His heart didn’t slow until he reached Walter’s desk and began ripping open the drawers. There, in the third one down, was the leather-bound
Manualis Custodem.
Spencer scooped it up and quickly checked to make sure the latch was still closed.
“That’s it?” Dez said. He swiped the old book from Spencer’s hand and held it out for examination. “I can’t believe we came back for this. It doesn’t even have a picture on the cover.”
Spencer grabbed the book back. “Careful,” he scolded. “It’s old.”
“And it holds the secrets to saving education,” Daisy added.
“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Dez. “So does my armpit.”
“We’ve got to go,” Spencer said. “As soon as that Sweeper comes down here, this place is going to get ransacked.” He glanced around the room. “We should take whatever supplies we think we’ll need. I’m not sure when we’ll be coming back.”
“I don’t need any weapons,” Dez boasted. “I’ve got these.” He flashed his talons through the air. Spencer rolled his eyes. If Dez didn’t want to take any Glopified gear, Spencer wasn’t going to force him.
Daisy and Spencer replenished their vacuum dust and filled their clips with fresh supplies. Glopified weapons could max out and become useless if overused.
“Ready?” Spencer said once their preparations were complete.
“What’s in the backpack?” Daisy asked as Spencer pulled the straps over his shoulder. It was Walter’s pack, and Spencer knew exactly what was inside.
“We’ll need it for later,” he said vaguely. “Right now, we’ve got to worry about getting the
Manualis
out of here.”
The three kids left the janitor’s closet, sealing the secret room behind the sliding stack of boxes. They moved quietly up the stairs and into the hallway. They wouldn’t have to pass by the front office again, since the school doors weren’t locked from the inside. It was a straight shot down the hallway and out to Big Bertha waiting in the parking lot. There was only one risk in this more direct route. They would be passing right by Mrs. Natcher’s classroom.
“Keep your head down,” Spencer whispered to Daisy. There was a window in Mrs. Natcher’s door, and Spencer knew they’d be in trouble if the grumpy old teacher happened to be looking out into the hallway.
“I don’t know why you guys are scared of Mrs. N.,” Dez said. “All she ever did was send me to detention.”
Something wet came out of nowhere. It latched onto the
Manualis Custodem
with a splat and yanked the book from Spencer’s hand. As it retracted, Spencer realized what it was.
A Grime tongue. And it had snagged the
Manualis
like a frog catching a fly.
Daisy let out a sharp cry of alarm. She fumbled with the air freshener, giving a spritz before the Toxite breath could affect her.
It was the Sweeper they’d seen at the front office. They hadn’t seen him above, clinging to the ceiling. Now the
Manualis Custodem
was clenched between his teeth as he moved to scuttle away.
Dez took two steps and bounded into flight. His wings popped open and he soared up, catching the Sweeper by the tail and ripping him off the ceiling. Dez spun him through the air and hurtled him down toward Spencer.
“Here comes another!” Daisy cried, drawing a mop from her belt.
Spencer gave the Grime Sweeper a Palm Blast of vac dust, leaving him suctioned to the floor of the hall. The second Sweeper, a woman merged with a Filth, was almost upon them when the door to Mrs. Natcher’s classroom opened.
“What on earth . . . ?” the teacher cried.
Chapter 29
“You guys are going to get an F.”
Mrs. Natcher’s lips pursed and her hands went straight to her hips. A few of the more eager students were gathered around the teacher in the doorway, trying to contain their giggles at the sight of Spencer and Daisy in full janitorial gear, looming over a man lying on the floor with a book in his mouth.
The Filth Sweeper saw she had an audience and drew up short. She tucked her spiky body around a corner to wait. Spencer was suddenly grateful for his classmates and teacher. Mr. Clean wouldn’t want so many witnesses.
“Where have you two been?” Mrs. Natcher asked.
“Sorry,” Spencer said. “We’re just a little tardy.”
Mrs. Natcher pointed to her watch without looking at it. “Tardy?” she exclaimed. “There are only thirty minutes left of the day.” Her tight, plucked eyebrows suddenly furrowed. “Why are you holding a mop, Daisy Gates?”
Daisy looked at the Glopified weapon in her hands, like she was surprised to see it there. “It’s for our book report?” She didn’t sound too convincing.
“Book reports are due tomorrow,” said Mrs. Natcher.
Daisy shrugged. “Just wanted to be ready.”
“Good heavens!” Mrs. Natcher stepped out into the hallway. “What have you done to this poor man?”
“He was stealing our book,” Spencer said. “So we stopped him.” Technically, it was true.
Then, to Spencer’s horror, Mrs. Natcher bent down and pulled the
Manualis Custodem
from the Sweeper’s mouth.
“He might have been trying to
eat
our book,” Daisy said. “We weren’t sure.”
Mrs. Natcher pointed a stiff finger back toward the classroom. “In your seats at once!” she ordered.
“You’re not the boss of me,” Dez said.
It suddenly seemed to dawn on Mrs. Natcher who the third child in the hallway was. “Dezmond Rylie!” she gasped, and Spencer thought he saw a bit of fear in her cold eyes. After all, Dez
was
a teacher’s nightmare.
“What are you doing here?” Mrs. Natcher said, once she regained her composure. “I was told that you left our school to study at some,” she turned up her nose, “private academy.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Dez shrugged. “Turns out the Academy was run by jerks.”
“You’re back?” Mrs. Natcher looked horrified. “They don’t pay me enough to teach you.” She shook her head. “I need a nap.”
Spencer hurriedly stepped into the conversation. They had to get away. The Sweeper on the floor was already recovering from the vac dust. “Dez is just here to help us with the book report,” Spencer said.
“That’s tomorrow,” Mrs. Natcher said again.
Spencer nodded. “Okay. We can bring Dez back tomorrow.”
Mrs. Natcher looked wide-eyed at the prospect. “That would be such an inconvenience.” She studied the
Manualis Custodem,
running her fingers across the tattered edges of the pages. “Since you seem to be prepared, I’ll let you present today.” She looked at Dez and swallowed hard. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Then Mrs. Natcher turned back to the classroom and snapped her fingers. “Everyone! Take a seat in the reading corner!” The teacher tucked the
Manualis Custodem
under her arm and reentered the classroom.
“What are we going to do?” Daisy whispered as they stepped through the doorway.
“We’re going to lock the door and give a book report,” Spencer answered.
“On the
Manualis Custodem
?” Daisy could barely keep her voice down.
Spencer nodded. “I’m hoping they won’t remember it when we’re done.”
Dez shut the door behind him, and Spencer saw him turn the lock. It was strange to have him appear so blatantly Sweeper to them when everyone else in the room obviously saw him normally.
Spencer and Daisy stood awkwardly in front of their classmates, wearing navy blue coveralls and janitorial belts. Dez stayed at the door, watching the Sweepers through the hallway window.
Mrs. Natcher herded the students to the reading corner. She seated them on the carpet and pulled up a chair for herself. She balanced the
Manualis Custodem
in her lap and shuffled a few papers, surely preparing to deliver a harsh grade to Spencer and Daisy’s book report.
“Before we begin,” Spencer said, “I need everybody to scoot in close.” The students looked puzzled, and some gave a halfhearted shuffle. “Closer,” Spencer insisted. He would have only one chance to make this work. His classmates were right up at his feet now, pressed close together, with Mrs. Natcher seated right behind them.
Spencer stepped over to a shelf near the window where Mrs. Natcher kept the classroom fan. The old fan hadn’t been turned on since Dez had flipped a spit wad into it last September. Spencer hoped it still worked.
Angling the fan just right, he turned it on maximum setting, sending a wind over his classmates that ruffled their hair and caused Mrs. Natcher to hold onto her grading papers.
“What are you doing?” Daisy whispered.
Spencer shrugged to play innocent. “It was getting kind of warm in here.”
A bit of moving air didn’t improve Mrs. Natcher’s mood. She cleared her throat. “We’re not getting any younger,” she said. Spencer interpreted that to mean, “Hurry up.” Mrs. Natcher’s patience was as thin as he’d ever seen it.
“Okay,” Spencer said, stepping in front of the students again. He swallowed hard, fidgeted a bit, and then began. “We chose to do our book report on the first edition
Janitor Handbook.
” Daisy looked at him with surprised eyes.
“Author?” Mrs. Natcher droned without looking up from her papers.
“Ninfa, Holga, and Belzora,” he said.
“Something unique about the book?” said the teacher.
“The
Janitor Handbook
holds a secret that will save the world,” Spencer said. His classmates chuckled.
“Might want to hurry up!” Dez called from the doorway. “Looks like the Sweepers are thinking about busting in here!”
Mrs. Natcher was examining the
Manualis Custodem
a little too closely now. She turned it over in her wrinkly hands. “Why is there a lock on the book?”
“That’s because you’re not supposed to know what it says inside,” Spencer answered. “Sorry, guys. Sweet dreams.”
Spencer pushed Daisy back as he drew a bottle of green solution from his janitorial belt. Holding his breath, he aimed the bottle at the whirling fan and gave half a dozen quick sprays. The classroom fan distributed the green solution much better than the bottle’s spray nozzle could have.
His classmates were instantly asleep, with any memory of the book report wiped clean from their memories. Mrs. Natcher barely raised a disapproving finger before she too drifted off, an almost pleasant expression on her face as she finally got the nap she’d said she needed.
“You didn’t . . .” Daisy said.
Spencer nodded. “I did.” He moved around to switch off the fan. Then, holding his breath against any residual green spray, Spencer stepped past his slumbering classmates and scooped the
Manualis Custodem
out of Mrs. Natcher’s lap.
“It’s going to be fine,” Spencer said, sliding open the window by the teacher’s desk. The window had lost its screen a few months ago when Spencer had thrown his lunchbox outside to contain a chalkboard eraser explosion. “Mrs. Natcher won’t remember anything about this when she wakes up.”
“You’re sure?” Daisy asked. “What if she remembers seeing us in the hallway?”
Spencer shrugged. “She’ll just think we gave such a boring book report that everyone fell asleep.”
Dez laughed as he passed them. “You guys are going to get an F.”
The classroom door rattled against the lock. Spencer turned to see the Grime Sweeper compressing himself under the door. Now that the innocent observers were fast asleep, he didn’t hesitate to show his powers. The Sweeper’s head and shoulders had appeared in the classroom, and the rest of his body was quickly squeezing through.
Spencer cinched the straps on his backpack as Dez grabbed him and Daisy, leaping through the window, his big wings clipping painfully on the edge. Spencer and Daisy touched down running while Dez soared right above them, drawing Big Bertha’s key chain from his back pocket.
In a moment, they were in the cab once more, the diesel engine firing up. “Where are we going?” Dez asked, driving the garbage truck across the parking lot.
“My house,” Daisy said.
“What about your parents?” Spencer asked. Mr. and Mrs. Gates secretly knew about Toxites and the BEM, but keeping them uninvolved was the only way to ensure their safety.
“It’s Wednesday afternoon,” Daisy explained. “My mom’s at the library, and my dad usually drives to Idaho Falls to get car parts.”
“You know your parents’ schedule?” Dez said. “That’s creepy.”
“Don’t you know yours?” she asked, like such a thing should be common knowledge.
“Actually, I do,” said Dez. “Ten bucks says that my dad is at the apartment right now, drunk as a skunk.”
“Do skunks really get drunk?” Daisy asked. “I think you’re making that up.”
Dez grunted. “It’s just an expression.”
They arrived at the Gates home without any signs of pursuit. Either the Sweepers had given up, or they hadn’t seen the kids climb into the garbage truck. Spencer was guessing the latter. He was also guessing that the Sweepers would pick up their trail soon.
“Okay,” Spencer said, holding the
Manualis Custodem
in both hands. They were still sitting in Big Bertha, engine idling, as they stared out the window at the Gates property. “We’ve got to think of somewhere safe we can keep this. Somewhere far away.”
“How about Jamaica?” Daisy suggested.
“Why Jamaica?”
She shrugged. “It’s far away.”
Spencer looked at the book. “We can’t just dump it somewhere and hope that Mr. Clean doesn’t find it,” he said. “We need to leave it with someone we can trust.”
“How about Bookworm?” Daisy said.
“Who the heck is Bookworm?” Dez asked.
“He’s my pet Thingamajunk,” answered Daisy.
“Oh, that helps.” Dez’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “What the heck is a Thingamajunk?”
“But he’s sick, remember?” Spencer said, completely ignoring Dez.
“Bernard told me how to make him better,” answered Daisy. She seemed to be getting quite excited. “He said Bookworm was starving. Said he needed a massive trashfusion.”
“What’s a trashfusion?” Dez asked.
“It’s like a transfusion, but with trash,” Spencer said. “It’s what they do to patients in the hospital sometimes. If somebody’s lost a lot of blood, they can pump new blood in.”