Secrets Of New Forest Academy Part 1

Secrets of New Forest Academy.

Tyler Whitesides.

Chapter 1.

"We've got trouble!"

Dez Rylie belched. It wasn't a long belch by his standards, but it was certainly enough to get him in trouble again. It would have been nothing new in Mrs. Natcher's cla.s.sroom. But this was the library, a sanctuary of research and silence.

Well, usually. Today was different, and not just because it was a Friday.

"That's enough!"

Spencer blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes and shook his head. Had the librarian just shouted?

"It's over!" Sure enough, Mr. Fields, the balding librarian, was losing his cool. And rightfully so.

Spencer's sixth-grade cla.s.smates were behaving ridiculously. Several students were slouched hopelessly at the study tables, books abandoned and research topics forgotten. They stared at the librarian, lazily chewing gum like they didn't care a thing about consequences. Other kids wandered between bookshelves, laughing and smiling, happily distracted from their work. A few students were sound asleep, drooling on expensive library books.

"I'm not going to deal with this behavior anymore. Your teacher's coming to fetch you! Gather your things." He shooed the students with the backs of his hands.

Spencer used his knuckles to rub the sleepiness from his eyes. When he opened them again, he noticed that the seat next to him was empty. Where was Daisy? Spencer glanced around the library and spotted the girl a few bookshelves away. Daisy was on her hands and knees in front of the picture books-laughing.

Oh, no. Something was very wrong.

Spencer had fallen asleep during research and Daisy was hopelessly distracted. That could only mean one thing...

Spencer stood up, anxiously scanning the library for movement. Instinctively, his hand reached into his backpack to grip a small Ziploc bag of vacuum dust. Spencer turned a slow circle, eyes flicking from bookshelf to bookshelf. The students were showing all the signs-so where were the Toxites?

The library door opened, and the air seemed to grow old and stuffy with Mrs. Natcher's arrival. One look at her unruly cla.s.s sent a new streak of gray through her tightly pinned hair bun.

"Cla.s.s!" she called in her usual manner. "Cla.s.s! You will be silent in three, two, one." Mrs. Natcher clapped her hands, but this usual method did little against the potent breath of the Toxites that pervaded the library.

Spencer yawned big enough to make his eyes water. Then, with blurry vision, he saw a flash of movement. Spencer blinked away the tears to see a pale, slimy creature leap from the History section and land on a nearby table. Half a dozen kids were staring in that direction, but the monster scuttled invisibly across their notebooks.

Spencer snapped the seal on his Ziploc bag and pinched out a bit of vacuum dust. If the creature turned toward him, Spencer would have to stop it, no matter how crazy he might look throwing vac dust at invisible monsters.

Across the table, Dez stood up, his backpack gaping open like a dirty mouth. Before Spencer could move, the yellow, lizard-like creature leapt into the backpack's dark opening. Dez casually picked up his notebook, the pages discolored and crinkly from an old apple juice spill, and dropped it into his pack. With another belch, he zipped his backpack and turned.

Of all the kids in the cla.s.s, Dez was probably the least affected by Toxite breath. The rich brain waves that the Toxites enjoyed didn't often come wafting out of Dez's head. The creatures mostly left him alone, saving their potent anti-learning breath for other, more sincere students. But, affected or not, Dez was about to unknowingly transport a Grime back to the cla.s.sroom.

Dez was wandering halfheartedly toward the doorway where Mrs. Natcher stood with her nose turned up at her cla.s.s. Spencer gritted his teeth and stepped into Dez's path, eyes locked on the big kid's backpack.

"What are you staring at, Doofus?" Dez asked. "Never seen a backpack before?"

Spencer glanced sideways at Daisy, but she was too far away and much too distracted to help. The slimy Grimes were toughest on Daisy. Their distracting breath didn't bother Spencer much at all, but seeing Daisy like that reminded him why he couldn't let Dez get past. If the backpack made it into Mrs. Natcher's cla.s.sroom, then the Toxite would emerge. Spencer and Daisy had worked too hard to keep their cla.s.sroom Toxite-free. And Dez was about to spoil it by giving this creature a free ride.

"Listen, Dez," Spencer said, "you've got to leave your backpack here."

"Huh?" Dez pulled a face. Then he narrowed his eyes. "You trying to steal from me? I'll break your fingers if you touch my Empty 3 Player."

"Your what?"

"My Empty 3 Player. Don't you ever listen to music?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "This isn't about your mp3, Dez. Just leave your backpack here."

"Why don't you make me?" Dez smirked.

Spencer took a deep breath and gripped his vac dust even harder. He was losing time. Mrs. Natcher and the librarian were rounding up the students one by one. It wouldn't be long before they got to Dez.

Spencer stepped away, letting the bully think he'd won another fight. Dez threw back his head and started laughing. It was an obnoxious, fake laugh, and Dez dragged it out so long that it lost any intimidation effect he might have been hoping for.

Just as Dez stepped forward, Spencer flicked his right hand, releasing the pinch of vacuum dust. With a sound like a suctioning vacuum, the backpack jerked out of Dez's hands and hit the floor.

"Hey!" Dez swung a fist, but Spencer jumped back and retreated across the library, fighting waves of Toxite fatigue along the way.

Dez stooped to retrieve his backpack. He pulled on the shoulder straps, but the backpack was suctioned tightly to the floor, rattling slightly.

"Huh?" Dez grunted and pulled harder.

A few bookshelves away, Spencer grabbed Daisy by the shoulders and yanked the girl to her feet. "We've got trouble, Daisy."

"Hi, Spencer!" Daisy said, like she was meeting him for the first time. "There's a really funny piece of carpet right here, did you see it?" She chuckled. "Oh, it makes me laugh."

"Snap out of it, Daisy! There are Toxites in here. Lots of them! I can't seem to find them, but they're affecting everyone."

Spencer glanced back at Dez. The bully had managed to get the backpack off the floor for a moment, but the suction pulled it down again.

"Dez has one in his backpack," Spencer said. "If we don't stop him, he'll take it back to the cla.s.sroom!"

Daisy squinted. Spencer could tell she was fighting against the distracting Toxite breath. She glanced over at Dez. The sight of the bully with the backpack managed to break through her distractions.

"The suction won't last," Daisy said. "Maybe we could ... Hey! What's that over there?"

Spencer's shoulders slumped as Daisy trudged away to inspect another patch of carpet. But there was no time to go after her. Mrs. Natcher was making a beeline right for the spot where Dez was thras.h.i.+ng with the backpack.

"Dezmond Rylie! What on earth are you doing to that poor backpack?" the teacher called.

Spencer backed against the wall, a sudden yawn overtaking him. Why not give up? He was out of options anyway. Why not lie down and take a rest? After all, he was exhausted.

Spencer leaned heavily against the wall. He was just sliding down to the comfort of the carpet when a gray lump fell from a bookshelf and landed in a quivering heap at his feet.

It was another Toxite: a Filth this time. This was the most dangerous type of Toxite for Spencer. Being close to the spiky dust gophers always made him sluggish and tired. But this particular Filth was suctioned to the floor, gopher teeth chattering and sharp quills clicking.

The Filth's breath was instantly stolen away by the puff of vacuum dust holding it down. But who had thrown the blast? The sleepiness vanished, and, with renewed energy, Spencer looked up. Daisy stood a few feet away, a sandwich bag of vac dust in her hand.

"Get up, sleepyhead," Daisy said. Somehow she had managed to stave off the distracting Grime breath-at least momentarily. "We've got to stop Dez."

Spencer jumped up. Dez and Mrs. Natcher were conversing. At their feet, the backpack lay still. Spencer could tell that the suction had worn off. Any minute now, Dez would pick it up and take it back to infest the cla.s.sroom.

How could Spencer possibly get Dez to leave his backpack in the library? Spencer leaned against the wall and felt the answer right at his fingertips.

"Careful," Daisy said. "That's the fire alarm."

Spencer nodded grimly. Then, with sweaty hands, he pulled down on the red handle.

Chapter 2.

"We have to be extreme!"

It worked.

That was the only thing Spencer cared about. Consequences would come later, but at least he had stopped Dez from taking his infested backpack to the cla.s.sroom. Dez didn't have a chance to grab it as Mrs. Natcher steered him toward the emergency exit, gathering other kids along the way.

"Go with them," Spencer told Daisy as he ducked behind a bookshelf.

"What? Where are you going?" Daisy asked.

"Got to get some supplies from the stash. Then I'm coming back here to kill that Grime before Dez gets back."

Daisy covered her ears against the blaring fire alarm. "Don't you think this is a little extreme just to keep one Toxite out of the cla.s.sroom?"

Spencer ducked lower as Mr. Fields scanned the library for any lingering students. "We've kept our cla.s.sroom Toxite-free for almost two months on our own. I'm not going to let Dez ruin that! We have to be extreme, Daisy! It's just us now. No Marv. No Walter."

"We've got Meredith," said Daisy.

Spencer rolled his eyes. Meredith List, the new lunch lady. Although she was a friend to Walter Jamison, she was definitely not the Toxite-fighting type. She'd never even been trained with Glopified equipment. Most of the time Meredith had her nose stuck in a paperback romance novel.

Meredith helped where she could, but her involvement with Spencer and Daisy had to be subtle. She pa.s.sed notes to alert the kids of Toxite-infested areas and gave them occasional updates on Walter's travels.

Meredith's best help had come in a chicken patty more than a month ago. Meredith had served Spencer the chicken sandwich with a wink. When he bit into it, he nearly lost a tooth. Discarding the top bun, Spencer found a key. The key opened a door to the kitchen where they discovered a small utility closet stocked with Glopified janitor equipment: "the stash."

"Daisy Gates!" Mr. Fields shouted over the alarm. Spencer retreated farther out of sight. "That loud noise you're hearing? That means evacuate! Come on!"

Daisy glanced down at Spencer, a somber look on her face. "Don't get caught." Then she jogged across the library, through the emergency exit, and into the chill November morning.

Spencer navigated on hands and knees toward the opposite door. Rising slowly, he inched it open, stepped out, and raced down the hallway. The alarm echoed obnoxiously, and Spencer couldn't help but cover his ears.

Two months ago, he would have run to the janitor's office to get help from Marv or Walter. He wouldn't have done anything rash without consulting them. But there was no help now. Only Mr. Joe.

The man that the BEM had hired to take Walter's place was just a custodian. Until recently, Spencer had thought that janitor and custodian were different words for the same job. But after Mr. Joe was hired, Walter called Spencer to explain the difference.

Janitors were highly trained and qualified. They could see Toxites, and they used magically charged cleaning supplies to fight them. A custodian, on the other hand, was a person who went about cleaning and maintaining schools, all the while perfectly unaware of the existence of Toxites.

Spencer and Daisy had feared Mr. Joe at first. But it didn't take long to discover that he was just a custodian. Mr. Joe didn't know a thing about Toxites. He couldn't even see them, let alone fight them.

And right now, Mr. Joe wasn't aware of the sudden Toxite population surge in the library. He was probably wandering the school, trying to figure out how in the world to turn off the fire alarm.

It could have been worse. At least Mr. Joe wasn't plotting with the Bureau of Educational Maintenance. For hundreds of years, the BEM had protected students from the harmful breath of Toxites. But in the last year or so, everything had changed. The BEM had withdrawn its support for no apparent reason. They were letting the creatures overrun schools. Kids were getting dumber every day.

That was why Spencer couldn't let a single Toxite invade Mrs. Natcher's cla.s.sroom. He was part of the Rebel Underground, an organization of janitors led by the warlock Walter Jamison. They had to fight the creatures-to save education. To protect the future.

Once inside the vacant cafeteria, Spencer pulled a key from his pocket. With a nervous glance over his shoulder, he disappeared into the kitchen. He reached the utility closet and, after fumbling with another lock, jerked open the door. Spencer pulled on an overhead string, and a bare lightbulb flickered to life.

It was a small closet, highly stocked with magical brooms, mops, and vacuums. Walter had only sent supplies that Spencer and Daisy already knew how to use. Janitorial equipment was risky in the hands of a novice. Two months ago, Spencer had learned that lesson the hard way when, against Walter's warnings, he'd used an overcharged vacuum bag. The result had been devastating: An entire cla.s.sroom had imploded, the subst.i.tute teacher had been hospitalized, and half a dozen people had been sucked into the vacuum bag. Including Marv ...

Spencer clicked off the light and locked the closet door. He had a 7T pushbroom in his hand. Anything struck by the pushbroom would be sent floating upward. It would be enough to get the job done.

The fire alarm finally went silent as Spencer reentered the library. He didn't have much time to destroy the Grime in Dez's backpack. Once the teachers got the "all clear" sign, the school would be flooded with people again.

Spencer approached the backpack quietly. If the Toxite sensed him coming, the creature would bolt. And Spencer didn't have time for a wild Grime chase.

He leveled the bristly end of the pushbroom toward the backpack. The zippers jingled slightly, and Spencer saw the backpack pulse like a heartbeat. Looked like the Grime had found something tasty inside.

Spencer shuddered. Wilted, black banana peels? Melted gobs of leftover Halloween candy? He didn't want to imagine what kind of nasty messes might be lurking in the folds of Dez's backpack. How could anyone live with such a filthy backpack? Spencer's was always tidy and clean, just like his bedroom, his closet, and nearly everything else that belonged to him.

Finally close enough, Spencer slammed the bristles of the pushbroom into Dez's backpack. The creature squealed as the backpack shot into the air. Halfway to the ceiling, the zipper parted and the Grime leapt out.

Injured from the first strike, the slimy creature landed ungracefully on the floor and scurried toward the bookshelves. Spencer thrust with the pushbroom but missed by an inch.

The Grime leapt onto the tall Biographies shelf and scrambled out of reach. Spencer wished that he'd grabbed an ordinary broom. A single tap would have sent him rising in pursuit. If he wanted to catch the Grime now, he would have to climb the old-fas.h.i.+oned way-shelf by shelf.

Gripping the pushbroom in his left hand, Spencer leapt onto the bookshelf. He was halfway up the Biographies when a crowd of voices drifted through the hallway. Time was up. Any moment now, the librarian, Mrs. Natcher, and his cla.s.smates might return to the library to look for him.

Spencer hoisted himself higher, reaching the top of the bookcase in time to see the Grime scamper forward, leaving footprints in the thick dust. Spencer swung the pushbroom, but the angle wasn't right and he missed again.

His best chance was to climb on top of the bookshelf. Spencer cringed. That wasn't going to happen. No one had dusted up there for months-maybe years! Anything could be hidden in that dust. Just at a glance, Spencer saw an old paper airplane, a Snickers wrapper, and a wad of fuzzy gray gum. It was like a breeding ground for germs. And there was nothing that Spencer hated more than germs.

Farther down, he noticed that a white plastic bucket had cut a trail through the dust. It was s.h.i.+ny and new, as if someone had recently slid it into place. But why would there be a bucket on top of the bookshelf?

The escaping Grime leapt, cutting through Spencer's thoughts. Its bulbous fingertips suctioned onto the side of the white bucket. With a twist and a slither, it disappeared over the rim to hide.

Spencer inched sideways along the bookshelf, finding toeholds between books as he worked his way toward the bucket. He set the pushbroom in the thick dust. Reaching forward, he could barely grip the rim of the white bucket. He dragged it toward him, ready to s.n.a.t.c.h the pushbroom if the Grime tried to dart away.

The library's emergency exit squeaked open. Mrs. Natcher was the first to enter. She gave a little shriek when she spotted her student standing halfway up the Biographies bookshelf.