Artifacts (8 page)

“Wait! What?” Then he realized what I meant. “No way. I’m not breaking into the school district’s database again.”

“Don’t think of it as breaking in,” Mouth said. “Think of it more like a manipulation of current technology for a good cause. We’re the only ones at this school who can save Bartholomew, but we can’t save him unless we know more about him. And how do we find out more about him?”

Crunch shrugged. “Through the school district’s computer?”

“Through the school district’s computer,” Mouth said happily. “Now come on, break out that laptop and hack away.”

We headed for the gym. It was quiet and there were no teams, cheerleaders, or marching bands practicing until school started.

Pouring through the doors, we crammed onto the steps of the bleachers, our sneakers pounding against the aluminum planks, trying to get as high up as we could.

I loved being in a place where I can see but can’t be seen.

“Korie, keep an eye out for anybody coming into the gym,” I said. “And Crunch, keep typing.”

“It isn’t that easy,” Crunch said, protesting the entire way. “And what if we get caught? None of us will be able to go to Camp Runamuck until we’re old and ancient.
Like thirty!
Then they’ll be nothing for us to do except float around the lake on noodles like our grandpas.”

“Quit yapping and keep typing,” Mouth said. “If somebody comes, we’ll tell them Jax was breaking into the computer and you’re off the hook.”

“Oh, okay.” Crunch was happier now. “Give me a minute and we’ll be in.”

“If you can break into the school district’s database so easily,” Tank asked, “then why didn’t you just go in and change your English grade so we didn’t have to start this stupid treasure hunt in the first place?”

“Wait! What?” Crunch said as his fingers glided across the keyboard. “Oh, yeah.”

“I’m not seeing the website,” Mouth said.

“It’s been like two seconds,” Crunch argued.

Mouth started flicking the back of my ears with his fingers.

“Hey!” I protested. “Cut it out!”

“I’m nervous,” Mouth said, “and I have to abuse somebody as an outlet for all this energy. Crunch is busy being productive and you’re … not. So guess what?”

Mouth smiled broadly.

“Okay, we’re in,” Crunch said. Mouth climbed over Tank and between Korie and me so he could see.

Looking past Mouth’s head, I saw the files for the school district scroll across the screen.

I laughed. “We can get detention for life for doing this, but I can’t take my eyes off it.”

“Okay,” Crunch said, searching around for the right series of files. “Let’s see, Hickory Wind Middle School. Hickory Wind Middle School Employees.”

Crunch flew through the pages until he came to the profiles for the teachers.

“Ames, Adams, Albatross …”

“Albatross.” Mouth snickered. “What a dork.”

Crunch continued. “Axelrod, Barrens, Bartholomew … James Bartholomew. Came to Hickory Wind last August, just before school started.”

Mouth smacked Crunch in the back of the head. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

“What school did Bartholomew teach at before he came to Hickory Wind?” Korie asked. “And how long was he there? There has to be at least one considering how old he is.”

“As old as he is, he should have been at, like, fifty schools before here,” Tank said.

“Let’s see. Bartholomew spent the last five years at …” Crunch searched the file. “Neverwood Middle School.”

“Neverwood Middle School?” I repeated. “Where the heck is that?”

Crunch laughed. “And what kind of a mascot could they possibly have? A tree?”

“Who in their right mind would go to Neverwood Middle School?” Mouth added.

“I wish you were going to Neverwood Middle School,” Tank said to Mouth.

“Ignore them, Crunch,” I said, getting closer to him and the screen. “Take a look at the records of all the employees.”

“What do you want to know?” Crunch asked.

“Start dates,” Korie said, moving closer to me, “and where they came from.”

“Hey, look at them,” Mouth said, pointing to Korie and me, “they’re even closer than hand-holding distance.”

As her cheeks flushed, Korie quickly scooted away.

Crunch pulled up the employees from oldest to newest. He scrolled down until he came to Bartholomew’s name closely followed by Smeethington, Butkus, and Durkin.

“They all came here around the same time?” I asked.

“Within two weeks of each other,” Crunch said.

“And where did those three come from?” Korie asked.

I stared at the screen and then looked up at her. “Neverwood Middle School.”

“Give me that!” Mouth ripped the laptop out of Crunch’s hands.

“Hey!” Crunch yelled. “Give it back, I’m not done!”

Tank grabbed it back from Mouth and handed it to Crunch.

“Where is Neverwood and what does it have to do with the Lost Boys?” Korie asked.

Crunch’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Another minute and I’ll have it. Here we go.”

Crunch read the description of Neverwood he was able to find on the Internet.

“In J.M. Barrie’s play and novel, most of the adventures in the stories take place in the Neverwood, where the Lost Boys hunt and fight the pirates and Indians and build the Wendy House. It is also the location of the Home Underground, where Peter and the Boys reside.”

“Seriously,” Mouth said, starting to grab the computer again, but stopped when he saw Tank staring right at him. He slid his hands into his pockets. “That’s insane. How do you expect us to believe the middle school these four teachers came from is in Neverland?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” I said.

“We have kids running around here that a missing teacher claims, on his death bed, are the Lost Boys …
the
Lost Boys.” Korie added it up for us. “Employment records from the school district show they all came from Neverwood Middle School, which the internet—”

“Google,” Crunch interrupted her.

“Which Google tells us is where the Lost Boys fight pirates and live in the Wendy House,” Korie continued. “Is there anything else I’m missing?”

“Yeah,” I said. “We all know that Neverwood and the Lost Boys are definitely tied to Neverland, but we’re missing how Bartholomew fits in with all this talk about fairy tales.”

Once again, Crunch’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “James Bartholomew.” He typed it in. “There’s a listing for a painter, an architect, and a lawyer …”

“How about a pirate?” Mouth asked.

I shot Mouth a look, hoping to shut him up. “Are you Googling James Bartholomew or James Bartholomew fairy tale?”

“Just James Bartholomew,” Crunch confirmed.

“Try James Bartholomew, fairy tale,” I said, taking a step up behind him.

“James Bartholomew,” Crunch repeated as he entered in the name slowly and accurately. “Fairy tale.”

Crunch pressed the enter key.

“Anything?” Korie asked.

“Yeah,” Crunch said. “James Bartholomew … uh-oh.”

“James Bartholomew uh-oh what?” Mouth dropped to the floor next to him.

Crunch turned the screen around so we could all see it at the same time. “James Bartholomew … Hook.”

“
No way
!” were the first words out of my mouth. “You’re trying to tell me that nerdy, old, weasel Bartholomew is Captain Hook!”

“Nope, the computer’s trying to tell you that,” Crunch said, holding up the laptop so nobody would think he was making it up.

“Try it again?” Tank said.

Crunch Googled the same question and had the same results.

Mouth laughed. “Who would name a pirate Bartholomew?”

“It all makes sense,” Korie said. “Wait, wait! And Smeethington’s got to be Smee.”

“I couldn’t stand him in the movie,” Tank said, his face twisting up like he smelled something terrible. “If it really is Smee, I’ll be happy to take care of him myself.”

Crunch typed in Smeethington and fairy tale, just like he did with James Bartholomew. Google responded in way less than a fraction of a second. “Bartholomew Quigley Smeethington. Also known as Smee, Captain Hook’s First Mate.”

“Everybody’s named Bartholomew!” Mouth cried.

“It just keeps getting better and better,” Crunch said.

“But what about Butt-Kiss and Jerkin,” I said, trying to make sense of it. “Their characters aren’t in Peter Pan …”

“They are,” Tank said quickly and his eyes lit up. “They are part of Hook’s crew that tried to mutiny. When he caught them he took his hook and put it to Jerkin’s chin. I loved the part where Hook dangled Jerkin over the edge of the water. ‘Let me go! Let me go! Don’t hurt me!’”

“I’ll hurt you.” Mouth smacked him in the back of the head then jumped behind Korie. “Stop showing everybody how you’ve memorized dialogue from all the fairy tales.” He peeked out and whispered. “Bro, your tough reputation is doing a crash and burn every time you open your mouth. It’s embarrassing.”

“They’re either here to help Hook and Smee … or they’re hoping to find the artifact on their own,” I said, searching for any possibility.

“So, fairy tale villains are here working together to find one artifact which is the key to finding treasure,” Korie said.

Crunch rubbed his hands together like you see in an old movie.

“Hey, Crunch,” Mouth called. “Quit doing that. You’re creepy enough as it is.”

I tried to refocus them a little. “We have treasure, villains, artifacts, Lost Boys …”

Crunch raised his hand. “I’m still failing English.”

I nodded and continued. “Four characters come tumbling out of two different fairy tales and spend almost nine months teaching sixth graders. This must be one heck of an artifact if they’re willing to put themselves through all that.”

“Butt-Kiss didn’t teach us anything,” Mouth said. “He just spent the entire hour looking at himself in the mirror while we ran laps and Jerkin told him how great he is.”

“What about the Lost Boys?” Tank asked. “I mean, I think it’s cool and all, but I’m not sure why they’re here or who sent them.”

“Maybe they’re the only ones who could handle Hook,” I said.

“We have to find the Lost Boys and let them know we’re on their side,” Korie said.

I shook my head. “I think we have to stick with our original plan and try to find the artifact before anyone else does. If we have it … the Lost Boys will come find us.”

“We better start looking for artifacts again,” Korie said. “If one of them really is the magic key to some kind of treasure, we better make sure we find it.”

At that moment, one of the metal doors leading into the gym creaked open, and several quick squeaks followed as someone took a few steps across the shiny wooden floors.

“That can’t be good,” Mouth said. “Tank, go find out what that is.”

Tank slipped down through the opening in between the aluminum planks of the bleachers and dropped out of sight to the gym floor.

The squeaks moved toward us, slow and consistent, as whoever it was made their way toward our side of the gym and the lower level of the bleachers.

“Who do you think it is?” Korie asked, sliding closer to me.

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” Mouth said. “Tank’ll take care of it.”

“I think I’ll shut the computer down and put it back into my bag,” Crunch said. “This way when I have to run, it doesn’t matter how much I flail.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You’re like a Muppet when you run.”

“Crunch is like a Muppet when he runs, and eats, and breathes.” Mouth laughed.

The curtains near the base of the bleachers moved. I was hoping it was Tank.

The lights snapped off in the gym.

The small lights in each of the bleacher steps cast an eerie glow before us.

Across the gym, another door slammed. The noise was followed by the sound of thunder as the polyurethane wheels of several skateboards glided across the hardwood floors.

“S-s-s-stay away from me!” a voice high-pitched whined in the dark. “You remember what happened to you at Skull Rock.”

“That’s Smee,” Korie whispered, “I’d know that pitiful squeak anywhere.”

“What’s Skull Rock?” Mouth said.

“Neverland, nerd,” Crunch said. “Haven’t you been paying attention?”

“Captain’s not here this time, Smee,” a voice answered him.

“Don’t need the captain,” Smee chattered. His voice was low and he sounded nervous.

We heard Smee yell again.

“What’s happening now?” Mouth asked.

“The way he’s yelling, it might be the Grumpkins,” Crunch said matter-of-factly.

“They would totally attack Smee,” Korie said. “But they don’t glide. They lumber …”

“They stampede,” Mouth added. “They could do some damage if they weren’t happy.”

Crunch agreed. “And Smee’s pretty terrible at making kids happy.”

A few moments later, the lights popped back on. Tank was standing in the middle of the court, alone, with no one around him. Smee was gone and so were the kids and the skateboards.

“You okay?” I yelled down to Tank.

“Yeah,” he said. “But I’m not really sure what just happened.”

We thundered down the steps of the bleachers, pounding the aluminum plank steps hard.

“Where’d they go?” Korie asked.

Tank shrugged. “I don’t know. One minute I was standing in the middle of a ton of people, the next minute the lights came on … and I was alone.”

“See, Tank, I give you one job to do,” Mouth said.

“Maybe we should get back out to our bikes to make sure that nobody decided to take them or break them,” Korie said.

My head snapped up.

Halfway through the run, we let Crunch pass us so we could watch him Muppet-flail his way down the hall and out the doors. When you’re in sixth grade, even under the most dangerous circumstances, you can always take time for a good laugh at someone else’s expense.

Crashing through the steel doors at the end of the hallway, we ran over to our bikes and found them in the same condition we had left them in. Now we had to get a plan.

“Any ideas on where we go from here?” I asked.

“All the good places have probably been tried by now,” Korie said.

“So we have to try all the
not
so good places first,” Tank said. “The places that are so gross that nobody would ever want to step foot into them.”