The Boy Who Knew Too Much

by Commander S. T. Bolivar, III

  “What do you mean?”

  Eliot stretched both arms over his head as he yawned. “I mean you don’t have anything to worry about. It’s not like they’re going to clone the good kids.”

  “Yeah,” Mattie said and then immediately his heart double-thumped—because even if Mattie didn’t have anything to worry about, Carter did.

  IN FACT, THE MORE MATTIE THOUGHT about Carter and clones and how bad kids were getting turned into clones, the more Mattie realized he had to tell his brother. The trouble was how?

  Mattie had no idea. He followed Eliot as they crept back to their dorm and made up a list of ways to tell Carter the truth:

  1. Tell him at breakfast

  2. Give him a note

  3. Skywriting

  “Skywriting?” Eliot gaped at Mattie, his breath exhaling in a hard puff. “Where would you get a plane? Wait! If you warn Carter with skywriting then Rooney will know you know and then Rooney will also know he has a problem…you know?”

  Mattie was afraid he did. “Fine.” Mattie frowned. “I’ll put everything in a note.”

  “You really think Carter will believe a story about cloning because you wrote it down?”

  “Not really.” Mattie also knew his brother wasn’t the kind of kid who would believe he needed to clean up his act or risk being cloned. Not to mention, there was the little matter of what would happen if the note fell into a teacher’s hands.

  Mattie shuddered. That wouldn’t be good, but he had to try.

  “I’ll tell him at breakfast,” Mattie said at last. It sounded reasonable and simple.

  Too bad something so reasonable and so simple could make his stomach squeeze and squeeze.

  The morning started out like any other morning. The boys in 14A woke up. They brushed their teeth. They acted like there wasn’t anything going on underneath their school, like the only thing they had to worry about was whether the pudding at lunch would have a green skin on it again. Everyone got dressed. Everyone went down to the dining hall.

  It was cold that morning. As Mattie and the others walked through the courtyard on the way to breakfast, their breath puffed in wispy clouds above their heads. The long grass was crunchy under Mattie’s feet and the benches were sparkly with frost. They looked almost pretty for things that would freezer burn your butt if you sat on them, Mattie thought.

  “Would you hurry up?” Eliot asked him. Mattie hurried. He followed Eliot, Eliot followed Doyle, and Doyle led the way, grinning.

  “After you, Mattie,” the clone said, holding the door open so Mattie could pass.

  “Thanks, Doyle,” Mattie mumbled as he hurried past. The dining room smelled like eggs and burned toast and bleach. Students stood in clumps between the rows of tables and teachers kept telling everyone to sit down. Mattie was silent as they pushed through the breakfast line. He took a tray from the teetering stack. He took an orange juice from the sweating cooler. He didn’t notice Mrs. Hitchcock making notes or Mr. Karloff muttering observations into a small recorder. Mattie was too busy hunting for Carter. Luckily, it wasn’t hard to find him. His brother was sitting a few tables away, surrounded by his friends.

  It was now or never. Mattie put down his tray and started toward them.

  “What…what are you doing?” Eliot grabbed Mattie’s sleeve. “Those are eighth graders!”

  “Yeah, and that one’s my brother.” Mattie shook Eliot off and marched toward the big kids. Three older girls drew away, revealing the students still sitting at the table. Mattie saw his brother again. Carter’s hair was spiked in just the way their mother hated. His uniform jacket was wrinkled and there were small feathers on his collar.

  From his pillow? Mattie wondered, but he didn’t get to wonder for long because Marcus and Jay turned to stare at him.

  It was like they knew what Mattie was going to say, but they couldn’t know.

  Could they?

  Mattie gulped. “Um, Carter?”

  Carter didn’t turn around. He stabbed his eggs with a little extra force, though. “What is it, Pippi?”

  “Good morning, Mattie!” Jay boomed. He leaned across Carter to grab Mattie’s hand and shake it, reminding Mattie of the time the mayor came to their house.

  “Morning, Jay,” Mattie said. “Um, Carter? I need to talk to you.”

  Carter sighed and swiveled to face Mattie. “Talk.”

  “Can we do this, um, privately?”

  “‘Can we do this, um, privately?’” A pretty brown-haired girl mimicked Mattie’s question, but she made it even higher and squeakier. Carter started to laugh and stopped himself.

  “Cool it, yeah?” he asked, and she quieted. Carter stood up and shook his head like he couldn’t really believe he was doing this.

  Neither could Mattie. He tried not to bounce along next to Carter as they walked to the edge of the cafeteria. Generally, Carter never went anywhere with Mattie.

  Carter leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “What?”

  Mattie blinked and blinked again. How was he supposed to say You have to get good or Headmaster Rooney is going to turn you into a clone?

  “You have to get good, Carter, or Headmaster Rooney is going to turn you into a clone!”

  Carter stared at him. Mattie mentally kicked himself and sneaked a glance around Carter’s shoulder. Marcus and Jay were staring at them, but Mattie was pretty sure they were too far away to hear anything.

  Mattie took a deep breath. “They’re cloning students,” he explained. “Or maybe just turning them into robots. I don’t know. I couldn’t get close enough to see, and I really didn’t want to get that close anyway, but Headmaster Rooney told the teachers that all the bad students were going to be turned into good students thanks to the machine.”

  Carter was still staring, but now his mouth was hanging open. “The machine?”

  “Yeah.” Mattie nodded. Students were starting to file out of the cafeteria. The homeroom bell would ring soon. They needed to go, and Mattie couldn’t let Carter leave. “It’s a huge machine. It’s in the basement. I found it by—never mind. All that matters is I found it and you’re in danger if you don’t start being good.”

  “Like you?”

  Mattie shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. There was something about the way Carter’s eyes had narrowed that worried him. “I don’t know. I guess? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Someone behind them called Carter’s name. Was it Jay? Marcus? Maybe the clones had super hearing too? Mattie was too scared to turn around. Carter looked up and waved.

  “Haven’t you noticed Jay and Marcus seem different? Weird?” Mattie asked. He sounded desperate—he felt desperate. Carter raised his eyebrows.

  “You don’t want anything to happen to me?” he asked at last. “That’s just so special. I had no idea you cared so much.”

  Hope and relief made Mattie’s chest loosen. “Of course I care. You’re my brother.”

  Carter shook his head. “It’s just that Dad always taught me not to need anyone and gosh, Mattie, do you think we could be friends and brothers?”

  “I would love that!” Part of Mattie was suspicious. Carter was taking this awfully well. But the rest of Mattie? The rest of Mattie couldn’t stop grinning. He’d always wanted Carter to pay attention to him. He’d always wanted Carter to like him, to be friends—

  “That’s so great!” Carter continued. “Do you want to braid my hair first or yours? Maybe afterward we could give each other manicures and talk about our feelings.”

  Mattie deflated. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “You’re smart.”

  “You’re still making fun of me. This is serious, Carter.”

  Carter snorted. “Seriously ridiculous, Snoopy—”

  “Stop calling me dogs’ names!”

  “Then stop being so stupid,” Carter said with exasperation. “There aren’t robots in the basement. You’re insane. How much cleaning solution have you been sniffing?”

  “
Carter, I’m telling you the truth! The machine is under the school. There’s a doorway in Rooney’s closet and—”

  “Now you’re really making stuff up.”

  “Carter, I saw—”

  “Leave now.” Carter reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out a rolled-up car magazine. He thwapped it against his palm. “Either you leave now, Toto, or I’m going to make you pay.”

  “Carter—”

  “I will whack you on the nose, Scooby!”

  Mattie opened his mouth, shut it, opened it, and shut it.

  “That’s what I thought,” Carter said.

  Above them, the homeroom bell rang and the remaining students began to rush the cafeteria doors in a crush of Munchem red and white.

  “Hey, Carter!” It was Marcus or maybe Jay. They talked so similarly and were standing right next to each other. Mattie could feel his stomach sink into his knees when he realized they had been watching them. Waiting.

  To drag Carter into the basement?

  Mattie’s eyes bugged.

  “C’mon, Mattie.” A scowling Caroline appeared at his side. Mattie couldn’t tell if she was scowling at him or at Carter or at the whole world. It was hard to tell when it came to Caroline. “We’re going to be late,” she said to Mattie.

  “Let’s go!” Marcus called, waving Carter over.

  Carter turned away from Mattie and Caroline. “See you around, Buttons,” he said, strolling toward his friends. Jay and Marcus gave Carter high fives as they pushed into the crowd. Carter didn’t look back, but Marcus did.

  His eyes flashed robot red and then, just like that, he was gone, lost in the crowd of students.

  Mattie grabbed Caroline’s arm. “Did you see that? Tell me you saw that!”

  “See what?” Caroline asked, but her voice shook, and Mattie knew Caroline was lying.

  BUT FOR ALL OF MATTIE’S WORRY, Carter spent the next month being good—not really the kind of good Carter could put in his essay about how Munchem changed him, but good for Carter. He didn’t skip class. He didn’t backtalk the teachers. He stayed away from roadkill.

  Mattie was starting to feel really good about his brother’s future.

  Or he was until Caroline came to get him before study hall. “I’m going to kill your brother,” she hissed as she slid into a chair at their table. Mattie and Eliot glanced at each other. It wasn’t the first time a girl had vowed to kill Carter, but Mattie still didn’t know what his response was supposed to be.

  “I’m sorry?” Mattie guessed at last.

  Caroline’s dark eyes narrowed. “Carter stole a bunch of chickens.”

  “From where?”

  “I have no idea! Is he going to free them?”

  Knowing Carter it didn’t seem likely, but Caroline’s grip was choking him, so Mattie nodded. “I’m sure…almost positive.”

  “Mattie? I want to know about the chickens,” Caroline said. “You have to find out where Carter got them. Don’t forget.”

  Like that was something anyone could forget. In fact, right now, the only thing Mattie could think about was: Carter had found chickens and Carter had plans for them.

  “What do you mean you have plans for the chickens?” Mattie panted as he scurried after his brother. He’d found Carter between the east wing and the west wing, and the bell for study hall was still ringing. And yet they were still rounding the back of the school, sticking close to the dead gardens. Mattie was following Carter, and Carter was following the tumbledown wall that circled the flower beds.

  “Are you talking about, like, a menu or something?” Mattie pressed. “Are you going to cook the chickens?”

  “Go away, Henrietta,” Carter said and hopped over a low spot on the wall. His red backpack jostled, and the chickens inside squawked.

  Mattie did not go away. He tugged at Carter’s sleeve. “What would Mom and Dad say?”

  His brother stopped, blew out a long sigh, and turned. “Why do you always do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Worry about Dad. You worry what he thinks. You worry what he’ll say. You even agree with him—all the time.”

  Mattie paused. He wasn’t sure how asking Carter what their parents would say about the chicken situation equaled agreeing with Mr. Larimore all the time. He did know it seemed important to his brother.

  Carter was staring at Mattie like Mattie had something important to share, something Carter might actually want. Mattie desperately desperately wanted to give his brother the answer he needed because Carter had never needed anything from Mattie before—ever—and Mattie wanted to know what that felt like.

  “We’re supposed to agree with Dad,” he said at last and, even before Carter rolled his eyes, Mattie knew it was the wrong answer.

  Carter’s face wound tight like he was going to thump Mattie, but he didn’t. He just shook him off. “Whatever,” Carter said. “You’ll agree to anything to stay on their good side. Kids like you do anything to make other people happy.”

  Mattie stared after Carter. He didn’t…he never…maybe he did. Mattie watched his brother walk away from him and wondered if maybe he was a kid who’d agree to anything to stay on someone’s good side. What if he was the kid who would stand for anything as long as it kept other people happy?

  Mattie wasn’t sure he liked that.

  Actually, Mattie was quite sure he didn’t like that, and if it hadn’t been for the little matter of Headmaster Rooney cloning bad students, Mattie might have left Carter alone with his chickens. He might have let his brother risk getting caught.

  Mattie might have, but he didn’t.

  “Carter,” Mattie said, scrambling after him. “Carter!”

  Carter didn’t stop. He hustled around the back of the dining hall, skirting the clay gray toadstools that lined the wall.

  “You can’t do this!” Mattie tripped on a bit of broken stone and stumbled into his brother. “You can’t keep getting in trouble. Headmaster Rooney will turn you into a—”

  Carter swung around on Mattie. “If you say clone one more time…”

  Mattie opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “Fine! But whatever you’re planning, don’t do it. Please? For me?”

  Carter stared down at Mattie. “You know what? You just lost puppy privileges, Coco.” He spun on his heel and walked away. “No more walkies. No more fetch. No more belly rubs.”

  “Not funny, Carter!”

  But Carter was already around the corner. Mattie raced after him and found his brother by the dining hall’s far windows. Carter had one shoulder against the brick wall and both hands on the window frame. Two yanks and the window swung open.

  “What are you doing?” Mattie asked.

  Carter ignored him. Instead, Carter unzipped his backpack. Three chicken heads popped up. They were fluffy chickens, the kind with long white feathers and angry red heads. They were also painted with the numbers 1, 2, and 4. Carter picked up Number 1 and it clucked.

  “Why are they painted?” Mattie asked.

  Carter continued to ignore Mattie. He opened the window a bit more and into the dining hall went Number 1.

  “What are you doing?” Mattie grabbed for the chicken, but it was too late. It landed on the glossy wooden floor with an indignant squawk that echoed in the empty dining hall. “You can’t do this!”

  “I just did, Ginger.”

  And into the dining hall went Number 2. Number 4 was next. It flailed a bit, catching Carter in the face with its wings. Carter coughed and tossed the chicken through the window—perhaps a bit harder than necessary. Number 4 landed with a healthy ploomp on the floor.

  Mattie pulled himself up to peer through the glass. Numbers 2 and 4 were now standing on the closest table, pecking at a few crumbs left over from breakfast. Number 1 was staring into space, like it was very deep in thought.

  Mattie pressed his nose closer to the window and wondered what on earth chickens thought about. He knew he shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t h
elp himself. “Where’s Number 3?”

  Carter zipped up his backpack and grinned. “That’s what everyone’s going to ask. C’mon.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Up.”

  Up? Mattie couldn’t imagine what that meant, but he followed Carter back the way they’d come and suddenly realized what his brother meant.

  “Up in the trees?” Mattie asked. Three ancient oaks bordered the dining hall’s other side. At some point there must have been a dozen more trees, but time and weather had ground them down and now the rotting trunks stood like broken pillars.

  The remaining trees, however, were almost as tall as the school’s roof. Their leaves were Munchem red and faded gold and even if the boys just climbed to the lowest branches they would still be able to see through the dining hall’s windows. As Mattie watched, two more roof tiles plummeted to the ground. The school was molting worse than Beezus.

  “Move it, Misty.” Eliot gave Mattie a shove.

  “Won’t they see us?”

  “Adults never look up,” Carter said and gave Mattie another shove, sending Mattie higher. “You need to remember that.”

  Mattie hooked his arms around a branch and pulled until he could swing his legs up. “Now what?” he asked, clutching the trunk. From here, he could see the Munchem grounds stretch on and on—almost to the cemetery, almost to the crooked gate.

  Carter hoisted himself onto the branch next to Mattie and leaned forward eagerly. “Now we wait.”

  They didn’t have to wait long before Mrs. Hitchcock appeared. The boys couldn’t see their teacher until she pushed through the dining hall doors—and the teacher certainly couldn’t see the boys hiding in the tree. But, to be perfectly frank, Mrs. Hitchcock might not have noticed Carter and Mattie if they had been standing right in front of her because she was a quart low on coffee.

  Her eyes were puffy, her focus wasn’t the best, but Mrs. Hitchcock’s grip on her stained coffee mug was true and fast.

  Or it was until she noticed Number 4.

  And dropped her mug.

  And screamed.