I followed him outside, even though I hadn’t brought my jacket. As we walked around to the back of the school, my teeth started chattering. I don’t know if it was the cold or a bad case of nerves. Or both.
Pinball led me to a pile of cardboard boxes behind the Dumpster. He pulled aside some boxes and there was Rocko, holding a little BMX bike. It looked like the same one X had ridden through the assembly. They wouldn’t make me ride through the police dog assembly! Or would they? No one was that stupid. Not even me.
“This is what X wants you to do,” Pinball said, pushing the bike over to me. “You ride this bike through the back door of the school, down the hall, past the office and out the front door. Then you ride across the parking lot to the back of the school and ditch the bike in the Dumpster. Got it?”
“Um…I…I…guess so. But what if Mr. B-B-Butterworth sees me?” I’d never stuttered like this before. But I’d never been this scared and cold either.
“Just ride faster. If you can’t outrun Butterworth on a bike, X won’t want you in the Dumpster. Now, me and Rocko gotta go.”
“Yeah,” Rocko chuckled. “I put some plastic vomit in the back corner of the room. I told the teacher that Pinball barfed. And the teacher believed me! So now I’m getting stuff to clean it up, and Pinball’s supposed to be headed for the sick room.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Pinball said. “Wear these.” He tossed me a ski mask and black sweater. They were the same ones X had worn on his ride through the assembly.
“X said to wear them with honor,” Pinball said as he and Rocko headed back around the school to a fire door they’d left propped open. “And remember. X said he’s watching your every move. He knows EVERYTHING you do.”
“Hey! Before you guys go, just tell me one thing,” I called as they slipped through the door. “Why doesn’t X ever come out and help get me ready for the stunts? Why does he always get you guys to do all the dirty work?”
Pinball and Rocko stopped in their tracks and turned around, staring back at me. “There are some questions no one’s supposed to ask about X. And that’s one of them. Just do as you’re told!”
“But does X ever leave the Dumpster? Does he go to the school? If I’m going to join this club, don’t you think you could at least tell…”
“There are some things even we don’t know about X,” Pinball said, with Rocko nodding in agreement. “No one does. X is just X. That’s it. End of story. Now, just do what you’re told!”
The fire door clicked shut, leaving me alone with the little bike, the old sweater and the ski mask. Riding through the school didn’t sound as scary as crawling through the air ducts. But then, there was a side to this stunt that made it more dangerous—way more dangerous.
If I was caught, I’d be wearing the same ski mask and sweater that X had worn when he ruined the recognition assembly. Mr. Butterworth would know I was mixed up with the mystery kid they could never catch. He’d probably tie me to a chair, interrogate me and demand to know all about X. If I spilled the beans and told Mr. Butterworth all about Pinball, Rocko, X and the Dumpster, that would be the end. I’d be a traitor. They’d never let me become a Dumpster Dude. As I pulled the old sweater over my head, I realized that, this time around, failure could have serious consequences.
The sweater had holes in the elbows and a stain on the front; the ski mask smelled like wet dog. I put everything on anyway. It was cold outside and I’d rather be warm and stinky in this old sweater and ski mask than be a sweet-smelling ice cube.
Before I left my hiding place behind the Dumpster, I checked to make sure no one was in sight. Everyone was still in class, so there shouldn’t be many people in the halls. Maybe the odd kid going to the washroom, but all the teachers should be out of the way.
Edging closer to the school, I peered through the back door. The coast was clear. I wheeled the bike up to the door and took one last look down the hall. Nothing. No one. Totally vacant. My timing was perfect. It was now or never. My heart started thumping again. My hands began to shake. I pulled the door open and rolled the bike into the hall. Still no one. Slinging my leg over the seat, I put one foot up on the pedal and pushed off.
I pedaled so hard, I must have burned rubber with the back tire. The water fountain flashed by in a blur. Classroom doors whizzed past as I pedaled with everything I had.
I could see the far doors at the end of the hall already. With every turn of the pedals, my safe exit got closer and closer. All I had to do was zoom by three more classroom doors, past the office and out the front door. My lifetime membership in the Dumpster Dudes was in sight! This was easy! Almost too easy!
That’s when one of the classroom doors swung open. A teacher I’d never seen before stepped out of his classroom into the middle of the hall. He must have been about five feet wide and nine feet tall. At least he looked that big as my bike zoomed toward him. Not only was the teacher gigantic, he was also carrying a glass terrarium. On the side of the terrarium was a sign: Ant Farm.
The huge terrarium-carrying teacher blocking the hall was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. That’s probably why he dropped the terrarium.
I felt for the brakes so I could stop and turn around, and I made a surprising discovery. This bike had no brakes. Planting my foot, I leaned right and cranked the handlebars, making a sharp turn just in time to avoid the ants, the broken glass and the very big, very angry teacher.
My sharp right-hand turn had taken me into a hallway I didn’t recognize. I had no idea where it went, but I hoped that maybe there was another exit door nearby. Pedaling with every ounce of energy I had, I flew by walls covered in bulletin boards toward the only door in the hallway. This door was my only hope for escape, and I figured it just had to be a fire exit door. It wasn’t. A sign above the door said Welcome to the Library. Please Enter Quietly.
With the giant teacher thundering down the hall after me, followed by a whole army of angry ants, I couldn’t turn back. I decided to take my chances in the library.
As I spun my bike through the doorway, I tried to do exactly as the sign said—enter as quietly as possible. Even though I entered the library pretty quietly, I had a feeling the librarian didn’t appreciate having a kid ride through the library on a bike being chased by a gigantic, very angry teacher. I could tell the librarian wasn’t too pleased by the way she started chasing me around with a fire extinguisher.
Ducking into the non-fiction section, I zigzagged between the shelves of books. The librarian almost had me in the poetry section, but as she jumped over a shelf to tackle me, she tripped on a magazine rack and set off an avalanche of National Geographics. The other teacher tried to cut me off over by the computers, but he tripped on an extension cord and did a face plant.
It was weird riding a bike through a library. I’d never done it before, and I can’t say I’d like to do it again. Stuff kept getting in my way, like the display of Robert Munsch books that I bumped with my front tire; it toppled over like falling dominoes. I also caught the handlebars on the tail of a gigantic papier-mâché dinosaur. The worst thing of all was when I took a sharp left and flew into the quiet reading corner. The front wheel sank into a beanbag chair, and I followed this with a somersault over the handlebars, landing in a pile of stuffed animals.
The librarian was closing in on me, leaping over a stuffed zebra, pointing the fire extinguisher at me and yelling, “Don’t move or I’ll shoot!” But I was too quick for her and rolled out of the way at the last minute.
“After him!” the other teacher yelled, suddenly appearing out of the non-fiction section.
There wasn’t time to grab the bike, so I ran toward a door. I had no idea where it led, but I had no choice at this point. Barging through the door, I stumbled outside.
Finally! The exit door I’d been looking for! But the fire extinguisher-wielding librarian and the gigantic teacher hadn’t given up the chase. I sprinted around the outside of the school, losing the librarian and the teacher when they hit a patch of ice and went over like human bowling pins. I didn’t slow down until I’d rounded the corner and got to the front of the school. Just before reaching the front door, I ripped off the ski mask and black sweater and stuffed them in a garbage can.
Cruising through the front door, I ducked down and tried to sneak unseen and unheard past the office and back to class. Just when I thought I was home free, I heard a voice calling from the office. “Can I help you?” It was the school secretary. She glared at me suspiciously, as she did with all kids who wandered aimlessly around the halls during class time.
“Oh! Well…yes!” I said. “I’m supposed to go to the medical room. Something about a foot inspection. Mrs. Armstrong sent me.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard about foot inspections,” the secretary sighed. “But the way things are going at this school, kid, it wouldn’t surprise me if they decided to do brain surgery in the medical room.” Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, the secretary said, “Come right on through.”
I sat down on a bed. As the secretary closed the door, there was a crashing and banging in the office.
“Mrs. Springer! Mr. Watson! What’s the problem?” the secretary said, sounding just a little alarmed. “You don’t look so good. And why are you carrying that fire extinguisher?”
“Where is he? Where is he?” It was the librarian’s voice, angry and out of breath. I pretended to be asleep.
“Who are you talking about?”
“That…that…that masked kid on the bike!” Mr. Watson shouted.
“I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone ride a bike through the office lately. And the only student here is that new boy, Arlo, who has something wrong with his feet.”
I heard the librarian and the gigantic angry teacher stomp out of the office. Mrs. Springer was mumbling, “I’ll find that kid if it’s the last thing I do! He’s got to be around here some…EEEK! Ants! In the hall! Ants everywhere!”
I pulled a blanket over my head. Another close call. Too close. Way too close for comfort. At least I was safe. But I wondered if X would allow me back into the Dumpster. I hadn’t exactly ridden out the front door, like he told me to. But I figured riding through the library was way more dangerous. He’d have to let me in the club now. It would only be fair, after all I’d been through.
After school I waited outside for Mom. Once again, kids were talking in the bus lineup.
“Did you hear about the kid on the bike?”
“You mean the one who rode through the assembly?”
“Yeah! He did it again! This time he rode through the library.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No! It’s true. I heard it from Marcel. He heard it from Jane. So it’s got to be true!”
“Wow! The library!”
“Yeah! And he jumped right over the encyclopedia shelf on his bike!”
“Yikes!”
“Then he knocked over the magazine rack.”
“Holy cow!’
“And he broke two windows when the Roald Dahl display fell over!”
“Amazing!”
“And a huge life-size papier-mâché statue of the BFG fell over and nearly crushed Mrs. Springer!”
“Did he get caught?”
“Are you kidding? Never! Mrs. Springer threw a dictionary into the spokes of his bike and he flipped over the handlebars.”
“Wow! Was he hurt?”
“Are you kidding? He did a cartwheel in midair, and then he pulled Mrs. Springer’s wig right off her head…”
“Mrs. Springer wears a wig?”
“Yeah! Of course! Everyone knows that. Then he took a flying leap and dove out the window above the fire escape.”
“The window above the fire escape?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“That’s…like…that’s superhuman!”
“Pretty amazing, eh?”
“Yeah!”
I knew it was me they were talking about. So what if they got a few details wrong. It didn’t matter. Even though I wasn’t officially a Dumpster Dude, I was already a living legend!
I wouldn’t exactly say things were getting any better between Mom and me, mostly because I hadn’t given up trying to convince her to move us back to Victoria.
“Do you realize the severe discipline problems Mr. Butterworth has at this school?” I told her over dinner that night. “And Mrs. Armstrong’s class is even worse than the rest of the school.”
“Oh?” Mom replied, looking curious.
“Yeah. Three or four fights break out during recess each day. And usually they carry over into the classroom. You don’t know how hard it is to concentrate when there’s a fight happening in the aisle next to your desk.”
“Now, Arlo. I know you’re prone to exaggeration, but that sounds just a little ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head.
“No lie, Mom. I’m having a terrible time concentrating on my schoolwork because I worry that any second I might get thumped when some kid throws a punch and accidentally hits me! You don’t know how hard it is to keep your handwriting neat and tidy when you’re writing with one hand and pushing off a couple of kids wrestling right beside you with the other.”
“Arlo Billingsly! Since when did the appearance of your handwriting ever matter to you?”
“It might not have shown up in my report cards, but Mrs. Peachly was having a very positive effect on my academic career, Mom! I was starting to feel like schoolwork was important. At my old school, I was just beginning to work and reach my potential when…well, we both know what happened. So if you really care about my education and my future, the best thing for us would be to…”
“No, Arlo! Forget it!” Mom exploded. I’d never seen her this mad. I must have finally pushed her too far. She pounded her fist on the table and raised her voice. “You might just as well forget your sneaky schemes, your little fairy tales and your ridiculous exaggerations! We are not moving back to Victoria! It’s time you accepted that we are staying in our new home, our new town and your new school! You’re only making it harder on yourself, not to mention me!”
I stared back, not saying a word, just blinking as my eyes filled with tears. Usually when my eyes fill with tears, Mom softens up and tries to make me feel better. But not this time. She stomped out of the kitchen into her bedroom and slammed the door. I wondered if her eyes might be filling up with tears too.