The Boy Who Knew Too Much

by Commander S. T. Bolivar, III

  Mattie nodded like that explanation made sense. It didn’t. But Mrs. Larimore always said that if you didn’t understand something you should smile and nod until you did understand it or the person just went away—so Mattie smiled some and nodded more.

  Eliot looked at Mattie like he had sprouted another head. “The problem is,” Eliot added, “I’m not relaxed when I don’t have my computer and I’m definitely not happy.”

  And, true to his word, Eliot did indeed look very happy as he settled on his knees in front of Marilyn. He tapped a few keys on the keyboard and the monitor sprang to life. A few taps more and strings of small letters and numbers flew across the blue screen. It didn’t make any sense to Mattie, but Eliot nodded along with the lines as if they made the most natural sense in the world.

  “Here,” Eliot said after long, long moments of clicking. He tilted the monitor in Mattie’s direction. “Look.”

  Honestly, Mattie couldn’t stop looking. The screen was filled with Karloff’s inbox. There were emails about class schedules and grades and detentions.

  “Wow.” Mattie shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Marilyn’s like magic.”

  Eliot snorted. “No way. She’s much more expensive.”

  “That one.” Mattie pointed to an email exchange between Mr. Karloff and Mrs. Hitchcock. It was at the very bottom. “What’s in that one?”

  Eliot clicked on the email, and Mattie leaned over Eliot’s shoulder as he read out loud: “‘Due to the delay on pod delivery, we will have to postpone the final project.’”

  “Pods?” Eliot asked. “What are pods? Something for science class?”

  “I don’t know. Keep scrolling down.” A few lines down, Mattie’s hands went clammy.

  The headmaster wants all the students done as soon as the pods are delivered.

  All the students? Mattie swallowed. All the students!

  “Eliot, they’re going to clone all of us!” Mattie stared at the floor and then at the ceiling and then at Eliot. He couldn’t believe the teachers were doing this. He couldn’t believe they were going to get away with doing this.

  “No wonder the Rooster didn’t bother punishing us. He knew he was going to clone us anyway,” Eliot added.

  “Do grown-ups even worry about what’s right and what’s wrong?” Mattie asked. “Or is that just something they expect us to do?”

  “Um…”

  “We have to fight back.” Mattie jumped to his feet and slammed his head into a rafter. Then he crouched, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying as standing up in a huff, so he jammed one finger into the air. “We have to find the others.”

  “Right.” Eliot nodded.

  “And then we have to call the police,” Mattie continued, jamming his finger even higher. “And the police will have to believe us because we’ll have witnesses.”

  “Right,” Eliot said again, weakly.

  “And we have three days before the dinner so that’s what?” Mattie asked. “Seventy-two hours? We can do that.”

  “No pressure,” Eliot said with a sigh.

  It was a lot of pressure. Mattie stuffed both hands in his pockets and stared at the attic floor. They needed to do all of that, and they couldn’t do any of it without finding the other students first.

  “Eliot?” he asked. “Could you look at aerial maps on that thing?”

  “On Marilyn, yes. Why?”

  “Just trust me.” The squeezing in Mattie’s stomach had turned to fluttering. He had an idea. “Can you look up Munchem?”

  Eliot pulled up a map site. He entered Munchem’s address and the camera swung low, zooming down until it reached woods, then fields, then an enormous mansion sitting like a spiny, brick birthday cake in the middle of all those woods and fields.

  “Welcome to Munchem,” Eliot muttered. He scrolled up. He scrolled down. He zoomed in and out so they could see more Munchem details.

  “Look,” Mattie said, pointing at the screen. “You can even see the mushrooms by the garden wall.”

  You could also see the falling-down wrought iron fence by the falling-down cemetery and the foggy windows in the first-floor bathrooms. You could see the enormous circular driveway and the gargoyles by the gates. You could see everything, but neither Mattie or Eliot could see anywhere that looked suitable for hiding at least five students.

  Eliot sighed. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Go back,” Mattie said. “To the cemetery. What’s that tomb thing?”

  Eliot wrinkled his nose. “A mausoleum?”

  Mattie nodded, his heart beginning to race. A mausoleum. It was a big stone box with massive double doors. It sat perched on a small rise at the back of the cemetery.

  Mattie looked at Eliot. “We’ve been thinking about this all wrong. It isn’t about where students aren’t allowed to go. It’s about where we would never go, and none of us would ever go to the cemetery.”

  “WE CAN’T GET OUT THERE,” Eliot said for the eleven millionth time. He followed Mattie down the shallow stone steps that led to the lunchroom. “There’s no way. We’ll get spotted for sure.”

  Eliot was right. They would get spotted. The cemetery was past the meadow, almost to the forest. Anyone would see them running across the grass. Anyone would—

  “That’s why it won’t matter if we do get spotted!” Mattie said.

  “What?”

  Mattie spun around, excited. “We’re going to volunteer!”

  “What!”

  “We’ll volunteer! We’ll have permission to be out there!” Because while the Munchem cemetery was home to various members of the Munchem family, a particularly bad-tempered raccoon, and, possibly, one (or ten) students who didn’t graduate, it was also home to some of the worst weeds and leaf piles on the entire campus.

  “We have a free afternoon,” Mattie explained. “We’ll volunteer to help in the garden, and as we work our way toward the cemetery, we can get a better look.”

  Eliot paled. “You’re insane. There’s no way that will work.”

  “What will work?” Caroline bounced down the steps that led from the first-floor corridor to the second-floor classrooms. She skidded up next to them, her blazer flapping open.

  “We think they might be hiding Carter in the cemetery,” Mattie whispered. It was time for afternoon classes, and the hallway was getting crowded. Kent brushed past them and Mattie bumped into Caroline. “I want to use our free afternoon to volunteer to weed the cemetery.”

  “It won’t work,” Eliot repeated.

  “It’ll totally work,” Caroline said. “I know Rupert’s schedule. We can leave as he goes on break. Let’s do it.”

  And, thanks to Caroline, Mattie felt like they would “do it.” After lunch, they’d collected plastic bags and gloves from Rupert, who’d been surprisingly accommodating about the project.

  “He’s going on break,” Caroline informed them as they made their way toward the north wall gate. “He takes break from one until whenever he feels like coming back. Usually around dinnertime.”

  “So we have a couple hours before anyone will know where we are,” Mattie whispered as they passed Mr. Karloff.

  The teacher glared them. “Where are you three off to?”

  Mattie held up his plastic bag. “We’re volunteering!”

  Mr. Karloff grunted something—Mattie wasn’t sure what—but he didn’t stop them and now Eliot, Mattie, and Caroline stood on the other side of the north wall, in the middle of the dead gardens. From here, it was easy to see the meadow below the school, the tree line beyond the meadow, and the very edge of the cemetery’s spiny fence in the distance.

  “You shouldn’t come, Caroline,” Eliot said, shaking his head.

  “Of course I’m coming!” Caroline huffed. Her scarf kept riding higher and higher on her neck, overtaking her chin. “Last time, you two geniuses got caught.”

  Mattie and Eliot glared at her, mostly because they knew they couldn’t say anything. Caroline was right.

/>   “We are going to get caught,” Eliot moaned. “And we’re going to get cloned and no one will ever know what happened!”

  Mattie patted Eliot’s shoulder and tried to smile like Mr. Larimore did when one of his employees was sad. “We’re not going to get caught. Well, I’m pretty sure we’re not going to get caught.”

  Eliot rubbed his hands against his sweater. “You know they bury students who don’t make it out in the cemetery, right? There’s supposed to be one big hole and they just dump the bodies in there and—”

  Mattie took off. He bolted for the gate at the bottom of the hill and, still arguing, the Spencers ran after him. It was cold. It was thrilling. It was a long run. Mattie was panting by the time he reached the tilted cemetery gate.

  “I don’t get it,” Mattie said as they crept through the graveyard. Eliot tripped on the cracked brick path and bits of stone scattered. “When my parents buried my grandma, we did it in another state, not our backyard.”

  “My mother says grief does funny things to people,” Caroline said, patting the head of a stone angel perched on top of a tomb. It looked friendlier than the courtyard stone angel, but not by much.

  Caroline braced both hands on her hips. “I like it here. It’s nice to get out, you know?”

  Mattie didn’t know. The graveyard looked just like the rest of Munchem, which was to say it was shabby and had plenty of things Mattie could cut himself on. Long tufts of yellow grass grew between the headstones, and a tree branch had fallen on the fence, crushing the delicate iron scrollwork. They circled around and around looking for, well, anything really.

  Mattie spent several minutes peering under fallen headstones, but all he found were worms and one small, yellow flower. It had grown up through a crack in the stone path and, to Mattie at least, it looked a bit heroic. Maybe even brave.

  Or maybe Eliot’s rope ladder had smacked Mattie’s head harder than he thought and now he was delusional. Stuff like that happened constantly on Como Pasa El Tiempo.

  “Doesn’t look like there’s a tunnel,” Eliot said after kicking the grass about for several minutes.

  “And nothing’s under the fallen headstones,” Mattie added.

  “So that means…” Mattie, Eliot, and Caroline all looked up at the two mausoleums. They were against the back fence. The right mausoleum leaned against the left one, like it had passed out. It reminded Mattie a bit of his uncle at holiday dinners.

  “We need to check in there,” Mattie said, sounding very brave for someone who had to drag his feet forward.

  “I don’t want to check in there,” Eliot said.

  “We have to,” Mattie told him. “We can’t give up!”

  Caroline pushed ahead with an exasperated sigh. “No one thinks we should give up, Mattie!”

  “I do,” Eliot said. “I think we should give up.”

  Mattie and Caroline ignored him. They climbed the stone stairs and studied the ornate doors, the heavy stone arches, and the scowling gargoyles perched on top of those stone arches.

  “This is how people die in horror movies,” Mattie muttered. In truth, Mattie had only ever seen parts of horror movies—and those were parts he’d had to sneak—but Mattie had seen enough to know broken-down carnivals, deserted old houses, and graveyards were to be avoided.

  And yet here he was.

  Or, rather, there his brother might be.

  “Carter is so going to owe me.” Mattie grabbed the door handles, giving them a little shake. To his shock, they turned easily, like they were used to being opened. Mattie looked at his friends. “This seems too easy.”

  “Maybe because nothing’s in there,” Caroline said with a worried wobble in her voice.

  Mattie swallowed. “Ready?”

  “Wait a second.” Caroline stooped and tightened the laces on her tennis shoes.

  “Your shoes are fine,” Mattie said, watching her. “What are you doing?”

  Caroline stood and brushed off her hands. “Making sure I can run faster than you two if zombies leap out of there.”

  Eliot rolled his eyes and, together, the three of them pulled open the doors. They were ready to be brave. They were ready to find Carter. But mostly they were ready to get this over with.

  Too bad the mausoleum was empty.

  “I guess that explains why they didn’t lock the doors,” Eliot said, sticking his head inside to look around the empty building.

  Well, technically, it was almost empty. There was a lone tomb at the very center, but there were no doors, no ladders, no stairs. There were, however, birds’ nests in two corners of the mausoleum, bird poop on the floor, and something that smelled like…

  Mattie sniffed.

  “Another dead end,” Caroline groaned.

  “Don’t say dead!” Mattie took another sniff. “It smells like burned hair.”

  The smell was an excellent reason to march right into the mausoleum. Burned hair might equal clones. It might equal clone-making machines. It might equal Carter.

  But it would also mean going into that scary stone building.

  With the shadows.

  And the possible zombies, or vampires, or teachers. It was a toss-up really. Anything could be hiding in the dark.

  “Well, boys.” Caroline squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Adventures aren’t always pony rides down rainbows. Let’s go.” Caroline stalked inside the mausoleum and began to check the far walls. She ran her hands up and down the stones, looking for…Mattie wasn’t sure actually.

  “Are you two coming?” Caroline asked.

  Mattie took a deep breath—which smelled like rotting leaves and dust and burning hair—and marched inside.

  Eliot hung back to prop open the doors, letting in as much afternoon sunlight as he could. “Guys? This is weird. I think the doors usually are locked. Look.” A small loop of chains and a large padlock were tucked in a neat pile next to the wall.

  “If it’s usually chained, why is it unlocked now?” Eliot asked.

  “Because someone’s coming back,” Mattie said, his heart trying to rush up into his throat. “We’d better hurry.”

  Caroline and Eliot traced their hands over the cold, rough walls, and Mattie searched for cracks in the stone floor.

  Maybe there was a trapdoor? Maybe there was…

  Mattie straightened. “The dust and bird poop are all smeared.”

  “Gross,” Caroline said.

  “What’s your point?” Eliot asked.

  Mattie wasn’t sure. Yet. After all, Mattie was around dirt all the time. Thanks to his time at Munchem, Mattie had found dirt in his ears, in his socks, and even up his nose—and none of those discoveries had been particularly intriguing until now, because right now Mattie had noticed how the dust on the floor was lighter where he stood.

  Mattie studied the floor some more. The dust was lighter all the way to the heavy double doors. Almost like something—or someone—had been dragged across the mausoleum’s floor.

  The hairs on the back of Mattie’s neck prickled. He turned, following the dusty path.

  “What are you doing?” Eliot asked. “Do you see something?”

  “I don’t know,” Mattie muttered. The path didn’t go very far. In fact, it stopped right in front of the tomb. Mattie stopped right in front of the tomb too.

  “Oh, boy,” Mattie said.

  “What?” Caroline asked. “What did you find?”

  “I think, maybe, this thing might move,” Mattie said, running his hands over the cold, smooth edges of the tomb. He ran his fingers up to the corner and down the lid, across the sides, and found, what…a speaker?

  Mattie peered closer. Yes, it was a plastic security speaker, like the kind people used to gain entry to the Larimore properties. You said a password into the speaker and the door would open.

  Only there wasn’t a door.

  And Mattie didn’t know the password.

  “What is it?” Eliot asked, coming around to look.

  Caroline followed
him. “Oh,” she said.

  “Yeah.” Mattie nodded. What could the password be? He leaned a little closer, pressed the small green button at the base, and said, “Munchem.”

  “Mattie!” Eliot grabbed him. “Anyone could be on the other side! What if they’re looking at us right now!”

  Mattie shook Eliot off. “What if Carter’s right there?” He pressed the button again. “Munchem.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Academy,” Caroline guessed.

  “Rooney,” Mattie tried.

  “Password,” Eliot said at last. Caroline and Mattie looked at him and he shrugged. “What? You’d be surprised how frequently that works.”

  But it didn’t work. Nothing worked. Mattie felt his chest getting tighter and tighter. They were so close, he just knew it. What was the password? What would the teachers use? What would the clones—

  “Yobbo,” Mattie blurted, pressing the green button as hard as he could.

  The tomb began to creak. The tomb began to rumble. The tomb began to move. It slid sideways, revealing a long set of stairs that descended into a long, dark tunnel. Mattie, Caroline, and Eliot peered over the side.

  “Not it,” the Spencers said together.

  Mattie blinked. “You can’t be serious.”

  “You know the rules of Not It,” Caroline said, crossing her arms.

  Mattie knew the rules of Not It. The Spencers stood to the side as Mattie took one step down and then another. Unlike the stairs in Headmaster Rooney’s coat closet, these were the kind of stairs you would push someone down to make their death look like an accident. They were steep and dim and Mattie shuffled along, keeping one hand on the wall. He tried not to think about the dark.

  And what might live in the dark.

  And what might be waiting for him in the dark.

  Mattie squeaked.

  “Mattie?” Eliot called. “Are you okay? Can you see anything?”

  Mattie squinted. The shadows might have a shape after all. “I think? Maybe? It’s almost like—” Mattie took another step and tripped and fell straight into the dark.