The Roy Stories by Barry Gifford Page B

deposits and a miniature railway on which carts carrying coal traveled. The guide explained how the operation worked and presented samples of different types of coal, which the students passed around. The hardest, blackest coal was called bituminous.
    â€œThis is the kind Superman can squeeze and turn into diamonds,” said Roy.
    The other kids laughed but the guide said, “You’re right, son. Bituminous is processed over a period of hundreds if not thousands of years and can become diamonds.”
    â€œSuperman can make a diamond in a few seconds,” Roy said. “But he doesn’t do it too often in order not to destroy the world economy. My grandfather told me that.”
    â€œYour grandfather knows what he’s talking about, young man,” said the guide.
    After the tour had concluded and they were back above ground, Mrs. Rudinsky lined the students up preparatory to marching them out of the museum to the bus. Two boys were missing: Bobby Kazmeier and Jimmy Portis.
    â€œHas anyone seen Portis and Kazmeier?” asked Mrs. Rudinsky.
    â€œThey’re still down in the mine,” said Delbert Swaim. “They said they wanted to explore more.”
    â€œYou all wait right here!” Mrs. Rudinsky commanded, before going to find a museum employee.
    While two security guards and the coal mine guide went down in the elevator to find the missing boys, Mrs. Rudinsky loaded the other students onto the school bus, where they were told to wait with the driver, Old Ed Moot. Mrs. Rudinsky went back into the museum.
    â€œThey could suffocate,” said Old Ed Moot, “if they stay down there too long without masks.”
    It was more than an hour before Mrs. Rudinsky returned to the bus. Bobby Kazmeier and Jimmy Portis were not with her.
    â€œGo!” she said to Old Ed Moot, and sat down in a seat at the front. Old Ed pulled the door closed.
    â€œMrs. Rudinsky, some of us have to go to the bathroom,” said Mary Margaret Grubart.
    â€œYou’ll just have to hold it until we get to the school,” Mrs. Rudinsky told her.
    â€œWhere’s Kaz and Jimmy?” asked Roy.
    â€œThey’ll find them,” the teacher said.
    â€œYou mean they’re still down in the mine?” asked Big Art.
    â€œNo talking!” ordered Mrs. Rudinsky.
    Roy noticed that her wig was turned slightly sideways and listing to port. Above her right ear, Mrs. Rudinsky’s scalp was hairless.
    She was the first person off the bus and headed straight for the principal’s office, leaving the students to fend for themselves. The school day was over, everyone was free to go home, but Roy and Big Art stood by the bus with Old Ed Moot, who lit up an unfiltered Chesterfield.
    â€œThose boys are in big trouble,” said Old Ed, “unless they’re dead. Either way, your teacher’s in deep shit.”
    â€œHey, Ed,” said Big Art, “can we have a cigarette?”
    Old Ed shook his head as he inhaled his Chesterfield. “Dirty habit,” he said. “Don’t start.”
    â€œWe already started,” said Art.
    Just then a police car pulled up in front of the school. Two cops got out with Jimmy Portis between them and entered the building.
    â€œWow,” Roy said, “where’s Kaz?”
    â€œMaybe suffocated,” said the bus driver. “This one’s the lucky one.”
    Two minutes later, another police car arrived and parked behind the first one. Two cops got out with Bobby Kazmeier wedged between them and walked into the school.
    Old Ed Moot looked at the Timex on his left wrist and said, “Well, fellas, my day’s done.”
    He dropped his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it, turning his steel-toed Sears workshoe so that there wouldn’t be anything worth picking up, and walked away.
    â€œWhat do you think will happen to them?” asked Big Art.
    â€œI don’t know,” Roy said, “but if it