CHAPTER 8

Unexplained Noises

“Amal, don’t,” Clementine said, hurrying to her friend’s side. “Don’t let that jerk upset you.”

“Yeah,” Wilson added as he joined them. “That’s just what he wanted to do.”

“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Raining said.

Amal shrugged and leaned against the wall near the door to the main part of the museum. It had a narrow window up one side. Through it, she could just see into the Moon Walk exhibit. “It’s not my dad’s fault, right?” she said, taking her eyes off the window for a moment.

“Of course not,” Clementine said. “It’s a crummy thief’s fault.”

“Right,” Raining agreed. “Besides, if we’re going to start blaming dads, mine was more in charge of the space suit than yours was.”

Amal laughed. “True!” she said. “So what do we do now?” She put her hands on the door to push it open, but as she did so, she saw something through the window that made her heart skip a beat.

“Someone’s coming!” Amal hissed at the others. “Get down!”

The four kids immediately dropped to the floor and held their breath.

“Is it Maggie?” Raining asked.

“I couldn’t tell!” Amal said.

From the other side of the door, slow footsteps grew louder and louder.

“Oh, no,” Amal whispered. “She’s coming over here.”

The footsteps thumped right up to the door and stopped.

“What do we do?” Raining hissed.

“We run,” Amal said. “Let’s go!”

The four kids, still crouched and out of sight, took off down the hallway, right past Mr. Mordecai’s office and into the labyrinth of the museum’s back hallways.

“Do you even know where we are anymore?” Wilson asked Amal.

“Of course,” said Amal. And she did … sort of. At least, she was sure she’d been in this hallway before once or twice. Maybe just once.

They’d been walking through the dark back corridors for at least fifteen minutes, every so often hurrying ahead and taking a few quick turns when they heard footsteps. Suddenly Clementine said, “I know this place.”

Amal realized at once her friend was right — it was the weird dead end where she’d first heard the mysterious noises.

“I haven’t heard any footsteps in a while,” Wilson said. “Do you think she’s gone?”

“I don’t know!” said Amal.

“Shhh!” Raining said. “Someone will hear us!”

But their voices were soon drowned out by the clanging and banging and whirring coming from behind the cement block wall.

“That’s it!” Amal said, now shouting with glee. She was sure Maggie would come around a corner any moment and catch them here, but she didn’t care. She was too thrilled that her friends had finally heard the mysterious noise. “That’s the noise my dad and I heard last night!”

The others listened a moment.

“Sounds like maintenance work,” Raining said. He had to shout now too to be heard over the racket.

“My dad would have known about scheduled maintenance or repairs,” Amal pointed out. “He was as stumped as I was.”

The noises stopped abruptly, and Amal’s last shouts hung in the air and echoed through the cement hall. The kids exchanged worried looks, sure that the security guard would have heard them. Sure enough, after a minute of dead silence, the footsteps returned.

“She’s coming,” Clementine whispered.

“We’re caught for sure,” Wilson said.

The footsteps moved closer and closer.

But Amal realized something wasn’t quite right. Those weren’t Maggie’s footsteps. They shuffled. They squeaked. Those weren’t the footsteps of a woman built like a tree. They were the footsteps of …

“Ms. Bocharova!”

Clementine and Amal said her name at the same time. It was the old Russian cleaning lady, pushing her garbage can on wheels. Her big broom stood upright inside it.

“Vhat are you kids doing back here?” Ms. Bocharova asked, her accent as thick as ever. “Don’t you know museum is closed?”

“We know,” Amal said. “We went to the planetarium show.”

“They’re open late on Saturdays,” Raining pointed out.

“Vhat, you think I don’t know that, smart guy?” Ms. Bocharova said. “I’ve seen every show, probably five times each! I know more about space and ships than anyvone on staff here!”

“Okay,” Raining said.

“We got a little lost in the halls after the show, that’s all,” Clementine said.

“Lost,” Ms. Bocharova said, smiling. “You four? Ha! You think I don’t know who you kids are? You four could get around every museum in this city vith your eyes closed and one leg tied behind your back.”

“Well …” Amal began, “you know … we heard all that banging and decided to come see what it was.”

“Do you know what it was, Ms. Bocharova?” Clementine asked.

“Banging?” the old woman repeated, shaking her head. She started pushing her garbage can along once again. “I don’t hear so good anymore.” With that, she turned the corner and was gone.

“Boy, she is weird,” Raining muttered.

“I like her,” Clementine said.

“She could have gotten us in trouble,” Wilson said. “But she didn’t. That has to count for something.”

“True,” Raining said. “Who is she?”

Amal shrugged as she led the group back through the corridors toward the exit. “She’s the janitor.”