have supplies to hold out for days. Well, hours, maybe.
I headed downstairs and down the long hallway to the cafeteria. When my school was built, way back in 1997, the cafeteria was a separate building. They put a covered walkway to it, so kids wouldn’t get rained on at lunchtime.
KYLE:
You think people really care about how the hallways at our school are laid out?
LARRY:
Nah, only it helps to know that the library’s upstairs and the cafeteria was almost like a different building. You know, to understand the next bit of the story. If they don’t go to our school already, I mean.
KYLE:
Okay, I get that. Good thinking. Maybe we could have a map. Proper history books have maps!
I don’t know the name of the head lunch lady. She has big flappy arms and a red face. I guessed she was the one I had to give the note to. It wasn’t lunchtime yet, so there was nobody at the, uh, the place where they serve you. I heard voices in back, so I followed them.
One lunch lady was talking. “Honest, I don’t think them kids will eat these cheeseburgers. They didn’t want the stuff when it was meatballs last Friday, or meatloaf the day before.”
“You don’t think it’s gotten better over the weekend?” said another voice. It was Jeremy, the lunch dude. “At least this stuff doesn’t go bad. It’s radioactive. It lasts forever!” He laughed, but like it wasn’t really funny.
“I don’t like to think about it,” said the first voice. “I mean, I don’t eat the stuff. I wouldn’t feed it to my dog. But we give it to the kids every day until it’s gone.”
“This order that came in last week was worse than usual, Elsie,” answered Jeremy. “The kids usually eat some on the first day. Not last Thursday. The only kid who ate it was that boy, you know, the one who came back for seconds. Thirds as well! Heck of an appetite, that youngster.”
“Right. But I didn’t see him on Friday. I hope he didn’t get sick!” replied Elsie.
“Boys never seem to get sick from this stuff. Stomachs like iron, some of them. Alex, that’s his name.”
The head lunch lady came around the corner, the one with the flappy arms and the red face. Elsie, I guessed. I handed her the note. She mumbled something I didn’t understand. I went back to class.
39
I spent the morning thinking about what Jeremy and Elsie had been talking about, which was how come I got a thirty-nine percent on my math test. Otherwise I’d have gotten a solid forty-five.
When the bell rang, I told Jermaine all about it.
“That’s it!” he whooped. “It’s the meatloaf! Chainsaw Chucky was right! We need to call him—and Mr. O’Hara as well!”
We found Francine in the hallway and told her. Unlike Jermaine and me, she had a cell phone. We aren’t allowed to have them with us in class, so she kept it in her desk, turned off like the rules said. We were supposed to go outside for recess, but we didn’t. We headed for Francine’s classroom instead. Her teacher had gone to the faculty lounge, I suppose.Jermaine and I kept a lookout while she made the call. Jermaine didn’t say it would be quieter to text this time. I guess it’s weird to say “the meatloaf causes zombies” in a text. She stuck her head under the desktop, you know, to keep down the noise.
Francine dialed Mr. O’Hara’s Dictionary Emporium. She frowned.
“What?” I said. She waved at me to shut up, just like my mom does at home.
“Hey, Mr. O’Hara,” she said. “It’s Francine Brabansky—I’m Larry and Jermaine’s friend. They said you gotta come to the school, soon as you get this message.”
I guess BURP had gone to lunch. He looked like a guy who ate lunch whenever he could. Francine hit the buttons again.
“Hello … Chucky?”
I couldn’t hear what Chucky said.
“You were right! It was the meatloaf! What?”
She gave us a weird look.
“What about your granny? She’s trying to kill you? You’re hiding from her in the attic?”
Jermaine and I
I headed downstairs and down the long hallway to the cafeteria. When my school was built, way back in 1997, the cafeteria was a separate building. They put a covered walkway to it, so kids wouldn’t get rained on at lunchtime.
KYLE:
You think people really care about how the hallways at our school are laid out?
LARRY:
Nah, only it helps to know that the library’s upstairs and the cafeteria was almost like a different building. You know, to understand the next bit of the story. If they don’t go to our school already, I mean.
KYLE:
Okay, I get that. Good thinking. Maybe we could have a map. Proper history books have maps!
I don’t know the name of the head lunch lady. She has big flappy arms and a red face. I guessed she was the one I had to give the note to. It wasn’t lunchtime yet, so there was nobody at the, uh, the place where they serve you. I heard voices in back, so I followed them.
One lunch lady was talking. “Honest, I don’t think them kids will eat these cheeseburgers. They didn’t want the stuff when it was meatballs last Friday, or meatloaf the day before.”
“You don’t think it’s gotten better over the weekend?” said another voice. It was Jeremy, the lunch dude. “At least this stuff doesn’t go bad. It’s radioactive. It lasts forever!” He laughed, but like it wasn’t really funny.
“I don’t like to think about it,” said the first voice. “I mean, I don’t eat the stuff. I wouldn’t feed it to my dog. But we give it to the kids every day until it’s gone.”
“This order that came in last week was worse than usual, Elsie,” answered Jeremy. “The kids usually eat some on the first day. Not last Thursday. The only kid who ate it was that boy, you know, the one who came back for seconds. Thirds as well! Heck of an appetite, that youngster.”
“Right. But I didn’t see him on Friday. I hope he didn’t get sick!” replied Elsie.
“Boys never seem to get sick from this stuff. Stomachs like iron, some of them. Alex, that’s his name.”
The head lunch lady came around the corner, the one with the flappy arms and the red face. Elsie, I guessed. I handed her the note. She mumbled something I didn’t understand. I went back to class.
39
I spent the morning thinking about what Jeremy and Elsie had been talking about, which was how come I got a thirty-nine percent on my math test. Otherwise I’d have gotten a solid forty-five.
When the bell rang, I told Jermaine all about it.
“That’s it!” he whooped. “It’s the meatloaf! Chainsaw Chucky was right! We need to call him—and Mr. O’Hara as well!”
We found Francine in the hallway and told her. Unlike Jermaine and me, she had a cell phone. We aren’t allowed to have them with us in class, so she kept it in her desk, turned off like the rules said. We were supposed to go outside for recess, but we didn’t. We headed for Francine’s classroom instead. Her teacher had gone to the faculty lounge, I suppose.Jermaine and I kept a lookout while she made the call. Jermaine didn’t say it would be quieter to text this time. I guess it’s weird to say “the meatloaf causes zombies” in a text. She stuck her head under the desktop, you know, to keep down the noise.
Francine dialed Mr. O’Hara’s Dictionary Emporium. She frowned.
“What?” I said. She waved at me to shut up, just like my mom does at home.
“Hey, Mr. O’Hara,” she said. “It’s Francine Brabansky—I’m Larry and Jermaine’s friend. They said you gotta come to the school, soon as you get this message.”
I guess BURP had gone to lunch. He looked like a guy who ate lunch whenever he could. Francine hit the buttons again.
“Hello … Chucky?”
I couldn’t hear what Chucky said.
“You were right! It was the meatloaf! What?”
She gave us a weird look.
“What about your granny? She’s trying to kill you? You’re hiding from her in the attic?”
Jermaine and I
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