keep it?”
“Of course! But, you know . . .”
Jovahn turned to Skylar. “You too, Skylar. You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” Skylar didn’t even appear to be listening, but he nodded slightly, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Malcolm.
“Skylar!” Amelia said sharply. “This is important.”
Skylar jumped and focused on Amelia. He half smiled. “No. It doesn’t matter. No one listens to me anyway. But, you know, I think Malcolm—”
“He’s right,” Kiera said. “No one can ever make sense of him. So what do you think Malcolm is saying?”
But Malcolm was listening. He caught Skylar’s eyes. He pointed at the underlined words again: “of,” “need.” He flipped pages forward: “look.” Malcolm traced the pencil underline. Skylar’s eyes glowed. Yes! By crumb, Skylar got it.
Skylar grabbed Amelia’s hand. “It’s a message!” he shouted.
The three other students sighed. “We know, Skylar,” Amelia said gently, trying to extract her hand. “That’s what we were just saying. Malcolm can talk to us. But you can’t tell anyone.”
“No,” said Skylar, not letting go of her. “It’s not a message from Malcolm. There’s another message. Like a code. In the book. Malcolm’s trying to show us. Look.” He pointed at the caption. “The word ‘stars’ is underlined. I read about this in a Spy Secrets comic once. There are other words too. If we put all the underlined words together, it’ll make a message. From someone else. Not Malcolm. He’s just showing it to us.”
Jovahn, Kiera, and Amelia stared at one another in silence. Amelia flipped the pages back and forth. “They are underlined. And Malcolm doesn’t underline.” She pulled out a pencil.
“Malcolm, you’re a genius!” crowed Jovahn, as Amelia wrote down the underlined words.
“You too, Skylar,” Amelia added. Skylar flushed.
“But a message from who?” Kiera wondered.
“Whom. Let’s just figure out what it is, first,” Amelia said, scribbling away. “Wait, there’s another one!” she said, pointing.
Malcolm had leaped off the book so that Amelia could turn the pages. With Kiera watching, he stepped onto his old notebook. He carefully pointed to the letters.
“‘The Midnight Academy,’” Kiera read. “What’s that?”
Amelia paused, her pencil poised above the paper. “This is a message from the Midnight Academy?” she asked Malcolm.
He nodded. “Think so,” he spelled out.
“The Midnight Academy from”—Jovahn flipped to the spine of the book—“1938?”
Malcolm nodded again.
“What’s the Midnight Academy?” Kiera nearly shouted.
“It’s . . . kind of hard to explain,” Jovahn started slowly.
“It’s another secret,” Amelia added. She sounded skeptical.
“It’s from the story,” Skylar said.
“What?” The other three turned to him.
“The story Mr. Binney read. Don’t you remember? After The Tale of Despereaux, he read us that story about Malcolm here . . . It was all true, wasn’t it?”
Jovahn and Amelia glanced at each other. Amelia swallowed.
Kiera darted a look from Skylar to Jovahn to Amelia. “That was a true story? All that?! The cat, the water, the . . .” Her eyes grew wide. “It is true, isn’t it?”
Amelia slowly nodded. Kiera continued, “So if the Academy is real—whoa, you guys really mean I can’t say anything about this to anyone?—Malcolm is saying this is a message from them from 1938. Well, what does it say?”
“In times of need, look beneath the oak under the stars behind McKenna.”
“‘Behind McKenna’? What does that mean? ‘Beneath the oak’?” Jovahn asked. “I hate puzzles. Can’t we just make something instead?”
“I know what it means,” Amelia said softly. “Or at least part of it.”
“Is it the time capsule?” Kiera asked. “But nothing was out there.”
Amelia stood up straight, her eyes shining in a way they hadn’t for days. “It’s a message for Malcolm.” She picked him up and nuzzled his ear. His tail quivered.
“It’s your Loaded Stash,” she whispered. “When the ground thaws out there, we’re going to find your Stash.”
Chapter 19
The Listening Session
Malcolm raced to report the message in the yearbook to the Academy that night, but the Academy agreed that there wasn’t much they could do until the ground thawed. And in the meantime, it was here: the school board listening session. The next day, the lankies were all on edge. Mrs. Whipple, the school cook, handed out ice cream bars for lunch. Before the fish sticks. It poured all day, so there was indoor recess, but not even the atomic version30 of Heads Up, Seven Up could calm the nutters in Room 11. Nothing as crazy as Amelia forgetting her shoes happened, but everyone was definitely wound up. And you seemed particularly sad, Mr. Binney.
After school Ms. Brumble brought you an apple—Granny Smith—and gave you a hug. “It’s going to be okay,” Malcolm heard her whisper to you.
You took a bite of the apple. “They just h
ave their hopes so tied up in this presentation tonight. And I’m not sure a bunch of kids is going to matter. Sure, the school board will listen, but the bottom line is the bottom line. There’s not enough money to keep this school running the way we need it to.” You sighed. “I’m not even hungry.” You tossed your apple across the room to the garbage can. It missed.
“Hey! Someone has to clean up those messes, you know,” Ms. Brumble said, going over pick it up and put it in the trash. “I wouldn’t count out anything. Let’s see what happens.”
Malcolm, who had been racing on his tail-safe exercise wheel, slowed. There it was again: money. Malcolm wondered—and wished he could ask you—what would it take, really, to keep the school open? To keep Amelia here? Even if the Academy found the Loaded Stash, would it be enough? Or were they simply keeping busy like Amelia was on her presentation, and in the end whatever they found wouldn’t matter because the problem was insurmountable in the first place? Malcolm felt a little like he was playing a game in which he didn’t understand all the rules (not unlike Atomic Heads Up, Seven Up). And it was hard to win if you didn’t even know what you were playing.
At the Midnight Academy meeting, it had been agreed that a representative needed to attend the hearing to report back. Instead of the district Midnight Academy giving them an email briefing, like they usually did after a school board meeting, McKenna’s critters would report back the details of the meeting to them. Honey Bunny had been nominated for this, but when they investigated, there just wasn’t a good place for a large white rabbit to hide without being seen. The same was true for Aggy and Harriet, and even Tank and Polly. Billy and Jesse were too distractible to be reliable, and everyone was too worried that Octavius or Pete might get stepped on accidentally. So that left Malcolm.
“Remember,” Aggy had told him. “You are representing the Midnight Academy. We need your report to plan our next steps.” Malcolm wasn’t sure, but he thought she was hinting that he might be almost as distractible as Billy and Jesse. He couldn’t imagine why.