by Sheila Grau
“We’ll take it,” Pismo said, raising my hand with his. He smiled smugly at the other detainees, like he’d just won a giant stuffed animal at the fair.
“Great,” Griphold said. “Report to Professor Vodum”—the upperclassmen laughed—“to help sort body parts from the cemetery explosion.” Then the upperclassmen high-fived each other.
I scowled at Pismo. “Really?”
He shrugged. “Might be fun.”
“Hector, you and Melissa can help Coach Foley set up for tomorrow’s junior henchman test.”
“Sweet,” Hector said, smiling.
“And Drangulus, why don’t you report back to Mistress Moira. She still needs help taste-testing her experimental ESP chocolates.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” Drangulus said. “ ’Cause I ate so many chocolates yesterday, see?” He looked at Pismo, then tightened his grip on his DPS. “Don’t even think about it, short stuff.” Pismo shrugged.
“Get going, boys,” Mr. Griphold said.
I felt like smacking Pismo. Both of those jobs would have been great. But no, I got stuck with Obnoxious Boy, doing hard manual labor. That stunk (both the situation and, I imagined, the job of sorting body parts).
Argh!
“Incoming femur!” Pismo yelled as he threw a bone at my head.
“Ouch!”
“I said ‘incoming.’ ”
“Just stack them, okay?” I placed the femur in one of my neatly stacked piles. We were working in the crater of the explosion. Dirt and body parts were loosely packed all around us. I had decided on a methodical approach: grabbing a handful of parts, some of them just bones, others with bits of flesh still attached, and climbing up out of the crater to put them in my piles. I looked over at Pismo’s work. He’d made a village of bone teepees in the crater.
“Pismo! We’re supposed to stack them.”
“This is more fun. Hey, look at this bone, Runt.” He waved a humerus in the air. “Look at the bone,” he said again, his voice high, like he was talking to a baby. “C’mon, you wanna fetch? Sure ya do, boy. Here ya go, fetch the bone.” He threw the bone as far as he could.
“That’s not funny,” I said. But a part of me really wanted to fetch it.
“Hey, Runt, aren’t you gonna morph?” he asked.
“No.”
“Have you ever morphed?”
“Once,” I said. “When I was seven.”
“Really?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Here’s another one,” Pismo said. He lifted a gigantic bone. “Ooh, heavy.”
“Hey, I think I know who that is,” I said. I ran over to him to get a better look. It was! Harold the Giant. Died 1657. He was buried in a massive grave right about where we were working. I used to visit this spot on Minion Remembrance Day.
Just as I was reaching reverently to touch the bone of the most famous minion in history, Pismo threw it.
My fist pulled back without my telling it to. I was overcome with an urge to slug Pismo right in the face. I’d never felt such powerful hatred toward another person. How could he be so disrespectful?
But I was a minion, and minions followed the rules. You can’t hit another student, even if he really, really deserved it.
“Stop it, Pismo!” I screamed. “That’s Harold the Giant. We have to keep his bones together.”
Pismo shrugged. “They’re mostly together,” he said, pointing to one of his teepees.
“Bulldogs, Pismo! This isn’t funny. These are respected warriors, and you’re treating them like … like playthings!”
“Sorry,” he said, all of a sudden looking humble and sad.
“Oh!” I was so mad. I stomped off to get the bone. “And another thing …” I turned around, but he was gone. I looked up and saw him standing at the top of the crater next to Professor Vodum. Pismo spread one arm out above my neatly stacked piles, like he’d done all that work.
“Well done, Pismo,” Professor Vodum said. “You’re dismissed.” He looked down at me, and then at the teepee village. “Higgins! You just earned yourself another detention. That’s incredibly disrespectful!”
I slumped. Pismo saluted me and ran off.
I headed for the cafeteria, a jumble of emotions swirling in my gut. I was furious because of Pismo. I was sad for Dr. Frankenhammer. I was worried about my school. And I was scared about not becoming a junior henchman and finding my family.
All that emotion made me feel weak. Or was it hunger? I slid my tray down the line and saw that the main course was something called “organic meat chunks.” That didn’t sound too appetizing, and it looked even worse. I think I saw little bits of hair and tiny white quills in it.
Cook was helping to serve. She took one look at me and shook her head. “Runt, honey, what happened this time?”
I looked down at my uniform, covered with cockroach guts and mud from the cemetery. “Do you really want to know?”
She shook her head again. “Get a new uniform after eating. You did wash your hands?”
I nodded. Then I asked her what the “meat chunks” were.
“Do you really want to know?” she mimicked back at me. “It’s tough and stringy, and tastes a bit like, um …”
“Chicken?” I offered.
“No …”
“Beef?”
“No. I’d say it tastes like gym locker. But if you put some ketchup on it, it should be fine.”
I sniffed. Ew. “Did you get this from the dungeon?”
“I’d rather not say. It is organic, though.”
“I’ll pass.”
I headed for my table, surprised to see Eloni and Boris back with Darthin and Frankie. Eloni and Boris were devouring the meat chunks like they were prime rib—until Boris took a bite and hollered. “Ouch! My meat chunk just poked me.” He spit out a little white barb.
Like me, Darthin had filled his tray with rolls, a heap of carrots, and a cup of ice cream. Frankie stirred a bowl of stew like he was looking for something edible.
“Why are you guys back?” I asked Eloni. Boris didn’t look up.
Eloni nudged Boris on the shoulder. Boris shrugged.
“Boris got trapped by imps this morning, between classes,” Eloni said.
“Really? Me too,” I said, hoping to make him feel better. Boris still didn’t look up.
“Yeah, well, they strung him up near Tootles’s tree house. He was just hanging there, like a piñata. And instead of cutting him loose, the ogre-men got out their slingshots and took turns firing loquats at him.”
Boris did look a little messy, and he smelled like overripe fruit.
“Big jerks,” Darthin said.
“Yeah, when I came up, they told me to take a swing at him with Little Eloni,” Eloni said.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Oh, I swung Little Eloni, all right,” he said, smiling. “Right into the loquat tree they were standing under. Those ogre-dorks got a nice shower of fruit.”
I noticed Boris smile into his meat chunks.
“Hey,” Darthin said to me, “I heard you got detention again.”
“It’s that Pismo. He’s always getting me in trouble. I hate that kid.”
“Do you want me to introduce him to Little Eloni?” Eloni asked, raising his club.
“You can’t hit another student, Eloni. You know that,” I said. “But thanks. He’s just a pest.”
“Did you hear about the dungeon?” Darthin asked.
“Hear about it?” I said. “I was there, getting brains for the zombies. I was next to the vent when the cockroaches swarmed into Dr. Frankenhammer’s lab. They went straight for his new experiment.”
“That’s awful,” Darthin said. “He’s worked on those for months.”
I nodded. “Dr. Frankenhammer thinks Professor Vodum set them off, in retaliation for the cemetery explosion.”
“Why would Vodum do that?” Frankie said. “He’s a stockholder. Everyone in his family owns stock in the schoo
l. If the school suffers, they lose money.”
“People bent on revenge aren’t always rational,” Darthin said. “Normally, I wouldn’t worry because Dr. Critchlore would take care of this. But what’s up with him? He still hasn’t done anything about that video.”
“Syke said he’s having a midlife crisis,” I said. “He’s got to get it together and put a stop to this interdepartmental sabotage. And find new minions.”
I couldn’t eat after all. I reached for my necklace, like I always do when I’m worried, but it was still gone. I had to get it back.
“I gotta go,” I told the guys.
I left the noise of the cafeteria and walked down the hallway to the foyer. I looked up to the second floor, where Dr. Critchlore’s office door stood open. Voices drifted down to me. Mumbles at first, but then louder as voices were raised in anger.
“How much more proof do you want?” That sounded like Dr. Frankenhammer. “It’s not enough that Vodum’s incompetent, but he planted those cockroachesssss, I’m sure it was him.” Definitely Dr. Frankenhammer.
I sprinted over and stood by the elevator, straining my ears to hear more. Dr. Critchlore was barely audible. All I heard was “… circumstantial … you just don’t like him … I can’t … he’s family.”
“Oh, that’s how it is, is it?” Dr. Frankenhammer said.
I couldn’t hear anything after that, because more students exited the cafeteria in a cloud of chatter. But I’d heard enough to know that Dr. Frankenhammer was furious, and Dr. Critchlore wasn’t going to do anything about it. I don’t think I’d ever want to make someone like Dr. Frankenhammer angry; there was just no guessing what he might do.
Like a good friend, a minion is there when you need him.
—DR. CRITCHLORE, TO A FRIENDLESS EVIL OVERLORD
I headed to the Dormitory for Minions of Diminutive Size. They have their own building, where everything is properly sized for them. Apparently, it is very disheartening to have to use a step stool to reach the sink when you’re a teenager.
Other than the size, the dormitory was arranged like all the others. There was a large common room that separated two wings of dorm rooms, one for the girls and one for the boys.
I stood in front of the door, bent down, and knocked. Nobody answered. I stood there for five minutes, knocking at intervals, until finally I just opened the door and walked in. I’d never been inside. It felt like I was trespassing.
Still, it had to be done.
The common room was packed with diminutive minions. Most were sitting on couches, watching a movie on TV. I watched a goblin grab a fried tarantula from a bowl and munch off each leg in turn. Ew.
I have to say, one diminutive minion alone is not at all scary, but seeing a big bunch of them is a totally different story, especially because most diminutive minion species are not known for their pleasant personalities. They’re mean and vicious and sometimes say really hurtful things.
“What’cha doing here, big head?” Spanky said. He jumped up from the couch and charged over to me as I stood in the foyer. I guessed that he was mad at me for taking back the gum he’d stolen from my pocket yesterday. I should have let him keep it.
“Hi, Spanky,” I said. “Um, I’m looking for Fingers. Do you know where he is?”
“What’s it to ya?”
“I think he has my necklace,” I said. “I lost it after he climbed on my back.”
“What makes you think Fingers has it?”
“Um.” How to put this diplomatically? “Because he’s Fingers.”
Most of the imps sitting around murmured their agreement, but Spanky looked furious. Because of their green skin, imps don’t turn red when angry; they turn a brownish color. He bunched his fists like he wanted to punch me.
“Listen, you,” he said, poking me in the leg, “we don’t take kindly to big folks coming in here like you own the place! Accusin’ us of theft. Just because we’re smaller doesn’t mean—”
“Now, hold on,” I interrupted. “First of all, I didn’t come in here like I own the place, I knocked. For five minutes. But nobody answered.”
More murmurings. “Can’t be bothered.” “I’d lose my spot.” “Who knocks anyway?”
“And secondly,” I said, “in case you’ve forgotten, my name is Runt.”
The imps looked at one another. “We thought that was one of them ironical names,” Spanky said. “You know, like calling Eloni ‘Tiny.’ Or Boris ‘Smarts.’ On account of you’re big.”
“I just want my necklace back,” I said. “It’s the only thing I have from my family.”
“Maybe you should have watched it better, then,” Spanky said. “I’m not really in the mood to be nice to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought we’d get bonus points for trapping you in the Strawberry Snare. You’re a third-year! But when we reported the catch to Janet, our scorekeeper, she said, ‘Higgins only counts for regular points.’ ”
“Why?” I asked.
He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “Really? You don’t know?”
I shook my head.
Spanky rubbed his arms. “Brrr. You must have let in a draft. Could you hand me a sweater from the safety station? We put it in the closet over there,” he said, nodding to a door on my left.
I shrugged and went to the closet, and even though it was small, I managed to stick my head in and look around for the safety station. I was thinking that putting it in the closet wasn’t such a good idea when I felt a kick on my butt and the door slammed behind me.
“That’s why you only count for regular points,” Spanky called through the door. “It’s harder to trap a dead slug. Honestly.”
“Oh.” I was scrunched over and uncomfortable in the dark. “Can I come out now?”
“Nah, I’m still mad.”
“But don’t you get another point for trapping me again? That should make you happy, right?”
“Hey, you’re right.” He opened the door. “Now scram.”
“Look,” I said. I strode right past him to the middle of the room. I decided to do my best Coach Foley impersonation. Nobody messed with Coach Foley. I widened my stance and lowered my gaze. Using my pointer finger as a weapon, I aimed it at each of the imps in turn. “I’m not leaving until I get my necklace. Either you guys help me, or I’ll search every room here. And I won’t clean up afterward.”
Silence filled the room as they all looked at me.
And then they jumped me.
“Hey, what’s going on?” a voice called out. It cut through the air like a lullaby; it was so beautiful. I couldn’t see her because I was covered in imps. I didn’t need to see, though, to know who it was.
The imps jumped off me in a flash. I watched as they smoothed their hair and straightened their clothes, like it was photo day or something. I turned to the door and saw her. Janet Desmarais stood in the open doorway, her perfect face the picture of kind curiosity.
“Higgins?”
I sat up. My face felt hot and I wished I was back in the closet. Bullied by imps. How embarrassing.
“Are you okay?” she asked me.
“Oh, sure,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I’m fine. We were just—”
“Playing,” Spanky said. “Yeah, that’s right. We were just having a little fun.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t look convinced.
Spanky scurried over and took her hand, kissing it gently. “What can we do for you, sweet lady?”
She smiled at him. It was a smile that lit up her eyes and made me want to buy her a candy bar. No, that’s not good enough. A new bike, or … a castle! It had the same effect on all the imps and they rushed toward her, offering her anything they could think of.
“Do you want a drink?” “Come sit down, be comfortable.” “How about a scone?”
“Tell them to give me my necklace,” I muttered into the commotion.
Janet gasped, and the whole room fell silent. “You guys have Runt
’s necklace?” she asked. “Oh, you have to give it back. It’s the only connection he has with his past.”
“We don’t have it.” “Never seen it.” “Gotta go.”
The imps scurried away, bumping into one another in their eagerness to get out of the room. They ran up the staircase and disappeared.
I sighed and stood up. “Thanks for trying, Janet,” I said. “I’ll probably never get it back.”
She smiled at me like I was the dumb kid who was standing at the board unable to solve the math problem. “Wait,” she said.
I shrugged. Nothing better to do, so I might as well stand here and look at Janet. That got me thinking. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m the junior henchman assistant in Professor Votyakovsky’s Stealth Techniques and Strategies for Diminutive Minions class. I came to get today’s scores.”
“The Trap Other Students game? That’s you?”
“Yes. Isn’t it hilarious?” She smiled. It was such a great smile that I thought, Yes! Yes it is hilarious, before I remembered my day and thought, Wait, no. It’s really not.
“I got them to trap Bianca in the hedge maze at lunch,” she said. “That’ll teach her to flirt with Rufus.”
We heard thumping above us. The thumping got closer as the imps tumbled down the stairs in a giant scrum, carrying a reluctant Fingers in their midst. Fingers thrashed and swore and looked like he wanted to tear each of them apart. They pushed him forward, and he saw Janet.
“Oh,” he said. His demeanor immediately changed from crazy aggression to rapt adoration. His eyes widened and took on that dreamy look all the other imps had. Janet was one powerful minion.
“Go on,” Spanky said. “Give it back.”
“Right,” Fingers said. “It’s just a piece of junk anyway.” He reached into his coat and handed me the necklace. Relief poured through me. I felt like hugging the whole rotten bunch of them.
“Thank you,” I said to Fingers. “You don’t know how much this means to me.” I turned to Janet. “Thanks.” She smiled.
“Miss Janet, I have a little something for you too,” Fingers said. He rooted around in his coat and pulled out a bracelet. It looked expensive, ringed with sparkling diamonds set in gold.