by Brian Lies
“That’s the other thing. He’s definitely Outside. He lives . . .” She gestured beyond McKenna’s roof, and the acorn fell from her paw. They watched as it rolled down and off the roof. “. . . across the river. How would you get there?”
But Malcolm already knew. Hadn’t Amelia said? He needed to talk to all the critters. And next up was his friend Beert the owl. Beert could get him across the river. Malcolm knew he would. Then he would talk with the Striped Shadow and—sweet niblets!—by Thursday’s Midnight Academy meeting, their insurmountable problem could be solved!
“Thanks, Sylvia! You are the best.” Malcolm felt like hugging her, but he was a little afraid she might gouge out his eyes. So instead, he patted her paw and backed slowly away. “Say hi to the squirrelings for me, okay? And next time, I’ll bring you some Inside food. Have they ever had corn dogs?”
And with that, Malcolm was back down through the wall and into the halls of McKenna.
Chapter 10
To the Fourth
As Malcolm skidded out of the auditorium, he decided there was no need to go back to Room 11. He’d go straight up to see Beert now! The timing was perfect. When it came to saving the school, why wait?18
Still, even though Malcolm was motivated, it didn’t make him any less jumpy. So he might have been rushing through the cat-shaped shadows on the landing of the stairs—just a bit—when he rounded the corner and ran smack into Honey Bunny’s rocklike (yet fuzzy) chest. He hit him so hard, he flipped over backwards and thumped down two steps.
“Malcolm?” Honey Bunny peered down at him in the dark.
“HB?”
“What are you doing here?” Honey Bunny hopped down to where Malcolm lay sprawled out.
“Um . . .” Have you ever had a notion so fresh, so new, you were afraid to say it out loud, Mr. Binney? That was Malcolm right then. “I had an idea.”
But Honey Bunny leaned in. “Really? Can I come too? Because I’m wandering. I can’t sleep at night,19 so I thought I might as well look for all that crazy stuff Aggy was talking about. The sooner we can either prove or disprove it, the better, I figure. But I’m not getting anywhere. What’s your plan?”
Malcolm sat up. “You want to come with me?” He couldn’t believe his luck. Another set of ears, eyes, nose, and whiskers! You know . . . just in case.
Honey Bunny nodded.
“Okay, well, I’m on my way up to the clock tower. There’s a critter I want to talk to.”
Honey Bunny’s pink eyes widened. “The clock tower?”
Malcolm smoothed his whiskers. “Yeah. But it’s not who you’re thinking of.” And he set off up the stairs before Honey Bunny could respond.
Together they bounded up the stairs. On the closed fourth floor, Malcolm led, weaving through the jungle of discarded student desks, broken chairs, and rusty filing cabinets. He felt braver already with Honey Bunny at his side. He was one big bunny.
But as they approached the wooden door to the tower, Malcolm paused. He looked sideways at the rabbit and asked, “Do you remember this place?”
Honey Bunny sniffed. “Like I could forget, rat.”
Malcolm nodded. He couldn’t either. The last time they both had been up here, they had fought ferociously—Honey Bunny believing Malcolm had betrayed the Academy and Malcolm believing the same of Honey Bunny. Honey Bunny had ended up with a broken leg.
The rabbit cleared his throat. “Hey, you know I don’t blame you for that. We both thought we were doing the right thing. It could have easily gone the other way.” He flexed his muscles. “It should have.”
Malcolm laughed.
Then Honey Bunny got serious. “But luckily, it didn’t. Because you were right.”
Malcolm nodded and swallowed. “I’ve never said I’m sorry you fell, though.”
Honey Bunny stretched his right rear leg. “We both came out of that with some battle scars,” he said, nodding toward Malcolm’s tattered left ear and the thin white line of a scar on Malcolm’s nose. “Besides . . .” He grinned. “You wouldn’t believe the nosh you get when you’re in a pink bunny cast!”
Malcolm laughed again. “HB,” he started. “Do you ever think you see . . . Snip?” If there was any critter in the building who might still also be having nightmares about cats, it would be Honey Bunny. “Sometimes I think . . . maybe Snip’s alive out there . . .”
Honey Bunny shook his head. “Billy mentioned you’ve been fretting about this. Snip’s gone, Malcolm.” He sighed. “We probably should have told you, but we didn’t want to upset you at the time. You had been through so much. Snip did not survive, Malcolm,” he said gently. “The lankies—they did find something in the boiler room after they cleaned up the water.”
Malcolm was quiet. “There was a cat. Today. In the tree—”
“No, Malcolm. We’ve got real worries to think about. Snip is not one of them anymore. So, is this where you were taking me?”
Malcolm nodded. “Almost. We have to get inside.” He started to duck under the door, then stopped. “How will you—”
But Honey Bunny was already springing down the hall. “Meet you on the other side,” he called over his ears.
Malcolm slipped under the door. The bottom of the clock tower looked and smelled the same as it always did. Stacks and stacks of old paint cans, layers of dust, the stuffy scent of an unused space. And the graffiti. Words and letters everywhere. Painted on the walls, written on the steps in marker. Carved into the wooden support beams. Years and years of students, sneaking up here and leaving their own kind of Mark.
Honey Bunny hopped from behind the narrow set of wooden stairs that led up to the clock itself. “Okay, we’re here. So who are we meeting, exactly?”
Malcolm pawed at his whiskers. Where to begin? Jovahn had told him once that sometimes it is not necessary to tell the whole story. Just enough of it. “A friend of mine. I want to . . . ask him something. Also, Amelia . . .” Malcolm paused. Oops, maybe this was another part to leave out—technically, he should not be talking to nutters; it was against the Midnight Academy bylaws. Honey Bunny probably suspected that Malcolm and Amelia still chatted, but there was no reason to bring it up if he didn’t need to. “Well, it also occurred to me that there are other critters around here. And maybe we should ask them about the legend.”
Honey Bunny grunted, considering. “That’s a good idea, rat. Why didn’t I think of it?”
Malcolm clamored up the worn wooden staircase. In the middle of the dark space, clockwork gears ground away. “Beert?” he called out. The tower room must have been magnificent at one time, but now only one window had glass; the rest were boarded up. However, what lankies couldn’t tell (please don’t let Ms. Brumble know, Mr. Binney) is that one window had a loose board. Strategically loose, for midnight visits between two friends.
“Beert and I have this system worked out. We meet up here to chat sometimes.” Malcolm had to yell a little over the clicking and whirring of the gears. He wiggled through a crack in the clockwork case. “You have to wait until midnight—” The clock started bonging.
Bong . . . bong . . . bong . . .
“Then if you press here . . .” He flipped a lever, and a different wheel started turning.
Honey Bunny flattened his ears at the noise. “So who’s Beert, again? Hey, I thought this clock was broken! Isn’t this on the long list of things not working in our school?”
But Malcolm was counting. “. . . eleven . . . twelve . . . thirteen.”
“Thirteen? It is broken,” said Honey Bunny.
Malcolm shook his head. “It’s our signal. I give the clock an extra bong, and Beert knows I’m up here. You remember Beert. He’s the ghost of McK—” But before he could finish, a shadow flashed across the sole glass window. A screech echoed through the night.
Honey Bunny lurched left and right, trying to hide. “Malcolm, look out! Get down!”
Chapter 11
A Favor
Malcolm peeked out around the clockwork case
at the window. He waved to the shape outside. “It’s okay, HB. That is Beert. He’s a barn owl, but he won’t hurt us, I promise. He’s my friend.”
Honey Bunny was frozen in place, using every bunny instinct to not be noticed. He panted. “He’s what?! That’s not natural, Malcolm. Owls eat critters like us!”
Malcolm nodded. “I know, but not us. Trust me. He sounds and looks a lot more terrifying than he is. He loves to swoop and scare people with his call.”
“No kidding.” There were white rings around the pink of Honey Bunny’s eyes.
Malcolm scampered up to the windowsill. “Beert?”
Another screech—really almost a scream—reverberated through the tower. A white feather drifted down. Then a rustle at one of the boarded-up windows, and an owl beak poked through the strategic loose board. “Malcolm?” Beert’s low rumble of a voice sounded completely different from the screams a moment ago.
“Beert! It’s great to see you,” Malcolm said, running up.
“Did you hear that last call of mine?” The owl pushed himself all the way through the hole, and Honey Bunny whimpered. “I scared the shorts off a late-night jogger—oh! We’ve got company.” He twisted his head at Honey Bunny.
Honey Bunny opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“That’s Honey Bunny—HB,” Malcolm said. “You might have seen him up here before?”
“He’s a rabbit? Starlit skies, would you look at that. He’s the color of the full moon.” Beert clacked his beak. “He sure wouldn’t last long Outside looking like that.”
A small moan seeped out of Honey Bunny.
“He’s from the Midnight Academy,” Malcolm said quickly. Maybe he should change the subject. “Anyway, I have something to ask you.”
The owl bowed his head down. “Anytime, Malcolm. You know that. Every night my Hestia says thanks for you.” With a quick glance at Honey Bunny, Beert lowered his voice to a whisper. “We’re having more owlets—did I tell you? Sometime later this spring.”
Malcolm grinned. “That’s wonderful.”20
“So . . .” Beert fluffed out his wings. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, we’re—” Malcolm nodded at Honey Bunny. “The Academy, that is, is trying to track down an old story. About a man named Ernie Bowman. You ever heard of him?”
Beert slowly shook his head.
“How about wishes, or dogs turning into silver, or birds coming back to life? Loaded Stashes?”
“‘Birds coming back to life’?” Beert repeated. “No. I wish I did. What is this about, Malcolm?”
“We’re in trouble, Beert. The school and the Academy. They want to close McKenna, and we’re trying everything we can to figure out a way to stop it. Everything.” Malcolm paused. “So . . . there is one more thing . . .” He shot a glance at Honey Bunny. “You know the Outside, right, Beert? I mean, you fly everywhere.”
Beert nodded. “Across the river, even all the way down to the dam. I know the skies above Clearwater.”
“Do you know the critters, too?”
Beert folded his wings back and cocked his head. “Some. But not all. When you hunt, you aren’t always introduced to everyone.”
Malcolm swallowed. Here goes. “How about a critter called . . . ‘the Striped Shadow’?”
“The Striped Shadow?” Beert took a step back. He coughed, almost like a bark. “Where did an Inside critter like you hear of him?”
Yes! Beert knew him! “Can you take me to him?”
But instead of answering, Beert turned to Honey Bunny. “Was this your idea? Is this why you’re here?”
A quiver ran through Honey Bunny at being directly addressed by the owl, but he fought off instinct and said, “This is the first I’ve heard of it or him.” His voice ended in a squeak that Malcolm knew was deeply embarrassing.
Beert turned back to Malcolm. “You don’t want to mix up with him, Malcolm. Surely your Academy can help you instead.”
“I just told you. It’s for the Academy—the whole school,” Malcolm pleaded. “Come on, I need to talk to him.”
Beert shook his head and another white feather drifted to the floor. “I don’t know. Inside critters and Outside critters don’t mix. You don’t understand our rules.”
Malcolm felt that same helplessness tangle in him again. “Why does everyone keep saying that? It’s all we’ve got. They’re going to close the school,” he nearly shouted. “Then where will we be?”
Beert flapped his wings. He opened his beak, then shut it. “You already took something from him?”
“What? No.” What was Beert talking about?
“Wait.” Honey Bunny stepped out of the shadows now. There was still a rim of white fear around his eyes, and he kept darting glances at Beert, but his voice was back to normal. “Who exactly is this ‘Striped Shadow’? Why does Malcolm not want to mix up with him?” He turned to Malcolm. “And why do you always mix up with critters without checking with the Academy first? We probably have a file on this Shadow guy!”
Malcolm opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Beert spoke up. “The Striped Shadow is a . . . helper for Outside animals. He provides aid when they’re desperate.”
“See?” Malcolm said to Honey Bunny. “He helps. Like the Midnight Academy!”
But Honey Bunny wasn’t listening to Malcolm. He took a step closer to Beert. “What’s the catch?” he asked him.
“The catch?”
“The catch,” Honey Bunny repeated. “If he’s such a ‘helper,’ well, then, why don’t you want Malcolm to meet him?”
Beert coughed again. “The ‘catch’ is that he always—always—asks for payment. He doesn’t do favors out of kindness.” Beert turned to Malcolm. “He is not like the Midnight Academy.”
A wiggle of fear rippled through Malcolm’s middle. A feeling not unlike when you eat more corn chips than you should. But Malcolm tried to swallow it down. “It’s our school,” he said to Honey Bunny. “Aren’t some things worth it?”
He turned to Beert and continued. “And, you—think of how you felt when you were separated from Hestia. What would you have done to get her back? Would you have asked for help from the Striped Shadow if you hadn’t been trapped in the clock tower?”
Beert blinked his dark eyes. A long moment passed, and then slowly he unfolded his wing and extended it to Malcolm. Malcolm looked at Honey Bunny for a second, then crawled up to Beert’s back. He snuggled down behind his head.
“Malcolm,” Honey Bunny started. He looked so small next to the gears of the clock grinding away. “I . . . be careful,” he finally said. “I wish I could go instead of you.” He spoke to Beert next. “Bring him back. I’ll wait here.”
Beert nodded, then called back to Malcolm. “Hold on.”
And they squeezed through the hole in the window and dropped off the side of the clock tower.
Chapter 12
Under the Stars
They rocketed down until Malcolm was sure that every niblet he had eaten for dinner that night and the night before was going to come back up again. He clung on to Beert, his face buried in his down. Eventually, though, Beert leveled off and the beating of his wings settled into a steady rhythm. Malcolm ventured a peep.
Crumblity crumb! The moon. It hung in the sky larger than the school’s clock face. And . . . “What are those lights in the sky?”
Beert ducked. “What? Where? Sometimes you have to watch out for fireworks. Or a lantern. Although not much in winter.”
“That sprinkle of lights.” Malcolm turned his head. “They’re everywhere!”
Beert looked again. “Stars above, Malcolm, you mean the stars above! You’ve heard of stars, haven’t you?”
Malcolm had heard of stars, but nothing he had ever been told could prepare him for this. They spread across the sky like jelly on a piece of bread. Malcolm felt like he could look at them forever and never know them. Crumb, the Inside critters did have their pluses, but there were things out here that Malcolm couldn�
��t even imagine.
Like the air. Earlier, on the roof, it had been fresh and cold, but now it was tinged with frost . . . and—he inhaled deeply—possibility. Malcolm could feel it pulse through his body with each beat of Beert’s wings. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to go back to enjoying his tail-safe exercise wheel after this.
Below him, a river glittered in the moon- and starlight. And across it, a building sprawled on its banks. As Beert flew closer, Malcolm could see that the building stretched for blocks and blocks, with walkways and tunnels connecting the parts of it.
“What is that?” Malcolm yelled to Beert.
Beert called over his wing, “Where we’re going. It’s a deserted tire factory. Closed up way back.” He swooped, circled around, and landed on a rickety fire escape at the top floor. “And this is Building Five, Door Seventeen.” He held out a wing. “Current headquarters of the Striped Shadow.”
“We’re here already?” Malcolm climbed off and stepped onto the rusty metal grid of the fire escape. He glimpsed the white of the snow on the ground far, far below. He was pretty sure he could fit through those gaps on the landing. He gulped and looked up at Beert instead—and froze.
On the wall, next to the battered door, there was a Mark. But how could there be a Mark out here? Still, Malcolm was sure of it. It looked like a two-pronged fork, stuck upside down in a plate of food.
Beert followed Malcolm’s stare, swiveling his head around to the wall. “What—that? That’s a Shadow Sign,” he said. “It’s how I knew where to go. The Striped Shadow uses these Signs—”
“But it’s a Mark!” Malcolm interrupted. “We use these signs. The Midnight Academy does—inside the school.”
“Really? But this is quite old. I know my mother taught me about Shadow Signs.”
