“The bell’s going to ring, Rizzo.” I tried to wriggle free of Seymor’s grip. I might as well have tried to lift the school. “Let’s go inside and discuss this like real monsters.”
“There’s nothing to discuss, Fizzle,” Rizzo snarled. My scales stiffened at the sound of that nickname. “Mr. Snag caused this mess and now he’s going to pay. It’s about time we got rid of those dangerous slimes. A little kid could get hurt with them slurping around the school.”
“Since when did you care about little kids?” Tank asked.
Rizzo’s furry hand went to his heart, like he’d been shot by an arrow. “I’m all about standing up for the little guy.”
“That’s ’cause you are a little guy, boss!” Seymor said. The ogre’s face lit up like he’d just discovered Firebane’s hidden hoard.
“Zip it! I’m not paying you to make wisecracks.” Rizzo flashed his sharp teeth. The ogres swallowed their laughter and tightened their grips on us. Rizzo’s beady eyes snapped back to me. “Things will be better with old Snag gone, Fizz. Leave it that way. Got it?”
Before I could throw out a zinger that would put the kobold in his place, Rizzo snapped his fingers. The Gutro brothers spun into action. And I mean really spun.
Seymor grabbed the yellow police tape and wrapped it around my arms. He picked me up and spun me so fast that the tape wrapped me from head to toe. He plopped me on the ground beside Tank. Julius had given her the spin cycle treatment too. We were both wrapped up like a pair of yellow burritos.
The recess bell rang, ending our fifteen minutes of freedom. Kids rushed back to their classes. Tank and I squirmed but didn’t get far.
Rizzo and his goons gave us one last snarly command before they went inside. “Stop your slime-snooping. Let old Snag get the punishment he deserves. Trust me. It’s better for everyone this way.”
“Everyone but Mr. Snag!” Tank said.
“I’d be more worried about yourselves right now. Principal Weaver gets her web warped when little monsters are late for class.”
Rizzo and his goons marched back into the school, laughing the whole way.
Watching them go, I was certain about two things. Rizzo knew something about the escaped slimes. And we were going to be late for class.
Downtown Slick City was busier than a school cafeteria serving candied leeches. Monsters crowded the sidewalks. Cars jammed the streets. Trolls, goblins and ogres all headed home from a long day of work.
Home is where I wanted to be too. My stomach rumbled. I was missing my afternoon appointment with a plate of choco-slug cookies. I reminded my stomach that I was on a case. I had to focus. My stomach grumbled some more. Clearly, it didn’t understand detective work.
Being wrapped up in police tape gave me time to think. We needed to talk to Mr. Snag and get his side of the story.
Tank and I were eventually freed from Rizzo’s tape job by a troll in grade eight. She got to school late and missed all the slimy fun but was kind enough to unravel two stuck fourth-graders. Our teacher, Mr. Mantle, was so busy boring the other students with geometry, he didn’t even notice us slip into class late. A lucky break that saved Tank and I from detention and kept our investigation on track. Best of all, we missed Mr. Mantle’s homework walk, where he struts around the classroom looking at the math questions we did the night before. Or, in my case, didn’t do the night before. For the record, homework and me don’t get along.
Anyway, there we were, standing under the shadow of the Slick City police station in the middle of rush hour. With my mom.
My mom’s a reporter for the Rockfall Times. Perhaps you’ve read it. Maybe you’ve lined your budgie’s cage with it. I recommend the comics section. My mom actually reads the articles. What can I say? Grown-ups are weird.
“Lucky for you, I was coming down here today anyway,” she said as she led us through the front doors. “I have to talk to the chief for my latest story. Word is, the Gremlin Gang is coming to Slick City.”
Tank scowled. “Gremlins? Since when do gremlins come here? Slick City is near the sea. Gremlins hate water. They usually stay away from port cities.”
“I’m hoping the police can answer that question,” Mom said.
Inside the station, it was like someone had opened a can of chaos. Police officers of all shapes, sizes and fur colors scurried and shuffled through the large reception room. Officers returned from patrolling the streets, looking haggard and tired. A few dragged sad-looking culprits of petty crimes along with them. Slick City is a nice place to live, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have a few rotten turnips. A big desk on a platform at the back loomed over the crowded room. A large purple octo-ettin sat behind the desk. Thick tentacles sprouted from her trunk-like body. Each tentacle was busy doing a different job. Two tentacles put thick brown folders into a dented filing cabinet. Another two typed quickly on a computer keyboard. Another tentacle held a phone to the officer’s ear. Two more tentacles poured sugar into a steaming cup of what looked like a much-needed tea.
“Busy enough for you, Gladis?” Mom said to the octo-ettin.
“Just another day at the office, Rana.” Gladis hung up the phone. She raised her teacup with one tentacle and took a long sip of tea while her other tentacles carried on working. “Detective Hordish said you’d be coming.”
Tank’s eyes snapped to mine at the mention of the detective’s name. Hordish was one of the ogres who had hauled Mr. Snag away.
“I’m here to find out the latest on the Gremlin Gang,” Mom said.
“They’re the biggest news on the wires right now.” Gladis rolled her large single eye. “A gang of little blue critters running around Rockfall Mountain robbing museums, art galleries and anywhere else with something to steal. They’ve committed three robberies in three weeks.”
“And each robbery in a town not far from Slick City,” Mom added. “You think they’re heading this way?”
“What do I know? I only answer the phones around here.” Gladis’s eye looked at Tank and me. “Hordish didn’t say anything about adorable kiddies visiting!”
Two tentacles took a break from filing and stretched over her desk down to us. Gladis gave Tank and I a playful tickle behind the ear. That’s something adults do. I don’t get it, but it makes them happy, so whatever.
“They’re here to visit their school caretaker, Thaxlin Snag. Is that okay?”
“Don’t see why not,” Gladis said. “The old fella is allowed visitors. He seemed so sad when they brought him in this morning. It’s a crime to have him locked up in here. That poor ogre wouldn’t hurt a pixie flea.”
As she spoke, Gladis stretched out a free tentacle and grabbed a young goblin officer by the arm. She pulled the startled goblin across the floor to us like she was reeling in a fish.
“Declan,” she growled at the goblin, her thick tentacle still around his wrist. “Quit your daydreaming and bring these two fine children to see Mr. Snag in Visiting Room B.”
Declan led us through a heavy door and down a long corridor. He ushered us into a small room with a table and three chairs around it.
“Wait here,” he said and disappeared out the door.
A few minutes later, the goblin returned with Mr. Snag at his side.
The caretaker’s face was pale and his thick hair matted and standing up on one side. He’d been locked up for less than a day, but already he looked years older.
“Tank! Fizz!” His wide smile couldn’t hide the weariness in his eyes. He slumped into the chair on the other side of the table. “Nice of you to visit an old troll in trouble.”
“We want to help you, Mr. Snag,” I said.
“You didn’t release the slimes, did you?” Tank asked.
“Of course not! They’re like my children.” He shook his head. “My poor slimes.”
“Tell us what happened,” I said. I pulled out my detective notebook. Really, it’s my math homework book, but not a lot of math gets done in it. Like I said, homework and I don’t see
eye to eye.
Mr. Snag sat up straight. “I locked up the school as usual. I went home, read a book and went to sleep. When I got to school in the morning, the slimes were already slurping around the playground.”
“Was there anyone with you at home last night?” Tank asked. “If someone was with you, that would prove you didn’t come to school in the night and release the slimes.”
Mr. Snag shook his head. “Nope. Just me and a good book.”
There went that alibi.
“Did you lock the door when you left the school?” I asked.
“Like I always do. Double-checked it and every-thing.” Mr. Snag didn’t hesitate with his answer.
“The lock on the front door was not tampered with,” Tank said. “Whoever let the slimes out had their own key.”
Mr. Snag chuckled. “She’s not here, silly goblin.” Then he got serious again. “Principal Weaver is behind this mess. She let the slimes out!”
“Why would she do that?”
“To get rid of me.” Mr. Snag’s voice sounded hollow. He paused, like he had a story to tell. I pulled my seat closer. I like a good story. “It started last week, with that visitor. A big fella, long ears, wide mouth. All teeth and promises. He wanted to speak to the monster in charge. I brought him to Weaver’s office. This fella said he was with a cleaning company and he wanted to clean our school.”
“A cleaning company?” Tank said. “But the school uses you guys from the Guild of Cleaners.”
“There’s no finer group of caretakers in all of Rockfall Mountain. The Guild of Cleaners has kept this city clean since the first barrels of slick were hauled out of Fang Harbor.” Mr. Snag touched the guild crest on his red overalls. The little patch showed two mops crossed like swords over a cute-looking slime. “This big lumbering oaf said he was cheaper than the guild. He said he was going to clean the school with…machines.” Mr. Snag said the last word like it hurt for it to travel over his tongue. “You know I love a good piece of engineering, but a machine will never clean as good as a slime.”
“Principal Weaver sent him packing, right?” I scribbled in my notebook as fast as my pencil would go. That’s not very fast, but I was getting most of the details.
Mr. Snag shook his head. “She was ready to hug him with all eight of her legs.”
I shivered at the thought of a hug from Principal Weaver.
“The Guild of Cleaners has a contract with all the schools in Slick City,” Tank said. “Principal Weaver can’t bring in a new cleaner and get rid of you.”
“That’s what I told her,” Mr. Snag said. “It only made her more angry with me.”
“If she had a reason to get rid of you, then she could hire someone new,” Tank said.
“You think Weaver released the slimes to get you in trouble?” I said.
Mr. Snag nodded. “Seems pretty obvious to me.”
“It would definitely explain how the slimes got out of the school.”
The caretaker’s ears drooped. “My poor slimes. Are they okay? Who’s taking care of them?”
The slimes! We’d been so busy looking for clues, we hadn’t thought about what happened to Mr. Snag’s slimes. The last I’d seen of them, the police were packing them into containers. After that, who knew?
Mr. Snag’s big eyes were red, and he seemed one sniffle away from crying. “Those slimes need me. Who is going to feed them? You’ve got to make sure they’re okay.”
“We will, Mr. Snag. Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll find your slimes and catch the monster who let them loose.”
I hoped I sounded like I knew what I was doing, because I didn’t.
This was our biggest case yet. It was way bigger than finding lost lunches for first-graders. With Principal Weaver as our prime suspect, Tank and I were dancing with big danger too. If we messed this up, we would be stuck in detention for the rest of our lives. Or, worse, sentenced to a lifetime membership in the Math Club.
The next morning, I still didn’t have a plan and we still didn’t have a schoolyard. Half-eaten swing sets and climbing frames were piled into one corner against the mostly dissolved fence. It looked like a giant aciddrooling baby had had a giant tantrum.
Tank was at our usual morning meeting place, at the side of the school, near the bike racks. Actually, where the bike racks used to be. Now there was just a large black patch of scorched rock and a pile of twisted metal. Slimes are messy eaters.
“Big deal,” I said. “The cafeteria is getting their shipment of mystery meat. Compared with yesterday’s slime attack, this doesn’t really rate as action, Tank.”
“It’s not meat, meathead. Read the label on that box.”
“So, the school is getting a new dishwasher,” I said. “It’s a thrill a minute around here today.”
“That’s not a dishwasher, Fizz. It’s a vacuum cleaner.”
“Sorry. My mistake.” Then it hit me. “Why is the school getting a new vacuum cleaner? We have Mr. Snag and his slimes.”
“Correction. We had Mr. Snag and his slimes,” Tank said. “Then things got slimy.”
“Look who they’re buying it from,” I said.
Tank read the name on the side of the delivery truck.
“Rawlins’ Deal Depot. Rizzo’s family business.” Rawlins’ Deal Depot was a chain of stores that sold everything from vacuums to baby food. They had sprouted up on every corner, spreading across Slick City like a virus. Monsters from all over the mountain bought their furniture and appliances from Rawlins’ Deal Depot. It made the Rawlins clan one of the richest families in the mountain. And it made Rizzo think he could boss around every other monster like one of his employees.
The morning bell rang, calling us back to class. Five minutes later, we were stampeding into school like good little monsters. Running, screaming, yelling. You know, a typical start to the school day.
We bounced down the corridor, past Mrs. Trogeltusk’s kindergarten class and into the main office. We slid past the school secretary’s desk.
“Morning, Mr. Granger,” I said. I tried to sound like sliding on your butt backward is a totally normal thing to be doing at school first thing in the morning.
“Watch where you’re being dragged! Don’t damage my floors.” The old fire skeleton’s flaming eyeballs flared in their sockets. “Hurry up. She’s expecting you.”
Principal Weaver’s office was more like a cave. The dark kind that haunts your dreams.
A feeble glowshroom gave off only enough light to fill the room with shadows. Sticky webs covered the walls and ceiling. Against the far wall, three small cocoons dangled. Unlucky students serving morning detention, or Weaver’s lunch? It was hard to tell with Old Eight-Legs.
We skidded to a stop in front of the principal’s desk.
My heart pounded so hard, I thought it was going to burst from my chest and run screaming down the corridor. I couldn’t blame it. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. Goblins’ eyes work well in dim light, but in here, I could see little more than shadows.
“Welcome, children.” A voice from the dark. Principal Weaver. I’d recognize her hissing anywhere. “It’s time we had a little chat.”
My heart pounded like an ogre’s war drum. My gut felt like I’d eaten half a lava pie.
“I’ve been looking for you two little monsters,” Principal Weaver said.
“Let me guess. You’d like us to read tomorrow’s morning announcements?” I said with a weak laugh.
“Save the jokes for the playground, Fizz Marlow,” Weaver snapped.
The webs along the walls behind her shivered when she spoke. Dark shapes skittered around the ceiling. Behind the webs, Weaver’s spider babies lurked. Hundreds of them, scurrying through the school. Watching and reporting back to Mommy. The whole room was alive with them. Alive and hungry.
“You were close to our old caretaker, Mr. Snag.” Principal Weaver stretched her words out longer than a math lesson on a Friday afternoon. “But after his carelessness, he simply couldn’t b
e trusted. So he had to be let go.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Tank said. She struggled against the sticky web around her arms. “There’s no proof he let the slimes out.”
Weaver sighed. “I know you both like to investigate things. Like a pair of nosy little gossips.”
“Um, we prefer detectives,” I said before I could bite down on my runaway tongue.
“Silence!” Weaver zipped up to her web sharply. Behind her, the ceiling and walls shuddered. Her babies did not like it when Mommy got mad. “No more snooping around, you two. Mr. Snag is gone from our school. He brought it on himself with those terrifying beasts.”
Tank’s eyes widened at the mention of the cleaning slimes. “What have you done with them?”
“Don’t worry about those filthy globs of goo,” Weaver said. “You should be more concerned about what Mommy and Daddy will say if I catch you using your gadgets again to snoop around my school.”
The principal smiled when she saw the surprise on my face.
“Yes, little Fizz,” she hissed. “We saw you poking around the front door yesterday.”
We? A shiver ran down my tail. Weaver’s spy-babies had watched us investigate the lock during recess. My heart shrank at the thought of those little spiders watching our every move.
Principal Weaver dropped down from her web and tapped me on the snout with one of her long legs.
“Forget the cleaning beasts, Fizz. Forget Mr. Snag. And forget we ever had this little chat.” The spider’s red eyes locked onto me. “Agreed?”
We agreed. What else could we do? Being stuck to the floor with a venomous principal hanging over your head will make anyone agreeable.
“Good!” Principal Weaver zipped back up her thread. “I’m glad that’s settled. You may return to class.”
The webs on the walls around us shivered. A dozen baby spiders, skittered out from the walls. They crawled over us, snipping away at the web with their delicate arms. In seconds, we were free from the sticky web. The spiders scurried back into the shadows. The walls quivered as they burrowed back into their homes.
Tank & Fizz Page 2
