As always, Kathryn made my day with her excitement. “Everyone thinks Art Rubric knows Phobos. I am so into this secret agent stuff. What do you say we chloroform Art and tie him to a chair under a lightbulb so I can interrogate him?”
“Too bad we didn’t try that with Egon. It would have saved both of us a massive headache.”
“Literally for me,” Kathryn said. “When the demon-boy juiced me with Psychedone 10, I wanted to jump out the hospital window. That stuff makes you lose your mind.”
“I know,” I said. “I was there. You had the craziest look in your eye. Egon did his job too well.”
“I should have seen through it, though, you know? He was so obvious.”
“Not to everyone,” I said, ashamed that I had allowed my feelings for him to blind me.
“We need a new plan,” Kathryn said. “Instead of trying to guess who Phobos is, we need to lure him out.”
“We already tried that on Egon.”
“When?”
“When Bobby and I trashed the class project.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Kathryn did a sideways lip pucker. “Then we need better bait. What if the Whisperers whisper that I am actually the Morgan girl in hiding? You could watch my back, and when Phobos makes his move, you take him down with such amazing savoir faire that James Bond will renounce his 007-ship to become a Psi Fighter. Let me clear it with Mrs. Simmons, and we’ll get started.”
“I had the same idea, except I would be the bait. The Kilodan told me no. He won’t approve your idea, either. He’s not big on using human targets.”
“Change of subject on the horizon,” Kathryn warned, pointing down the hall.
The Dweeb League rounded the corner, Pickles in the lead followed by Hi, Tish, and Bobby.
“Ladies, ladies,” Pickles said, flourishing his hands and bending into a deep, awkward bow. “How fortunate that we meet. We have news. Massive, earth-shattering news. Our exploits have been fruitful.”
“Hi-iy, Bobby!” Kathryn squealed, and made a beeline for him. I dove out of the way to avoid being trampled.
“Hi, Kitty,” Bobby said more quietly, and wrapped her in his arms. The expression on his face was priceless. “Did you miss me?”
“Always, my Bobby.”
Okay, they were an adorable couple, but sometimes they made me want to barf.
Tish said, “Be careful, Art’s at it again.”
I glanced at Hi and mouthed, Are you okay?
“Not me this time,” Hi said.
“What happened?” Kathryn asked.
“We were walking to class minding our own business, when Art stopped a seventh grader and said the tolls were back in force,” Bobby said.
“Naturally, I could have trounced him,” Pickles said, puffing out his meager chest. “But that would have exposed the secret of my true identity. Life can be burdensome, now that I am a superhero, an elite member of the Dweeb League. So instead, we surrounded the would-be victim and pulled him away from Art.”
“Who, I must say, was not happy about it. But I don’t care,” Hi said.
“True fact.” Pickles drew a circle in the air with his finger. “We all have secret identities now. Tish is Mega-Girl, Bobby is Escrima-Man, and Whatsisface is—”
“His name is Hi,” I said to Pickles. “Stop calling him Whatsisface.”
“Message received, ma’am,” Pickles said, flashing me his annoying two-finger salute. “Hieronymus is the Enchilada.”
“The Echidna,” Hi said. “I’m the Echidna.”
“Isn’t that a marsupial?” Kathryn asked.
“The rarest in the world,” Hi said with pride. “They have special cells sensitive to the electromagnetic signals emitted by all living things. And they’re invulnerable to attack. They roll into a ball and their entire body is protected by deadly spikes.”
“And who are you?” I asked Pickles.
He puffed out his chest and swished an invisible broom across the floor. “I am the Sweeper, ma’am. I sweep crime from the dumpsters of the Earth.”
Kathryn raised an eyebrow. “Pickles, you just gave away all your secret identities. Isn’t that a no-no for crime fighters?”
Pickles’ eyes got wide, and he looked over his shoulder then down the hall past Kathryn and me. “Okay, look, you gotta keep this between us. The safety of the entire civilized world may depend on it.”
“I’m sure it does,” Kathryn said. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Ma’am,” Pickles said, shooting another two-fingered salute at Kathryn.
“You mentioned that you have news,” I said, trying desperately to change the subject.
“I do, ma’am,” Pickles said with pursed lips. “We’ve seen him.”
“Him?”
“The Protector, ma’am.”
“Do me a favor,” I said.
“Anything, ma’am.”
“Stop calling me ma’am.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I have a roll of duct tape,” Kathryn said, digging through her purse. “Do you want me to wrap his face?”
“He’d just think it was a mask,” I said. Then, turning to Pickles, “And where did you see this alleged Protector?”
Pickles widened his stance, placed both hands on his hips, and unsuccessfully tried to lower his voice an octave. “At the peak of Academy Hill. He sent us on an official mission to protect the amphitheater.”
“Academy Hill doesn’t have a peak,” Kathryn said. “Did you capture any hoodlums?”
Pickles gazed at the ceiling and laughed sinisterly. “Obviously, our reputation has preceded us. The evildoers never showed. How fortunate for them.”
“My favorite dweebs,” a voice echoed from down the hall. “I seem to remember an unpaid debt.”
Art Rubric staggered toward us. He looked awful—even worse than he had at the cave.
“I’m outta here,” Hi said. He lowered his head and walked quickly down the hall, mumbling incoherently, pulling Tish behind him.
“I think I heard the Bat Signal,” Pickles said, with a hand to his ear, and took off after them.
“He really needs to get his superhero trivia straight,” Bobby said.
Art stopped in front of us, sweating profusely, and leaned against the wall with one arm. His face pallid, his breathing shallow, he looked as though he could barely stand. “One of you is gonna hafta pay me what the dweebs owe, because I don’t feel like chasing them anymore.”
Bobby pushed Kathryn and me behind him. “Art, you aren’t in any shape to be patrolling the halls. I thought you gave that up.”
Art pressed his back against the wall and tried to focus, but his eyes didn’t want to cooperate. He covered one of them with a sledgehammer-sized hand. “I wish I could give it up,” he said. “I want to, but Scallion won’t let me.”
“Who’s Scallion?” I asked, hoping to get a lead on his true identity.
“He wanted me to hurt Dr. Miliron, but I didn’t. I hope he’s not mad. I put stuff in his cake. Dr. Miliron was always nice to me.” Art’s face grew thoughtful. “I saw masked people in his house. They made me think of the day I told Mason to kill Bobby.”
Kathryn glanced quickly at me. Neither of us liked where this was going.
“You were in the park that day,” Art said, staring right at me, his words shockingly coherent. “I remember…you did something to Mason. You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the Protectors.”
“That was me,” Bobby said, stepping in front of Art, blocking his view of me. “I punched Mason in the mouth. I protected her from him. Art, you’re high. You need help.”
Art clutched his stomach and moaned, then dropped to his knees.
“Come on, we have to get him to the nurse’s office,” Bobby said. He grabbed Art by the arm and pulled him to his feet.
“I just want it to stop,” Art whispered. “He said I can’t stop.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Bobby said.
Art shoved Bobby away and backed against th
e wall. “No,” he said, but it came out “Nuh.” Art’s eyes glazed over, and he slurred, “Shcallion shaid so.”
He pulled a syringe from his pocket and exposed the needle.
“Get back!” Bobby said, pushing Kathryn and me to the other side of the hall. He turned to Art with both fists clenched. “Don’t come near us with that thing, Art.”
Art’s face scrunched in pain, and tears rolled down his cheeks. He shook his head as though arguing with someone, and mumbled, “Please, no more. I don’t want this.” With a shaky hand, he slid the needle into his arm. For just an instant, his face relaxed.
I watched his pain subside as the Psychedone 10 took effect. He looked like he might fall asleep, when all of a sudden his eyes got the same wild stare Kathryn had when she’d wanted to jump off the hospital’s seventeenth floor. But Kathryn had been strong enough to fight the effects of the Psychedone 10. Art was not. He had been hooked for too long.
He reached into his pocket, struggling to pull out another syringe. Slowly, he looked up and said, “Help me.”
“Art, no!” I lunged toward him, but I wasn’t fast enough. All of my kung fu skills, my mastery of the Mental Arts, my years of training—none of it was enough to stop Art Rubric from shooting up a second time.
Art sank slowly to his knees. I knelt beside him and took his hand. He looked into my eyes, and said, “Rinnie, is God real? Tammy says no.”
I touched Art’s wrist and felt his pulse racing. Tears streamed down my face. “Yes, Art, God is real. Tammy’s wrong. She’s wrong about everything.”
Art smiled and squeezed my hand. “I don’t want to be evolved from sludge.”
“You’re not.”
“Thank you,” Art said. Then his eyes rolled back into his head, and he went into convulsions.
“Call 911!” I screamed.
As quickly as they began, the convulsions stopped. Art Rubric let out a long, peaceful breath, slumped forward, and died in my arms.
Chapter Forty-Four
Art Lost
The next morning at school, Bobby, Kathryn, Mason, and I sat together in the auditorium in our usual seats, front row, center stage. It was comforting just to be together.
“He was my friend,” Mason said quietly. Bobby patted his shoulder, and Mason smiled shallowly at him.
The whole school knew that Art had been taken away in an ambulance, but only a few of us knew that he would never return. Mrs. Bagley had told us to keep it to ourselves. She wanted to break it to everyone at the assembly. She was as shaken as we were.
Kids funneled into the auditorium, happy to miss class again, totally unaware of the real reason the special assembly had been called. I heard one of them say that it was probably to tell us Art is home recovering, followed by a boring lecture on the stupidity of using drugs. The Dweeb League sat behind us and chatted away about their exploits as superheroes. Hi seemed fully recovered from Art’s bullying, but I knew he still had a long way to go.
The Red Team had taken their usual place in the balcony, and Tammy Angel was yakking loudly in her obnoxious voice. I could hear her even over the din of the auditorium. The whole school was cheerfully going about their business as though nothing tragic had happened.
Mrs. Bagley marched across the stage and tapped on the microphone. “Students, please take your seats and quiet down. I have several very important announcements.”
Tammy Angel laughed loudly, and said, “I heard he’s dead.”
I snapped my head around and glared at her as the auditorium roared with laughter.
Mrs. Bagley was looking right at me when I turned back to the front. Her face was somber. She held the microphone stand with both hands, as though she needed it to support herself.
“It’s true,” she said into the microphone. “Arthur Rubric died yesterday from an overdose of Psychedone 10.”
The auditorium went instantly silent.
“No,” I heard Hi gasp.
“Mr. Rubric was a troubled boy,” Mrs. Bagley said. “His drug use was well known. His bullying was infamous. Many of you knew him as a troublemaker whom you feared. Some of you also knew that he’d had a good heart at one time. Arthur was an only child. His parents loved him and tried to teach him to do right, but they tell me he changed when he fell in with the wrong crowd.” She glared up at the balcony, then continued.
“His father tells me he struggled to stay out of trouble all his life, but had recently seen an old friend make a change for the better.” Her voice caught as she looked down from the stage at Mason. “Arthur decided he also wanted to change for the better. But he was badly addicted to Psychedone 10 and continued to do things he did not want to do.”
Mrs. Bagley paused for just a moment, then her voice became stronger. “It is more correct to say that Arthur continued to do things that other people coerced him to do. You were all warned by the late Police Chief Munificent about the evil that has invaded our school. You were warned again by his successor, Police Chief Dalrymple. Arthur is proof that their warnings were valid. I hope his terrible fate will convince you to stay away from Psychedone 10 and every person associated with it. I pray you learn from his tragic death, so that none of you becomes the next Arthur.”
Quiet sobs could be heard all through the auditorium. Art had been a real jerk, but the whole school was in shock at the news. Nobody deserved that kind of death.
“I know why Art was an only child,” Tammy Angel bellowed from the balcony. “His mother couldn’t handle two low IQ droolers.”
Tammy gazed down at the auditorium, smiling smugly, obviously pleased with her cutting comment. But she didn’t get the response she was looking for. The students remained silent. Not even a teacher responded.
Except Mrs. Bagley. She went ballistic.
“Miss Angel,” she roared. “You and your friend will come down from that balcony this instant. Your assigned seats for every assembly for the rest of the school year will be right here, front and center.” She pointed to the seats we were sitting in.
Tammy laughed. “I don’t think so. I like it up here. Those seats are made for the morons sitting in them.”
Mrs. Bagley’s expression grew dark, and her voice dangerous. “If I come up there, young lady, I can guarantee you will not like the outcome. You have five seconds to get moving.”
Tammy opened her mouth to talk back, but instantly shut it. Her smug grin faded. Her arrogant eyes held a hint of fear. I knew it—under all that bravado the girl was a coward. For the first time in history, Tammy Angel was at a loss for words. She slowly rose to her feet, followed by Boot. We all watched as the Red Team, the most underhanded terrors in the school, marched in defeat down the stairs to sit in the front row. Kathryn, Bobby, Mason, and I stood up to make room for them. Tammy slammed her shoulder into me as she passed.
“Watch it, Peroxide,” she whispered. Then, turning to the stage, “Mrs. Bagley, did you see what she did? I think punishment is in order.”
Mrs. Bagley nodded. “I agree. Miss Noelle, you are assigned to sit in the balcony during all future assemblies for as long as you attend this school. Mr. Draudimon, Mr. Blys, Miss Hollisburg, you will accompany her. I am also assigning the Dweeb League to the balcony. You are the protectors of this school, and I need you where you can keep an eye on things for me.”
Bobby and Mason glanced at each other, smiling.
“That’s not fair,” Tammy screeched. “What about my rights? I am so sick of this place! I’m warning you, you’ll hear from my father. He’ll straighten out you and all your so-called teachers. You just wait.”
“No need to wait.” Mrs. Bagley pulled a cell phone from her pocket and tossed it to Tammy. “Call your father right now, and tell him to come to my office. I have been wanting to have a word with him for a long time.”
Tammy stared at her with a blank face.
Mrs. Bagley pointed down at her. “Dial. Now.”
The entire audience, students and teachers alike, burst into cheers. Mrs. Bagl
ey got a standing ovation that day.
I got the impression that she didn’t care.
Chapter Forty-Five
Revelation
“We have to end this,” I said. Andy, Mrs. Simmons, the Megadan, and the Kilodan were sitting with me in Andy’s tech room. “That was no accident. Art was murdered by Scallion.”
“No,” the Megadan said. “It was ordered by Nicolaitan.”
“His murders are becoming more theatrical,” Mrs. Simmons said. “Dr. Captious died with little fanfare. Dr. Miliron, had we not stopped it, would have made front page news as the first robbery resulting in death. And now, Arthur Rubric has died gruesomely in front of witnesses.”
The Kilodan stood up, placed his arms behind his back, and stared down emotionlessly at us. “The tactics of each murder are evolving. Nicolaitan is sending us an obvious message.”
“What message?” I asked. “It’s not so obvious to me.”
The Kilodan leaned toward me. “That he no longer needs to be present to inflict pain and death. He can stand safely in the background and enjoy it.”
“We need to pull him out of the background,” I said. “We can beat him at his own game.”
“Kathryn informed me of your plan,” Mrs. Simmons said.
“It would work,” I said.
“I told her no.”
I turned to the Kilodan. “Nicolaitan wants me. He said that he would end the war if you give me to him. Let’s set a trap. What can we lose?”
“More than I will ever risk,” the Kilodan said quietly. “Using you as bait is not an option. We will find another way.”
“And who will be the next to die while we’re trying to figure it out?” I said, a little more forcefully than I meant to. “Look, Art Rubric—who wasn’t even on our side—is dead because he got closer than any of us. If we have a chance to stop the most lethal man alive, and we don’t take it, what good is it to be a Psi Fighter? What happened to protecting the innocents? Please, let the Whisperers spread the rumor that the Morgan girl is looking for Nicolaitan. Let me set a trap for him. Then Andy and The Four can take him down before he gets to me. Why can’t we do that? I can’t just stand by while my friends die.”
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