Polar Distress

by Sheila Grau

Riga stopped walking and touched my arm, a look of sadness on her face. “Runt, I want Syke to come back as much as you do. Maybe telling her the truth will bring her back, but Dr. Critchlore has forbidden it.”

  “I knew there was a truth to find. But why? Why would Dr. Critchlore let Syke believe that he killed her mother? What could he possibly gain from that?”

  “Think, Runt. He wants to protect her.”

  “Protect her from what?” I asked.

  “Just let it be, Runt,” she said, and then she turned to go.

  I gasped as something came to me. “Did Syke burn down the forest?” I asked, but either she didn’t hear me or she chose to ignore me.

  The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The fire had to have been an accident.

  Dr. Critchlore loved Syke. I knew he did. He was the kind of guy who would be noble and take the blame to keep Syke from living her life filled with guilt.

  But if that were true, how would I get Syke back? I couldn’t tell her that she’d accidentally killed her own mother. I needed to talk to Dr. Critchlore. But Barry stinking Merrybench was always in my way.

  In junior henchman class, Professor Murphy was distracted and impatient.

  “We’ve missed so much class time, and we have a lot of territory to cover. But Dr. Critchlore wants another Minion Games challenge, so I can’t start a new subject. Instead, I’ve prepared a series of lectures on leadership, starting with—”

  His lecture was interrupted by a giant roar coming from outside. Kumi had started roaring these last few days.

  “WILL SOMEONE SHUT THAT BEAST UP!” Professor Murphy yelled in frustration.

  I raised my hand.

  “What?” he said.

  “I was wondering . . . um . . . if someone got the gorilla to quiet down . . . could that person possibly earn some extra credit in this class?”

  Professor Murphy sighed. “You want extra credit, do you?”

  “Well, it just seems like it’s going to be really hard for me to pass this course since I don’t have any minions to lead in the Minion Games, and—”

  “Runt,” he said, raising his hand to stop me. “Let’s be honest for a moment, because I don’t think you get it. And I have to wonder . . . Do you really think you’re junior henchman material?

  “Um . . .” How do you answer something like that? “I think I could do—”

  “Take a look at your classmates,” he said. He came around the desk and pointed to Frieda, at the opposite end of the row from me. “Terrifying power,” he said.

  Then he started walking toward me, pointing at my classmates as he came closer. Jud, “Terrifying werewolf.” Rufus, “Terrifying werewolf.” Janet’s empty chair, “Terrifyingly intelligent and cunning.” Meztli, “Terrifying were-jaguar.” He stopped in front of me. “And then there’s you, Runt.”

  “Terrifying incompetence,” Rufus muttered.

  I felt my face burn with both humiliation and anger. Mostly humiliation. I kept my head down for the rest of the class, just wanting to get out of there.

  To the kid who was trap-doored into a pit filled with dragon dung: Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  —BARRY MERRYBENCH, ALL-POINTS BULLETIN

  Humiliation like that doesn’t go away quickly. I continued to feel like absolute garbage every time the scene replayed in my head, and it never stopped replaying. All the embarrassing things from that class would be etched in my memory forever, no matter how much I wanted to forget them: Professor Murphy’s hurtful words; Meztli’s face, full of pity; Rufus’s gloating. Every feeling roared back like a firestorm when I remembered the scene—from the red-hot embarrassment that burned my face to the bottomless chasm of shame in my belly, and the shaky weakness I felt through my body.

  I slunk down into the dungeon, passing a trio of humans—a very stinky fifth-year named Jeremy and two of his friends.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get him back,” one of them said. “He’s not getting away with trap-dooring a fifth-year!”

  I found a dark corner, sat down, and cried. It all came out in shaking sobs. I’d been able to bottle up all the sadness I felt over everything that had happened to me lately, but Professor Murphy’s words were the smooth minty candy that, when added to my soda bottle of sadness, made it all gush out of me. All of it—my frustration in his class, my loneliness with my best friend gone, the hurt I felt because she hated me, and the feeling that I wasn’t going to do anything right, ever.

  Why did all this bad stuff have to happen to me? Was Professor Murphy right? Did I not belong in his program? Was I really as useless as he constantly told me I was?

  I grew too tired to cry anymore, so I just sat in that dark dungeon, and as I sat there, I realized something. This must be exactly how Frankie felt every day, because of Dr. Frankenhammer. The hurt, the humiliation, the feeling like a failure. But Dr. Frankenhammer was so wrong about Frankie. I could see that—everyone could. Maybe Professor Murphy was wrong about me too.

  With red, swollen eyes, I got up and went to the secret library for my next class with Professor Zaida.

  The place was empty. Uncle Ludwig had been sent on a secret mission by Dr. Critchlore to find some sudithium on the black market where he’d bought a copy of The Top Secret Book of Minions. If he could buy a sample of the mineral, then maybe Dr. Frankenhammer could figure out how it was used.

  Professor Zaida showed up for our session with a pile of books for me to read. She slapped my essay on the table.

  “Nice work,” she said. “But you’re just repeating facts. Think like a leader! What could the rulers of Erudyten have done to prevent their defeat, or at least to minimize it? They managed to save the books from the libraries—but what else could have been saved? Artwork? Historical sites? Important people? An entire culture was lost, Runt. A culture rich with values and ethics and traditions.” She seemed to be overcome with emotion for a second. “Dig deeper, and give me five more pages.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work,” I said, grabbing a book. “You know, I’m going to fail my junior henchman class. I might as well work on prince stuff for both periods now.”

  “You’d better not fail,” she said. “That class is the only reason I’m letting you stay here.”

  And then she continued to casually take notes on her pad, like she hadn’t just dropped a two-ton ogre on me, squishing me flat.

  “What?” I said. “What do you mean by ‘letting me stay’? You can’t make me leave if I don’t want to. Dr. Critchlore won’t let you.”

  “Runt. Do not forget who I am,” she said, pointing a finger at me. She leaned forward and whispered, even though we were alone, “I am an Archivist of the Great Library. I can break powerful people with a word. You’ve studied Egmont Luticus, the banished overlord of Riggen? Why he was overthrown?”

  “It started with the Great Aspirin Shortage,” I said. “The people had finally had enough, so they overthrew him.”

  “Yes, that was how we librarians rallied the population’s anger. But the real reason was that he was close to finding the Great Library, and something had to be done. We took him out through the careful dissemination of information to the populace. We stoked their anger, we convinced other overlords not to help him.”

  For a brief moment she looked smug. But the moment passed, and a sadness came over her.

  “And then we sat back and watched as that tyrannical chicken farmer took over.” She shook her head, like it had been her fault.

  “Fraze Coldheart,” I said. One of the most ruthless men ever to rule.

  “His real name is Gilbert Cank. We made a terrible mistake. One I will not make again. Power cannot rest in one person alone. Revolutions have to come with a plan to share power, so that the people are not oppressed. There must be a balance of power. That’s why I’m teaching you to lead, Runt. You are going to be the kind of leader who will do the right thing.”

  There she went again, thinking I could be a prince. It had gone from ridicul
ously funny to downright terrifying.

  “Knowledge is power, Runt,” she said. “And I am more powerful than anyone at this school. Understand? If I say you’re going to be privately tutored in a secret, remote location, then that’s what’s going to happen. I’ve often thought this school was too dangerous for you. But you have to learn to lead.

  “I know you don’t like Professor Murphy, but Dr. Critchlore hired him for a reason—he’s the best junior henchman instructor in Stull. If you fail his class, I’m taking you to the Great Library’s new location, end of discussion.”

  She returned to her note taking, and I couldn’t stop staring at her. To me, Professor Zaida had always been the nice, sweet teacher. The one who was a bit of a pushover because she loved kids. The one who was a little crazy, because she thought I could be a prince.

  But in one conversation she’d morphed into a completely new person. I don’t know how to explain it, but I felt her power and self-confidence, and with it, a shift in our relationship. She was more than a teacher I wanted to impress, more than a tackle three-ball coach I had to patiently explain the rules of the game to. She was a force to be feared, and respected.

  I didn’t know the new location of the Great Library, but I knew I didn’t want to live there. Sure, the library was amazing, filled with the largest collection of books and knowledge anywhere, and being inside had been awe-inspiring. But living away from here would feel like solitary confinement.

  I read and took notes until the period was over, but it was hard to concentrate. I was filled with dread at the thought of leaving the only home I’d ever known. The only way to stay here was to pass Professor Murphy’s class, and to do that I not only had to be chosen for a search team but I had to be the one who actually found some sudithium.

  It was impossible.

  Our next hoopsmash game was at the Westvolt Academy, and I was really looking forward to burning off some of my frustration on the court. I convinced Frankie to come along again. I figured he needed a break from hearing about his faults, and Coach Foley could once again provide the ego boost he needed.

  When we reached the Westvolt Academy, I was surprised to see two other schoolbuses in the parking lot: one from the Center for Minion Excellence and the other from the Pravus Academy.

  “What’s up?” we asked Coach Foley.

  “The gymnasium at the Center for Minion Excellence is still being renovated,” Coach Foley said. “Due to sabotage.”

  “Pravus,” we all muttered.

  “Right. So they’re playing their home games here. Their game against the Pravus Academy should be over shortly.”

  We filed into the gymnasium and waited for the game to end. Syke was playing hard, as usual. I watched her give-and-go with Victus, the tall obnoxious kid. I watched them high-five each other after one of them scored. I watched them cheer for each other. That used to be me. I was the one she cheered for and passed to and high-fived. I felt a whole new level of hurt watching them. Not only did she hate me, but she’d already replaced me. With a complete jerk.

  Their beady-eyed coach, Reythor, yelled at the referees over every call and noncall. He yelled at his players. He picked up a chair and squeezed it to pieces when one of his players missed a shot.

  The game ended. I had to talk to Syke, so I ran to the exit before she got there. She was walking off the court with Victus, who smiled when he saw me. It wasn’t a nice smile.

  “Syke, I have to talk to you,” I said.

  “She’s done with you losers,” Victus said, putting a hand on my chest. “Let it go, already.”

  “Syke,” I said. I had to lean around Victus to talk to her. “I’ve learned more about the fire. I know Dr. Critchlore is protecting someone.”

  She sighed and shook her head, then pushed by me to leave.

  “Syke, please listen,” I said, following her out.

  “Dr. Critchlore only protects himself,” she said without turning around. She walked rapidly toward their bus. I jogged to keep up.

  “If he only protects himself, then why not get someone else to take the blame? He’s done it before—you know he has. If he wanted to, he could have blamed it on anyone.”

  She didn’t have an answer for that.

  “I’m telling you, Syke, that fire was not his fault.”

  She stopped and turned to face me, poking me in the chest, hard. Her whole face blazed with anger and hatred. “Here’s what I know. The fire killed my mom. Even if he didn’t start it, he didn’t stop it, either. It happened on his property. He should have protected the forest, but he didn’t. That means it’s his fault. The other thing I know is that you are ridiculously gullible. So whatever you say, I’m not going to believe it.

  “You’re on the wrong side, Runt. Pravus is doing big things. Things that will make the world a better place. I’m never coming back, so get over it.”

  Victus bumped into me as I stood there gaping at Syke. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me. “You guys are so lame,” he said. “And so far behind us. In every way.”

  “Oh, really?” Man, this guy bugged me. I felt like I had to defend my school. “We know about the sudithium.”

  “Sure you do. But do you have any? Do you even know what it does?” He must have noticed my blank look, because he added, “Thought so.”

  Then he howled like a wolf, right in my face.

  I stood there, unable to move. A herd of trolls could have trampled me then, and I don’t think I’d feel any more hurt than I was feeling. My gut clenched with hurt.

  Syke had told Victus that I used to think I was a werewolf—she’d told him my most embarrassing secret.

  Hurt turned to anger as I watched them leave, laughing together. I’d been betrayed by my best friend, in the worst way possible. How could she have done that?

  “Who selected these teams?”

  —OVERHEARD IN THE TEACHERS’ LOUNGE AFTER THE GREEN TEAM WON THE SPIRIT COMPETITION, THE OGRE PIE-EATING COMPETITION, AND THE SWAMP CAT TOSS

  The second all-team Minion Game was called Find the Flags, a giant treasure hunt where each team races to decipher clues and be the first to find the flags hidden at different spots around school. Giants versus Villagers had tested our agility against monsters. This game would test our cunning and our ability to find things that were hidden.

  It was an all-day event, and by late afternoon three of the four hiding spots had been found. The yellow team had been the first to the flags in Frederick Critchlore’s crypt. The green team had outraced everyone to the flags in the hawk’s nest on top of Mount Curiosity. Then the red team used Kate, the skeleton, to go into the swamp, because she was safe from the leech-men there. Skeletons don’t have any blood to suck.

  There was one hiding spot left, and we were determined to find it first and get the blue team on the scoreboard. After the third spot was found, we regrouped by our home base on the sports field. We stood around our float, on a field littered with wood, paint cans, and props we were using to re-create Fraze Coldheart’s realm.

  Rufus took over, as usual. He had a red mark on his arm where a leech-man had grabbed him before he could morph and fight it off.

  “Give me the last clue,” he said to a sixth-year skeleton, who handed it over. Rufus read it out loud:

  “Knives overhead, darkness below.

  To capture your flag, you mustn’t be slow.

  You’ll have to get by a monster’s protection.

  And danger awaits, in the wrong direction.”

  Delray, a mermaid, said, “It could be the lake—the knives overhead could be the piranha enclosure, over by the School for Aquatic Minions. ‘Darkness below,’ because it’s really deep. It could be protected by the lake monster.”

  “Or it could be the armory room,” said the sixth-year human, “with the dungeon underneath.”

  “It’s the Caves of Doom,” Rufus said. “The knives are the vampire bats’ teeth. The darkness below is the bottomless pit. The claw worms are the monster’s protec
tion.” He tapped the paper. “It all fits.”

  “It could be the underground grotto,” I said. “The ‘knives above’ could mean the stalactites.”

  “That’s stupid,” Rufus said. “Stalactites don’t look sharp . . . Okay, let’s go to the Caves of Doom. Anubi will fly high to spy on what the other teams are doing.

  “The Caves of Doom are notoriously difficult to navigate,” he went on. “That’s what the riddle means by danger waiting ‘in the wrong direction.’ I’ll station one mummy at each cross section.”

  The mummies didn’t seem too thrilled about this job.

  “And the rest of you will make sure the other teams don’t follow me and Jud.”

  The rest of us weren’t too thrilled with our assignment, either. Rufus was being a glory hog once again.

  We headed out as a group. As I followed, I twisted my ankle on a two-by-four and had to hobble for a few steps.

  “If you can’t keep up, just stay here,” Rufus said to me. “I don’t want you slowing us down.”

  Fine. I waved good-bye to him. What else could I do?

  I could check out my own idea, that’s what. Why not? I knew it would take them a while to get to the caves, which were around the back side of Mount Curiosity. I limped toward the castle, walking off the pain in my ankle.

  My senses were on high alert all the time now because of all the strange monsters that Professor Vodum had recruited. I always had that feeling that someone, or something, was watching me.

  This time, when I turned around, I saw someone duck behind a tree.

  “Mez?” I called.

  He stepped out, looking guilty. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m the team spy. Not a very good one. As usual.”

  “Well, my team just went that way, if you want to catch up.”

  “Not really,” he fell into step beside me. “So why does that dog hate you so much?”

  “You heard that? I don’t know. He’s always picked on me. I thought he’d like you, though. He usually gets all the cool kids to join his group.”

  “I’m a cat. We don’t hang with dogs. Where you going?”