The Boy Who Knew Too Much

by Commander S. T. Bolivar, III

  “I am now,” Eliot whispered back.

  “I need your help.” Mattie took a deep, deep breath. “I have to break Rooney’s machine.”

  IN LATER INTERVIEWS WITH ROLLING STONE, the New York Times, and, of course, the Quality Thief’s Quarterly, Eliot Spencer would say this was one of his favorite childhood memories of Mattie Larimore, World’s Greatest Thief. He also would say it was one of his scariest memories because, at the time, Eliot knew nothing about their future jobs. He didn’t know that one day he would bungee jump down an elevator shaft with Mattie or race dirt bikes through a forest in Russia.

  All Eliot knew at that moment was that Mattie wanted to break that marvelous machine. It was an interesting idea, Eliot would remember. Even if Eliot kinda sorta hated doing it because Eliot had always loved computers—especially the gears and gadgets and wires that made them. All those little things that made something so much bigger than they were. Eliot liked that. He liked that a lot. He still does.

  And the opportunity to see all those gears and gadgets and wires again? Well, even at eleven years old, that was an opportunity he wasn’t going to miss.

  So when Mattie woke Eliot up in the middle of the night, breathing minty toothpaste breath on him and shaking Eliot’s arm so hard his teeth rattled, Eliot sat up. “You want to break the machine?” he whispered.

  Mattie nodded. Kent snorted. And Doyle made a little squeak, which could’ve been a fart, but it sounded more like a computer chirp. Both boys froze, waiting and listening until Eliot finally kicked off his covers. “C’mon.”

  “Where?” Mattie whispered.

  Eliot pointed to the door and Mattie’s eyes bugged. “We’re not allowed out there!”

  “You’re too scared to sneak out of our room, but you want to sneak into the basement again and—” Eliot broke off as Doyle chirped again. The boys stared at Doyle and then they stared at each other.

  Mattie’s eyes went even rounder. “Fine. Let’s go,” he whispered. They tiptoed across Room 14A, flinching every time Kent snorted and Doyle squeaked. Mattie eased the door open and Eliot followed him into the dim hallway.

  “Do you hear anything?” Mattie swiveled his head from side to side. He was sweating and his heart was thumping and even his whispers seemed too loud.

  “No,” Eliot whispered. “Bathroom. Go to the bathroom.”

  Mattie wanted to run, but he managed to continue tiptoeing. The lights from the courtyard below them made the fingerprints on the windows look like ghost prints. Then Eliot stepped on something squishy.

  Leaning against the chipped sink in the bathroom, Eliot picked at his feet while he waited for Mattie to explain. “You want to break the machine?”

  “It’s the only way to save my brother and the other students. Will you help me?”

  “You want to go back into that creepy basement?”

  Mattie took a deep breath and then nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And risk getting caught?”

  “Yeah.” Mattie waited. Eliot had that faraway look he got whenever he was thinking hard. Mattie hoped he wasn’t thinking about more reasons why they shouldn’t do this. Mattie wasn’t sure how much longer his courage would last. The small voice inside his head knew this was the right thing to do. It was.

  So why was it also the wrong thing to do? Mattie had always been taught never to destroy someone else’s stuff and never ever to go against grown-ups.

  “Can I keep whatever we break off?” Eliot asked at last.

  Mattie thought about this. It didn’t seem like it would matter, but…“Why?”

  Eliot shrugged one shoulder. “I have my reasons. Yes or no?”

  “Okay.”

  “Cool,” Eliot said, rubbing his palms together. “So, how are you going to break it?”

  Mattie had no idea. Both boys thought. The silence stretched on and on, which began to bother Mattie more and more. “You should always say something,” Mrs. Larimore had told him again and again. “Even if you have nothing to say at all, you should always say something. That’s what good manners are, filling up the silences during dinner.”

  Maybe that’s why Mr. and Mrs. Larimore talked so much. They couldn’t stand the silence, and they didn’t understand that words were supposed to matter. They just threw them away and maybe that was okay because the more and more Mattie thought about it, the more and more he wondered if words really didn’t matter. It was actions. It was what he did that actually mattered.

  And that was scary because to talk about something was easy, but to do something about it was infinitely harder, especially when one was thinking about doing something to a machine that cloned students.

  The problem was, how did one go about breaking a machine that big, that protected, that complicated?

  Fortunately for Mattie, he suddenly had an idea. Maybe even more than an idea because he knew the Larimore Corporation equipment and he knew its weaknesses. There were the cables that broke when overstretched and the wires that sparked when overheated. Mr. Larimore had meetings about them sometimes.

  A lot of times, now that Mattie thought about it.

  But right now he concentrated on Eliot. “We passed two generators on our way out, right?” Mattie asked.

  “Yeah. I think they were the main power sources,” Eliot said, studying Mattie with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Then that’s where we need to be,” Mattie said. “I’ll need a distraction and a wrench. Maybe a few wrenches.” He thought about it. “Definitely a few wrenches. Big ones.”

  “What are you going to do with those?” Eliot asked.

  “Drop them in the generators’ reactors and jam the gears.”

  Eliot crossed his arms and considered Mattie with squinted eyes. “That doesn’t sound like it will work.”

  “It will,” Mattie said. “I saw an engineer do it at one of my father’s factories. He was trying to show how the company’s generators were vulnerable to attack.”

  “Who would attack a generator?” Eliot asked.

  “People like us.”

  Eliot nodded like he guessed that was true enough.

  “We can do this,” Mattie said. “We just need the distraction and we need the wrenches and I can do the rest. I just have to, you know, get started.”

  They studied each other. Getting started suddenly seemed awfully difficult.

  Eliot blew out a long sigh. “You know who’s good at distractions, right?”

  Mattie thought about it. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it and, when he looked at Eliot, he knew his friend felt the same way.

  “No,” Mattie said at last. “Who’s good at distractions?”

  “Caroline.”

  “IT’S TRUE,” CAROLINE SAID THE NEXT morning at breakfast. Her dark hair was even more tangled than usual, rising up in a snarl above her head. “I am really good at distractions. It’s a talent actually.”

  “Well, we need to borrow your talent,” Mattie said and then thought for a moment. He wasn’t thinking very fast. Staying up all night had made his brain muddy. “Actually, we need to borrow some tools too. Like a couple wrenches or heavy-duty screwdrivers.”

  “Borrow?” Caroline squinted at them and ate a mouthful of salad. “Are you going to give them back?” she asked through half-chewed lettuce.

  Mattie squirmed. When she put it like that…“No,” he said at last. “We’re not.”

  Caroline brightened. “Oh, then you mean steal some tools. My mother says you should always be specific. You might want to remember that, Mattie.”

  Eliot spoke before Mattie could. “Do you know where we can get some or not?”

  “Ugh, why are you so grouchy?” Caroline pushed a bit of carrot under her sweater. It was awfully disgusting until Mattie realized it was for Beezus.

  Then it was only sort of disgusting—or possibly more disgusting.

  “And I do know where you can get some tools,” she continued. “But I’m not tellin
g you.”

  Eliot made a spluttering noise. “Why not?”

  Caroline glared at him. Mrs. Hitchcock and her clipboard walked past them, eyeing everyone’s tray. Caroline gave the teacher a wide smile. “And that’s why I’ve resolved to be good from now on!” she said loudly.

  Mrs. Hitchcock made a notation on her clipboard and kept moving. Caroline turned back to Mattie and Eliot. “I’m not helping because you only talk to me when you want something,” she said.

  Mattie blinked. “That’s not true.”

  “Not you,” Caroline said, looking at her brother. “Him.”

  “It’s totally true,” Eliot said, and thought about it for a moment. “Sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  Mattie and the Spencers wheeled around. Doyle. He was standing right behind them, only inches from Eliot.

  Mattie gulped. How had he not heard Doyle approach?

  Worse, how much had Doyle heard?

  “Uh, Doyle,” Eliot stammered. “How you doing?”

  “Fine.” Doyle’s eyes slid to Caroline. “Muffin?”

  The clone shoved a basket of muffins under Caroline’s nose and waggled it. Mattie wanted to ask where Doyle had found a basket and then realized he also wanted to know where Doyle found the eggs, flour, and pumpkin spice for the muffins.

  Caroline leaned across the table to get a closer look at Doyle. She studied his shoes, his uniform, and, finally, his face.

  Doyle didn’t seem to mind the attention, but he also had no idea Caroline was looking at him with the same focus she usually reserved for Beezus.

  He also didn’t seem to notice Caroline held her fork like she just might be tempted to stab something.

  Caroline dragged her eyes down to the basket and took a great big sniff. “Pumpkin?”

  “Yes,” Doyle said with a smile so wide Mattie could see the backs of his teeth. They were alarmingly white.

  “Where did you get the muffins?” Caroline asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Or, possibly, reminding Beezus to stay put. “Did you steal them?”

  Doyle stopped smiling. “Stealing is wrong, Caroline.”

  Caroline took a muffin and gave Mattie a long look. “That’s true, Doyle. That’s very true. I’ll take a muffin, but it’s not for me. It’s for Beezus.”

  “Who’s Beezus?” Doyle asked.

  “Her imaginary friend,” Eliot said before Caroline could reply. Doyle looked at Mattie. Mattie looked at Doyle.

  “Muffin?” Doyle asked and shoved the basket into Mattie’s chest.

  Hard.

  Did Doyle know what they had been talking about? The idea made Mattie’s knees start to puddle, and he summoned his best smile. “Uh, no thanks, Doyle. Why don’t you ask Mrs. Hitchcock? I bet she’d love some.”

  Doyle perked up and scurried toward Mrs. Hitchcock, who was watching Maxwell the Clone eat his breakfast. Mattie and the Spencers relaxed, and then Bell sat down. His tray clattered onto the tabletop and bits of sausage fell off.

  “Hey, Caroline!” Bell grinned. “Did you see? They have chicken nuggets for breakfast!”

  Caroline gagged. Eliot rolled his eyes. Mattie winced. Poor Numbers 1, 2, and 4, he thought.

  “Shove off, Bell,” Eliot said, leaning a little away from his sister. Mattie didn’t blame him. With every bite Bell took, Caroline looked a little closer to hurling.

  Bell took another big bite. “Do you know what we learned in science yesterday? Humans can live without their heads for hours. They run around and everything.”

  “That’s chickens,” Caroline said, clamping one hand against her mouth. She definitely looked close to barfing—and maybe crying. “Not humans.”

  Bell chewed harder. “Nope, I’m pretty sure it’s humans.”

  “I have to go now.” Caroline stood up, followed by Mattie and Eliot.

  “I’m not sure which is creepier,” Caroline whispered as they walked between the tables. “The fact that Doyle made muffins in your dorm or the fact that he barely blinks.”

  “Or the fact that any one of us could end up just like him,” Eliot whispered back.

  “No way will it happen to me.” Caroline tossed her hair. “I never get caught.”

  “Then how’d you end up here?” Mattie asked.

  Caroline glared at Mattie. Mattie tried his best to glare back. She giggled. “Fine. The other girls aren’t talking to me anyway. I’ll help.”

  “You will?” Mattie sagged with relief.

  “Yep.” Caroline fed her hair—Beezus—a piece of muffin. “But you can’t ditch me after this.”

  “We won’t,” Eliot said quickly.

  “And you have to do what I say.”

  “We will,” Mattie agreed.

  Caroline smiled. “Good, then prepare to be amazed.”

  Mattie wasn’t sure what was so amazing about breaking into the janitor’s closet. Honestly, the only thing he found truly amazing (if he could even call it truly amazing and Mattie wasn’t sure he could) was the fact that he hadn’t thought about breaking into the janitor’s closet until now.

  “Why didn’t I think of this?” Eliot complained.

  “Because you’re not me,” Caroline told him. Beezus squeaked in agreement. Or worry. Mattie couldn’t be sure. He did know he was worried.

  The Spencers and Mattie were huddled by the second floor’s red lockers—recently polished and repainted thanks to Mrs. Hitchcock’s misbehaving fourth period class—and even though the hallway was deserted, Mattie was worried a teacher was going to come along at any second. They would be busted for sure. Eliot and Mattie were supposed to be in study hall. Caroline was supposed to be, well, somewhere that wasn’t on the second floor, crouching by shiny lockers and staring at the janitor’s closet.

  “The janitor’s still in there,” Mattie reminded Caroline as they watched shadows shuffle back and forth under the door.

  “His name is Rupert,” Caroline said, narrowing her eyes at Mattie. “And I know he’s still in there. We have to get him out.”

  They fell silent as they thought about this. Eliot scratched the back of his head. “I guess I could go throw up outside—or maybe on the stairs? I had two milks at breakfast. It wouldn’t be that hard.”

  Mattie took two steps back. “What?”

  “Ugh.” Caroline made a face like she might throw up now. “You have no idea what my childhood has been like. He’s disgusting. He can do it on command.”

  “Hey! It’s effective! No one argues with barf!”

  “You’re not throwing up, Eliot Spencer!” Caroline stabbed her finger between her brother’s eyes. “That’s disgusting! Plus it would make more work for Rupert.”

  “Then what’s your plan?” Eliot asked. “Because we could’ve come up with this—” His sister cocked one eyebrow at him. “We could’ve come up with this eventually.”

  “Eventually can be a really long time,” Caroline said, petting Beezus as he tunneled under her sweater. “Besides, you can’t do this.”

  This? Mattie craned his head around Eliot to get a better look at Caroline. She was staring down the hallway, but her eyes were faraway like she was thinking of something else.

  Something sad, Mattie thought with a bolt of alarm. Something really sad! Caroline’s eyes were starting to fill with tears!

  “Hurry up!” Eliot whispered.

  “I am hurrying!” Caroline gave her brother a vicious shove. “It’s not like I can just do this on command.”

  “That’s kind of what we need you to do,” Eliot retorted, but he retreated a step when he did.

  Which was fortunate for Eliot because Caroline whipped around like she was ready to punch him.

  “Why do you always have to—” She stopped dead, studying something above Mattie’s head. “It’s just like when Peanut had that allergy attack.”

  Eliot nodded hard. “Go with that. It’s exactly like Peanut.”

  Caroline gave her brother a murderous look. Then she sniffled, wiped her
nose on her sleeve, and spun around. Mattie started to follow, but Eliot shook his head. “Watch and learn.”

  Caroline stomped across the hallway and banged on the closet door with her fist. The janitor—Rupert, Mattie reminded himself—yanked the door open and blinked down at Caroline. His mouth worked up and down, but he didn’t say a word.

  Mattie didn’t think he could manage a word.

  “They broke the cages again,” Caroline wailed. “How will we get new froooooggggggssss?” She dissolved into a howl and Rupert yanked a broom from behind him.

  “Kids,” he muttered. “Can’t trust ’em. Can’t trust ’em at all,” he added and started to lock the closet door behind him.

  Caroline sucked in another breath and howled even louder. Rupert winced. “Now, now,” he tried. “Where’s your teacher?”

  Caroline honked into her sweater and pointed down the hallway toward the empty classrooms. Rupert’s expression turned relieved. “Go find her, okay? You go find her.”

  Caroline nodded and watched the janitor hustle in the opposite direction. She waited until they heard Rupert’s footsteps on the stairs and motioned for the boys to join her.

  “How did you know the cages were broken?” Mattie asked nervously. Caroline looked a little wild. Her face was red and her hair hung in damp hanks across her cheeks.

  “Because I broke them,” Caroline said. “No more cages means no more frogs which means no more dissections.”

  “Oh,” Mattie said because really what else could he say?

  “You’re the lookout, Eliot,” Caroline announced. “Mattie, come help me find what we need.” She scrubbed her arm across her face and then wiped her arm on her sweater. “Someday I’m going to make people do things by yelling at them.”

  With that, Caroline marched into the janitor’s closet and disappeared behind a sagging cabinet. “Hurry up, Mattie!”

  Mattie dashed after her. The closet was bigger than he expected, with shelves and shelves of paint and cleaners. It smelled like bleach and old wood. Mattie tried to breathe through his mouth as he searched the closest cabinet.

  “What about this?” Caroline reappeared, holding up a large wrench like a torch.