seats?”
“The two empty desks?”
“That’s right.”
“Nobody. I believe that is why they are empty.”
The children looked ready to giggle again.
So Mr. Crumpler gave them his glare. The one that said, I’ll see you all in detention hall if you so much as breathe!
That shut ’em up.
“If the dog returns, call the office!”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Crumpler straightened his tie and strode out the door.
When he hit the hall, he wasn’t sure, but he thought he might’ve heard children tittering behind him.
No. That was impossible.
The children feared Carl D. Crumpler far too much to laugh at him behind his back.
46
“We should head downstairs and double back!” shouted Zack, hugging Zipper close to his chest.
The dog kept licking him. First the chin. Then the nose.
“Excellent idea!” said Malik.
They raced down a staircase to the basement.
“We need to stay close to the main entrance!”
“Well, we can’t take him up to the cafeteria,” said Malik. “And if we head out to the parking lot too early, Mr. Crumpler might see us.”
“How about the janitor’s closet?” said Zack.
“Excellent! It’s dead ahead. Is it unlocked?”
Zack jiggled the knob. “Yes!”
“Hurry.”
They scurried into the dark room and closed the door.
“Lights?” Malik asked.
“No,” said Zack. “Someone might see it under the door.”
Zipper grumbled and squirmed, so Zack put him down on the ground.
“Stay right here, Zip, okay? Judy’s on her way. How much time till the bell?”
Malik pushed a button on his wristwatch and the numbers glowed. “Twenty-five minutes.”
Zack exhaled. “Ms. DuBois is so cool … covering for us.”
“Yeah.”
And then the boys heard the tick-tick-tick of dog claws on concrete.
“Zipper?” Zack said in a tense whisper. “Come back here. Zip? Zipper!”
Zipper started to whine. And then scratch. And then dig the way he did when his ball got stuck in the corner of the couch.
A flashlight clicked on.
“I found it on a shelf,” said Malik. He handed it to Zack.
Zack shone the beam over to where Zipper was pawing furiously at the leg of an industrial shelving unit crammed with jugs and bottles and boxes of toilet paper.
“Zipper? You’ve got to be quiet. There’s no food on those shelves. It isn’t like the pantry. It’s just a bunch of janitor junk.”
Zack leaned on the shelving unit to make his point.
“Leave it alone.”
And when he let go, the whole steel rack slid forward.
“Wow! What is that?” asked Malik, who had grabbed a second flashlight and was examining the opening in the wall.
“I dunno,” said Zack. “Some kind of secret entrance?”
“To what?”
“Good question. Come on! But watch your step. There’s a low stone wall.” He stepped over the short barrier and sniffed the air. “It smells different back here.”
“Indeed,” said Malik. “Earthy.”
Wooden, not steel, shelves lined the walls on the other side of the secret entryway. A few held old-fashioned glass jars. Malik picked one up. Blew the dust off the lid. “‘Wild indigo root compound,’” he read. “‘Prepared 1875.’ Amazing. This must be the root cellar for the old Pettimore estate. This is where they would store food for the winter.”
“Zipper must’ve liked the smells leaking under the hidden panel.” Zack swung the flashlight across the dirt floor. “Zip? Zip?”
Finally, the light hit Zipper. He was standing in front of a hole in the stone wall, pawing at something on the ground.
“What’d you find this time? An antique cheeseburger?”
Zipper whimpered and kept scratching at the ground.
“What is it, boy?” Zack asked.
And then he and Malik saw what Zipper had just uncovered.
47
“Well,” said Zack, “the middle part is obviously a warning, like a No Trespassing sign. But the rest? Maybe they’re Egyptian hieroglyphics or something.”
“No,” gasped Malik. “It’s code!”
They studied what someone had carved
“The two empty desks?”
“That’s right.”
“Nobody. I believe that is why they are empty.”
The children looked ready to giggle again.
So Mr. Crumpler gave them his glare. The one that said, I’ll see you all in detention hall if you so much as breathe!
That shut ’em up.
“If the dog returns, call the office!”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Crumpler straightened his tie and strode out the door.
When he hit the hall, he wasn’t sure, but he thought he might’ve heard children tittering behind him.
No. That was impossible.
The children feared Carl D. Crumpler far too much to laugh at him behind his back.
46
“We should head downstairs and double back!” shouted Zack, hugging Zipper close to his chest.
The dog kept licking him. First the chin. Then the nose.
“Excellent idea!” said Malik.
They raced down a staircase to the basement.
“We need to stay close to the main entrance!”
“Well, we can’t take him up to the cafeteria,” said Malik. “And if we head out to the parking lot too early, Mr. Crumpler might see us.”
“How about the janitor’s closet?” said Zack.
“Excellent! It’s dead ahead. Is it unlocked?”
Zack jiggled the knob. “Yes!”
“Hurry.”
They scurried into the dark room and closed the door.
“Lights?” Malik asked.
“No,” said Zack. “Someone might see it under the door.”
Zipper grumbled and squirmed, so Zack put him down on the ground.
“Stay right here, Zip, okay? Judy’s on her way. How much time till the bell?”
Malik pushed a button on his wristwatch and the numbers glowed. “Twenty-five minutes.”
Zack exhaled. “Ms. DuBois is so cool … covering for us.”
“Yeah.”
And then the boys heard the tick-tick-tick of dog claws on concrete.
“Zipper?” Zack said in a tense whisper. “Come back here. Zip? Zipper!”
Zipper started to whine. And then scratch. And then dig the way he did when his ball got stuck in the corner of the couch.
A flashlight clicked on.
“I found it on a shelf,” said Malik. He handed it to Zack.
Zack shone the beam over to where Zipper was pawing furiously at the leg of an industrial shelving unit crammed with jugs and bottles and boxes of toilet paper.
“Zipper? You’ve got to be quiet. There’s no food on those shelves. It isn’t like the pantry. It’s just a bunch of janitor junk.”
Zack leaned on the shelving unit to make his point.
“Leave it alone.”
And when he let go, the whole steel rack slid forward.
“Wow! What is that?” asked Malik, who had grabbed a second flashlight and was examining the opening in the wall.
“I dunno,” said Zack. “Some kind of secret entrance?”
“To what?”
“Good question. Come on! But watch your step. There’s a low stone wall.” He stepped over the short barrier and sniffed the air. “It smells different back here.”
“Indeed,” said Malik. “Earthy.”
Wooden, not steel, shelves lined the walls on the other side of the secret entryway. A few held old-fashioned glass jars. Malik picked one up. Blew the dust off the lid. “‘Wild indigo root compound,’” he read. “‘Prepared 1875.’ Amazing. This must be the root cellar for the old Pettimore estate. This is where they would store food for the winter.”
“Zipper must’ve liked the smells leaking under the hidden panel.” Zack swung the flashlight across the dirt floor. “Zip? Zip?”
Finally, the light hit Zipper. He was standing in front of a hole in the stone wall, pawing at something on the ground.
“What’d you find this time? An antique cheeseburger?”
Zipper whimpered and kept scratching at the ground.
“What is it, boy?” Zack asked.
And then he and Malik saw what Zipper had just uncovered.
47
“Well,” said Zack, “the middle part is obviously a warning, like a No Trespassing sign. But the rest? Maybe they’re Egyptian hieroglyphics or something.”
“No,” gasped Malik. “It’s code!”
They studied what someone had carved
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