The Girl Who Knew Even More

by Commander S. T. Bolivar, III

  Their roommate, Kent, was sitting on his bed. He looked up from his comic book and watched as Mattie and Eliot picked themselves up off the floor. “Hey, Eliot. Hey, Little Larimore.”

  “Hey, Kent.” Mattie sighed. He’d been every dog name Carter could think of, New Kid, and now he was Little Larimore. Honestly, it was a bit disheartening. Mattie nudged Eliot and dropped his voice to whisper: “Why doesn’t Carter ever get nicknames?”

  “Because Carter doesn’t answer to them.” Eliot paused. “And because everyone knows what he did with that dead possum last semester.”

  “Why would that matter?”

  “Would you want roadkill put in your bed?” Kent asked without looking up. “Because Carter would do it—and laugh about it. He doesn’t believe in revenge being served cold or whatever. He likes it stinky and he likes to put it in the worst places.”

  This was true. Lots of stuff had changed between Mattie and his older brother, but this particular aspect of Carter’s personality had not. He did enjoy a good practical joke, and he enjoyed revenge even more.

  Eliot squished over to his bunk and sat down. “What are you doing here?” he asked Kent.

  “What does it look like?” Their roommate turned another page of his comic. Mattie sat on his trunk and peeled off his wet socks. It looked like Kent was skipping class.

  “Won’t your teacher look for you up here?” Mattie asked, dropping both socks onto the floor.

  “Nah.” Kent turned another page. “Dr. Hoo has some project he’s working on. He’s obsessed. Half the class is gone and he hasn’t even noticed.”

  Mattie turned his attention to his wet pants and shirt. It did sound very, well, Dr. Hoo–like. Actually, it sounded like most of the new teachers. Mr. Larimore had moved all his scientists to Munchem to teach classes. It was a great idea until everyone realized the scientists didn’t like the students and the students didn’t like the scientists.

  Well, except for Lem. Everyone loved Lem.

  “Maybe you could pay Carter to make everyone stop calling you Little Larimore.” Kent turned another page. “He can get anything done for the right price.”

  This was true. For ten dollars, Carter could get whatever candy you wanted. For twenty, he could get you answers to your homework—and for another five, they would be the right answers to your homework.

  Mattie tugged on a clean, dry shirt. “I think I’ll just tough it out.”

  “Suit yourself,” Kent said, eyes never leaving his comic book.

  Eliot tied the laces of his still-damp shoes and squelched to his feet. “Want to go watch the roofers swear at each other?” he asked Mattie.

  Mattie nodded. “Kent?”

  Kent still didn’t look up. “Nah, I’m good.”

  Eliot and Mattie slammed 14A’s door behind them, but because it was 14A’s door they had to slam it twice more before it closed. Mattie trotted down the stairs and Eliot followed him.

  “Maybe you should hit Doyle with a dirty sponge again,” Eliot said, jumping the last two steps to land next to Mattie. “It certainly made an impression on him.”

  Mattie frowned. He had indeed hit Doyle with a dirty sponge. On impulse and after Doyle had hawked a loogie on him. As a general practice, Mattie didn’t hit people—with sponges or anything else—but the reminder took him back to that day, and Mattie was so busy thinking about it, he didn’t notice the small blond girl standing in Munchem’s foyer until Eliot elbowed him.

  “New kid,” Eliot whispered. The new kid was odd looking. She wore a small navy business suit and she carried a small silver briefcase. Her hair was slicked into a knot so tight that it seemed to lift her eyebrows into a permanent expression of Huh?

  Mattie slowed.

  “What are you doing?” Eliot elbowed him. “C’mon.”

  But Mattie couldn’t. He remembered what being the new kid was like. Until Mattie learned his way around, Munchem’s vines looked poisonous and its stone angels looked murderous. Until he met the Spencers, the other students didn’t look friendly. They looked like they wanted to push him down. Actually, that part was accurate. The other students still wanted to push him down.

  Bottom line, Mattie knew Munchem could be awfully intimidating at first, so he gave the blond girl a big, welcoming smile. “Hello. Are you lost?”

  The girl turned to them and sniffed. “I’m never lost. I’m looking for Mathias Littleton Larimore.”

  “Oh.” Mattie hesitated, suddenly very, very aware that the blond girl was studying every inch of him and she did not look impressed. In fact, she looked like she was more than a little disgusted. “Uh, that’s me,” Mattie said at last.

  The girl’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I’m Delia Dane and I’m your archnemesis.”

  I’M KIDDING. DELIA DIDN’T INTRODUCE herself like that—although it would’ve been easier on everyone if she had. But that’s true for most people, not just archenemies. If your neighbor would just say that he doesn’t appreciate you watering your lawn in your underwear instead of covering your yard in pink plastic flamingos, life would be easier. Just like life would have been easier for Mattie if Delia had just said, “One day, I’m going to dangle you over a vat of acid and laugh about it.”

  But she didn’t. In reality, Delia said: “Well, I’m Delia Dane and I’m stuck here because of you.”

  Mattie blinked and then blinked some more. He had no idea what to say to that. He looked at Eliot. Eliot was also blinking. He had no idea what to say either. In some ways, telling a person she’s stuck at Munchem because of you is just as alarming as telling someone you are his archnemesis.

  Okay, maybe not, but nothing is as alarming as being dangled over a vat of acid. Trust me on this.

  Mattie turned back to Delia. “Uh, what?” he finally managed.

  “You heard me,” Delia said brightly. She hugged her silver briefcase to her chest as if it were her favorite teddy bear. “I’m stuck here because of you. It’s your fault and I’m going to make you pay for it.”

  Eliot shouldered Mattie to the side. “Why would it be Mattie’s fault—”

  “Oh! Delia! There you are!” Professor Shelley rushed down the hallway, tugging her black cardigan around her thin frame. “You mustn’t wander off. We still need to get your class schedule.”

  “I have it.” Delia brandished a single piece of paper in her fist. It looked especially white in the sunlight streaming through the windows. That was something else Eliot and Mattie would eventually learn about Delia: she always looked pristine and polished. It was part of her disguise. No one ever suspects the preppy girl.

  But where were we? Oh, yes. Professor Shelley was confused. She cocked her head. “How did you get your sched—Never mind. This is Mattie Larimore and Eliot Spencer. They’ll be in most of your classes.” The professor paused, eyes narrowing. She looked from Mattie to Eliot and back again. “Boys, why is your hair wet?”

  “The sprinkler system malfunctioned in Professor Lem’s class.” Eliot’s grin was wide as his face, maybe even wider. “Water went everywhere.”

  “The sprinkler system malfunction—oh!” Professor Shelley’s mouth rounded, and she glanced at Delia. “I have to go. Mattie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Show Delia around.”

  “I—”

  It was no good though. Professor Shelley was already running the other way. She dashed down the corridor, black cardigan flapping like bat wings.

  Eliot watched her go and sighed happily. “She always appreciates how informed I am.”

  Mattie highly doubted this, but he was too busy being stared down by Delia to say so. “Why is it my fault you’re at Munchem?” he asked at last.

  Delia narrowed her eyes, and said nothing.

  Ooooookay, Mattie thought.

  “Are you a bad kid?” Eliot asked. “Because that’s really the only reason anyone comes to Munchem.”

  Somehow Delia managed to narrow her eyes even more. It was rather terrifying, and Mattie didn’t know
if that was an agreement or a denial. He also didn’t know how he was supposed to show Delia around when clearly Delia was only interested in hating him. But his dad always said Mattie should fake it until he made it, so…

  “So this is the foyer,” Mattie said, gesturing to the sloped ceiling and the worn stone floor.

  Delia raised one brow. “Are we really going to do this? I know my way around.”

  “How? You just got here.”

  “I have my ways.”

  Again, Mattie had nothing to say to that. Thankfully though he didn’t have to, because at that moment Caroline pushed through the front doors, sodden ponytail snapping like a whip.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” Mattie and Eliot returned.

  “Professor Shelley asked me to meet her here. Something about the new kid.” Caroline glanced at Delia. “I’m guessing that’s you?”

  Delia arched an eyebrow. “You’re supposed to be my new friend?”

  “If you’re lucky,” Caroline said.

  Delia’s eyebrow arched higher. “I don’t like your tone.”

  Everyone paused, and as Mattie watched, Caroline’s expression darkened. This isn’t going to end well, Mattie thought.

  And he was right.

  “Well, I don’t like your…” Caroline looked up and down Delia, and frowned. “I don’t like your face.”

  “I’m going to give you precisely two seconds to apologize for that.”

  Caroline looked precisely two seconds away from pummeling Delia into a smear on the floor. “I’m sorry I don’t like your face?” she ventured.

  Mattie grabbed Caroline’s arm. “Okay, well, uh,” he said to Delia. “Glad you know your way around. We’ll see you later then.”

  “Oh, you’ll be seeing me,” Delia said, and she leaned very, very close to Mattie. “I’m going to take you down, Larimore,” she whispered.

  Well, yay for me, Mattie thought as he watched Delia stalk down the hallway. The hairs on the back of Mattie’s neck stood up and his teeth itched, but he was too stunned to notice.

  “That was really weird,” Eliot said. “Why’s it your fault she’s here?”

  Mattie shrugged. “I’ve never met her!”

  “Huh,” Caroline said. “She certainly doesn’t like you.”

  Mattie rolled his eyes. “Like you made such a good impression.”

  The loudspeaker crackled with an announcement and Mattie shook his head. He still had water in his ears and it turned the announcement into a dull wah wah wah.

  “What was that?” Mattie asked the Spencers, sticking one finger in his ear. It didn’t do any good. The water just sloshed around. “What’d Rooney say?”

  “Everyone has to go to their dorms,” Eliot said. Caroline’s ponytail was still dripping everywhere and Eliot took a moment to smear the water around on the hardwood floor. “The new school sprinkler systems are malfunctioning.”

  Considering Mattie’s hair was still damp, this was hardly a revelation. He sighed. “Great. Now I can spend all afternoon worrying about why the new girl wants to take me down.” Mattie paused, noticing again how his skin was prickling and his teeth were itching.

  She’s going to be a problem, said the voice inside Mattie’s head. It was a very small voice, but it usually had good ideas. Except for the time it suggested Mattie steal a subway train.

  “I have a bad feeling about Delia,” Mattie said.

  Caroline tossed her ponytail again. “It’s not like she can actually do anything to you.”

  Mattie nodded. Caroline was always right, but in this case we know she’s wrong, and we know things at Munchem are about to get much, much worse.

  THINGS DIDN’T GET WORSE FOR Mattie right away though. In fact, dinner and evening study hall were downright boring and Delia didn’t look in Mattie’s direction even once. Caroline took this as a sign she was right again.

  “Say it,” she said to Mattie as they sat in Professor Shelley’s class the next morning. The hallway and classrooms smelled like fresh baked bread today. It was way better than pumpkin pies that smelled like hamster cages, but it also made Mattie hungry.

  “Say it,” Caroline repeated.

  Mattie sighed. “You were right.”

  She grinned.

  “Stop telling her when she’s right,” Eliot said, not taking his eyes away from his computer screen. “It makes her insufferable.” He thought for a moment. “More insufferable.”

  “Quiet!” Professor Shelley shoved away from her desk with such force, the sole picture of her daughter wobbled. She paced to the server bank, long feet slapping the tile like a scuba diver walking to water. “I’m trying to work here!”

  Everyone fell quiet.

  Or they did until Professor Shelley rushed into the hallway, heading somewhere else. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to leave her students, but the scientists seemed to have difficulty grasping what teachers were supposed to do, and apparently this was one of those times.

  Mattie thumped his pencil against his desktop and watched Maxwell and Doyle began to smack each other. Smacking quickly escalated into thumping and thumping turned into wrestling. The boys crashed into Delia’s desk and she glared at them, face pale with rage.

  Mattie shuddered. “Delia’s rooming with you, right?” he whispered to Caroline.

  “Yeah.” Caroline’s belly churned as Beezus curled up for his midmorning nap. “She’s weird. She said she was giving me one last chance to be her friend.”

  Mattie blinked. That was weird—and a little disturbing. “What did you say?”

  “That she was being weird. Honestly, I think her hair’s pulled a little too tight.” Beezus squeaked and Caroline petted him through her sweater. “There, there,” she said to him. The rat trembled. Mattie couldn’t tell if it was because Beezus was always trembling or if he was cold.

  Personally, Mattie was freezing. Professor Shelley’s classroom was always too bright and too cold because their Computer Science professor was a worrier. She worried the servers would overheat. She worried the students would spill things. She did not actually worry about her students though, and two months into the new semester, Mattie was getting used to seeing his breath rise in hazy puffs as he worked.

  Or when he was supposed to be working. Eliot had pretty much taken over their project. They were supposed to troubleshoot and fix various computer programs for the scientists working in the gym. Eliot liked to call it “bringing them back to life.” Mattie and Caroline liked to call it “boring.”

  “Okay,” Eliot said, looking up from their latest string of broken code. “Write down that the whole program crashes when you enter zeroes into the left-hand field.”

  Dutifully, Mattie wrote it down, or at least, he did until his pencil tip snapped halfway through.

  “Here.” Caroline leaned down and took a pencil box out of her bag. “You gotta be prepared.” The pencil box’s lid bent back and a dozen roaches leaped out. They surged up Caroline’s hands. They ran across her forearms. They leaped for her face.

  “Eeek!” Caroline screamed.

  “Wha—?” Eliot glanced up and got a roach in the face. He flailed. “Oh gross!”

  The roach went flying and Mattie ducked as it sailed past him. Whap! It hit another student’s desk.

  “Nasty!” That student swept the roach onto someone else.

  “Ack!” Everyone jumped up, as Professor Shelley dashed back through the door.

  “Students!” she screamed. “Students!”

  The students ignored her. They ran around, they hopped on desks, and, in the case of Doyle and Maxwell, they stomped roaches.

  Not that Mattie noticed any of that. He bent down and scooped up the pencil box. It was empty—or was it? Mattie peered closer. There was a small note taped to the box’s bottom. It said:

  YOU WERE WARNED.

  Unfortunately for Caroline, roaches were only the beginning. When she went to the bathroom, Delia stole all the toilet paper. When she went to sle
ep, Delia used the stolen toilet paper to roll Caroline to her bed, and when Caroline ate lunch, Delia swapped her vegetarian meatballs for real meatballs and Caroline threw up until her eyes watered.

  So it was rather understandable that by the time Caroline staggered into Professor Shelley’s class on Friday, there was a wild look in Beezus’s eyes and dark shadows under Caroline’s.

  Mattie scooted over so she could join him on their workbench. “You have to tell one of the teachers. This is wrong!”

  Caroline put her head down on the desk. “I’d have to prove it first and I can’t. My roommates are helping her.”

  Mattie’s mouth hung open. “Why?”

  “Because they’re afraid she’ll do the same thing to them.” Caroline sat up and rubbed a hand across her face.

  “I can’t do it.” Eliot shoved back from the keyboard, and scowled at the line of green code across their computer screen. “It’s impossible.”

  “Excuse me,” Caroline said, eyes slit in anger. “But I’m having a crisis at the moment. Do you think you could pay attention?”

  “Sorry,” Eliot said, “but it really is impossible.”

  “Maybe for you it is.”

  Mattie and the Spencers stiffened, turned, and saw Delia Dane standing behind them. Her blond hair was tied up in a knot again. Or still. Mattie wasn’t sure.

  “Oh, yeah?” Eliot crossed his arms. “Well, if you’re so special, you fix it.”

  “I will. Move.”

  Eliot moved. They all watched in silence as Delia worked. Her fingers flew even faster than Eliot’s.

  “There,” she said, stepping back. “Done.”

  “No way.” Eliot sounded disgusted. He leaned forward to inspect the code and his jaw dropped. “No. Way.”

  Mattie felt unease tiptoe down his spine. Eliot didn’t sound disgusted anymore. He sounded in awe.

  “You’re fast,” Eliot said, scrolling through the code.

  “Of course, I am,” Delia said, flicking lint from her sweater onto Caroline.