by Obert Skye
“Beck!” he barked. “Beck!”
Instantly, every mushroom in motion dropped to the ground.
“Beck, are you in here?” Professor Squall hollered.
Kate and I stood still between the statues and the ball bearing-filled orb. We had been about to call for help, but now that help was here and the mushrooms were still, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be saved.
“Beck, is that you?” Squall asked loudly. He moved in our direction and stepped on a big, meaty mushroom that was stretched out from the baseboard and reaching in mine and Kate’s direction. He looked down.
“What in the . . . ?” Professor Squall glanced around at the large, fleshy clumps of mushrooms lying all over the ground and sticking to the walls.
I could see a thick, dark shade of red rising from beneath his shirt collar and spreading up over his face.
“Beck!”
Kate pushed out of my arms and moved behind the Pillage bronze statue to hide. I think I was going to turn and run, but as I swiveled, my right foot slipped on a wad of mushroom and I went careening into my metal relative. The impact caused the statue to skid off its base and tip toward the ball bearing-filled sphere. I grabbed the right arm of the statue to try and pull it back, but the balance was all off and the weight of it was too great to pull it back. I dug my heels into the ground in an effort to push back and keep the statue from falling farther. Sweat dripped from my forehead and into my eyes. I looked toward Kate as she continued to selfishly try and hide.
“Beck!” Squall yelled. “What are you doing?”
Kate glanced at me. Her blue eyes were as wide as donuts, and her jaw had dropped so low I could clearly see that she had no cavities. I stared at her and mouthed, “Help.”
The statue slipped farther. Clearly there was nothing Kate could do to help me, so she silently mouthed a couple of words of her own.
“We’re dead.”
The statue was too heavy. It slipped farther off the base, and my sweaty fingers lost their grip. The figure seemed to tip in slow motion toward the plastic orb. The right shoulder of the statue hit the ball bearing-filled ball and knocked the whole thing two inches off its base.
I could see and hear all the silver balls in the massive globe shifting.
“Beck, stop that this instant!” Squall yelled.
The students in the other room had come back through the archway to see what all the shouting was about. Their eyes rested on me as I stood there next to the fallen statue.
I was now sweating like mad, but I smiled one of my smiles that I knew old people appreciated, but that everyone else found suspicious. Everyone just looked at me; then, as if all of their necks were on the same hinge, they simultaneously looked toward the still-settling orb as it rocked on the side of its base. Things were about to go from bad to worse.
“Grab that scoundrel!” Mr. M yelled.
The ball bearings within the plastic orb shifted more, causing the entire thing to drop from its stand and onto the floor. Everyone screamed as the four-foot plastic sphere began to roll slowly toward them. I tried to push back against it and force it to stop, but it was so heavy it knocked me onto my rear. I banged up against the floor with a thud. I would have sat up and looked for sympathy from my fellow students, but they all had problems of their own. The ball was gaining momentum.
Everyone began to scatter out of the ball’s path. I knew what I had just done was wrong, but it was pretty magical watching that massive orb roll across the floor heading directly toward all the other students. It wasn’t rolling really fast, but as the ball bearings inside shifted and tumbled, it made the most spectacular noise. It knocked over two other displays and was leaving a trail of greasy, smeared mushrooms behind. Most students had their hands above their heads bouncing against each other in an all-out panic. The sphere rolled past the car display and bumped up against the east wall. It hit the wall hard, but the plastic display somehow stayed intact and stopped.
Everyone froze. We all just stood there staring at the sphere. The room was now incredibly silent. I could hear my heaving heart and my heavy breathing. All at once everyone seemed to remember me. They turned their heads and looked back to where I was now standing.
I opened my mouth to calmly explain myself, but once again the huge orb stole my thunder. It shot out an eardrum-shattering crack. It creaked violently and then with a tremendous pop, it just split in half. Millions of ball bearings flowed out like metallic water flooding a dry room.
The shouts of students combined with the sound of all those silver balls rolling over the floor and pinging up against each other was deafening. I could see people falling to the ground as they slipped and tripped over the metal marbles. Mr. M ran in place for a few seconds and then slammed to the ground. Wyatt was sliding on his back across the floor. Kate stayed put behind her statue.
I thought about sticking around, but something inside me wanted out. My body turned, and I ran for the front door. Like so many moments of my life, I had no idea what I was doing; all I knew was that I needed to split.
Ball bearings swirled around my feet as I ran. My right foot slipped out and I flew toward the front door, sliding on my chest. I picked myself up as quickly as I could and ran through the cactus room and out the front door. I stumbled, and the doors slammed behind me. The screams of everyone inside were now muffled and faint. There was nobody in front of the Wiggendale Museum but me. I could see the three empty buses at the curb, and I ran to the one at the back.
I pushed open the front door and climbed inside.
I ran down the aisle and sat on the backseat, ducking down to hide. My breathing was erratic and loud. I looked out the windows toward the front door of the museum. Nobody had followed my lead and come out yet. I put my head in my hands and tried to think of a way out of this disaster.
“Why?” I moaned, wondering why I was so good at making a mess of things. My life had finally begun to settle down a bit, and now I had gone and done this.
I saw the front doors of the museum burst open. Mr. M and Professor Squall came charging out with the students behind them. Someone pointed in the direction of the buses as another student yelled my name and pointed directly toward me.
I was in big trouble. My mind started to make up possible excuses. “I was trying to free the captive ball bearings.” “I got so excited about history I wanted to bring it to life.” “I thought the permission slip I had signed gave me permission to cause trouble.” “I’m an idiot.” The last one definitely sounded the most believable.
Mr. M and Professor Squall started running toward the bus I was on. I ducked down between the seats, but I knew I had been spotted. Everyone was screaming and, like an angry mob with backpacks and notebooks, they stormed closer. I looked to the front of the bus where the door was still open. It didn’t make a ton of sense, but I thought that if I could close the door and keep them out, I would at least be safe for the moment.
I ran down the aisle to the front of the bus as the sea of students swarmed closer. I was sweating even more. My hands were wet, and my shirt was sticking to my back. A few of the faster students were now just a couple of feet away from the open door. I leaped over the driver’s seat and crashed down against the steering wheel. I was dazed, but I had enough wits about me to grab the door lever and pull it as hard as I could. The door slammed shut just moments before the first assailants arrived. Two boys I recognized but didn’t really know began to pound on the door, ordering me to open up.
“I don’t know how!” I yelled back, trying to act like I had no clue how to open the door.
“We just saw you close it!” one of them yelled.
I twisted in the driver’s seat and pulled hard on the door lever. I didn’t want there to be any chance of the door coming open. I kicked my feet against the floor and pushed up to get more leverage and keep my grip on the handle. There were dozens of students now banging on the door and side of the bus. Their hollering intensified as their pounding began to get ev
en more frantic. It sounded like I was inside some giant tribal drum. I thought I heard someone yell, “You’re grooving!”
I was confused for a moment, but then I looked out. I saw the trees slowly move past the door. My heart grew to the size of a melon and pushed up my throat, making it hard to breathe.
The bus was moving! It wasn’t moving fast, but it was beginning to roll down the sloped road. I looked down at my feet, trying to understand what had happened. Somehow I must have kicked something important. I jammed my feet against the pedals, hoping that one of them would stop the bus. Two of the pedals were loose and the third was too tight to push. I kicked at them as the bus began to roll just a bit faster.
I looked out the front window. I was moments away from hitting the back of the bus parked in front of me. I held my breath and braced for the impact.
My bus knocked into the back of the second one. For a moment it felt like I had stopped. I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when the bus in front of me began to roll and mine followed suit. The impact had knocked the brakes loose and now we were both moving. Everyone stopped banging on the outside of the bus and stepped back to scream.
“Stop this instant!” Squall squawked. “Stop this!”
He was welcome to yell until he was blue in the face, but I had no control over what was now transpiring. The bus in front of me rammed into the bus in front of it and it too began to move. All three vehicles were now beginning to pick up speed as we rolled down the slope of the road and straight toward the edge of Lake Mend.
I grabbed at the steering wheel and twisted violently to see if I could turn the bus away from what was happening, but the wheel was locked and the buses were really beginning to pick up speed. I started kicking and pounding at every knob and pedal on the bus, but nothing helped. I looked down the aisle and out the back door. I could see everyone back by the museum. All of them were running down the road, chasing after the buses. The students had wide open mouths and were waving their hands in the air. I couldn’t see Kate, but I imagined that she was probably hiding somewhere, embarrassed to even know me. I tried to open the door so I could jump out, but at the speed we were rolling it wouldn’t open. I could see out the front window and the first bus was about to reach the dock on the edge of the lake.
“I’m dead,” I moaned needlessly.
I watched the first bus roll right over the dock and plummet ten feet down into Lake Mend. I would have been really interested in how cool it looked, but my mind was preoccupied with the fact that the same thing was about to happen to me and the bus I was on. Knowing there was no way I could stop what was happening, I got up and ran down the aisle to the rear of the bus.
I heard the bus in front of me crashing over the dock and into the water. I ducked down between the two backseats as I felt my bus rumbling over the dock. A frightening second later, the front of my bus dropped, and the vehicle plunged into the water nose first. I bounced between two of the stiff padded seats as I pushed my legs up against the side window.
Water quickly began to fill the front of the bus as the back end poked out of the water. There was junk in our trunk and that junk was me. I pushed open the large rear door and climbed out as the bus filled up and went under. The water around me sucked off my shoes and pushed me four feet to the right.
I treaded cold water as my teeth shivered and my body pulsated. I looked up and could see heads beginning to pop over the edge of the broken dock. There was Professor Squall and Mr. M. There was my class, and there was Kate. It wasn’t hard to notice the fact that not a single one of them had a look of sympathy on their faces. Wyatt was holding in a laugh, but Kate looked too mortified to be caring at the moment.
I spit out a bunch of water and yelled up at her. “At least it was memorable!”
Kate didn’t look very grateful.
Chapter 4
I Want to Tell You
Never had I been so insulted—well, maybe never was too strong a word. I guess I was just surprised that Professor Squall and Mr. M seemed almost disappointed that I wasn’t injured. I kept trying to point out what a miracle it was that I was okay, and how we should all breathe a sigh of relief over me not getting too hurt. But not a single person seemed to go for it. After I was pulled out of the cold water of Lake Mend, Kate hugged me but then stepped away before I could drag her further into this.
I didn’t have any life-threatening injuries, but I did have a few bruises on my right arm and a scratch where I had scraped my head against the back door while climbing out of the sinking bus. Unfortunately, not even the sight of blood made anyone sympathetic toward my cause.
After Professor Squall and Wyatt helped me get back up onto the damaged dock, I turned around and looked down at the water. I could barely see the three large yellow blobs beneath the lake’s surface. Professor Squall squinted at the sunken buses and then turned to stare at me. His face was so red I was afraid he was going to just spontaneously combust and I’d be covered with bits of his bald head and white angry face.
“I—” I tried to say.
“You,” Professor Squall squealed. “Those buses . . . that display . . . I’m . . .”
“Thankful I’m alive?” I asked.
Professor Squall put his head into his hands and moaned. He sounded like a sick whale. If Lake Mend actually had been home to any sea monsters or squids, they would have come jumping out of the water at the sound of his call.
Mr. M pushed through the crowd. He was waving his tiny hands in the air and screaming in frustration. He pointed at me.
“You!”
I was much more popular than I had thought.
“The display!” he continued. “You’ve destroyed priceless history! Wiggendale has been damaged.”
“It was an accident,” I argued.
A short woman put a blue fuzzy blanket over my shoulders. I hadn’t realized but I was shaking like a dryer filled with wet shoes. I could hear sirens and the sound of cars coming to a quick stop behind the crowd. Doors slammed, and four police officers worked their way through the group of students and rubberneckers to get to me. I recognized one of them.
“Beck,” Sheriff Pax said with much too little surprise.
“Sheriff,” I replied, wishing I were anywhere but here at the moment.
Sheriff Pax and I had a bit of history. Not too long ago I had accidentally taken the queen dragon out for a ride. I had flown over the mountains behind the manor, and Lizzy had spotted a small church with a tin roof. Dragons being how they are, with their love of all things shiny, Lizzy had descended on the church and torn part of the roof off. In doing so, the roof had mistakenly caught on fire and burned the church down, almost killing an old lady organist. There were no other witnesses, but Sheriff Pax had been pretty certain that I had something to do with it.
“Why am I not surprised this involves you?” Sheriff Pax asked.
“How do you know I’m involved? Maybe I’m just an innocent bystander,” I said through shivering teeth.
Sheriff Pax rubbed his chin with his right hand and adjusted his cap with his left. His gray eyes locked on my brown ones and wouldn’t let go. Finally he blinked.
“You blinked,” I said lamely. “I win?”
Sheriff Pax was actually a fairly nice guy. He was big and burly with a thin mustache and a thick hide. It looked like he was bald, but I wasn’t certain, seeing as I had never seen him without his hat on. The uniform he wore was a brown button-up shirt with even browner pants and black shoes. He had a gun hooked to his belt and a nightstick on the other side.
The crowd of students around us was growing noisy, so Sheriff Pax ordered them to head back to the museum. I turned and started to walk with them, but the sheriff grabbed me by the wet collar and pulled me back.
“You’re staying here,” he said calmly. “There are a few things we need to discuss.”
“But my class,” I argued, pointing toward Kate and Wyatt and the rest of my classmates as they were walking back up the slight
hill to Wiggendale. “I’m not supposed to be separated from my class.”
“I think they know where you are,” Sheriff Pax said.
“But if they do a head count they’ll be one short,” I said anxiously, not wanting to have to talk to the law. “And Professor Squall goes nuts whenever the count is short. He hates recounting because of the time it takes . . .”
“Beck,” Sheriff Pax interrupted with authority, treating me as if I were a hysterical woman who had just seen a mouse and couldn’t get my emotions under control. “Calm yourself.”
My shoulders dropped, and I tried to catch my breath. A couple of other cops started toward us, but Sheriff Pax waved them away and then put his big arm around my shoulder.
“Let’s take a walk, shall we? I want to talk to you about something.”