Electric Boogerloo

by Mark Maciejewski

  A steady stream of kids floods past the case now. None of them seem to notice that our mascot is missing. So much for school pride. Then as I’m about to walk away, the Arch makes a slow cruise past the case. He turns his head slightly toward the empty shelf as he passes, then disappears down the hallway. He’s returning to the scene of the crime.

  I slink down the stairs and blend into the river of kids in the hall. The Arch is taller than everyone so it’s easy to follow him. I tail him to his locker but hang back in the alcove at the top of the stairs. From here I’ll be able to see into his locker when he opens it. If he’s stupid enough to hide it in there, I’ll have him.

  When he’s about to open his locker something catches his eye and he turns. I have to lean around the corner to see. It’s Megumi, and she’s all smiles. I’m so focused on the two of them that I don’t even notice that most of the kids have disappeared from the hall. I only have a second to wonder why before Lockhart scissor-walks into view. The Arch’s back is turned so Megumi sees her first. Moby could take notes on the disappearing act that Ronin Girl pulls.

  Lockhart says something to the Arch and his shoulders sag. She turns to go and he follows behind her like a puppy that just pooped on the rug.

  Just as I’m about to go, a hand lands on my shoulder. The shriek I make sounds like the brakes on my dad’s car.

  Shelby takes her hand off my shoulder and pats her chest like an old lady trying to calm down. “Wow! That didn’t make you look guilty or anything.”

  I wipe my head and straighten up. “Why are you sneaking up on me, Shelby?”

  She stabs her nose toward the Arch’s locker. “It looks like you’re the one doing the sneaking.”

  “I was . . .” No excuse comes to me.

  She pushes her glasses up and folds her arms. “Uh-huh, that’s what I thought. So were you planning on including any of us in this little plot of yours?”

  “What plot?”

  She tilts her head to one side. “Really? Who else would take the Electric Kangaroo out of the trophy case?”

  I give her my most serious look. “It wasn’t me. I think the Arch is trying to frame me.”

  Her face softens. “Why do you think that?”

  I tell her about the conversation behind the Dumpster, then his meeting with Margot.

  She thinks about it for second. “Well, with your reputation you’re a pretty easy guy to frame.”

  My head gets hot.

  Her look switches from accusatory to concerned. “What’s the plan?”

  “I don’t know. Find it, I guess. She just hauled the Arch into her office. She’ll probably put the school on lockdown and then bring me in and sweat me.”

  The first bell rings and I flinch again like a nervous cat. “I just think we should keep it quiet. We don’t want anyone to hear us talking about it before it even goes public, okay?”

  Shelby nods and we walk to class together. Sizzler has seats saved for us. He pulls his backpack off the one closest to his and offers it to Shelby.

  Moby stumbles into homeroom and scans the room looking for us. Shelby and I look like a pterodactyl and her egg sitting there; we can’t be that hard to spot.

  He hurries over. “Chub, the Boogerloo is gone, just like you said!”

  I try unsuccessfully to turtle my head into my neck, then peer around to see if anyone heard him. Thankfully, nobody turns to look.

  I put a finger to my lips. “Shhhhh.”

  “Why?” he says in his horrible whisper. “I thought you wanted someone to steal it to teach Lockhart—”

  I lunge out of my desk and clamp my hand over his mouth. Thankfully, the bell rings, and Mrs. Badalucco comes in to start the class. She flops into her chair and starts mopping her chins with a wad of napkins from her desk drawer. She’s almost dry when the intercom crackles.

  Commence lockdown in three . . . two . . .

  “This is Principal Lockhart. The cafeteria floor will be waxed this weekend, so please stack your chairs neatly when you are finished with lunch on Friday. That is all.” The intercom snaps off with a click.

  Mrs. Badalucco flips a goofy salute at the speaker, which gets a nervous laugh from the class.

  Shelby raises her eyebrows and mimes wiping sweat off her forehead. But I’m not ready to wipe mine just yet.

  Mrs. B is clearing her throat to start class when there’s a knock on the door and Mrs. Osborne scurries into the room. She hands Mrs. B a piece of paper, then slips out of the room without making eye contact.

  I already know what the paper says, so I start putting my books back in my bag.

  The wet clump of neck napkins makes a gong sound as Mrs. Badalucco tosses it in the empty trash can. Then she holds up the sheet of paper. “Alphabet Soup-ski, you’re up.”

  Apparently my “good guy” status with Mrs. Osborne has expired, because she won’t look me in the eye when I walk into the office. I don’t even make it to the waiting bench before Lockhart’s voice seeps out of her office.

  “Come in, Mr. Trzebiatowski. This will only take a moment.”

  This time Lockhart already has a cup of tea made. Her gray, snake-like eyes watch me over the rim of the mug. I take my usual seat across from her and try to look as casual as possible despite the fact it feels like there are two porcupines wrestling in my guts.

  After a few noisy slurps and a loud “Ahhhh,” she sets down the mug.

  “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

  A few things come to mind, but if I say any of them to her face it will only make the situation worse.

  “Nope.” I make a little popping sound on the P and look her straight in the eyes. Her left one twitches slightly.

  “Then I’ll make this short and sweet.” She leans forward on her elbows. “I will find out who took the Wahoolie, and when I do,” she pauses and breathes in deeply, “that person will be expelled.”

  This isn’t fair. Sure, I joked about stealing it—maybe even wanted to—but I didn’t. My head starts to bead up. Not from nervousness; this time I’m angry.

  “Does that upset you, Mr. Trzebiatowski?”

  I don’t talk until I’m sure my voice won’t waver. “I. Didn’t. Take. It.”

  She smiles as though I’ve just walked into a trap. “I saw you sneak into the school right before it disappeared.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything. There were other kids here yesterday too.”

  “And they will all have a chance to come clean, just as I’m giving you. As I said, I will find out who the thief is.” Her smile spreads. “Don’t worry. I have plenty of suspects.”

  I sit back in my chair. “What if you never find out who took it? What are you going to do, expel all of us?”

  She sits back in her chair and steeples her fingers. “If I don’t find out which one of you stole it, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Since there’s no way to prove I’m not the thief, and since Lockhart has files as thick as dictionaries on all her suspects, there’s only one way out of this mess. I have to find the stupid thing, no matter what.

  I don’t feel like going back to class right away, so I take the long way through the halls and stop by my locker to grab books for my next class. When I open the door a piece of paper falls to the floor by my feet. At first it looks like trash and I almost toss it in the bin, but instead I unfold it and read.

  Meet me at the last place we talked.

  Lunch

  —A

  The last place we talked was behind the Dumpsters.

  The last time he and I needed to get ourselves out of trouble, we tried to kill our head lice with some chemicals from my dad’s shop, and I ended up bald. Without thinking about it, I rub my hand over my head. It’s as smooth as a bowling ball. Even though I don’t want to meet the Arch in a dark corner, I know what I have to do. I’m going to hear what he has to say, because this game of stolen Boogerloos and possible expulsion is just like my hair: I have no
thing left to lose.

  The rest of the morning passes more slowly than the week before Christmas. Even the kids who would’ve teased me in the halls last year make an extra effort to avoid me. Lockhart has managed to suck the spirit out of the school in less than a week.

  When the bell rings for lunch my stomach flops. Megumi is waiting for me in the lunchroom with a copy of Ronin Girl, but if I don’t sort things out with the Arch I might never get to read another comic again in my life. There’s only one choice that makes sense right now. I race down the stairs to get to the Dumpsters first. I need to be there before him to make sure he isn’t setting up some sort of a trap. I bump into the McQueens on the stairs. None of them has a hat so they don’t say a word, but judging by their narrowed eyes and sly smiles, they’ve figured out why I called them last night.

  It can’t hurt to have a little security and maybe a few witnesses in case the Arch tries to pull something, so I give them the short version.

  “I didn’t take the Boogerloo, but I need to find it or lots of kids are going to pay. The Arch is a suspect too and he wants to talk.”

  They scowl when I mention my old nemesis.

  “I don’t have time to negotiate. So if you guys make sure I’m not about to get my doopah kicked in, I’ll make it worth your while.” With a quick three-way glance, the decision is made. They follow me down the stairs and post up in the parking lot as inconspicuously as possible for three people with hair like lit road flares.

  I don’t have to press myself into the shadows behind the Dumpster for long. The Arch strolls in a moment later. He flips down the hood of his sweatshirt and smooths his hand over his hair. The move makes an old hurt in my stomach flinch like a zombie waking up. He probably doesn’t mean for it to. But maybe he does. Before his eyes have time to adjust to the darkness, I slide out of the shadows. His tiny flinch when he sees me makes me smile. “I guess you got the note.”

  I hold up the paper. “What’s this about?”

  He throws up his hands. “Seriously? Lockhart is on a seek-and-destroy mission.”

  “And?”

  He drops his hands to his side. “And what? We can’t let her do this to us.”

  The word “us” makes the zombie in my guts claw itself out of its grave.

  “She talked to you too, didn’t she?” he demands.

  I nod.

  “I don’t know what she said to you,” he says. “But she told me she’d get rid of as many students as it takes to get the kid who stole it.”

  “So why don’t you just return it and we can go back to business as usual?”

  “Very funny. I didn’t take it.” There’s no trace of the cocky, cool the Arch tone in his voice.

  My hand wants to go to my head, but I force it to stay at my side. I don’t want him to know I’m nervous. “What do you mean ‘we can’t let her do this to us’? Yesterday all you cared about was that it wasn’t you.”

  He holds up the palms of his hands again. “Have you been paying attention? She’s crazy, and now she’s angry. She doesn’t care who she has to take out to retaliate for this. That means we’re in this together.”

  Assuming he’s telling the truth and he’s not the thief, he has a point. Like it or not, we both need to find the thing.

  Then a thought hits me. “Why are you even a suspect? You’re the class president.”

  A real smile, not an Arch smirk, crosses his lips. “Well, you might not know this, but I did almost burn down the school last year.”

  The comment floats in the air for a moment before I crack a smile of my own.

  “Yeah, you did.”

  He shrugs. “Hey, I was young and stupid.”

  We laugh together, and for the moment my stomach-zombie slumps back into the hole he crawled out of.

  “So, what, you called me here to try and team up?”

  He shoves his chin out and widens his eyes. “Who else knows how to sneak around this place better than us?”

  I raise my eyebrow and let the question hang.

  “Plus you’ve got all of your—you know, your gang or whatever.”

  “Cadre,” I correct him.

  “Right.”

  There’s a flat juice box on the ground that looks like it’s been digested by a hippo. I shove it around with the toe of my shoe.

  “What about your gang?” I say, remembering how Nate and Marlon kidnapped me the last time the Arch wanted to call a truce.

  He laughs. “Those guys couldn’t plot their way through a trapdoor if it opened under their feet.”

  The visual of those two goons falling into a dungeon of fire gives me an odd feeling of warmth. “I thought they were your friends.”

  “We hang out together, but since last year they’ve been . . . different.”

  I know the look on his face when his chin sinks. I’ve felt it before.

  “So you’re asking me to trust you.”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks at the digested juice box. “I’m saying we need to trust each other unless we both want to end up in military school or something.”

  I wish he wasn’t right, but it really is as simple as that. I need to get out of here and talk to the Cadre. “Let me think it over.”

  “We don’t have time for that. What do I need to do to convince you?”

  “The Cadre has certain—capabilities,” I say. “But what do you bring to the table?”

  He shifts on his feet. He has something but he’s not sure if he wants to tell me yet.

  I tap my bare wrist. “Tick-tock.”

  After a short staring contest, he rolls his shoulders and sighs. “Okay, Lockhart has a camera.”

  This is a surprise but I try not to show it. “Where?”

  “In the hall, aimed at the trophy case.”

  “I’ve never seen it.”

  He gives me a look like I just said something dumb. “I’m the tallest kid at Alanmoore. Trust me, it’s there.”

  “Wait, if she has a camera, that means she knows it wasn’t either of us.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. But if she knows who did it, why’s she putting us through all this?”

  Something scrapes on the brick on the other side of the Dumpster. It might be a kid, but it might be Lockhart.

  “We need to see that footage from yesterday.”

  The Arch taps his nose with his finger. “Bingo.”

  “What do you think, I have access to her computer?”

  “You just said you guys have capabilities.”

  I don’t want him knowing exactly what we’re capable of. “Yeah, but—”

  He catches my eyes with his. “Do you think I didn’t notice a mysterious drop in my grades last year? I don’t know how you did it, but I know it was you.”

  I hope it’s dark enough that he can’t see me go red. I bob my head as though I’m trying to decide, but the tip on the camera is too important to ignore. Besides, if the footage shows the Arch is the thief, why would he tell me about it?

  “So, are we in business?” He raises his fist toward me and I jump back out of pure instinct. He looks at his fist and laughs.

  I feel pretty stupid when I realize he’s offering me his version of a handshake to seal our deal. I haven’t done many fist bumps, so my technique isn’t good. A combination of nerves and adrenaline makes me crash my fist into his, sending an explosion of pain up my arm.

  He pulls back and rubs the sting out of his hand. “Well, that was weird.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’m out of practice.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” He shoves his hand in his pocket. “So, does that mean I’m in?”

  Did the Arch just ask to join the Cadre?

  “In what?”

  “Your Cadre.”

  Something like nervousness on steroids hits me and my head swims. If you asked me which was more likely, Moby pooping out an armadillo that could work a yo-yo, or the Arch asking to join the Cadre, I would’ve put my entire comic book collectio
n on the armadillo.

  I have no idea how to answer him, so I do the only thing I can. I mumble, “We’ll be in touch,” and then get out of there as fast as I can.

  CHAPTER 9

  When I emerge from behind the Dumpster, I throw a thumbs-up to the first McQueen I see. He nods, signals his brothers, and leaves to scarf down his lunch in whatever time is left. To my right, I hear the scraping sound again. I look over and Moby is rubbing his riveted pockets against the bricks.

  “What are you doing?”

  He stops rubbing and walks toward me. “I was looking for you.”

  I meant the polishing the school with his butt thing, but I probably don’t want to hear his answer, so I let it go.

  “What were you doing behind the Dumpster?”

  “Figuring out a way to catch the real thief.” Every member of the Cadre has good reasons not to trust the Arch, so I’m not going to tell them we’re talking until I absolutely have to. I hustle him toward the cafeteria before he sees the Arch come out from behind the Dumpster.

  “Did you figure it out?”

  “Not exactly, but I think at least I know how to prove it wasn’t me.”

  Moby nods the way he does when he is only pretending to understand. “You figured that out behind the Dumpster?”

  “I was actually meeting someone who wants to join the Cadre.”

  Moby’s shoulders slump. “Who?”

  After his freak-out when Shelby joined last year, I have to be careful. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Why? Is it the Arch?”

  My throat makes a weird swallowing noise I can’t control. I try to laugh it off, but my voice comes out four octaves higher than normal. “What?”

  “I dunno. You said I wouldn’t believe it, so . . .”

  The deafening clang of the bell scares us both and sidetracks the conversation.

  “Listen, Mobe. There’s a camera.”

  He looks around nervously. “Where?”

  “Not here. Lockhart put a camera in the main hall. A—someone told me about it. It’s pointed at the Boogerloo.” I pause for him to do the math on his own.

  He tries to snap his fingers, but they make no sound. “We need to see what’s on the camera so we know who the thief is.”