Missing—One Brain!

by Bruce Coville

  “What for?”

  “Because, O-beloved-but-not-entirely-thinking-straight-second-generation-offspring, it will be easier for us to get past that horrible Buttsman woman if she doesn’t realize that you are removing a highly valuable artifact—namely, my brain—from the embassy.”

  “Ah,” I said. “You are correct as usual, Grandfatherly One.”

  “Skip the flattery. Just get me out of here.”

  And with that he activated the shutdown mode. The sides of the BTD darkened. The tubular extensions retracted. In less than a moment it looked like nothing more than a bright purple box with shiny sides.

  The Grandfatherly One had been wise in his precautions. As I left for school that morning, the dreaded Ms. Buttsman said, “What do you have in the case, Pleskit?”

  “Something for show-and-tell,” I said, remembering a classroom ritual that Tim had described to me.

  “I’m glad to see you approaching your studies in the proper spirit,” she said primly.

  I left the embassy with high hopes. I thought this was a brilliant idea.

  The Grandfatherly One, who is wise and experienced, agreed.

  Given all that, how was I to know that I had just embarked on one of the biggest mistakes of my life?

  CHAPTER 13 [TIM]

  THE PERILS OF LOVE

  Pleskit walked into the classroom with a strange-looking purple box. He set it on his desk, knocked on the top, and said, “We’re here, you can come out now.”

  I couldn’t tell whether the sides of the box rolled up, slid in, or simply changed so that they were clear. However it happened, the dark purple vanished so that you could look directly into the container to see… the brain of the Grandfatherly One! Several snaky tubes extended from the box. I recognized them at once; they were small versions of the sensors the Grandfatherly One uses to pick up sights, sounds, and smells.

  I felt another painful surge of jealousy, the worst one yet. A few days ago I would have been in on bringing the Grandfatherly One to class. Now all I could do was stand at the edge of things and watch while the other kids clustered around Pleskit’s desk.

  “What’s that?” asked Jordan. “Your lunch?”

  “I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, young man!” snapped the Grandfatherly One.

  Jordan jumped back. “Whoa! It talks!”

  “I not only talk, I think—which is not something that can be said of everyone who can form words. I have opinions, fascinating anecdotes, and a wealth of information.”

  Jordan’s eyes were getting wider. McNally looked amused. Ms. Weintraub stepped forward. “Would you care to introduce your… uh… your guest, Pleskit?”

  “Certainly,” said Pleskit. “This is the brain of Ventraah Komquist, Fatherly One to my own Fatherly One, which makes him my Grandfatherly One.”

  “Not much left of him,” said Jordan with a smirk.

  “Just the good part,” said the Grandfatherly One. “What are they going to save when you go, Slick? Your hairdo?”

  McNally laughed out loud. Jordan looked really angry but didn’t say anything.

  Brianna had been staring at the brain in total fascination. Taking a step closer, she said, “I suppose you can tell us a lot about your world, sir.”

  “Sure can,” said the Grandfatherly One. “And there’s a lot I’d like to set straight about it, given some of the stuff that’s been showing up in your newspapers. But I can tell you more than that, kid. I’ve lived on dozens of worlds. Had fascinating adventures, hairbreadth escapes, heart-stopping romances. For example, there was the time I was lost in the swamps of Mingbat Seven—that is, the seventh star out from the planet Mingbat—and was nearly devoured by a demented wungborkle.”

  “A wungborkle?” asked Larrabe.

  “Hmmm,” said the Grandfatherly One. “I guess you’d consider it sort of an intelligent snake—except this wungborkle had four hands and was about thirty feet long.”

  It was a great story, and the class listened in absolute fascination. After a while Ms. Weintraub decided to cancel her plans for the morning and just let us talk to the Grandfatherly One. She moved his box—which Pleskit told us was a “Brain Transport Device”—to a stool in the corner. Then we all sat in a circle to listen to his stories.

  After a couple of hours Ms. Weintraub said, “We have to take a little break now, sir—it’s time for recess. Would you like to go outside with us?”

  “Nah, I think I’ll just go into shutdown mode for a bit. I’m not used to talking this much—haven’t had an audience in quite a while. Just leave me in here. We can pick up where we left off when you come back.”

  Before Ms. Weintraub could answer, the Grandfatherly One’s sensory extensions slithered into the side panels. The speaker stem pulled in. The clear sides grew dark, completely hiding the brain. In little more than an instant, the BTD looked like a plain purple box. Or maybe I should say a “mysterious” purple box, since it didn’t look quite like anything I had ever seen before.

  “Will the Grandfatherly One be all right if I leave him here?” Pleskit asked McNally.

  “Should be fine,” replied McNally bitterly. “If we had any more security at this school, even you couldn’t get in!”

  As we lined up to go outside, I glanced around, trying to spot Brianna. I was hoping I could walk beside her.

  She was nowhere to be seen.

  I felt a ripple of fear. Was she all right? Had anything happened to her?

  I told Ms. Weintraub I needed to go to the bathroom, which was at least partially true. But what I really wanted to do was look for Brianna.

  Maybe she was having a hard time adjusting to the new school. Maybe she just needed someone friendly to talk to—someone who could help her feel better. Maybe I could be that someone!

  I went to the bathroom, which technically meant I hadn’t been lying. Then I wandered up and down the halls, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. I passed three or four security guards who looked at me suspiciously. But no Brianna.

  Finally I gave up and decided I had better get outside before someone nailed me and gave me detention. But as I came around the corner toward our room, I saw Brianna standing just outside our classroom door. She glanced around, then slipped back into the room.

  What was going on?

  I hurried toward the room to see if she was all right.

  Before I could get there, the alarm bell rang.

  Most of the rooms in our hall were already empty, since it was the sixth-grade recess time. But there were a couple of fifth-grade rooms at the end of the hall, and those kids came pouring out of their doors.

  I should have just joined them and left the building. But I had noticed that Brianna had not come back out of our room. So I slipped into Mrs. Konkel’s room, two doors up from ours, and waited till the hall was clear again.

  Then I headed back to our room to find out what was up with Brianna.

  Love does strange things to a guy.

  Also, it can get you in a lot of trouble.

  CHAPTER 14 [PLESKIT]

  TERROR!

  Until the alarm bell rang, I had been having a good time at recess. We had only been outside a few minutes when Jordan approached me and said, “Hey, Pleskit—your grandfather’s brain is totally cool. Why didn’t you bring him to school before this?”

  “Yeah,” said Brad. “What were you doing—holdin’ out on us?”

  “I did not realize you would find the brain of an elderly alien being so fascinating,” I said, feeling somewhat surprised.

  Jordan looked a little startled. Then he smirked and said, “He’s not just a brain, man; he’s an interplanetary adventurer!”

  I decided not to mention that the Grandfatherly One’s stories are not always entirely reliable.

  We were joined by several other kids, all of them excited about having met the Grandfatherly One. Suddenly our talk was interrupted by a horrible blaring sound. The doors of the school burst open. Students and teachers came
pouring out of the building.

  Ms. Weintraub raised her hand and shouted for us to join her. Most of us kids hurried to her side. I noticed, however, that Jordan ambled over as if it was no big deal.

  Some kids started to talk, but Ms. Weintraub shushed us to silence. Larrabe, who was standing next to me, whispered, “Don’t worry, Pleskit—it’s just a fire drill. Standard operating procedure. No big deal.”

  A moment later one of the teachers came over to Ms. Weintraub and whispered something to her.

  Ms. Weintraub’s eyes grew wide, and she looked distraught.

  I desperately wanted to know what the other teacher had said. However, I knew Ms. Weintraub would not tell me. This was one of those adult things.

  McNally had no problem with asking. Taking Ms. Weintraub’s arm, he said, “What is it? What’s going on?”

  Before she could answer, Mr. Philgrinn, the gym teacher, came running over. “Get the class back!” he cried. “Get back!”

  “Why?” asked McNally.

  “There’s a bomb in the building!”

  McNally’s eyes flashed. But he kept his voice calm as he said, “You mean someone called in a bomb threat.”

  “No!” cried Mr. Philgrinn. “It’s a real bomb! The security guards actually found it!”

  It was my turn to get upset. “The Grandfatherly One is still inside!” I cried. I started toward the building. “I can’t let him be blown up!”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” said McNally, grabbing me by the arm. Ms. Weintraub grabbed my other arm. As soon as she did, McNally let go.

  “Hold on to him,” he said, starting forward himself.

  “Where do you think you’re going, McNally?” cried Ms. Weintraub.

  “To get the Grandfatherly One!”

  “You can’t go back in there!” she shouted. She let go of my arm and lunged forward to grab his. “The building has been evacuated.”

  I darted forward again. Ms. Weintraub let go of McNally, and they both grabbed me.

  “You hold him,” said McNally. “I’m going for the Grandfatherly One. No one else knows he’s there. I’ve got to get him out.”

  Ms. Weintraub started to speak, then just nodded.

  McNally raced toward the building, flung open the door, disappeared inside.

  A deep silence fell over the class.

  We stared at the school in horror, waiting.…

  CHAPTER 15 [TIM]

  THE BRAIN-NAPPER

  It was weird to be in the building when everyone else had left. Part of my brain was screaming that I should get out, too. Unfortunately, another part, less intelligent but more powerful, was insisting I find out what was going on with Brianna. So instead of bolting for the outside doors, I glanced around, then hurried across the hall. Dropping to the floor, I crawled to the door. (The reason I did this is that I figured someone is less apt to see you peeking around a corner if you’re at floor level. Also, my sneakers tend to be slightly squeaky.)

  I looked into the room.

  Brianna was standing beside Pleskit’s desk.

  Two things startled me.

  First, the Grandfatherly One’s BTD was no longer sitting on Pleskit’s desk. What had happened to it? Had Pleskit put the BTD under the desk for safekeeping? I didn’t remember him doing that.

  The second thing that startled me was Brianna. Her voice soft but intense. She was swearing. I mean really swearing—the kind of words you can get thrown out of school for. I could feel my eyes getting wider. Who would have guessed my sweet Brianna could talk like that?

  After a minute she pulled a tiny recorder from her pocket and began muttering into it.

  That was when I finally started to get suspicious about her.

  Suddenly she turned and headed for the door. I slid back and pressed myself against the wall, hoping (a) she hadn’t already seen me and (b) she would turn in the other direction.

  Luck was with me.

  Before I could feel much of a sense of relief, I heard a sound to my right. Someone else was coming! I scooted through the door and into the room. Where to hide?

  The best spot was obvious—under Ms. Weintraub’s desk.

  It was only when I got under there that I realized it wouldn’t be such a good idea if the person coming into the room was Ms. Weintraub herself.

  Footsteps. Then a familiar voice—not Ms. Weintraub, but McNally. Pressing my face to the floor, I could see his feet from under the front of the desk. (Seeing from under Ms. Weintraub’s desk had been a lot easier a couple of weeks earlier, when I was only two inches tall.)

  He was standing by Pleskit’s desk. And he was cursing, just like Brianna had.

  What the heck was going on here?

  McNally stomped around the room for a moment, then left.

  I slipped out from under the desk, not sure whether I should follow McNally, go after Brianna, or just get out of the school—which is what I should have done in the first place.

  I decided to go after Brianna. (If this is the kind of stupid thing that love makes you do, I hope I don’t fall in love again for a long, long time.) I wasn’t sure I could find her: The delay while I hid from McNally had given her a couple of minutes’ lead time, and she could have been anywhere in the school by now. After a moment of dithering, I just went in the direction I had last seen her, hoping I would spot her.

  When I reached the corner, I dropped to the floor again and peered around the edge. Brianna was at the end of the hall, doing the same thing! Well, she was still on her feet. But she had pressed herself tight to the wall and was looking around the next corner.

  A second later she scooted around it.

  I set off after her. Trying to be both silent and fast, I cursed when I heard my sneakers squeak. I hoped she hadn’t heard them, too!

  When I got to the next corner I made the same spy-type movement.

  Brianna was about halfway down the hall. As I watched, she slipped into the art room. This was directly across the hall from Ms. Zammit’s music room, which was the room that had been taken over by the security guards.

  I stayed pressed against the wall, trying to decide what to do next. Before I could make up my mind, I heard a lot of yelling and shouting from the security room. Suddenly a whole group of guards came bursting out of the room. From what I could make out, they were heading for Mr. Grand’s office. (Fortunately, this was in the opposite direction from where I was lurking.)

  As soon as they were gone, Brianna slipped out of her hiding place and scooted across the hall, into the security room.

  I scurried down the hall to see what she was up to. I stopped just outside the door, then dropped again and peered around the edge.

  The Grandfatherly One’s BTD was sitting on a table.

  Brianna glanced around, then picked it up.

  I should have said something. I should have shouted for help. But I still couldn’t believe my sweet Brianna was really up to anything bad. (All right, you can stop gagging. I told you: Love has serious side effects on a person’s brain.)

  Besides, even if she was doing something bad, I didn’t want to get her in trouble. Maybe I could save her from herself. Or if she did get in trouble, I imagined myself standing beside her, taking some of the flak for her. I had an image of her being so grateful that she threw her arms around my neck and… well, never mind. Let’s just say that at the moment I was not entirely in my right mind.

  So when Brianna headed for the door with the Grandfatherly One’s brain, I scooted across the hall and into the very room where she herself had been hiding just a few seconds earlier. Pressing myself against the wall, I listened for her footsteps. Would she walk past me, or in the other direction?

  Past me.

  I slipped out of the room and started to follow, wondering as I did where she was planning to go that she wouldn’t be seen by other people.

  It didn’t take long before I had my answer.

  Hanging a sharp right, she walked straight into the one place in the sch
ool I had never been.

  The girls’ room!

  CHAPTER 16 [PLESKIT]

  MISSING PERSONS

  When McNally came racing back out onto the playground, he did not look heroic. Mostly he looked upset.

  Actually, “terrified” would be a better word.

  As soon as he spoke, I shared his condition.

  “The Grandfatherly One is missing!” he gasped.

  Cold fingers seemed to grip my clinkus. “What did you say?”

  “Your Grandfatherly One is not there,” said McNally. “I have no idea what’s happened to him.”

  It was only by closing my eyes and counting for a moment that I was able to keep from falling into kleptra. Finally I was driven to a moment of interpretive dance, always the best and surest way to dispose of emotions that are too intense to handle.

  Waving one hand above my head, I began turning in a slow circle, chanting, “Woo. Wooo-ooo. Wooooaaga, wooooaga, woooo-ah-ah-ah-ah-aga.” I took three backward leaps, shook both arms, then kissed my knees. All of this was accompanied by numerous farts and belches, of course, which is a way of expelling not only gas but excess emotions.

  Lost in the power of the moment, I did not think about the class. When I was done, I realized they were staring at me in astonishment.

  “What a geek!” howled Jordan.

  Instantly I felt like a fool. Not so much because Jordan was making fun of me, but because I had been stupid enough to think that he had actually befriended me. I should have known better.

  In truth, I had known better. But, despite the teachings of the Grandfatherly One, I had been dazzled by Jordan’s charm.

  Shaken by the revelation of my own foolishness, I turned to look for Tim.

  He was not with us.

  “Where is Tim?” I cried. “What has happened to him?”

  Ms. Weintraub groaned. “If he’s still inside the school, I’ll kill him!”

  “If there’s really a bomb in there, you won’t need to,” pointed out Jordan.

  “Hey!” cried Misty Longacres. “Brianna is missing, too!”