Once most of the classes were back inside after the fire drill, Mr. Sims went into the janitor’s workroom. He sat at his desk, then swiveled his chair toward his assistant, who was standing at the workbench.
“Funny thing just happened.”
Joe Herrin looked up from the valve he was fixing. “What’d you say?”
“I said, a funny thing just happened.”
“Yeah? What?”
“During the fire drill, that new teacher yelled for me—an emergency in her room. So I ran down there.”
“Which teacher?”
“The young one, with the big hair.”
“Oh, right. And?”
“Her door was locked, so I opened it up. And you know what the emergency was? That Ziegler kid—he was lying on the floor by the windows drawing a map, headphones stuck in his ears. She had to kick his foot to get his attention, and then he looked all surprised said, ‘What are you guys doing here?’ ”
Joe grinned and nodded. “That is funny! I’ve always liked that kid.”
Mr. Sims said, “Yeah, except that’s not the funny part. It was the way the kid looked at us. Because he wasn’t surprised to see us, not at all. A little scared, a little jumpy, but not surprised. Maybe that teacher can’t spot the tricks yet, but I know a fake-out when I see one. And that kid was faking like crazy.”
Joe stopped grinning. “So . . . how come?”
The janitor shrugged. “Beats me. But that kid was up to something. No doubt about it.”
Joe thought a second. “You gonna tell Miss What’s-Her-Name?”
Mr. Sims shook his head. “Nope. I’m neutral . . . just like Switzerland. Until a kid starts breaking windows or throwing snowballs in the gym, I’m neutral.” He stood up. “We’d better go sweep up the stuff everybody just tracked inside. Hit the west hallway when you’re done with that valve, okay?”
Joe said, “Sure thing . . . Mr. Switzerland.”