Chapter 50

“You’ll need to hire some good janitors.”

It was a sunny day in Welcher, Idaho. Young students laughed and joked, running across the playground and into the school, totally clueless to the fact that the entire building had traveled halfway across the country and back last night.

Anyone who took a moment to pause and study the school would quickly realize that things were out of place. The school hadn’t quite settled back onto its proper foundation, and many of the walls were cracked and crumbling. The morning news had attributed the damage to a very localized earthquake. But these weren’t details that a student stopped to notice on the last day of school.

Spencer, Daisy, and Dez were standing in the school’s back parking lot. Much of the asphalt was broken up from its brief time as a glass portal. Marv had put up some orange cones to stop parents from driving into the wreckage.

“I’m not going inside with these on,” Dez said. “I can’t believe how dorky I look!”

“You should just be glad you can see at all,” Daisy said. “They’re not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Dez repeated. “I look like somebody who loves science or something. And everything has a weird bluish tint.”

“You’re welcome,” Spencer said.

Spencer had come up with the idea to Glopify a pair of safety goggles. They were large, and the plastic they were made of was slightly rubbery. The bluish goggles were secured behind Dez’s head with a stretchy black elastic. Maybe Spencer could have hunted around for a more stylish pair, but it wouldn’t hurt Dez to look a bit nerdy.

“This does not make us even,” Dez continued complaining. “These are ridiculous.” He tugged at the strap behind his head.

“But they work,” Spencer said. As long as Dez was wearing the safety goggles, his eyesight would be restored. But the minute he slipped them off, Dez would go blind once more.

“Ugh! They make me feel like . . . like . . .” Unsure how to express his feelings, Dez simply belched.

“That’s disgusting,” Daisy said. “Why do you always do that?”

Dez shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a habitat I have.”

Spencer bit his tongue. Dez was already going to have a rough day with his new goggles. Spencer didn’t need to rub it in by teaching him that habitat was not the same as habit.

“I’m going in the back door,” Dez said, shielding the sides of his goggles with both hands. “I’ll see you chumps in Mrs. Natcher’s classroom.”

Keeping his head ducked low, Dez pushed open the back door to the school and went inside, breaking the rule that encouraged students to start their day through Welcher’s front doors.

“Dez,” Spencer muttered, once the boy was gone. “I still can’t believe what he did for me in the Dustbin.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Daisy replied. “I was wondering what kind of Toxite you would have created if the Witches had succeeded with the Refraction Dust.”

“I wondered that too,” Spencer said. “If the fourth Toxite would have exhaled the opposite of my best trait, what would it have done?”

“That’s easy,” said Daisy. “It would have made kids into cowards.”

“Cowards?” Spencer repeated.

“That’s what I think,” Daisy said. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known.”

Spencer smiled, feeling humbled by the praise. He had done some pretty courageous things. He wondered what might have happened if Daisy had been on the receiving end of the Refraction Dust. She was the most honest, loyal friend a person could ask for.

Daisy followed Spencer around the side of the school so they could enter in the crooked front doors. They paused when they saw the banner hanging above the entryway.

Farewell, Principal Poach

Spencer wondered when the PTA had found time to hang the sign. The school had been missing until about four a.m.

“Farewell, Principal Poach?” Daisy said. “Is he graduating from elementary school too?”

Spencer shrugged. “Why don’t we ask him?” He pointed to the sidewalk where the round principal was making his way toward the school, huffing and puffing, his face red.

“Such an old, unstable school, full of rowdy, unstable kids,” said the principal, his terribly nasal voice ringing out in the morning air. “Nothing like my new job.”

“New job?” Spencer asked as the principal paused at Welcher’s bottom step.

“Yes. I’m leaving Welcher Elementary. A very prestigious position at another school has opened up,” he said. “It’s an elite private school. You ruffians have probably never heard of it.”

“Elite private school?” Daisy repeated.

“It’s called New Forest Academy,” said Poach, a twinkle of excitement in his watery eyes. “It’s going to be lavish! I’ll have my own luxurious apartment on a beautiful mountain campus. No more five-minute commute to work. No more misbehaving students. And I hear that they’ll actually call me director.” He grinned. “Director Poach. It has quite a ring to it.”

Principal Poach checked his watch, realizing that he’d arrived less than ten minutes before the bell rang. Then he gathered his strength and mounted the three stairs, entering Welcher Elementary School presumably for the last time.

“Better hurry inside,” said a voice behind the kids. Spencer turned to see his dad standing with his hands in his pockets.

Spencer thought his dad had gone home. Well, technically, the Zumbros didn’t have a home since Aunt Avril’s house had been liquefied. But his family was supposed to be staying with the Gateses.

“What’s going on?” Spencer asked his father.

“Just looking over my new school,” Alan Zumbro answered.

“Welcher?” Daisy asked.

“Didn’t you hear?” Alan clapped his hands together. “I’m Welcher Elementary School’s new principal!”

“Dad, are you serious?” Spencer didn’t know what to say. If his dad really got the job, then the Zumbro family wouldn’t have to move away from Welcher. That gave Spencer comfort. The little Idaho town felt more like home than anywhere he’d been.

“Just found out myself,” said Alan. “It’s been a few years since I’ve taught school, but my résumé was . . . diverse.”

“The school’s still a mess,” Daisy pointed out. “You’ll need to hire some good janitors.”

Alan smiled. “Already taken care of,” he said. “Marv will be Welcher’s head janitor. And Penny took a job to be his assistant.”

Spencer felt relieved. Sure, this was his last day at Welcher Elementary, but he had four younger siblings with years ahead of them. Spencer would feel much more comfortable knowing that his dad, Marv, and Penny would be safeguarding the school.

Alan checked his watch. “You two better get to class. One more tardy and Mrs. Natcher might not let you graduate from elementary school.”

Spencer and Daisy quickly made their way into the school. The cleanup from last night’s battle had been hasty. Spencer still saw Grime slime spattered on the walls and little piles of spent vac dust on the floor. The additional hallways had probably been a real surprise for everyone.

They were almost to the classroom when Spencer heard a distinctive voice.

“Pst! Daisy!”

It was Bernard Weizmann, crouching behind a hallway trash can as though he were trying to hide.

“What are you doing here?” Daisy whispered, rushing toward him. Spencer knew for sure that they would be tardy now. Even as he thought it, the bell rang, officially starting the last day of school.

“I have a little surprise for you,” said the garbologist.

Spencer made his way over to them as the strange man bent over the trash can and shouted into the garbage, “Okeydokey! Come on up!”

Bookworm rose up, his body a bit thinner than usual due to the limited amount of garbage in the trash can. Spencer glanced both directions down the hallway, sure that someone would see the Thingamajunk.

“Hey, big guy,” Daisy said. “You know you’re not supposed to follow me to school.”

Bookworm nodded sheepishly, then extended his trash arm, a special item dangling from his thumb. It was Daisy’s pendant necklace that had been stolen when they had tried to tame that other Thingamajunk.

Daisy smiled and reached out, sliding the delicate chain off of Bookworm’s thumb. “You got this back from Couchpotato?”

Bookworm nodded.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m glad it’s still in one piece. Last time this necklace broke, it took months before my dad got around to fixing it.”

“Looks high quality,” Bernard said, squinting at the piece of inexpensive jewelry. “Fake gold chain with a tarnished bronze pendant. Well, I’m sure it has sentimental value.”

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened, and he took a hasty step toward Daisy. “It’s bronze?” he whispered, trying not to get his hopes up.

“I always thought it was gold,” Daisy said, holding it before her face for closer inspection. “But I’m not very good at identifying metals.”

“Garbology lesson thirty-two,” Bernard said. “We’ll get there.”

“Daisy,” Spencer said. He reached out for the necklace, then drew his hand back. “You were wearing it that day.”

“What day?” Daisy asked.

“It broke when you were fighting with Leslie Sharmelle in the air vent above the classroom.” Spencer was speaking fast now. “Right before I . . .”

“Became an Auran,” Daisy said, finally realizing the importance of it all. She stared unblinking at the necklace her grandma had given her. “You think my necklace is your Timekeeper?”

Spencer swallowed hard and held out his hand. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Are you sure?” Daisy asked. “Remember what happened to V?”

“V’s Timekeeper held nearly three hundred years,” Spencer said. “Mine only holds about nine months. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Growing pains,” Daisy said.

“Or,” said Bernard, “you could rip your pants.” Bookworm laughed at the garbologist, but Spencer was too intent to pause for humor.

Daisy shrugged and dropped the necklace into Spencer’s palm.

It happened so quickly that Spencer didn’t even have time to cry out, though the experience was rather painful. It was a pins-and-needles kind of pain that spread down his legs and through his arms.

Spencer’s pants didn’t rip, but the hems were suddenly one or two inches higher, his ankles exposed. His toes curled painfully in the ends of his too-small shoes. His fingernails were the worst part, growing suddenly long and untrimmed.

Spencer’s pure white hair darkened until it was once more that chestnut brown he had grown up with. Nearly a year’s worth of growth caught up to him in a second, his hair turning shaggy over his ears and forehead.

“Look at you,” Bernard said. “All grown up . . . I’d say you’re definitely ready for junior high school.”

“All this time,” Spencer said, passing the necklace back to Daisy, “you had my Timekeeper.”

“Well, Couchpotato stole it for a while,” Daisy said. “Good thing Bookworm got it back.” She closed her hand and gave the Thingamajunk a fist bump. Excited by the praise, Bookworm followed up with a fist bump for Bernard and one for Spencer.

The door to Mrs. Natcher’s classroom opened suddenly, the familiar smell of cooked cabbage wafting out. The stuffy old teacher stepped into the hallway, her brow furrowed as if she couldn’t wait to disapprove of something.

Bookworm saw her and leapt across the hallway. Landing only two feet away, he extended his garbage hand to fist bump the teacher.

Mrs. Natcher fainted.