When the Grischer returned to the Library minutes later, she was alone. Eddie and Min missed her entrance entirely. No KA-BANG of the Library door. No THUD, THUD, THUD of her feet.
Suddenly she was just there. Sitting in the Librarian’s chair. Eddie watched her take a phone from her bag. Sunshine from the skylight reflected off her glasses. He couldn’t see her eyes.
“Get down,” whispered Min from behind. “Think of that poor fly!”
Eddie gulped and dropped low.
They heard beeps. Then a faint ring.
“Hello, Robert?” said the Grischer. “It’s me. Estelle.”
“Her brother,” whispered Min. “The superintendent.”
“Yes,” said the Grischer. “I’m here at Ferny Creek—and not a moment too soon. You’re right, this library’s a money pit. It’s glassed in like a terrarium. No wonder the heating bills are so high. The sooner we get these windows blocked off, the better.”
Min gripped Eddie’s leg tightly.
“The Principal?” said the Grischer. “Not a problem. He’s making whiny noises, of course. Everyone loves the library, boohoo. He even went on about the view. Puh! What do these kids need with a view? Did we have a view? Did we have Winnie-the-Pooh and nursery rhymes?”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Don’t worry, I can handle the Principal. I’ll start by weeding the book collection. That won’t be hard. Almost every book in here is a weed. I’ll clear them out gradually. He won’t even notice.”
Min shuddered.
The Grischer was listening to her brother again.
“I agree, Robert,” she answered. “This room is perfect—bigger than any of the others we’ve looked at. With the windows blocked off and the books cleared out, it will make an excellent testing center for your new district testing program. All we need really are tables and chairs. On days when there’s no testing, we’ll turn off the heat and lights. Save a lot of money.”
The Grischer said good-bye and put away her phone. There was a tiny squeak of the chair as she stood up, then a click at the door. Other than that, her departure was silent.
“At least we know the worst,” said Min, her voice shaky. “The Grischers are going to close the Library.”
“Really? Can they do that?” Eddie was hoping he had misunderstood.
“Yes, they can. They’re being sly with Mr. Steadman, but that’s the plan. They’re going to turn this wonderful room into . . . a testing center. Most of the time, it will be empty. Dark, cold, and empty.”
“No books?” said Eddie.
“No books.” Aunt Min gazed upward. “The skylight will go, too. The story-time chair, the comfy couch, the story-time carpet. Even the windows. Everything will go.”
Eddie tried to think of something to say.
But he couldn’t.
When the Grischer returned, just a short while later, she was carrying a large cardboard box. Eddie wondered what it was for.
Then, suddenly, he got it.
“Hide!” he yelled. Grabbing his aunt, he half pushed, half carried her to the back of the tray.
Clinging together, they watched as the pale fingers began clearing off the desk. Things disappeared into the cardboard box. The bobbing duck. The photo. The bowl of golden stars.
And then—as Eddie and Min watched in horror—the Grischer reached for their tray.
“Hang on!” cried Min.
Up went the tray with a sickening lurch. Eddie was thrown backward. He landed on his aunt.
At that moment, a cheerful voice called from the doorway. “Are you expecting us?”
The tray hovered, tilting at a perilous angle. Eddie and Min clung desperately to the side.
“We’re Kindergarten B,” said the voice. “It’s our book exchange time!”
The tray wobbled. Eddie and Min slid wildly into the loose papers. Then down went the tray—BANG!—back onto the desk.
“Bring the children in,” said the Grischer. “Are their hands clean?”
“Oh, Aunt Min, this is terrible.” Eddie’s head was in a spin. “We’re in such big trouble!”
“Courage, Eddie, this is no time to lose heart. We need a new hiding place, quickly! Before she comes back.”
After a hurried discussion, they agreed that Eddie would go on a scouting mission.
So once again he stepped into the open, alone. His huge eyes gleamed. His antennae explored the air. Where were the kindergartners? More important, where was the Grischer? Not only was she hard to see and hear, she was also crafty and scheming. Plus, she obviously hated bugs. A deadly combination.
There! She was busy with the children in the picture book area. Eddie could focus on his mission—a new, safe hideout, close enough for Min to walk to.
A voice in his head said, “Impossible!”
He glanced around. Nothing on the desk would work. The Grischer was going to dump all the Librarian’s possessions into the cardboard box, and who knew where that box would end up?
They needed a place that the Grischer wouldn’t notice. . . .
There was a drawer.
It was small and narrow, in the front of the desk, facing the Librarian’s chair. And it was open—not very wide, just a crack—but wide enough for a bug to slip through. Eddie darted inside.
He looked around. The drawer was shallow, and clearly it hadn’t been used much. Nothing there but a few pencil stubs, an old dried-up pen, and a cotton ball. Plus the usual pad of yellow stickies.
Looking good, thought Eddie.
But not perfect.
The Grischer might open the drawer to clean it.
He crawled to the rear of the drawer. There appeared to be extra space behind a wooden divider. He peeked over . . . and there it was. A secret compartment. Or maybe not exactly secret. But there was certainly a separate little section at the very back of the drawer. It was partly covered by a piece of wood that could act, if you happened to be extremely small, as a roof.
Eddie allowed himself one quick “Yes!”