The Terrible Two Go Wild

by Mac Barnett

  It took him a long time to think of something.

  Even longer.

  Aha!

  “Miles,” said Principal Barkin, “I’ve always wanted to ask what happened to your dad, but I was afraid it would make things uncomfortable.”

  Miles nodded.

  Principal Barkin coughed.

  There was some more silence.

  “Did I just make things uncomfortable?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh.”

  Silence.

  “Well,” said Principal Barkin, “in any case, I bring this up because I was thinking. And what I was thinking was, maybe I can be a sort of father figure to you. Do you ever see me that way? As a role model?”

  “Honestly? Not really.”

  “Ah.”

  “I guess Niles is kind of my role model,” said Miles.

  “Yes,” said Principal Barkin, “mine too. Well, I suppose I am simply your principal. And that’s good enough for me.”

  Miles sipped his hot chocolate.

  “Maybe we could be friends,” said Miles.

  “Oh!”

  Principal Barkin smiled.

  Then Principal Barkin frowned.

  “Well, that’s not very good at all.”

  “Why not?” Miles asked.

  “Miles,” said Principal Barkin, “a principal stands atop the pinnacle of power. There is no room at the tip of that spire for anybody but the principal. And so I must stand alone, or risk losing my balance, the balance of power, and fall into the abyss, which in this metaphor is a school where food fights happen every day, or something like that . . .” Principal Barkin had fallen into the abyss of his own metaphor. “Anyway, a principal cannot be friends with students. Or faculty. Or staff.”

  “But what about that expression?” Miles asked. “You know, ‘The principal is your pal.’ ”

  “That’s just an expression,” said Principal Barkin, “to help you remember how to spell ‘principal.’ I prefer the following mnemonic: ‘A principal can never be your pal.’ Same end result, and it’s truer. Of course, the best way to remember how to spell ‘principal’ is to drill it into your brain by writing it over and over again several hundred times on many sheets of binder paper.”

  Miles shrugged. “OK.”

  There was some more silence.

  “It was a very nice sentiment, Miles!” said Principal Barkin. “But soon summer will be over. We will leave this forest and enter our school. I must maintain my authority.”

  “Appealing to your authority is the weakest way to be powerful.”

  “Who said that? Was that me or Sun Tzu?”

  “It’s something Niles says sometimes.”

  “Ah. Interesting kid.”

  “Yeah.”

  Principal Barkin set down his mug.

  “What does it mean?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well,” said Principal Barkin, “it’s certainly something to think about.”

  “Yeah.”

  Sitting, thinking, drinking hot chocolate, they settled into a pleasant silence.

  Chapter

  23

  Niles, meanwhile, was experiencing an unpleasant silence. He had arrived ten minutes early to his rendezvous with Holly, picked out a good sitting rock, and started reading. Niles was almost finished with his book, which was very funny but also very sad.

  But Niles couldn’t concentrate.

  Something was amiss.

  It was the silence. You would think it would be easy to read when it’s quiet, but something tickled something at the edge of Niles’s brain. This was an eerie silence. A foreboding silence.

  Niles stared at his feet, which looked extra pale in the water, especially the parts normally covered by his socks.

  He closed his eyes and tried to calm his brain down. He could feel the warm sun on the outside of his eyelids. It was nice.

  Niles tried his book again. He was on the last chapter. A king was remembering all the animals a wizard had turned him into when he was a boy who lived in the woods: a falcon, a badger, a fish, an ant, a goose.

  The goose!

  That’s what was odd: The goose was not at the swimming hole. Normally the big gray goose would be honking at Niles, and lunging at Niles, and trying to bite Niles. But the gray goose was gone, and the place wasn’t the same without him. Niles wondered where he’d gone. Maybe he’d left—it was late in the summer—and was heading south, someplace warmer. Niles smiled, imagining how it would be to fly among a flock of geese.

  Still, it seemed early to migrate. It was only mid-August, and today was plenty warm. Niles made a note to do some research on geese that night, when he got back to his house. When Niles came across something he didn’t know, he liked to know it as soon as he could.

  Satisfied that he’d solved one mystery, and excited he’d soon solve another, Niles checked his watch. Holly should be getting here soon. He picked up his book.

  Niles heard footsteps behind him but didn’t look up. He wanted to get to the end of his sentence.

  “Hey, Holly,” he said, looking down at the page.

  “Hi, nimbus,” said Josh, looking down at Niles.

  Then two pairs of identical arms held Niles down while Josh pulled a pillowcase over his head. Papa Company carried Niles off into the forest.

  Chapter

  24

  Miles Murphy was worried.

  You could see it on his face.

  For the last hour, he’d been trying not to worry. It was 4:00 p.m. Niles had been gone since before noon. And sure, it was normal for Niles to disappear, but all summer Niles had never been gone for more than three hours. Three hours was an hour ago. That’s when Miles had started to feel weird. But he’d told himself that Niles was capable, Niles was smart. Niles was clever and took care of himself. At 3:00 on the dot, Miles had wanted to run through the forest screaming Niles’s name. But Miles decided he was overreacting. He decided to wait. He’d stay at the cave. He’d give Niles an hour. He’d wait until 4:00, and then he’d get worried.

  For an hour Miles sat there, watching his watch.

  Now it was 4:00.

  Miles Murphy was worried.

  He ran through the forest, screaming Niles’s name.

  “Niles!” said Miles.

  “Niles!” said Miles.

  “Niles! Niles! Niles!” said Miles.

  He checked Principal Barkin’s cabin. Empty. He checked back at their cave. Empty. He checked all the places he and Niles liked to go: the big stump, the haunted gully, the spigot where people gave their dogs drinks. Niles was nowhere.

  “Niles!” said Miles.

  “Hey, Johnny,” said Holly. Miles almost ran into her on the trail that ran by the archery fields. “You looking for the Great Gondorff?”

  “What?” said Miles. “Oh! That’s from a movie!”

  Holly looked surprised.

  “I know,” said Holly. “How did you know?”

  “Niles made me watch it the other night. Well, not made me. At first I didn’t want to, because it seemed pretty old, but actually it was really good!”

  “Yeah,” said Holly.

  “We watched another one with those same guys. Where they were cowboys. I don’t know where Niles finds out about these things. You look kind of surprised!”

  (It’s true: Holly still looked surprised.)

  (She’d been telling people about movies for years.)

  (But nobody ever actually watched them.)

  “OK,” said Miles. “I gotta go. I’m looking for Niles!”

  “Me too,” said Holly. “He stood me up.”

  “What?”

  “We were supposed to meet at noon today.”

  “You were?”

  “Yeah. We’ve been hanging out all summer, over at the swimming hole.”

  “The one with the goose?”

  “Yeah. Niles didn’t tell you?”

  “No.” So this was Niles’s secret? Miles wondered why Niles ha
dn’t told him.

  “OH.” Miles figured out why Niles hadn’t told him. “Huh.”

  Holly frowned. “I waited around for him all afternoon. He must have left before I got there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He left his book.”

  Holly handed Miles a book with a sword on its cover.

  “Will you give this back to him when you see him?”

  Niles would never forget his book.

  Miles ran off without saying good-bye.

  Chapter

  25

  Papa Company had taken Niles back to their barracks, tied him up with some rope, and gone to eat dinner. (Even villains have to eat dinner.)

  “We’ll be back, nimbus,” Josh said when the dinner bugle sounded.

  “Yeah, nimbus,” said Mudflap.

  Josh glared at Mudflap.

  Then the three of them left Niles alone.

  Niles heard them block the door to the cabin with something heavy.

  Then he heard Josh say, “Don’t say nimbus. That’s my word.”

  After that, he could hear only the blood pumping around in his own head.

  “Let’s see,” said Niles. He worked at the knots that held his hands behind his back. The ropes were tied tight. His wrists hurt. Niles had to give Josh credit for one thing: He was good at knots.

  He went to the door, turned the knob with his hands (which was tricky with his back turned), and threw his weight into opening it.

  That didn’t work either.

  (Niles didn’t weigh much.)

  He considered jumping through the window, but that seemed unwise. Plus the window was up pretty high.

  (Niles wasn’t good at jumping.)

  Niles sat on the floor.

  This was bad.

  He closed his eyes and thought.

  There was a chattering outside, and the sound of tapping on glass. Niles opened his eyes and saw a squirrel standing on the other side of a window. It stood on the sill, eating a nut. This squirrel looked familiar. It’s hard to tell squirrels apart, but this squirrel looked a lot like the one they had freed.

  See? Now go to chapter 3 and compare the two squirrels.

  It was the same squirrel!

  “Hey, squirrel,” said Niles. “Looks like the tables have turned.”

  This was quite a coincidence. It felt fated to be. Now the squirrel could squeeze through a hole in the wall. It could chew through Niles’s bonds and free up his hands. Niles could open the window and climb out to freedom. The squirrel would follow a ways into the woods. “Thanks, squirrel,” Niles would say, and the squirrel would chirp back. Then they’d part ways. They’d be even, the squirrel’s debt repaid.

  But none of that happened.

  (This isn’t that kind of book.)

  The squirrel finished its nut and scampered away.

  Niles examined his situation. He ran through his options. He plotted and schemed. But escape seemed impossible, at least for the time being. So there was only one thing to do: Wait.

  Still, Niles wasn’t one to just sit around.

  Walking backward, his arms out, Niles began to explore.

  Sure, it looked a bit silly, but who could say what he’d find?

  Well, here’s what he found:

  Under the mattresses of various cots, Niles found candy bars, cookies, and three comic books (all of these things were forbidden at camp). In a pillowcase he found letters from one camper’s mom. He put all this stuff back and remade the beds, tucking the green blankets tight, with hospital corners.

  Under each cot was a duffel bag. Each bag was drab green. One of the bags bore a name, spelled out in block letters: JOSH BARKIN.

  This was something Niles was quite glad to find.

  He opened the bag and found more things inside. Shirts, shorts, long pants. Sunglasses. Bug spray. A stack of envelopes, stamped, addressed to “Dad,” in Principal Barkin’s hand. Socks. Flip-flops. Sunscreen. A “Future Principal Pack” (a fanny pack that said “Future Principal Josh Barkin, from Dad” written in Sharpie). A shampoo bottle (still full). A comb. Two washcloths, both damp. A flashlight. A hacky sack. A bag full of batteries. Six carefully folded—oh. Oh my. Well, this was interesting. At the bottom of the bag, below a blue towel, Niles found—

  The door to the cabin flew open.

  Someone stood silhouetted by the late-afternoon sun.

  “Niles!” said Miles.

  “Miles!” said Niles.

  Niles held out two fingers for a behind-the-back handshake.

  Miles took some time to untie his friend.

  (One thing about Miles: He was not great at knots.)

  “I knew you’d come,” Niles said.

  “How?” Miles asked.

  Niles shrugged. “I just knew.”

  “Oh come on!” Miles said. “Don’t tell me getting kidnapped was just some genius scheme you’ve been cooking up!” Miles rolled his eyes. He’d been feeling so proud. He’d leapt into action. He’d saved the day. Saved the summer! Saved his best friend! As soon as Holly handed Miles that book, he’d guessed what had happened. He’d guessed—and guessed right! Had a hunch! Acted on it! He’d hightailed it to the camp. Snuck past barbed wire. Crawled around on his belly. Crept by the mess hall. Miles had hidden behind the tires of a giant Humvee. He’d checked nine different cabins. Found Niles. Freed Niles. Untied all these knots. Knots were tricky! But he’d done it. Untied seventeen knots! And now it would be like he’d done none of these things. It would be like Niles did it: his brain, Miles’s body. Now Niles would say it was his plan all along.

  “Of course not!” Niles said. “Josh had me beat! He and those stooges snuck up on me. They pulled a pillowcase over my head!”

  “They what?” Miles said.

  “Yeah!” Niles replied. “I probably should have known, looking back on it now.”

  Now Niles was looking down at the floor.

  “That goose didn’t migrate. Those jerks probably scared him away.”

  (Niles was right. They’d thrown rocks at him, after the goose had tried to bite Josh.)

  “I couldn’t figure out any way to escape from this cabin. There were only two ways this could end. Josh would win. Or you’d save me. And even though I couldn’t figure out how you would do it, the latter seemed more likely. I just had a feeling. I don’t know why. But I did. So I waited. I knew you would come for me. And then you did.”

  (That’s the kind of book this is: a book about friends.)

  Miles smiled.

  “Oh,” said Miles.

  “Yeah,” said Niles. “So. Thanks!”

  “Sure,” said Miles. He nodded toward the door. “Well. Let’s go.”

  Miles made for the exit.

  Niles followed.

  Then he stopped.

  “Still,” said Niles, “all that being said. Now that we’re both here, it doesn’t feel right to just sneak out the front door.”

  Miles turned around slowly.

  “What?” Miles asked.

  “I mean, what kind of message does that send to Josh?”

  Miles knew the look on his friend’s face. “You’ve got some genius scheme.”

  “I don’t know about genius.”

  “Uh-huh,” Miles said. He couldn’t believe they were talking, not running back to the woods. But when he heard Niles’s plan, it did sound pretty good.

  Miles nodded.

  Niles smiled.

  “OK,” Niles said. He faced toward the wall and held out his hands. “Tie me back up!”

  Miles sighed.

  Great.

  More knots.

  Chapter

  26

  Josh Barkin kicked the door open for dramatic effect.

  “WE’RE BACK, NIMBUS!” he PLOPped.

  “Yeah, nombus,” said Mudflap. “Look out! We’re back!”

  Josh punched Mudflap’s arm. “Nombus?” he asked.

  “Like nimbus, but different.”

  They would revisi
t this later. Josh didn’t want to show disunity in front of the prisoner. Besides, Papa Company didn’t have much time. They had the barracks to themselves, but just till lights out, at 2030. Two hours: 120 mikes to get this nimbus to talk.

  Niles was sitting on a cot. Josh plopped (lowercase plopped) down next to him. He put a friendly arm around Niles’s shoulders. He flashed Niles his friendliest grin.

  If you walked into the cabin at that moment, with no idea what was going on, you might think that two good friends were having a pleasant conversation, except that one of them was tied up with ropes.

  “Niles, let’s talk. I think we can both agree that our prank war, which was started in such a funny way when you captured our flag”—Josh squeezed Niles’s shoulder very hard—“has now just gotten absolutely out of hand. I mean, look at you! You’re tied up with lots of great knots, captured and stashed in an enemy camp! That’s crazy! How did this even happen? It’s just nuts. So I say, for your sake, but also mine, for all our sakes, let’s just end it. You know? Let’s just call this over, chalk it up as another Josh Barkin victory. Tell me where you’re hiding our flag, and I’ll let you off easy. I’ll untie you and set you free, after I punch you in the leg or something. Something minor like that. OK?”