It isn’t like he can read anyway.
Ahem. Now back to Mattie, who was currently sitting through Dr. Hoo’s language arts class. I say “sitting” rather than “learning” or “listening” or even “setting things on fire” because Dr. Hoo hated teaching Language Arts. In fact, he had taken just that moment to remind the students.
“Like you’re ever going to use this!” He shook a handful of their book reports. “Because let me tell you: magical springs that make you immortal? Way harder than you would think. Ask me how I know—no, really, ask me.”
Dr. Hoo paused, gasping for breath. He looked expectantly at the students and the students slouched deeper in their chairs. No one wanted to ask.
Mattie slid even lower. The Language Arts hallway and classrooms smelled terrible. It was like a mix between body odor and mildew, but worse. Mattie pulled the neck of his T-shirt over his nose and mouth. It didn’t help. He could still smell it.
Next to him, Eliot took several deep breaths. “I don’t know what that scent is, but I do know it isn’t moldy laundry.”
“It’s worse.” Caroline gagged.
Dr. Hoo walked between the desks, passing out papers. He paused next to Mattie. “Why do you look like you’re going to be sick? What’s wrong?”
Where would Mattie even begin? With the clones in the woods? With his Delia Dane problem? With the fact that he was pretty sure his nostrils were blistering from stench?
Dr. Hoo narrowed his eyes. “Are you stressed about the upcoming exam?”
Yeah, let’s go with that, Mattie thought. He nodded.
“Don’t be.” Dr. Hoo put a chilled hand on Mattie’s shoulder and squeezed. Mattie was pretty sure Dr. Hoo was going for Reassuring Professor, but really it just felt like Being Patted by a Zombie. “I never studied,” Dr. Hoo continued. “I failed exams. I never did my homework. And did I pursue my dream anyway?”
“Yes?” Mattie guessed.
“No.”
“Oh.” Mattie hesitated. “Uh, are you happy about that?”
“Also no.”
Mattie nodded like this made complete and total sense, and to his complete and total relief, Dr. Hoo patted his shoulder once more and moved on. Mattie glanced at the Spencers.
“Is it just me or is he getting weirder?” Caroline whispered.
Eliot nodded. “Kent said he wigged out last week, went on some rant about how no one appreciates his genius.”
The electronic bell began to chime and everyone scrambled from their desks, eager to get away, and who could blame them? It was Friday, it was sunny, and that side of the school smelled like death warmed over.
Outside, Mattie turned his face toward the sun, and for several seconds, forgot all about everything that was hap-pening.
Which made Delia’s timing that much worse.
“Hello, losers,” she said.
Mattie and the Spencers turned around as Delia swept out of the bushes—or, rather, tried to sweep out of the bushes. It was a good hiding spot, but not so great for stylish entrances, and she had to tug twigs from her sweater. Delia paused, one hand on her hip. Her collared shirt was partially untucked, her smirk was awful, and next to her were Doyle and Maxwell, who stood on either side of her like grumpy bookends.
“Did you enjoy all the glitter, Little Larimore?” Delia asked, strolling closer. “The balloons?”
Mattie scowled. “What do you think?”
“That I have brilliant ideas,” she said.
Caroline launched forward and Mattie grabbed her arm. It made Delia laugh like she was some sort of fairy-tale princess.
How does she do that? Mattie wondered. Most days, there was something very shiny about the girl. Maybe it was her hair: very blond. Maybe it was her smile: awfully white. Maybe it was the buttons on her school jacket: very, very gold.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t her personality. Because even though Delia might look like a fairy-tale princess and she might sound like a fairy-tale princess, Mattie had never known anyone so fairy-tale-villain-ish.
He stepped in front of Caroline. “Why are you picking on us?” The question had sounded better in Mattie’s head. When it came out of his mouth, it was small and whiny. It made him even angrier. “It isn’t my fault you’re here. I haven’t done anything to you.”
That sounded even worse. Mattie frowned. He was having a terrible day for sounding tough.
“Of course you have.” Delia patted her glossy hair. It was slicked down like a helmet. “You’re the reason I’m stuck here, and you”—she glared at Caroline, who glared right back—“you didn’t want to be my friend. I can’t have that.”
“No, she can’t,” Maxwell said. Delia narrowed her eyes at him and Maxwell looked at the ground.
“See? Even Maxwell knows how these things work,” Delia continued. “I’m the New Kid, and that means everyone is watching. I had to make an example of you so people would know I’m not to be messed with.”
Mattie rolled his eyes. “Fine, you made your point. No one will mess with you. Now leave us alone.”
“I will if you do something for me,” she said.
“Like what?” he asked.
Delia smiled.
The tiny voice inside Mattie’s head—the one that occasionally encouraged him to steal subway trains, but mostly had much better ideas—whispered, You are so not going to like what she’s about to say.
Delia walked slowly up to Mattie. “It’s your fault the cloning plan didn’t work,” she whispered in his ear. Behind her, Maxwell and Doyle glanced nervously at each other. “And I want the clones, Mattie.”
Mattie’s heart thudded hard. “What?”
“I want the clones,” Delia repeated softly. “I know you know where they are, and I want them.”
Mattie pulled back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he announced, almost grinning because the lie was good. It sounded very convincing, the absolute perfect combination of confused and adamant.
Carter would be so proud, he thought.
“You’re lying,” Delia said through clenched teeth. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. My sources told me all about what you did.”
“Your sources?” Mattie pretended to think. He even scratched his head to really look confused. “Caroline? Do you know what she’s talking about?”
“Nope.” Caroline shook her head.
Mattie turned to Eliot. “Eliot?”
Eliot heaved an enormous sigh. “No,” he said at last.
Mattie looked back at Delia. “We have no idea what you’re talking about. Maybe you should ask Headmaster Rooney—or my dad. I’m sure they would love to talk to you about it.”
Delia ground her teeth, making the muscles in her jaw twitch. “You’re going to do exactly what I say or else, Mattie Larimore.”
Mattie felt a surge in his chest. It might have been bravery. It might have been stupidity. Either way, he leaned forward. “Or else you’ll do what?”
Delia leaned forward too. Their noses touched. “I’ll destroy you, bit by bit.”
Now it was Mattie’s turn to smirk. “Bring it.”
THEY WERE BOLD WORDS AND Mattie felt good about saying them. That didn’t last, of course. Some of this is because it’s Munchem and nothing good ever lasts at Munchem, but the rest of it is Delia Dane. Now, mind you, if I had been Delia’s biographer, I would have taken the opportunity to explain that when she shredded all the Dream Bear prototypes, Delia was really doing the world a favor.
But because she picked Alistair Wicket as her biographer, I will stick to the absolute truth: the bears were there, and Delia needed something fast to bring Mattie around. It might not have been as sparkly as the glitter incident, but it definitely had a message: do what I want, or you’re next.
“It’s almost poetic,” Caroline whispered to Mattie as they watched shredded Dream Bear bits float through the air. “The girl’s horrible, but she’s good with a scene.”
Eliot nodded. “Definite flair f
or the dramatic.”
“Quick too,” Caroline added. “Hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”
“Yep,” Eliot said. “She’s fast.”
Once again, the Spencers were agreeing with each other, but Mattie didn’t get to enjoy it. In fact, he didn’t think he was going to get to enjoy anything ever again, because Professor Shelley was striding toward them. Her heavy black boots clunked like hooves on the shiny floorboards. There was no escape.
Mattie sighed and turned to his friends. “I really should have seen this coming.”
The Spencers said nothing. Of course, there really wasn’t anything to say. When you tell someone to bring it, you have to be prepared for the worst. It was a major misstep, but entirely understandable, because while Mattie would one day grow up to be a diabolical master thief, at this point in his life he was still a good kid and good kids never see the bad kids coming.
Or something like that. Bottom line, Mattie and the Spencers were watching Dream Bear fluff roll past like tumbleweed, Professor Shelley was almost to them, and up in her dorm room, Delia Dane was laughing and laughing.
It’s true. She was. Check the sixty-third chapter of her second biography. It discusses the situation at length—in fact, it’s probably too much length because Alistair Wicket wrote it and everyone knows he can’t shut up.
But at the moment, Professor Shelley was stomping up to Mattie. She glared down at him. “What on earth did you do?”
“How do you know we aren’t innocent bystanders?” Caroline demanded. “What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”
Once again, Mattie saw a flicker of agreement in their computer science teacher’s face.
She’s not positive we did it, he realized.
“Mattie Larimore,” Professor Shelley said, her face paler and waxier than usual. “Admit what you did and I’ll only give you another cemetery detention. If you don’t…” The professor trailed off menacingly, her already dark eyes going darker.
But I didn’t do it, Mattie thought, opening his mouth to say so. It was automatic. It was understandable.
It was also when Mattie got an idea. He could lie and say he shredded the Dream Bears. He could tell the truth and deny he shredded the Dream Bears.
Or he could remember that Professor Shelley’s worst punishment was cleaning up the cemetery, and the clones needed to be fed, and if he admitted to shredding the Dream Bears, he could make Delia’s revenge work for him instead of against him.
It was a rather complicated idea when Mattie thought about it like that, but some days, that’s just how ideas go.
He took a deep breath, looked at Professor Shelley, and shrugged. “Yeah, I did it.”
“And I helped,” Caroline said, stepping forward.
“Me too,” Eliot added.
Their teacher stood a little taller, which was very tall indeed, and pointed a finger at Mattie and the Spencers. “Detention! Now!”
“I can’t believe you backed me up,” Mattie said to Caroline as they pulled plastic leaf bags from the garden shed’s shelves. The bags kept sticking on the shelf ledge and Mattie had to yank—and then yank again. “You knew I didn’t shred those stupid bears.”
Caroline nodded, eyes on the canisters of rat poison Rupert had left on the floor. “Yeah.”
“Totally,” her brother said.
Mattie stared at them. “Did you shred them?”
Caroline rolled her eyes as high as they would go. “Of course not!”
“Then why—Did you know what I was thinking? About how I was going to feed the clones?”
“No.” She scooped up all the rat poison canisters and dumped them into the garbage, hiding them under a fertilizer bag. “But I also knew you had to be up to something, otherwise you never would’ve violated your Good Kid title.”
“I don’t have a title.”
“You so do,” Eliot said.
“Not anymore,” Caroline said, stepping around Eliot. “It was pretty clever getting thrown into detention so we could feed the clones. Wish I’d thought of it.”
“Me too.”
The Spencers studied each other, sharing a look Mattie didn’t know how to interpret until Eliot suddenly said: “Sorry.”
“Me too,” Caroline said.
“I still like her,” Eliot added.
“I still hate her.”
“Fair enough.” Eliot turned to Mattie. “Now what?”
Mattie shook his head. It was kind of amazing. Maybe even more than kind of, because for all the Spencers’ bickering, they always had Mattie’s back—even when they didn’t know what he was doing. Carter might be disappointed in Mattie, Mr. Larimore might be furious, and Munchem might close, but some things stayed bigger and truer than any of that. In later years, Mattie would tell the Quality Thief’s Quarterly he’d been lonely before the Spencers—and he hadn’t known it—but being with the Spencers just fit.
And, coincidentally, being with the Spencers also made it much, much easier to steal the queen’s jewels.
It was just like all those movies and books said: things were just better with friends. Even so, Mattie felt guilty about dragging them into his issues with Delia.
“This is my fault,” Mattie said, holding open the garden shed door so the Spencers could pass. Outside, the sun beat down on them, catching Mattie’s dark hair. It made him feel like his skull was cooking. Clever move or not, it was going to be a long, hot day of cleanup. “I shouldn’t have antagonized her—and I should’ve seen it coming.”
“Whatever,” Eliot said, striding through the courtyard gate. “Destroying those Dream Bears actually did the world a favor.”
“I didn’t destroy them.”
“You’re going to get credit though. It’s almost as good.” Eliot tapped a finger against his chin, thinking. “Maybe it’s better.”
Mattie slung his rake over his shoulder and kicked at a patch of weeds. With every step, the foil-wrapped vitamin burgers rubbed his tummy, making it itch. “My dad is going to kill me when he gets back. I’ve never gotten in so much trouble.”
“I don’t know,” Caroline said, tugging at her ponytail. “The subway thing was a pretty big deal.”
“I meant quantity, not quality,” Mattie explained.
“Oh.”
“I’m supposed to be helping save Munchem,” he continued. “Not destroy it.”
“You’re not destroying it,” Caroline told him. “And technically, you are saving it because you’re keeping everyone from finding out there are clones living in the woods, and a cloning machine down in the basement, and a headmaster who still can’t remember any of it thanks to us.”
Caroline turned her face toward the sky—a sky empty of clouds, foot-shaped or otherwise—and took a deep breath, basking in the sunshine. She looked so relaxed she could have been talking about tea parties or Beezus’s medicated baths. “Besides,” Caroline added, “I think you did a great job standing up to Delia and I’m glad you did it. Someone needed to.”
Mattie wasn’t so sure this was a great job of standing up to someone, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same.
“How does Delia do it?” Caroline asked. “She was sitting in our dorm when I left. She couldn’t have gotten down there in time.”
“Doyle and Maxwell?” Mattie suggested. “Or maybe it was one of her ‘sources.’”
“I still don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Me neither.” Mattie paused, thinking. “It’s someone who knows about last term, so that could be any of the teachers…Rooney…Miss Maple…maybe even one of the clones who escaped with her.”
“You don’t know it’s Delia behind the Dream Bears,” Eliot said.
Mattie and Caroline glared at him.
“Why would she want the clones anyway?” Caroline continued.
“I don’t know,” Mattie said. “Maybe she wants to make an army of Delias. Isn’t that what bad guys do in movies? I could totally see Delia being a bad guy.”
>
Caroline shuddered. “You can’t let her have Maxwell and Doyle. It would be worse than giving them to Eliot.”
“Hey!” Behind them, Eliot swatted at the tops of weeds.
“I thought you were ignoring me,” Caroline said. “Besides, it’s true.”
Her brother sighed and said nothing, probably because even though he was in love with Delia, he could also see Caroline’s point. Eliot had a lot of good intentions, but none of them applied to the clones.
“I’m going to get Delia back for this,” Mattie said as they passed through the crooked cemetery gate. “I know that’s not really me and it’s not going to involve making her sick, but this is happening.”
“Good.” Caroline grinned, eyes lighting up. “I’ll help.”
“Eliot?”
Mattie and Caroline looked at Eliot, but Eliot pretended to be extremely interested in the meadow around them.
“How’s this going to work anyway?” Caroline asked, studying the cemetery. It was still creepy, still thick with weeds, and aside from them, very empty. “Do we just leave the food for the clones or what?”
Mattie didn’t want to leave the burgers. Ants could get into them, or animals could steal them. Maybe they could just wait around and one of the clones would show? It wasn’t like they didn’t have a ton of raking and weeding to do anyway.
Then again, he did have a lot of pent-up anger from Delia. Mattie stomped to the edge of the woods and bellowed, “Doyle? You in there? Hey, Doyle! DOYLE!”
At first there was nothing. Well, there was a very confused set of Spencers. Caroline and Eliot watched Mattie and wondered if he’d finally lost his mind. But then there was a crack. There was a rustle. Then came the stomp, and Doyle wandered out of the trees, hands poised like he was carrying a tray. “Why are you yelling?”
Mattie shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed but at the same time somehow oddly calm, because a good round of screaming can do that for a person. “I didn’t know how else to find you,” he said at last.
The Girl Who Knew Even More Page 9
