Chapter Fourteen

Henry

Tuesday, October 10

By Tuesday one thing was absolutely clear: everybody thought Henry did it.

They didn’t have to say it, although obviously they were saying it. In fact, they were saying it to Henry’s face, just so there wouldn’t be any confusion.

“Just give the stuff back,” Rosie told him on the way to history, poking her pencil in his shoulder. “I’m really sick of hearing about it every single second of the day.”

“I didn’t take it,” Henry protested, rubbing his shoulder where the eraser had pushed against it. “So how can I give it back?”

“Just figure it out, idiot.”

How was he supposed to figure it out? How could he figure out how to return stolen goods when he, in fact, had not stolen them? He had no magic machine, no app, no powers of persuasion to make disappeared objects reappear.

By the time he reached Mrs. Hulka’s room, Henry was starting to bounce on the balls of his feet. Did he need to pee? Maybe he needed to pee. He would ask if he could go pee, only he wouldn’t say “pee.” He’d say, May I please use the receptacles in the restroom facilities, the ones with the flushing apparatuses attached, oh ye wise history teacher? Could I please miss five minutes of your brilliant and very interesting class?

He wondered if he’d find Sam I Am Green Eggs and Ham in the bathroom again, like he had on Friday morning. “You didn’t see me,” Sam had said as he brushed past Henry on his way out the door, but Henry had seen him. Sam I Am had been right in front of his face. Still, Henry decided not to say anything. He could keep a secret. Besides, who would believe him? Sure, they believed Carson, and they believed Ariana when they’d said they’d seen Sam, but Henry? No way, Josie. Henry was unbelievable.

Which was why no one believed he was innocent of this Very Major Crime of stealing Mrs. Herrera’s Very Special Things.

“Henry, take a seat up front where I can keep my eye on you,” Mrs. Hulka called when she saw him. “Did you do your homework?”

“I did, but the goldfish ate it,” Henry replied. He sat down and pulled last night’s completely completed assignment out of his notebook and started folding it into a paper airplane. Maybe he’d turn it in, maybe he wouldn’t. What would he get in exchange if he did? He missed the days of smiley-face stickers on your homework sheets. I would like to be a smiley-face sticker when I grow up, Henry thought, which made him laugh out loud—barking, hiccupy laughs.

“Dude, shut it!” Matt Collins, who was sitting behind Henry, thwacked him in the back with his notebook. “Quit being such a freaking freak all the time!”

Henry twirled around in his seat. “It was you, wasn’t it? You stole the little kittens. Did you want to give them some mittens?”

“Shut up, weirdo! Everyone knows you stole Mrs. Herrera’s stuff!”

Stefan, who was sitting in the desk next to Henry, leaned over and whispered, “Henry, focus. Eyes front and center. Do a meditation moment like we do in LA.”

Henry turned back around and looked straight ahead. He took a deep breath and let it out. He loved it when Mrs. Herrera did meditation moments. He loved getting to close his eyes in the middle of the day and just breathe, everybody else around him just breathing too. It was the only time his brain ever relaxed.

He heard Mrs. Hulka whisper, “Thank you, Stefan,” which broke the spell. “Enough breathing!” he exclaimed. “I demand that we all stop breathing.”

Mrs. Hulka sighed. “Okay, everyone, let’s get started, shall we?”

Translation: Everybody ignore Henry.

Sure, ignore Henry unless you want to accuse him of stealing stuff. Then, hey, everybody, pay attention to Henry! Henry ground his pencil lead into his homework sheet. He’d never stolen anything, ever! He’d never stolen, burglarized, shoplifted, jaywalked, or even murdered a flea. Not even a flea! Yes, okay, he liked pulling pranks, but his pranks were not felonious. He, Henry Lloyd, was un-arrestable because he’d never broken the law. Not once. Not in the least.

“Henry, please stop tapping your pencil on your desk,” Mrs. Hulka said. “You’re distracting your classmates.”

Henry turned around so he could see who looked distracted. Matt looked half-asleep. Ellie the spy was writing spy notes in her blue notebook, the one she carried with her all the time. What was she writing about? What amazing secrets was she inscribing into her super-special cerulean-blue spy notebook? What was she noting? Henry had to know. Not that he would consider stealing Ellie’s notebook, but he would consider borrowing it. Yes, when the opportunity arose, Henry would borrow Ellie’s notebook and read all her secret observations. He wouldn’t tell anybody what he’d read, though. He could keep a secret. He was keeping the secret of Sam, wasn’t he?

And he was keeping the secret of Becca Hobbes, who was trying so hard to be bad, but was so bad at being bad. She was better at being sad, Henry thought. That was her secret. He’d found her in her new hideout around the side of the school (he was very good at finding people who didn’t want to be found), reading a book and crying.

“Why the tears, Pierre?” Henry had asked. “You can tell me. I’m your avenging angel, a highly regarded defender of damsels in distress.”

He had expected Becca to throw her book at him, but instead she looked at him and asked, “Did you ever lose your best friend?”

“Strictly speaking, I never had a best friend,” Henry admitted. “But it would be a loss to lose one.”

“Now I wonder if I ever had a best friend either,” Becca said, her expression transforming into a scowling emoji face. “She knew I liked Carson! So now she’s all buddy-buddy with him?”

“You like Carson?” Henry shook his head. Becca and Carson were a terrible match. They’d end up in divorce court, befuddled by their poor spouse-choosing skills.

Becca stared down at her book. “Don’t tell, okay? It was stupid. Why would Carson ever like me?”

Henry bowed low and tipped his invisible hat. “Au contraire! It is you who are too good for that scoundrel.”

And then he sealed his lips. Lipped his seals. Spoke nary a word to nary a soul.

Yes, indeedy, Henry Lloyd could keep a secret. Why, just ask Mrs. H, who had let not one but two students take a day off last year for special research projects. One of those students just happened to be Henry’s neighbor, Lucy Yee, who had gone to the zoo to write a poem about giraffes. Lucy’s own mother had participated in the ruse, but VP Whalen had not been amused. Paperwork had not been filled out and permission had not been given. Mom says okay? Too bad. Not good enough.

And then it turned out Mrs. Herrera had let another student do almost the exact same thing earlier in the year, take a day off school without official permission. There was your thin ice right there, sports fans. Not that Henry would ever tell.

Who would believe him anyway?

His chance to steal Ellie’s notebook came right before the end of class. Mrs. Hulka said that anyone who had a question about their upcoming project should come see her at her desk. Ellie closed her blue notebook, put it under her green notebook (this girl had ten quintillion notebooks, maybe eleven quintillion!), and went to stand in line behind Elizabeth and Aadita. Ah, Aadita. If only she would eat a hamburger, Henry would marry her. But he feared her vegetarian ways would get in the way of their marital bliss. Still, he loved saying her name, which sounded a lot like Adidas, his favorite brand of shoe.

Getting up from his desk, he held out his pencil like a white flag. An upraised pencil signaled Don’t be afraid! All I’m doing is walking to the back of the classroom to use the sharpener! No hijinks happening here!

But be very afraid if you’re Ellie’s supersecret spy notebook, Henry thought as he began his journey down the aisle. He swung his left arm in a wide arc. Just old Henry being goofy. Just Henry expending a little excess energy. And what’s that on Ellie’s desk? Oh nothing, oh don’t even bother watching as Henry’s hand reaches down and plucks Ellie’s notebook and tucks it under his arm. What notebook? That notebook? That’s my notebook, why do you ask?

He glanced around, but nobody was paying attention to him. Henry resisted the urge to start singing or fall to the floor and do somersaults all the way to the pencil sharpener. He reached the back of the room, sharpened his pencil, and went back to his desk, where he immediately deposited Ellie’s notebook into his backpack.

A little light reading for this evening, he thought right as the bell rang. He wondered if Ellie had written about him, and if so, what? Did she think he was the thief? Well, someone like Ellie would demand proof, Henry thought as he dropped his freshly sharpened pencil into his backpack. She would demand he be tried by a jury of his peers and that evidence be presented against him before a ruling could be made.

“Henry, I want that homework assignment turned in tomorrow,” Mrs. Hulka called out as he headed for the door. For a brief moment, Henry thought about plucking his homework—i.e., his newest paper airplane—out of his pack and sailing it in Mrs. Hulka’s direction. Here you are! Enjoy!

But he didn’t. Because his mind was already out the door and headed for LA. And his feet were headed for the bathroom—he really had to pee, Sam or no Sam. His hands were slapping the lockers as he passed them, bang-bang-bang. His nose was sniffing the air, sniffing that smell of the cafeteria cranking up for lunch and the piney scent of the janitor’s bucket and the ever-present odor of wet paper towels (why did school smell so much like wet paper towels?). His mind? His mind was thinking about what he would find in Ellie’s notebook.

He hoped he would find himself.

He hoped Ellie knew he didn’t do it.