Malcolm Under the Stars

by Brian Lies

  So that night found Malcolm in the upper level of the auditorium (which he learned was called the balcony), overlooking the proceedings. The balcony wasn’t open to the humans for the meeting, so it was the perfect hiding place. And, if someone came to check on the projector that was up there, Malcolm would just dart under a chair or in a shadow. There should be plenty of warning—enough for him to hide.

  Malcolm got up there early, and soon realized that crouching on the balcony railing itself gave him the best view. He glanced up at the wall next to him. If the little rat map in his head was right (and it always was), at the top corner of the balcony’s wall was Sylvia’s nest. Malcolm wondered if Sylvia or her squirrelings would be able to hear the meeting.

  A rumble from outside slightly shook the banister under Malcolm. Malcolm knew that sound. Thunder. So it was still raining outside. But Malcolm could already guess that—below him people were starting to trickle in to the meeting, their collars up and shaking water from their umbrellas.

  At the front of the auditorium, right below and facing the stage, eight lankies sat at a long table. According to Aggy, this would be the school board. They were the ones who ultimately would decide to close McKenna or not. The risers and props from the fifth grade musical were gone; only a podium and microphone sat on the stage. Malcolm was nervous for his nutters. They’d be so alone up there!

  Malcolm saw Jovahn arrive first—in pressed jeans and a button-down shirt. Then Kiera appeared behind him, in ruffles and bows, tapping him on the shoulder. She pointed at the posters that hung from the front of the stage. “We ❤ our school.” “90 Years of History.” “Keep McKenna Open.” “We need you, Board!”

  Skylar arrived next, dripping a little, with an older woman—his Gram? He wore a suit and tie. Malcolm had never seen him look so grown-up. But where was Amelia? The nutters signed in with the board to get on the schedule to speak, then took seats in the front of the room.

  Finally, a tall man with a drooping white mustache and green suspenders sitting at the end of the school board table stood, climbed the stairs to the stage, and took the microphone. “Good evening,” he said, stooping a little to aim his words into the microphone. “Welcome. We’re here tonight to get some feedback from you—the Clearwater community—about what to do with this school.” He gestured widely. “It’s been proposed that it may be time to move on. I’ll admit, I attended this school and it breaks my heart to speak of possibly closing it. But in these hard financial times . . . well, it’s important for us—your school board—to be good stewards of your money.”

  Not all of that made sense to Malcolm, partly because he was distracted by the arrival of Amelia. She took his breath away. Her long black hair hung shiny and loose down her back. She shrugged out of her raincoat and slid into a seat next to Jovahn. Malcolm wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw her parents take a seat behind Skylar’s Gram.

  The tall lanky up front continued. “Perhaps the weather has delayed some of us . . .” He frowned a little. He was right, Malcolm realized. Besides the school board, the seats were only full until about halfway up. Malcolm felt a little pang of panic. Didn’t more people care about this? “But I’d like us to get started. We’ll begin with the financial report from our head of Building and Grounds, Robert Larson.”

  Mr. Larson spoke at length about what Malcolm mostly knew already from the last district Midnight Academy report. The series of broken windows, the broken pipe and subsequent flooded basement, something new about the ventilation system and WiFi, and now the electrical issues. As Mr. Larson brought this up, there was a clap of thunder and the lights flickered. The audience twittered.

  The next person up spoke about the enrollment at McKenna and how, every year, there were fewer students in McKenna’s neighborhood. Also, how there was plenty of room at Fairfax and Parkview, if they split the school and bused the students there. There were a lot of complicated graphs and charts and maps. Malcolm closed his eyes just for a second. When would they get to something interesting? Like Amelia?

  Ping.

  Malcolm’s ears pricked up. What was that?

  Ping. Ping.

  He sniffed. But all he could smell was wetness. The rain outside was still pouring down. Thunder shook the building and the lights flickered again just as Mrs. Rivera, McKenna’s principal, took the stage.

  Ping. Ping. Pingpingpingping. Taptaptap. The noise was getting faster. And louder. And it was coming from the roof—the side of the auditorium where Sylvia’s nest was. Malcolm crept over to her corner and up the decorative carvings on the wall (like only a rat could). The plaster under his feet was cool and damp. Here he could see her hole—a crack in the plaster, really. It was hard to tell, but there seemed to be a shadowy patch stretching from the corner across the ceiling. He watched as a single drop of water ran down the slope of the ceiling to the light fixture in the center of the auditorium. There it formed a drop and fell on the crowd below.

  Oh, gristle.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was when Malcolm crawled back down the wall to listen as Amelia’s group took the stage.

  Because when he turned around, there, on the far edge of the balcony, was Snip.

  Chapter 20

  Rats!

  Malcolm wobbled on the balcony railing. He glanced below; Amelia was leading the All-Stars up the stage’s steps. He turned back to Snip. “You! How’d you get in here?”

  “Shhh!” the cat said. “Do you want all those tall ones to hear you?” She ruffled her fur and turned her back to him. “You are not the only one with access to the building, you know.”

  “Someone let you in? Who? Why?” Malcolm walked closer. He tested himself. His tail was not quaking. He didn’t feel that blinding fear inside anymore that made him want to run like a nutter with a bee in his shirt. Snip was just . . . a cat. Granted, Malcolm was still a rat and remained interested in not being eaten, but all that Kiera-like drama Snip used to bring out in him was . . . gone. Malcolm wondered if it was because he had now found out that there were worse things that could happen to him than her.

  She arched her back, and Malcolm saw that she really did look a lot more healthy than the scary-skinny cat she had been on the fourth floor. Her coat was shiny and filled in. For a brief moment, Malcolm wondered where she lived, how she lived outside. She was definitely eating more than spiders and dust.

  She scoffed. “What’s with all the questions? Let’s just say there are other favors floating about. And clearly, you have never been Outside for any extended period. There’s this thing called ‘rain.’ It’s where water pours from the sky.” She shuddered. “I don’t like water.”

  “But—but, where?” As far as Malcolm knew, the only ways into the building were through a main entrance (unlikely), the clock tower, or—

  Snip nodded toward the back corner.

  Now a niggle of fear wormed its way into Malcolm’s stomach. “You came in through Sylvia’s nest? Is she okay?”

  “Sylvia?” Snip repeated. “Is that the name of that nut-brained squirrel? Yeah, she got what she wanted.”

  What did that mean? But before Malcolm could ask, someone else wiggled through the hole in the wall (which had—as you might expect after a cat had used it—grown quite a bit). More plaster fell to the floor in chunks. What the crumb? Had the whole Outside world been given an invitation to this listening session too?

  It was the raccoon who had led Malcolm to the Striped Shadow in the deserted tire factory! The raccoon—what had been his name? Acer?—bumbled in on his three paws, his fur glistening a little from the rain. He stopped short when he saw Malcolm. Then Snip. His eyes zigged and zagged between them. Then he licked his lips. “Hello,” he said slowly.

  “What are you doing here?” Malcolm wondered, but then he didn’t even wait for an answer. “Never mind! You need to get out of here! There’s a meeting below! A very important meeting! With lankies and everything.”

  Snip snorted. She leaped up on the balcony rail
ing with Malcolm. “Lankies.” She blew out through her nose, making her whiskers jiggle. “Nutters. You and your humans. I’m not scared of them.” She strolled along the balcony railing, in plain view of the audience, should anyone care to turn around and look up.

  “Get down!” Malcolm whispered, running toward her. “They’ll see you!”

  “Will they?” Snip stretched and added a little meow.

  Malcolm lunged at her. “Be quiet!” He checked below. A very small nutter, sitting on his mother’s lap, turned his head and glanced up.

  Snip dodged and leaped over Malcolm on the railing, mewing again. The nutter boy below waved. “Kitty,” he called.

  Malcolm spun around to face Snip and teetered dangerously. Either someone had polished the railing, or dust was very slippery. Snip could not ruin this meeting for Amelia! Malcolm said the only thing he could think of. “If you don’t care about them so much, why do you want to come back inside? You hated it in here. You hated the lankies. You hated the nutters. You even hated us, the Midnight Academy.”

  Snip paused. She hissed. “You’re wrong. I especially hated the Midnight Academy.”

  “So why come back?” Malcolm couldn’t understand it. “There’s nothing for you here.”

  Snip stared at him for what seemed like at least two hours. Then she raised her lips to show her sharp teeth and hissed again. “I want back in because it’s all I’ve got. It’s all I know.”

  “So you want it even though it makes you miserable? And—” Malcolm wheeled around on Acer. “Is that why you’re here? Are you here to help the Striped Shadow with Snip?”

  “Help the Striped Shadow?” Snip laughed. “Oh, Malcolm. To live in your small, small world. He’s not helping the Striped Shadow; he—”

  “Whoa—ho!” Acer, who had been watching this whole exchange, made a surprisingly graceful three-pawed leap onto the railing too. “I think it’s time to go, Blackberry. I didn’t know there was a meeting here tonight.”

  “Didn’t you? I thought you knew everything.”

  Malcolm glanced below. By now, the small nutter had the row of people behind and in front of him looking up and pointing. When Acer made an appearance on the railing, his shape blocked the stream of light from the projector. Now a giant shadow of a raccoon blocked the projection of Jovahn’s slide at the front of the auditorium. The whole room turned and looked up at the balcony.

  But that didn’t stop Snip. “Don’t we need to tell the truth here? Isn’t that part of your promise under the stars? I thought you—”

  Whatever it was she thought, Acer didn’t let her finish. He charged at her. She ran to the end of the balcony, leaping over Malcolm again, and onto the velvet drapes that hung on the wall next to it. Her claws dragged through them, but her weight was too much. The drapes ripped, and she made a slow descent to the main floor, amid gasps and screams from the audience. No one was watching the stage anymore.

  Acer chased after her, but he wasn’t expecting Malcolm to be in the way. He couldn’t stop in time, and he plowed right into Malcolm as he followed Snip to the drapes. “Sorry!” he shouted over his shoulder.

  But sorry wasn’t enough, because Malcolm was falling. The blow knocked him clean off the balcony railing to the audience below.

  Malcolm had a soft landing, at least—in the lap of an elderly man. He jumped up as Malcolm landed on him. When the man saw what Malcolm was, he stood and shrieked, “Rats! Rats!” He brushed Malcolm off and flung him to the floor.

  Oh, sure! Of all the times for a lanky to finally recognize what Malcolm really was! Malcolm would have liked to stay and explain: It wasn’t “rats,” anyway; it was “rat.” Just one, who actually lived here at McKenna, but not in the way the lanky was thinking.

  Screeching “mouse” would have been bad enough, but it wouldn’t have had the same reaction that “rats” did. The audience erupted. Snip and Acer had made it to the floor and were racing up an aisle. Malcolm chased after them. Chairs flapped and folded as people moved to get out of the way of the critters.

  Snip took a turn up the main aisle, Acer followed, and Malcolm brought up the rear. He didn’t understand all that had happened in the balcony, but he figured that Snip, of any critter, would know the best way to get out of this room. Which seemed really key right about now. Getting out without getting stepped on, preferably. Malcolm dodged as he ran. The audience was on their feet now, people hastily pulling coats and gloves on and storming up the aisles.

  Up front, Kiera paused. She smoothed her hair back. Amelia nudged her. It was possible that the nutters couldn’t see the pandemonium31 that was erupting in the audience. Jovahn clicked to the next slide. Kiera continued, but without the typical confidence in her voice. “We found out that there is a time capsule that was buried in 1938. When the ground thaws . . .”

  And that’s when the little pingpingping drip became a trickle. Then a pour, and then, with a sound not unlike nutters messing around in the restroom, a splash. And a chunk of plaster fell from the ceiling, landing in the aisle in front of Malcolm. He reared up to stop suddenly. Snip and Acer, oblivious to what was happening behind them, headed for the outside door, which someone had mercifully propped open.

  Then—splash! And crash!

  The splash-crash was like a pause button in the room. Everyone turned and saw what amounted to a small waterfall pouring from the light fixture to the aisle below. Next to the light, bare wooden patches showed through where the plaster had fallen to the floor.

  The tall lanky on the school board, who had been trying to wrestle his way to the front of the room against the tide of people who had decided it was time to leave, finally made it there. He gestured frantically at someone in the back, and the audience lights went on. Now the nutters on the stage could see what was happening. Malcolm watched as Amelia’s eyes followed the water from the ceiling to the floor and then to him. They grew wide, and Malcolm saw her mouth form his name.

  “There’s the rat!” someone yelled, and Malcolm jumped into action again. Someone tried to throw a scarf over him, and he dodged, dashing under a chair in an empty aisle, panting.

  He didn’t know what to think. Everything ruined. Snip. Acer. The rain. The nutters’ presentation. And water. Again.

  The tall lanky took the microphone from Kiera and said, “Um, I think under tonight’s circumstances, we’ll have to—” Just then, another chunk of plaster broke off and fell, and the people in the audience started walking out faster. “. . . adjourn for tonight. Perhaps we can reschedule this meeting—”

  And that was when another enormous clap of thunder shook the room, and the lights flickered out for good.

  Chapter 21

  School’s Closed

  You know that feeling when you first wake up and before you even see a clock, you know you’ve overslept? Something about the light is weird, or maybe it’s too quiet, or possibly you’re starving more than you usually are.

  That’s how Malcolm woke up. With a start that jolted him upright, knocking his head on his water bottle. With wet ears.

  The light was wrong in Room 11. It was still raining outside, but it wasn’t just that. The lights were off, and the clock read 7:39, but Malcolm knew it was much later. What was going on? Where were the nutters? The lankies? Had Malcolm slept through Amelia’s last day? His insides felt as jangly as a pocketful of hobo coins.

  Ms. Brumble walked into the room. She was on the phone and headed toward Malcolm’s cage. She tapped, and Malcolm raised up on his hind legs to say hi.

  “Yes, he’s here. I don’t think that could have been him last night at the meeting.” She made a face. “I hate to say it, but maybe we do have other rats in McKenna. Some people are even saying they saw a cat. We definitely have a raccoon—and squirrels, apparently. They just cleared out a nest way up under the eaves inside the wall.” She opened Malcolm’s cage. “Yes, I’ll refill his food and water to last through the weekend.” She sprinkled some pellets down, her phone wedged between her neck and
ear. A pause while she listened.

  “Yes, he’s warm enough! There are emergency generators, you know. That’s why I’m here early today. But they’re hoping to open back on Monday. The lightning hit the tree on the side of the school. You know that huge oak? You should see it. Just shattered. Hold on—” She pressed a button on her phone, and your voice echoed in the room.

  “The Council Oak? Oh no! It was so crazy getting out of there last night, I didn’t even see it. How’s the auditorium look today?” you asked through the phone.

  “Well, it’s a mess,” Ms. Brumble called from the sink across the room where she was refilling Malcolm’s water bottle. “I don’t see it being used for a while. They’ve got to repair the roof—there are bricks loose in the corner where the auditorium joins the rest of the school. That’s where the water came in. That raccoon, too, apparently. Quite a lot of damage. That’s all going to take longer than Monday, I’m afraid.”

  Malcolm groomed his back paws, trying to pretend he wasn’t listening carefully. The Council Oak got hit by lightning? But what about the message “In times of need, look beneath the oak under the stars behind McKenna”? Was the Loaded Stash destroyed before they could even find it? And what about Sylvia and her squirrelings if her nest had been pulled down? And where had Acer and Snip ended up? It was too much. For a moment, Malcolm wished he was back asleep again. Then he stopped, mid-groom. What had Ms. Brumble said? Open Monday? Did that mean . . . ?

  That was why it was so quiet today. No school. Somehow the electricity going out had them cancel school. And it was Amelia’s last day. Malcolm’s day to say goodbye to her.

  A panicky feeling bloomed in Malcolm’s stomach. This wasn’t it, was it? Amelia would come back on Monday to say goodbye, right?

  Malcolm heard you sigh through the phone. “Two days closed this year because of the condition of the building. Of all the times for all this to happen. They’re never going to vote to keep McKenna open now.”