Artifacts

by Pete Catalano

  “Yeah, on my way to the gym.” I nodded, squinting my eyes, concentrating hard and trying to remember.

  Standing up, I watched as they dragged Bartholomew off.

  Once they were around the corner and out of sight, I headed toward the gym. I knew I had to do something that was really important … but I couldn’t remember.

  Looking down the end of the hallway, Korie turned the corner.

  “Jax!” she yelled out, racing down the hallway.

  As she slid the last ten feet, I grabbed her at the last moment to slow her down.

  She laughed.

  She has a great laugh.

  “Didn’t we just do this like an hour ago?” I asked.

  “Like seven hours ago,” Korie corrected me. “Are you all right? Where have you been? Everybody’s out looking for you.”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I met with Butt-Kiss right before my last period.”

  “How did that go?” Korie asked.

  “Good, I think.” I smiled. “I used Jerkin’s urge to kiss butt to my advantage.”

  Korie laughed. “That must have been hysterical.”

  “It was,” I said. “Butt-Kiss was mad, Jerkin was confused, and I snuck out before they knew what happened.”

  “How did things go with Bartholomew?” Korie asked.

  “Bartholomew?” I asked.

  Korie looked at me really strangely. “You were supposed to go to his classroom after school to see what kind of extra credit he was giving Marcus Braverman?”

  I shrugged. “I was supposed to go to the gym. Not to Bartholomew’s.”

  “Wait! What?” Korie started when Mouth walked up.

  “Where’ve you been?” Mouth asked. “You had me … er, Korie, worried to death.”

  “I was in the gym with Butt-Kiss and Jerkin,” I said.

  “Dude, that was over two hours ago,” Mouth said.

  “He was supposed to go to—”

  “Bartholomew’s,” Mouth interrupted Korie again. “I know. When did the plan change?”

  Crunch came up behind us.

  “He must have run into Touch,” Crunch said nonchalantly.

  “Who’s Touch?” Mouth asked, getting frustrated.

  “One of the new kids I met today?” Crunch said. “Remember, he touched my arm …”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Mouth laughed. “And now you’re dating.”

  “Nerts!” Crunch said. “No, he touched my arm and I spilled my guts about …”

  Tank walked up and shoved Mouth into a locker. “You spill your guts to everybody about everything,” he said. “What are we talking about now?”

  “Jax was supposed to go to Bartholomew’s class to find out what extra credit he was giving to Marcus Braverman,” Korie said, “and now he can’t remember.”

  “Bartholomew’s missing,” Tank said. “He was supposed to have meetings with a ton of parents this afternoon and he never showed up.”

  “He’s missing?” Mouth gasped and turned to me. “What did you do?”

  I laughed. “That was pretty funny.”

  “Thank you.” Mouth smiled. “So here are the facts. Jax really wants to go to camp with all his friends. Bartholomew won’t let Crunch go. Jax goes to see Bartholomew after school.” He paused for a moment building the suspense. “And now, he’s gone.”

  “Cut it out.” I pushed him into Tank, who once again slammed him into a locker.

  “I don’t think Jax is telling us the whole story,” Mouth said.

  “I’m not telling you any story.”

  “There has to be something we can do to jog his memory,” Crunch said.

  “Maybe we need to scare him into remembering,” Mouth said. “Go ahead, Tank.”

  Tank stepped toward me and slammed me against the locker just like he did to Mouth.

  “Owwww,” I said, grabbing the back of my head. “Well, that didn’t work.” I cracked up through the pain.

  “That really wasn’t a scare,” Korie said. “A scare would have been making him think you were going to do it and then not doing it.”

  “Try it again, Tank,” Mouth said. “It’s got to be scarier the second time.”

  “No, wait!” I shouted, taking a few steps back. “I remember, I remember.”

  “You remember going to Bartholomew’s classroom?” Korie asked.

  I laughed. “No. But I’ll say I remember anything as long as Tank doesn’t slam me into the lockers again.”

  I stopped.

  “What?” Korie asked.

  “Drag me off,” I repeated, starting to remember. “I did go to Bartholomew’s classroom and confronted him about his plans for the middle schoolers and his stupid ‘faux’ artifacts.”

  “Wait,” Crunch said, finally catching on. “I bet there’s not even a library.”

  “Ugggghh!” Mouth said, trying to ignore Crunch and get on with the story. “What did he say?”

  “There are fifty kids out there, thinking they’re the only ones who have that extra credit.”

  “Why does he want so many phony artifacts?” Mouth asked.

  “One of them is real,” I said.

  “Which one?” Crunch asked.

  I shot him a look and cracked up. “If I knew that, we’d already be on our way to get it.”

  “What does it do?” Korie asked.

  “Bartholomew said it was a key.”

  “A key to what?” Korie asked.

  “Treasure,” Crunch said.

  “Treasure,” I repeated. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

  “My answer to any question is always treasure.” Crunch laughed. “I had no idea I’d be right this time.”

  “What else did he say?” Tank asked.

  “Not much after that,” I said. “He took a bite out of an apple …”

  Mouth groaned. “Here we go with the fairy tales again.”

  “No, wait,” I said. “There really was an apple. He wanted to show me he wasn’t afraid of it and took a monster bite.”

  “And?” Crunch asked, like he was on the edge of his seat.

  “He passed out,” I whispered, thinking about what happened next. “I went for help and when I came back one of the skateboard kids was dragging him away.”

  “Really?” Korie asked.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “That’s when everything went blank.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Did Bartholomew say anything before he passed out?” Crunch asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, remembering his exact words. “Be careful of the boys, Jackson … the Lost Boys.”

  “Oh, come on,” Mouth said, punching Crunch in the arm.

  “Hey!” Crunch shouted. “What did you do that for?”

  Mouth shrugged. “You didn’t expect me to hit Jax, did you?”

  “It would’ve been nice.” Crunch rubbed his arm.

  “The Lost Boys?” Korie asked. “Like Peter Pan … and the Lost Boys?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. “That’s what he said. But knowing Bartholomew, he’d say something stupid like that when he was dying, just to drive us crazy.”

  Tank cracked up. “Crazy’s not a drive for you, you could walk.”

  “Those new kids sitting at the table during lunch today sure looked like the Lost Boys to me,” Crunch said. “Even their names were Lost Boy-like if you think about it.”

  Mouth laughed. “Hey, Crunch, I think you’re just lost, boy.”

  Tank slammed him into the locker again.

  “I love when people put Mouth in his place,” I said.

  “I love when people slam Mouth into a locker,” Crunch added.

  “Crunch loves Tank,” Mouth said. Then he slapped his hands over his mouth, realizing what he had said … and that he had said it out loud.

  “How does Bartholomew fit into all this?” Korie asked.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” I said, stari
ng at Crunch.

  “Wait! What?” Then he realized what I meant. “No way. I’m not breaking into the school district’s database again.”

  “Don’t think of it as breaking in,” Mouth said. “Think of it more like a manipulation of current technology for a good cause. We’re the only ones at this school who can save Bartholomew, but we can’t save him unless we know more about him. And how do we find out more about him?”

  Crunch shrugged. “Through the school district’s computer?”

  “Through the school district’s computer,” Mouth said happily. “Now come on, break out that laptop and hack away.”

  We headed for the gym. It was quiet and there were no teams, cheerleaders, or marching bands practicing until school started.

  Pouring through the doors, we crammed onto the steps of the bleachers, our sneakers pounding against the aluminum planks, trying to get as high up as we could.

  I loved being in a place where I can see but can’t be seen.

  “Korie, keep an eye out for anybody coming into the gym,” I said. “And Crunch, keep typing.”

  “It isn’t that easy,” Crunch said, protesting the entire way. “And what if we get caught? None of us will be able to go to Camp Runamuck until we’re old and ancient. Like thirty! Then they’ll be nothing for us to do except float around the lake on noodles like our grandpas.”

  “Quit yapping and keep typing,” Mouth said. “If somebody comes, we’ll tell them Jax was breaking into the computer and you’re off the hook.”

  “Oh, okay.” Crunch was happier now. “Give me a minute and we’ll be in.”

  “If you can break into the school district’s database so easily,” Tank asked, “then why didn’t you just go in and change your English grade so we didn’t have to start this stupid treasure hunt in the first place?”

  “Wait! What?” Crunch said as his fingers glided across the keyboard. “Oh, yeah.”

  “I’m not seeing the website,” Mouth said.

  “It’s been like two seconds,” Crunch argued.

  Mouth started flicking the back of my ears with his fingers.

  “Hey!” I protested. “Cut it out!”

  “I’m nervous,” Mouth said, “and I have to abuse somebody as an outlet for all this energy. Crunch is busy being productive and you’re … not. So guess what?”

  Mouth smiled broadly.

  “Okay, we’re in,” Crunch said. Mouth climbed over Tank and between Korie and me so he could see.

  Looking past Mouth’s head, I saw the files for the school district scroll across the screen.

  I laughed. “We can get detention for life for doing this, but I can’t take my eyes off it.”

  “Okay,” Crunch said, searching around for the right series of files. “Let’s see, Hickory Wind Middle School. Hickory Wind Middle School Employees.”

  Crunch flew through the pages until he came to the profiles for the teachers.

  “Ames, Adams, Albatross …”

  “Albatross.” Mouth snickered. “What a dork.”

  Crunch continued. “Axelrod, Barrens, Bartholomew … James Bartholomew. Came to Hickory Wind last August, just before school started.”

  Mouth smacked Crunch in the back of the head. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

  “What school did Bartholomew teach at before he came to Hickory Wind?” Korie asked. “And how long was he there? There has to be at least one considering how old he is.”

  “As old as he is, he should have been at, like, fifty schools before here,” Tank said.

  “Let’s see. Bartholomew spent the last five years at …” Crunch searched the file. “Neverwood Middle School.”

  “Neverwood Middle School?” I repeated. “Where the heck is that?”

  Crunch laughed. “And what kind of a mascot could they possibly have? A tree?”

  “Who in their right mind would go to Neverwood Middle School?” Mouth added.

  “I wish you were going to Neverwood Middle School,” Tank said to Mouth.

  “Ignore them, Crunch,” I said, getting closer to him and the screen. “Take a look at the records of all the employees.”

  “What do you want to know?” Crunch asked.

  “Start dates,” Korie said, moving closer to me, “and where they came from.”

  “Hey, look at them,” Mouth said, pointing to Korie and me, “they’re even closer than hand-holding distance.”

  As her cheeks flushed, Korie quickly scooted away.

  Crunch pulled up the employees from oldest to newest. He scrolled down until he came to Bartholomew’s name closely followed by Smeethington, Butkus, and Durkin.

  “They all came here around the same time?” I asked.

  “Within two weeks of each other,” Crunch said.

  “And where did those three come from?” Korie asked.

  I stared at the screen and then looked up at her. “Neverwood Middle School.”

  “Give me that!” Mouth ripped the laptop out of Crunch’s hands.

  “Hey!” Crunch yelled. “Give it back, I’m not done!”

  Tank grabbed it back from Mouth and handed it to Crunch.

  “Where is Neverwood and what does it have to do with the Lost Boys?” Korie asked.

  Crunch’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Another minute and I’ll have it. Here we go.”

  Crunch read the description of Neverwood he was able to find on the Internet.

  “In J.M. Barrie’s play and novel, most of the adventures in the stories take place in the Neverwood, where the Lost Boys hunt and fight the pirates and Indians and build the Wendy House. It is also the location of the Home Underground, where Peter and the Boys reside.”

  “Seriously,” Mouth said, starting to grab the computer again, but stopped when he saw Tank staring right at him. He slid his hands into his pockets. “That’s insane. How do you expect us to believe the middle school these four teachers came from is in Neverland?”

  “I don’t expect you to believe anything,” I said.

  “We have kids running around here that a missing teacher claims, on his death bed, are the Lost Boys … the Lost Boys.” Korie added it up for us. “Employment records from the school district show they all came from Neverwood Middle School, which the internet—”

  “Google,” Crunch interrupted her.

  “Which Google tells us is where the Lost Boys fight pirates and live in the Wendy House,” Korie continued. “Is there anything else I’m missing?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We all know that Neverwood and the Lost Boys are definitely tied to Neverland, but we’re missing how Bartholomew fits in with all this talk about fairy tales.”

  Once again, Crunch’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “James Bartholomew.” He typed it in. “There’s a listing for a painter, an architect, and a lawyer …”

  “How about a pirate?” Mouth asked.

  I shot Mouth a look, hoping to shut him up. “Are you Googling James Bartholomew or James Bartholomew fairy tale?”

  “Just James Bartholomew,” Crunch confirmed.

  “Try James Bartholomew, fairy tale,” I said, taking a step up behind him.

  “James Bartholomew,” Crunch repeated as he entered in the name slowly and accurately. “Fairy tale.”

  Crunch pressed the enter key.

  “Anything?” Korie asked.

  “Yeah,” Crunch said. “James Bartholomew … uh-oh.”

  “James Bartholomew uh-oh what?” Mouth dropped to the floor next to him.

  Crunch turned the screen around so we could all see it at the same time. “James Bartholomew … Hook.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “No way!” were the first words out of my mouth. “You’re trying to tell me that nerdy, old, weasel Bartholomew is Captain Hook!”

  “Nope, the computer’s trying to tell you that,” Crunch said, holding up the laptop so nobody would think he was making it up.

 
“Try it again?” Tank said.

  Crunch Googled the same question and had the same results.

  Mouth laughed. “Who would name a pirate Bartholomew?”

  “It all makes sense,” Korie said. “Wait, wait! And Smeethington’s got to be Smee.”

  “I couldn’t stand him in the movie,” Tank said, his face twisting up like he smelled something terrible. “If it really is Smee, I’ll be happy to take care of him myself.”

  Crunch typed in Smeethington and fairy tale, just like he did with James Bartholomew. Google responded in way less than a fraction of a second. “Bartholomew Quigley Smeethington. Also known as Smee, Captain Hook’s First Mate.”

  “Everybody’s named Bartholomew!” Mouth cried.

  “It just keeps getting better and better,” Crunch said.

  “But what about Butt-Kiss and Jerkin,” I said, trying to make sense of it. “Their characters aren’t in Peter Pan …”

  “They are,” Tank said quickly and his eyes lit up. “They are part of Hook’s crew that tried to mutiny. When he caught them he took his hook and put it to Jerkin’s chin. I loved the part where Hook dangled Jerkin over the edge of the water. ‘Let me go! Let me go! Don’t hurt me!’”

  “I’ll hurt you.” Mouth smacked him in the back of the head then jumped behind Korie. “Stop showing everybody how you’ve memorized dialogue from all the fairy tales.” He peeked out and whispered. “Bro, your tough reputation is doing a crash and burn every time you open your mouth. It’s embarrassing.”

  “They’re either here to help Hook and Smee … or they’re hoping to find the artifact on their own,” I said, searching for any possibility.

  “So, fairy tale villains are here working together to find one artifact which is the key to finding treasure,” Korie said.

  Crunch rubbed his hands together like you see in an old movie.

  “Hey, Crunch,” Mouth called. “Quit doing that. You’re creepy enough as it is.”

  I tried to refocus them a little. “We have treasure, villains, artifacts, Lost Boys …”

  Crunch raised his hand. “I’m still failing English.”

  I nodded and continued. “Four characters come tumbling out of two different fairy tales and spend almost nine months teaching sixth graders. This must be one heck of an artifact if they’re willing to put themselves through all that.”