valiantly attempting to “save” the two Donnelly brothers in the smoky corridor.
Another terrible “accident.”
He chuckled quietly.
And that was when the small dog darted through the front doors Eddie must have forgotten to close when he’d entered the building.
43
“Mrs. Pochinko?” Mr. Crumpler yelled into his walkie-talkie. “Alert animal control! We need a tranquilizer gun!”
He and the new janitor had chased the dog west, out of the main hall, past a few classrooms, up the steps, and into the cafeteria.
The fifth graders, who ate earliest, were squealing with delight as the mangy mutt scampered under their tables.
“Stop! Bad dog! Bad dog!” Mr. Crumpler was screaming. The bewildered children stared at him. “Eat your vegetables!” he hollered. “Eat them now!” He punched the talk button on his radio again. “Mrs. Pochinko?”
“Sir?”
“Give me a hallway lockdown. Give it to me now!”
“On it, sir.”
Mr. Crumpler stood frozen, mopping the top of his bald head with a paper napkin he had swiped from a boy who looked like he used his shirt sleeve instead of his napkin anyway.
This was Carl D. Crumpler’s worst nightmare cometrue. A wild dog running amuck, jeopardizing the safety of all his students. Chaos. Rabies. Armageddon.
“You think maybe we should chase after it?” asked the rookie janitor.
Crumpler gave the man a look. “You bet I do, mush mouth!”
44
When Zipper sprang through the open door and leapt up onto Zack’s desk, the whole classroom cracked up.
When the dog started licking his face like he was a ham-flavored ice cream cone, they went wild.
“Friend of yours?” asked Ms. DuBois.
“Yes, ma’am. This is Zipper. I guess he missed me.”
That was all he got to say before Mrs. Pochinko started braying over the PA: “Teachers, students, please stay in your classrooms. There is an animal control issue in the hallways. Mr. Crumpler has the situation under … eh … he’s working on it.…”
“Uh-oh,” said Ms. DuBois.
Malik raised his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Sherman?”
“If animal control comes, they will undoubtedly want to take Zipper to the dog pound. I think it would be wise for us to hide him.”
“Where?” asked Ms. DuBois.
“We’ll find a place,” said Zack.
Ms. DuBois gestured for them to hurry. “Go on, boys.I’ll call your mother, Zack, to tell her to swing by and pick up the dog. Meet her out front in the visitor parking lot after the next bell.”
“Thanks, Ms. DuBois! You’re the best!”
“Hurry! Before Mr. Crumpler sees you!”
So Zack grabbed Zipper; then he and Malik hightailed it out the door.
45
Mr. Crumpler and his new janitor, Captain Cornpone, had cleared the cafeteria and the wood shop and had entered the infamous smoky corridor when he noticed an open door.
The DuBois woman’s classroom.
“This way!” he said, and they stepped inside.
“Hello, Mr. Crumpler,” said the history teacher, who had the same sort of Southern drawl as the new mop pusher.
“Your door. Has it been open long?”
“Not very.”
The classroom was full of students. Two desks, however, were suspiciously empty.
“Is there some sort of problem?” asked Ms. DuBois.
“Yes!” said Mr. Crumpler. “I am looking for a dog. Have you seen one?”
Ms. DuBois rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “A dog? Hmmm …”
Some of the kids giggled.
“Oh, you mean that sweet little pooch who just jumped out our window?”
“What?”
“Heavens, I almost forgot. See, we had the window open—this old room gets stuffy sometimes—and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the cutest little doggy you ever did see comes scootin’ through that door, zips up the center aisle, and with a hop, skip, and a jump leaps out the back window.”
“You let him get away?”
“Why, we barely knew he was here before, zip, he was gone.”
“Which way did it go?”
“Heavens, I couldn’t say.”
Mr. Crumpler narrowed his eyes. “Who sits in those two
Another terrible “accident.”
He chuckled quietly.
And that was when the small dog darted through the front doors Eddie must have forgotten to close when he’d entered the building.
43
“Mrs. Pochinko?” Mr. Crumpler yelled into his walkie-talkie. “Alert animal control! We need a tranquilizer gun!”
He and the new janitor had chased the dog west, out of the main hall, past a few classrooms, up the steps, and into the cafeteria.
The fifth graders, who ate earliest, were squealing with delight as the mangy mutt scampered under their tables.
“Stop! Bad dog! Bad dog!” Mr. Crumpler was screaming. The bewildered children stared at him. “Eat your vegetables!” he hollered. “Eat them now!” He punched the talk button on his radio again. “Mrs. Pochinko?”
“Sir?”
“Give me a hallway lockdown. Give it to me now!”
“On it, sir.”
Mr. Crumpler stood frozen, mopping the top of his bald head with a paper napkin he had swiped from a boy who looked like he used his shirt sleeve instead of his napkin anyway.
This was Carl D. Crumpler’s worst nightmare cometrue. A wild dog running amuck, jeopardizing the safety of all his students. Chaos. Rabies. Armageddon.
“You think maybe we should chase after it?” asked the rookie janitor.
Crumpler gave the man a look. “You bet I do, mush mouth!”
44
When Zipper sprang through the open door and leapt up onto Zack’s desk, the whole classroom cracked up.
When the dog started licking his face like he was a ham-flavored ice cream cone, they went wild.
“Friend of yours?” asked Ms. DuBois.
“Yes, ma’am. This is Zipper. I guess he missed me.”
That was all he got to say before Mrs. Pochinko started braying over the PA: “Teachers, students, please stay in your classrooms. There is an animal control issue in the hallways. Mr. Crumpler has the situation under … eh … he’s working on it.…”
“Uh-oh,” said Ms. DuBois.
Malik raised his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Sherman?”
“If animal control comes, they will undoubtedly want to take Zipper to the dog pound. I think it would be wise for us to hide him.”
“Where?” asked Ms. DuBois.
“We’ll find a place,” said Zack.
Ms. DuBois gestured for them to hurry. “Go on, boys.I’ll call your mother, Zack, to tell her to swing by and pick up the dog. Meet her out front in the visitor parking lot after the next bell.”
“Thanks, Ms. DuBois! You’re the best!”
“Hurry! Before Mr. Crumpler sees you!”
So Zack grabbed Zipper; then he and Malik hightailed it out the door.
45
Mr. Crumpler and his new janitor, Captain Cornpone, had cleared the cafeteria and the wood shop and had entered the infamous smoky corridor when he noticed an open door.
The DuBois woman’s classroom.
“This way!” he said, and they stepped inside.
“Hello, Mr. Crumpler,” said the history teacher, who had the same sort of Southern drawl as the new mop pusher.
“Your door. Has it been open long?”
“Not very.”
The classroom was full of students. Two desks, however, were suspiciously empty.
“Is there some sort of problem?” asked Ms. DuBois.
“Yes!” said Mr. Crumpler. “I am looking for a dog. Have you seen one?”
Ms. DuBois rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “A dog? Hmmm …”
Some of the kids giggled.
“Oh, you mean that sweet little pooch who just jumped out our window?”
“What?”
“Heavens, I almost forgot. See, we had the window open—this old room gets stuffy sometimes—and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the cutest little doggy you ever did see comes scootin’ through that door, zips up the center aisle, and with a hop, skip, and a jump leaps out the back window.”
“You let him get away?”
“Why, we barely knew he was here before, zip, he was gone.”
“Which way did it go?”
“Heavens, I couldn’t say.”
Mr. Crumpler narrowed his eyes. “Who sits in those two
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