by Brian Lies
But Honey Bunny and Aggy had already tugged the vent off the wall, and Jesse and Billy plunged in.
“Can you see anything?” Tank called.
“Well, it’s dusty, and there are a lot of sticks—”
Malcolm ducked his head in. Those were probably the sticks he had knocked down from Sylvia’s nest that first week. “You know—” he started.
“O-ho! And—bingo!” Billy interrupted. What followed was furious scrabbling. Finally, the two emerged, each with their oversize hamster cheeks bulging with—
“But those are just leaves!” Malcolm said. The same leaves he and Sylvia had used. “They’re all over the bottom of that wall. I think they fell down when I rebuilt Sylvia’s nest—”
He looked around. Every single last critter was snorting with laughter.
Jesse spit out his mouthful. “Leaves! You built Sylvia’s nest out of this? Malcolm, these aren’t leaves—it’s money!”
“Money?” What? “But—I thought . . .” He closed his mouth. What he thought now was that he probably should stop talking before everyone choked from laughing so hard.
“Oh, Malcolm,” Aggy said. “You do bring out the chuckles. I think we’d better add financial training to our new pledge handbook,” she said to Octavius.
He saluted in agreement.
“There are at least several hundred dollars in there,” Billy said. “I think we’ve found our Loaded Stash.”
“Several hundred dollars?” Honey Bunny said with a frown. “Hmmm.”
“What’s wrong?” Malcolm asked. “That’s a lot, right?”
“Yes, but . . . it’s not going to be enough.”
Aggy sighed. “He’s right. It’ll be exciting, but it’s not going to save the school the way we hoped it would. The way I hoped it would.”
Jesse and Billy went back in the wall to pull out the rest. Malcolm followed them. “So, all of this is money, huh?” He kicked at the “leaves.”
“Yeah,” Jesse said, smirking. “Too bad. You could have found this Stash the first time you were in here.”
Billy was pulling out more bills. “Hey, there’s another letter.”
Another envelope, but it was too dark in the wall to see. The three friends pulled it out into the light. Pete snipped it open with his claw, and the critters gathered around to read.
It was short. And when they got to the bottom of it, Malcolm suddenly Knew what they needed to do to save the school. He hoped he could explain it right.
“The Loaded Stash is not the money,” he said.
“Huh?” Polly said.
“This whole time,” Malcolm continued, “we were looking for the Loaded Stash, thinking it was some treasure or pile of money that would save our school.”
Jesse waved a pawful of bills at him, but Malcolm shook his head. “No, because don’t you see? There’s never enough money. I mean, yeah, maybe there’s enough to fix this room up or rewire the building so the third-graders can print in the computer lab without the lights going out in the first grade room. But money runs out. What never runs out is story.” He pointed his tail at the new letter. “We need to share this. Because that’s what the Loaded Stash is: a story. Not a legend about treasure, but a story about a man—the man our school was named after—who did something unexpected, with huge results. Maybe it’s enough to jolt the school board into doing something unexpected too.
“Some wise critter once told me, ‘You have no idea how many times the lankies don’t know exactly what they need to know until the Academy helps them to see it.’ The humans think they need money to fix this school. But what they need is a story. The legend of Ernie and the hobo man. Let’s give it to them.”
Whew! Malcolm wasn’t sure if he had ever, ever talked that much. Or if it had ever mattered more.
It was quiet for a minute, as everyone thought it through. Finally, Honey Bunny spoke up. “Well, as some wise critter once told me: What do we have to lose?”
“It might not work, Malcolm,” Aggy said. “You should know that. Money is a funny thing to lankies. It matters more than we can ever understand.”
Malcolm remembered Amelia’s move. Ms. Brumble and your conversations about your upcoming wedding. “I know,” he admitted. “But we’ve got to try. We can give them this money, but let’s give them the story, too.”
Slowly, Aggy nodded her head, her ruff rustling. “This may be one of the most harebrained—no offense, HB—ideas I have ever heard. But I guess I expect no less from you, Malcolm.” She turned to face the rest of the group. “Let’s make the lankies see it. Let’s use the legend of Ernie and the hobo man to keep our school open.”
Then she turned back to Malcolm. “So . . . what exactly did you have in mind?”
Chapter 29
The Elastic Order of Suspenders
So here it is, Mr. Binney. We’re to the point in the story where things got a little messy for you. The Academy (and the McKenna All-Stars, for that matter) would like to apologize for any confusion and uncomfortableness on your part. But there’s this funny thing. The world doesn’t listen to nutters and critters. Not like it should, anyway. Both of them get a lot of pats on the heads, but not true listening. The Academy has always known this. That’s why they operate the way they do—with an Elastic Order of Suspenders. A lanky to be their voice. Randall Carson, the hobo man, was their first voice.
And that’s what the Midnight Academy needed now. A reliable, credible lanky.
You.
And Ms. Brumble,33 of course.
The new Elastic Order of Suspenders.
The next morning, Malcolm was exhausted but wired. He jogged on his exercise wheel. In part to stay awake, in part because of nervous anticipation. Would you see? Would you notice?
You came in early, as you usually did, Mr. Binney. Before the rest of the building had really started waking up. You were maybe not all the way woken up either, because it took you a ridiculously long time to notice anything. You sipped coffee. You ran copies. You put everyone’s journals back on their desks. You readied the dry-erase board with the morning’s math warm-up and vocabulary word of the day. Then finally you sat down.
You shuffled papers for a bit—do you remember, Mr. Binney?—and then your eyes locked on a small stack of photocopies. You picked them up. You scanned them. You frowned and flipped through them again.
And then you walked over to the portrait, which was still leaning against the bulletin board. Only now, there was a paper sticking out of Skylar’s tear. A small corner. You were tugging at it, and were just about to flip the portrait over so you could get at it from the back of the frame, when Mrs. Rivera came in, holding photocopied pages identical to yours.
Malcolm felt his whiskers quiver. The plan was in motion.
“Morning, Mark,” Mrs. Rivera said, waving the papers. “I came in to the strangest pages on my desk this morning. An incredible story—telling me to look in the wall of the auditorium. So I did. And you’re not going to believe this, but—”
“There’s money in the wall?” He waved his pages also. “I got them too.”
“Where did they come from? I know someone found the time capsule the other day. Is the money from that?”
She stopped as she finally saw what you were doing. “Where did you get this portrait?”
“Um, Ronnie—Ms. Brumble—found it when she was cleaning last night. And I think this portrait is where the pages came from . . .” You succeeded in getting the back off the painting, and the drawings fell out and drifted to the floor.
Mrs. Rivera picked them up. “These are the originals,” she said, and frowned. “But how did we get copies before the originals came out of the painting? What is going on in this school?”
You shook your head. “I . . . don’t know.” Did Malcolm imagine it, or did you quickly glance his way and back?
Mrs. Rivera folded the pages back up crisply. “Well, it’s certainly interesting.” She looked around at the aging room. “Wonder what other secrets
this building holds.”
“I was thinking,” you started. “Maybe we should—”
“Maybe we should send this story to the press and the school board?” She smiled. “Oh, yes, I think so. About time someone heard something good that’s been going on at McKenna.”
Finally, Malcolm stopped jogging. He let his wheel spin without him, and it slowly came to a stop. Yes, what a good idea, he thought. Such a good idea that Octavius had already done it, emailing the copies from a dormant email account to the local newspaper and television station.
Was Mrs. Rivera surprised when she returned to her office and there was already a message from the newspaper, asking her to call them back about the money found in the wall of the school?
Chapter 30
Socks
It turned out that Malcolm and the Midnight Academy were not the only ones cooking up a surprise. You had your own, didn’t you, Mr. Binney? Probably Malcolm should have guessed it. The vocabulary word of the day on the dry-erase board was “reunion.”34 In retrospect, it also must have been hard to keep this surprise—it’s been Malcolm’s experience that the happy secrets are the hardest to keep.
Skylar stumbled in that morning with his usual commotion. “Sorry we’re late,” he announced, and proceeded to drop his pile of books, notebooks, and folders in the doorway. Papers went flying everywhere.
You stood. “Yes, now, class. Today we have a surprise visitor—” But before you could finish, someone stepped into the doorway behind Skylar. She stooped to help him pick up his mess. Her black hair swung forward, hiding her face.
Jovahn cried out, “Amelia! But what are you doing here?” He raced over and picked up the notebooks, since both Skylar’s and her hands were full of six months’ worth of Skylar’s comics.
At the sound of Amelia’s name, Malcolm raised up on his hind legs, his heart galumping. Amelia? Yes, it was Amelia! Standing in the doorway, between Skylar and Jovahn, as if she had never left! But . . . how?
You grinned, Mr. Binney. “So, yes, class, the surprise visitor this morning is . . . Amelia. She’s here to spend the day with us. Amelia, why don’t you take your old seat? You and Skylar can share the table this morning.”
“But—but—” Jovahn sputtered, trailing after Amelia and putting Skylar’s books on the table. “You’re moving back?” he said hopefully.
She shook her head. “No, I wish. I’m only visiting. Skylar’s Gram met my parents at the school board hearing. She felt bad how things ended. She says we need to finish what we started—the presentation for the school board. So, here I am.”
Skylar jumped in. “My Gram didn’t mind picking her up at her new apartment. She has to drive me anyway ever since I accidentally let all those crickets go on the bus last week. And she says . . .” He smiled shyly. “She says it’s good to support your friends.”
Amelia looked down at her feet at that. And wiggled her toes. “I guess I was so excited to come back, I forgot my shoes!” She looked up with a huge grin, huger than anything Malcolm had ever seen. Huger than the moon next to the stars Outside.
The rest of the class laughed with her. Kiera stood up then. “Don’t worry. I have some in my locker you can borrow. They’re pink ballet flats with sparkles on the toes. They’ll be super cute with those green socks. Can I get them, Mr. Binney?”
You nodded and pointed at Malcolm. “And while she gets them, you’d better say hello to someone before he passes out, Amelia.”
Sure enough, Malcolm was racing around in his cage. His tail-safe exercise wheel couldn’t contain his energy, so he ran laps. Around and around his cage. He was moving so fast that on the short ends, he ran up on the walls. And every time he passed Amelia, sitting in her place where she belonged, he tossed shredded paper up in the air. Amelia was here.
Amelia was here!
The McKenna All-Stars got permission to meet in the library for afternoon recess. You stopped by for a few minutes, Mr. Binney, to drop off some cupcakes and fill everyone in on the morning’s developments with the portrait.
“And I have a cat now!” Kiera was explaining. “We found her upstairs. I call her Blackberry. Ms. Brumble gave me the idea for the name.”
Amelia jerked her eyes wide in Malcolm’s direction. “What?”
Subtly, Malcolm underlined the word “later” on Amelia’s notebook with his tail.
“But where did you find that Hobo Code?” Jovahn said. He was leaning over Amelia, still not eating his cupcake. Malcolm worried something might be permanently wrong with him. Who could ignore a cupcake?
“I was searching about hobo coins online. And that led me to hoboes, which led me to the Hobo Code. And as soon as I saw it, I knew it was connected somehow. Because Malcolm showed me the Marks.” She turned to the group. “So, what’s the All-Star plan now?”
“We still thought we’d present at the last board meeting,” Kiera started. “What we had before, only show the time capsule and the portrait now. It’d be even better if you could come too.”
What? Malcolm sat up. The same presentation? After all this? No, no, no. Malcolm had to show them. But how to explain? It would take forever with his notebook. He needed something faster, something shorter. Something straight to the point.
Like a Mark. Or two.
Malcolm stuck his tail in Jovahn’s cupcake frosting.
“Hey!” Jovahn protested. (Well, if he wasn’t going to eat it . . .)
With his tail dipped in blue, Malcolm drew two circles on Jovahn’s napkin. Two circles close together, then beneath them, a large triangle followed by three small ones.
Amelia peered at them. Then she pulled a paper out of her back pocket. She smoothed out her copy of the Hobo Code.
“‘Never give up,’” Skylar said, deciphering the circles.
“And ‘tell a good story,’” Kiera added.
“You know, a story does always make things more interesting,” Jovahn said. “That and adding bathroom jokes. Do you think . . .”
“No,” said Kiera emphatically. “Do not tell that bathroom joke of yours again.”
“I agree,” Amelia said. “But Mr. Binney did give us a pretty good story to tell.” The All-Stars looked at one another, then at Malcolm.
“So it’s decided,” Kiera said with a laugh. “We’ll mix up our presentation a little bit tomorrow night. It can’t go worse than the last time!”
Amelia licked frosting off her fingers then and stood. “You know, speaking of stories—I want to see that Niche behind the dictionary again.” She smiled and tilted her head. “Anyone want to take a look with me?”
“Amelia!” Jovahn glanced at Mrs. Snyder, who was leaning over a group of fourth-graders in the computer lab next door. “Someone will see!”
Amelia laughed and stretched her arms wide. “What are they going to do? I don’t go to this school anymore. One of the few perks about something bad happening to you is that you realize you don’t need to worry so much about the little stuff. But if it’ll make you feel better”—she scooped Malcolm up into her hoodie—“Malcolm will keep watch,” she said. Then she walked over to the dictionary shelf and carefully stacked the books as she pulled them off it. The other nutters gathered behind her.
“Wow, you can hardly even notice that,” Jovahn whispered as Amelia felt for the handle on the hidden cabinet door. It popped open with a little squeak. Skylar lay down on his belly to peer in. The others crouched around. Malcolm wondered if Mrs. Snyder would notice Skylar on the floor, but then he reconsidered: Skylar sprawled out was maybe not that unusual.
“Whoa!” Skylar said. “You should see all the junk in here! This is worse than my desk!”
Amelia reached past him. She pulled out a blue feather. “Look,” she said, holding it up. “Do you think . . . ?”
Kiera laughed. “It is like your desk, Skylar. There’s even a stash of comics.”
Skylar stuck his arm in and pulled out the pile of comics and magazines. He flipped through them. Almost immediately, he jum
ped to his feet. He crashed into a table. “Oh my gosh,” he said, shoving the whole pile at Kiera. “Keep me away from those!” he said.
The other nutters stared at him.
“I’m serious!” he shouted, causing Mrs. Snyder to peer in from the computer lab. “We show Mr. Binney this. With—” He grabbed a sticky note off the library counter and jotted down a phone number. “With this number. But until then—they’ve got to stay safe in there. Promise me.” He grabbed Jovahn’s collar with both hands and shook him. “And no matter what, do NOT let me touch them.”
Chapter 31
The Vote
Two weeks later, Malcolm made his way to the library. The rest of the Academy was already gathered around the computer. The final listening session—at the school board office this time, because McKenna’s auditorium was still unusable—was about to begin. Because this meeting was so important to McKenna, though, the district Midnight Academy had rigged up a web camera in the ceiling of the board office so the McKenna Academy could watch live.
Malcolm felt like it was his first day at McKenna all over again—stomach: nervous-jumpy; feet: sweaty; whiskers: nibbled down to nubs.
The board members sat in a half circle at a U-shaped table in the front of the room. A podium was set up to the right of them, so speakers could be seen by both the board and the audience. And the audience? It was last-day-of-school-carnival crazy. Seriously, Malcolm didn’t think another nutter or lanky could fit in the room. Not even the baby size. At the far back, television cameras filmed. The whole room buzzed, more than nutters, even, in the moments right before the bell rang to start winter break.
The mustached man from the first meeting rapped a small wooden hammer on the table. “Welcome, everyone. It’s great to see such a nice turnout for this last hearing about McKenna Elementary School. We will be voting on our decision following comments from the public tonight. As you all are aware, some . . . events have come up since our last meeting, but before we address those, we’d like to finish the first meeting. The last time we were together, there was a group of fifth-graders from McKenna who were presenting their opinions when . . . well, we all know how that meeting ended. We’ll hear from them first, then take comments from the rest of you. The sign-up sheet to speak is . . .” There was a small commotion from the board around him. “Oh! I guess the sign-up sheet is full for tonight!” A small smile rippled through his mustache. “So let’s begin.”
