CHAPTER NINE - The Awful Truth
Two hours later the school day ended, and like everyone else at Millard Fillmore Middle School I was more than happy to leave. I was halfway home, deep in thought about my bizarre roach experience, when I happened to reach into my pants pocket—and found that nothing was there. My watch! Grandpa’s pocket watch was gone! How had I lost it?
In frantic worry, I searched through all of my pockets. It wasn’t there! I threw down my backpack in a patch of mud and rummaged hurriedly through its contents. Not there either! I must have left it at school!
I turned around and raced back toward school as fast as I could go. There was no way I was going to lose Grandpa’s watch! If I didn’t find it I’d probably have a nervous breakdown, since there wouldn’t be anything to swing madly in times of stress.
Where had I seen it last? I knew I had it when I left for school. And I remembered twirling it in Mrs. Gordon’s English class, mainly to irritate Amy Superior who sat next to me, who always got A’s on every assignment.
Did I have it at lunchtime? My mind kept thinking hard, while my legs pounded as fast as they could go. Yes, I did! I remember dunking it in my milk, so I could then swing it around and spray the people all around me.
Where had I lost it then? Fifth period health class? No. I remembered using it to jam into the bottom of my shoe right before Mrs. Pane measured our height, so I'd look taller.
Thinking hard, I realized I couldn't remember having it in seventh period history or eighth period art. I must have lost it in science class then. Surely I hadn’t had it when I was a roach, had I? Because if I lost it then, it would be in the cafeteria!
I dashed in the front door of the school, past a shocked Principal Clark who was always surprised at any student rushing into his school, rather than out of it. I would try my science classroom first. If it wasn’t there, then I’d check out the cafeteria.
I bolted up the stairs, and was just turning toward science class, when I was astounded to see none other than Donny Poindexter coming down the hall from the other direction. He looked as shocked to see me as I did to see him. School was like a disease that we both tried to get as far away from as possible when it ended.
“Uh … I forgot my pocket watch,” I stammered. “Must have left it in the classroom.”
“Forgot my backpack,” he said uncomfortably. How could you forget a backpack, I wondered? A small little thing like a pocket watch could be overlooked maybe, but a great big thing like a backpack? Especially in sixth period, with two classes left to go? Still, I didn’t say anything to him about it.
Silently we approached the classroom door. We could see that the light in the room was still on. We were just about to charge in and look for our stuff when we suddenly heard voices from inside that made us stop.
“Well, I say you’ve had long enough!” said one. “You’ve had plenty of time to pick out the one.”
A cold feeling of horror leaped into my stomach. I knew that voice! It was Skinpeeler!
Poindexter and I exchanged looks of terror. It was clearly time to get out of here, pocket watch and backpack or not! We had both turned to run, when we heard another voice--a voice that stopped us cold.
“I still need more time,” it said. “I must make sure. This is too critical of a decision to just rush into it!”
Poindexter and I looked at each other with eyes so wide they looked like dinner plates. That was Mr. Marlin’s voice!!
What was he doing talking to Skinpeeler?!
Poindexter and I were both frozen in the hall. I don’t think either of us could have moved if we had wanted to.
“You’re always too cautious!” cried Skinpeeler in a menacing voice. “My boss agrees that now is a good time to act! I say we do it today!”
“Really?” said Mr. Marlin casually, not in the least bit afraid. “My boss says it’s o.k. to wait a little longer, if I want. It looks like we are at a stalemate. That is, unless you wish to duel…?”
There was muttering from the classroom, obviously from Skinpeeler. Then he said unexpectedly, “Look, Marlin, this whole thing was your idea! I was against it from the start. If we’d done things my way, we’d have what we want by now!”
“If we’d done things your way, everything would have backfired,” said Mr. Marlin, in an uncharacteristic tone of anger. “The potion would have been wasted, and it would take years to make a new batch!”
There was more grumbling from within the classroom. Poindexter and I looked at each other, pain in both of our eyes. Mr. Marlin was a fraud! Skinpeeler had said plainly that whatever they were up to was Mr. Marlin’s idea from the beginning!
“Which one of them is it then?” asked Skinpeeler suddenly, nearly shouting. “You know, don’t you? You’ve had enough tests to know!”
“I’m still not sure—“
“Oh, don’t give me that!” cried Skinpeeler. “We both know who it is. It’s obvious, isn’t it? It has to be the Drywater boy.”
My heart leaped into my throat. Me?! I looked at Donny, who was standing there with his eyes wide.
“You saw him today,” continued Skinpeeler. “For Pete’s sake, he flew! Through the air, like an airplane! And that first day, he jumped through the jump rope with his eyes closed! Some of the other bunglers couldn’t avoid getting burned with their eyes open! And don’t forget his deafening yell when he went into the book. He’s got the gift!”
Horror had gripped my mind. This wasn’t happening. They were talking about me! ME!!
“I’m still not sure,” said Marlin again. “He has a gift, to be sure, but he’s also a bit fragile. We mustn’t forget that the potion requires one with strength. There are others in the class with plenty of that.”
“You mean the big, bully Poindexter, don’t you?” said Skinpeeler in a strangled voice.
“You have to admit that he flew as well, today,” said Mr. Marlin. “And he has displayed little fear. He tried to attack you, remember?”
“Yes, the fool!” said Skinpeeler. “I had to freeze him in the air. I’ll admit he’s got courage. But I don’t think he has as much of the gift as the Drywater boy. And he won't be as easily controlled, either.”
“Let’s give it more time,” said Mr. Marlin calmly. “Just one more test. Then we’ll know for sure.”
“You and your tests!” ranted Skinpeeler. “Always the cautious one! You’re likely to test us into eternity! And that week's delay when you left to go back and get the potion didn’t help. We’ll be old ourselves by the time you’re through! I’m going to my boss and demand that we take him tonight!”
“You’ll do no such thing!” thundered Mr. Marlin.
There was a moment of tense silence. Poindexter and I looked at each other. We had heard enough. None of the fear or terror I had felt over the last few days could compare to what I was feeling at that moment. It was bigger than fear. I had to get away. I had to! NOW!
Quick as lightning, I darted down the hall. I didn’t care if they heard me and followed or not. All I cared about was running. I had to get away. I had to escape!
I thundered down the stairs, nearly stumbling. Glancing to my left, I saw Poindexter right next to me. His face looked insolent and angry. I didn’t know what mine looked like. And I didn’t care.
At the bottom of the stairs, we charged toward the front door of the school. We had nearly reached it when Poindexter suddenly bellowed at me, “STOP!”
I stopped.
“We’ve got to tell someone!” he said intensely. “We need help!”
“But who do we tell?” I asked in a tight voice. I was surprised that I was able to speak at all. My voice sounded faraway and distant.
Poindexter’s face screwed up in deep concentration. “There’s always our parents,” he said after a minute.
“And you think they’ll believe us?” I said in amazement.
“But who else is there?” he shouted. Suddenly he looked past me, seeing something. I turned quickly to look, but there was
nothing there. Just an open door to a classroom.
“Isn’t that Hornsby’s room?” asked Poindexter unexpectedly.
“I guess so,” I stammered. “So what?”
“We can tell him!” he suddenly exclaimed in triumph. “After all, he already knows about Skinpeeler! Nobody else does!”
“I guess you’re right,” I said slowly.
“Come on!” yelled Poindexter, shoving me down the hall. For the second time that day I flew.
We stumbled into Mr. Hornsby’s classroom. He was shuffling some papers on his desk, behind a large assortment of test tubes. Looking up, he said pleasantly, “Yes, can I help you?”
“You sure can,” said Poindexter, pushing me into the room. “We’ve got something awful to tell you!”
Mr. Hornsby’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?” he said in a condescending tone. “Have a seat then, and tell me your ‘awful’ story.”
Poindexter shoved me into a chair. I looked up at Mr. Hornsby, then over at Poindexter. Suddenly the tense emotions I had been feeling, the shock of what we had just discovered about Mr. Marlin, the reality of what Skinpeeler was planning all became too much for me. When I opened my mouth, I couldn’t say a word. In horror I realized that I was feeling an unusual amount of moisture in my eyes.
This was bad. I couldn’t start bawling like some sissy girl! But every time I tried to speak, I could tell that if I were dumb enough to make any sound, it would turn into the blubbering of a two-year-old baby.
I ducked my head, trying to get a grip on myself. In a wobbly voice that sounded high pitched and squeaky, I stammered, “I think I’ve got something in my eye.” There was silence in the room while I stared at the floor, which looked kind of blurry.
Suddenly Poindexter spoke up. His voice was a little wobbly, but he was able to control it enough to tell our story to Mr. Hornsby. And while he did, I was able to blink the blasted tears out of my eyes.
Mr. Hornsby listened to Poindexter’s tale patiently without saying anything. It was hard to tell whether he believed it or not. He just kept raising his eyebrows in strange ways. When the story was finished, Mr. Hornsby stood up and started to pace back and forth. He said nothing. Every once in awhile, he would stop and look at us curiously. Then he would pace again.
Finally, he stopped and said simply, “There’s only one thing to do.” Then he headed for the door. When he was there, he stopped and looked back at us. “I’m going to get the school nurse.” Then he disappeared down the hall.
My heart sank as Poindexter and I looked at each other in disappointment. He hadn’t believed us. All that explaining was for nothing! Now what were we going to do? The school nurse would just think we were nutso.
We sat there like a couple of stupid zombies. What a fix we were in. It was unbelievable, yet it was real. I felt like I was living a nightmare. It was no surprise that Poindexter was in it, since he had been in all of my nightmares for years.
But the worst thing about this nightmare was Mr. Marlin. I had trusted him. I had believed in him. I had really thought he cared for me, and was trying to protect me. And now I’d found out that he was a fraud! He had been ‘testing’ us and toying with us all along! He apparently was planning on using someone in our class—probably me—for some unknown purpose! And he had lied to us about why he was gone for a week. It was to go get his silly potion, rather than to bring Skinpeeler out into the open like he’d said.
Minutes passed. We kept waiting, expecting the school nurse to come in any second, look at us pityingly, and say something like, “My goodness, don’t we have strong imaginations today! Let’s take your temperatures!” But she didn’t come.
We knew we should leave. Now was the perfect opportunity. After all, our families would be wondering where we were (at least mine would—if Poindexter’s family were all as mean as him, they probably didn’t care). We should just march right out and find someone else to tell.
But we were just too tired. I was spent. I didn’t think I could even get up off the chair. Everything had seemed to all come crashing down on me at once when we told Hornsby our story. I just couldn’t handle anything anymore.
Finally, there was a stirring at the door. Mr. Hornsby came back into the room. He was smiling. “You’ll be happy to know, that I think I have a solution to your problem!”
Poindexter and I looked at him, hope bleeding out of our eyes. But rather than answer, Mr. Hornsby merely turned to the door expectantly.
At first there was no one there. And then the last thing in the world that either Poindexter or I had expected took place. In walked Mr. Skinpeeler and Mr. Marlin—each dressed in wizard robes!
My Science Teacher is a Wizard Page 9