“To get to the other side.”

The toilet flushed normally at first. The water swirled upward, filling the bowl. But as the water began to recede down the pipes, things got a little weird. Spencer felt an inescapable pull that caused him to bend toward the toilet. In a heartbeat, he was closer than he ever wanted to be, his head lowering past the rim.

As a desperate last resort, Spencer grabbed the toilet seat, pushing away from the churning water with all his strength. His eyes were clenched tightly and he was holding his breath against the smell and germs of the toilet bowl.

In that unfortunate position, with his head in the toilet, Spencer couldn’t help but think of Dez Rylie. If the bully were here, he would be screaming with delight. After escaping all of Dez’s swirly threats, it seemed as though Spencer was about to get one after all.

Spencer’s hands slipped from the rim of the toilet, and he plunged face-first into the cold water. But to Spencer’s great surprise, it didn’t end there. His head, clearly too large to fit down the pipe, seemed to compress. Either that, or the pipe suddenly expanded. Whichever was the case, Spencer’s whole body was instantly flushed down the toilet.

It was too dark to see where he was going. Spencer shot through the pipes with his arms stretched above his head. Water swirled around him and the bumps and turns nearly forced the air out of his lungs. It was like being in the world’s tiniest waterslide, going somewhere that humans were never meant to go.

Spencer’s panic was just turning to hysteria when he saw a light at the end of the pipe. He forced his lungs to hold the last wisp of air as he streamed upward toward the exit.

Finally, Spencer erupted from the plumbing. The momentum shot him straight into the air, high enough that he almost hit the ceiling. He crashed painfully to the hard floor, maintaining just enough consciousness to get his bearings.

He was in another bathroom stall. The toilet next to him was still erupting like Mount Saint Helens, shooting water ten feet high. Spencer hauled himself to his feet, spitting toilet water and trying not to throw up. He put a hand to his throbbing head.

“Spencer?” It was Daisy’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“Where am I?” he mumbled.

“You’re in the bathroom,” she answered.

Daisy wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, and Spencer didn’t care for bathroom stall conversations. He found the lock, slid it aside, and pulled back the door.

He was indeed in the same hidden bathroom, just as Daisy had mentioned. But his quick trip through the plumbing had brought him to the farthest toilet. Here, the floor was still firm. And not five feet away was the paper-towel dispenser.

Dripping wet, Spencer stepped out of the stall. Every eye turned from the first stall, widening in surprise at his emergence from the last stall.

“How’d you get over there?” Daisy asked.

“In one toilet and out the other,” said Spencer.

“It worked!” Alan cried, his voice ripe with astonishment. He was still thigh-deep in the tile, but he thumped his fist on the hardened floor. Flushing that toilet had not only transported Spencer, it had also disabled the caution cone!

“Just in time, too,” Bernard said. “There’s nothing left of Penny but a breathing tube.”

Spencer glanced at the spot near the caution cone where Penny had been sinking. She was nowhere in sight! In her place was the cardboard paper-towel tube that had been part of the clue package. The tube was sticking straight up, about four inches out of the liquid floor.

“It was hard enough to get that tube into Penny’s mouth,” Bernard went on. “And in case you didn’t notice, I’m fresh out of snorkels.”

Walter and Daisy stepped away from the stall as Alan unclasped the golden chain around his neck and handed the key to the warlock. “Get that dispenser open,” Alan said. “I’ll work on chipping us out of the floor.” He drew his bottle of Windex and adjusted the nozzle.

Spencer scanned the room for his shoes and socks, but not even a shoelace was visible anymore. Daisy appeared at his side, handing him the plunger she’d used.

“Thanks for trusting me,” he whispered, clipping the plunger into place. “We’d all be in the floor if you hadn’t figured out that Mad Gab.”

“We play that game at my house all the time,” Daisy said. “But it’s the first joke I don’t get.” She scrunched her eyebrows together. “Why did the Toxites cross the road?”

“To get to the other side.”

“Toxites.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah. It never made sense when it was the chicken, either,” Spencer said.

Walter had finally reached the paper-towel dispenser. He ran his fingers across the top until he felt the keyhole. Reaching up, he slid the tiny silver key into place. There was a soft click, and the plastic cover dropped on its hinges.

The dispenser was open.