Artifacts Read online

  Uh-oh. Maybe I didn’t think this all the way through.

  “Hello, Jackson,” Bartholomew said.

  I hate when he calls me Jackson.

  “I believe we’re done with the conversation over Clarence and his … reports,” Bartholomew said. “There’s no more to discuss on this matter. Although, we could start talking about you and your grades if you’d like.”

  I brushed him off. “My grades are fine!”

  “Ooooohhhh!” I could hear the rest of them behind me.

  “Look at this face!” I squeezed Crunch’s cheeks between my thumb and forefinger and pointed it at Mr. Bartholomew. “Does this look like the face of a report copier?”

  Bartholomew’s eyebrows knitted and he looked very closely at Crunch. “Jackson, I applaud your valiant effort to save your friend from the horrors of summer school, instead of being whisked off to the wonders of camp, but I found his brothers’ papers in the files myself. I know how well they were written.”

  I had nothing. “Mr. Bartholomew … things are not always what they seem.”

  Wait. What does that even mean?

  Korie’s face fell, the Wahoo brothers collapsed in laughter, and Crunch … knew he was a dead man.

  Then Bartholomew, of all people, came to my rescue.

  “Mr. Murphy, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Bartholomew asked.

  I shot Korie a look because I had no idea what I was saying. “Yes, I … think … I am,” I said slowly but confidently.

  “Are you trying to tell me that Mr. Newton’s brothers took Clarence’s original work?”

  Bartholomew waited for my answer.

  “That’s it!” I agreed. “No. Wait.” I wanted to make sure everything was clear before we left that office, a white lie possibly, a little misdirection maybe, but clear. “What I’m saying is that my client—”

  “Your client?” Korie elbowed me and reminded me of where we were.

  “What I’m saying is that Crunch read the books, wrote the reports, and then his brothers put their names all over them.”

  Bartholomew thought for a minute. “Well, I think that could be quite possible …”

  I was floored. “You do? I mean … Crunch, can you help me out here?”

  Crunch hemmed and hawed for a minute and then finally spoke up in his own defense. “I love those books and my brothers never even opened them up. When the reports were due, they made me write them so they could hand them in.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Newton slowly came back into the classroom, and while she slipped into one of the chairs … he wasn’t about to try it again.

  “Clarence, why didn’t you say anything when I first accused you of not doing the work?” Bartholomew asked.

  “I didn’t want to get my brothers in trouble,” Crunch said. “I wasn’t sure if you could drag them back from high school to take the class over again …”

  I thought the Wahoos were going to explode.

  For the next ten minutes, Crunch and Bartholomew talked, and even laughed in all the same places, as they discussed the book.

  I was shocked.

  “This did not turn out the way I expected,” Korie said, sitting down in one of the chairs, waiting for the discussion to be over.

  “Me, either. Whoever would have thought that Crunch liked to read?”

  “Whoever would have thought that Crunch could read?” Mouth said.

  “I know you can’t read,” Tank said.

  As Crunch and Bartholomew finally finished, I wanted to make sure that everything was good and that everyone was still able to go to Camp Runamuck.

  “Thank you, Jackson,” Bartholomew said. “Clarence most certainly read the books, wrote the reports for his brothers, and has completed that very heavily weighted aspect of his grade.”

  “Great!” I shouted, forgetting I was still in school. “Sorry. So does that mean he doesn’t have to go to summer school?”

  Bartholomew laughed. I guess you could call it a laugh, maybe it was a snicker. “Clarence still has to go to summer school. When I thought he had copied the reports and he wouldn’t be able to join you at camp, he stopped handing in his work altogether.”

  “You what?” Mr. Newton yelled.

  “I knew I’d have to do it all over again,” Crunch said. “Why do it the first time when I could wait and do it a few weeks from now.”

  I shot a look at Korie, who shrugged.

  “So the reason Crunch … I mean, Clarence … stopped handing in his work was because you mistakenly accused him of copying his work?” I asked Bartholomew.

  “Well, technically …” Bartholomew muttered.

  “Yes or no?” I asked.

  “To be truthful, I have to say yes,” Bartholomew admitted.

  I knew I had him. “So, either pass him or give him something to make up those assignments.”

  “Extra … credit?” Bartholomew offered.

  I looked at Crunch, who nodded. “We can do extra credit.”

  Bartholomew thought for a moment. “I’ve never done this before, but Clarence, if you come back to my classroom after school, we should be able to forge an agreement which allows you to make up the credit and avoid summer school. Will that work for you and your parents?”

  Crunch nodded like a bobblehead doll.

  Following Mr. and Mrs. Newton out, we all stumbled out of that classroom with the greatest victory we’ve ever had.

  Now we just had to wait and see what Bartholomew had in store for us when we came back later that day.

  Little did I know it would be the start of our greatest adventure.

  Chapter Three

  Pushing and shoving our way to our table in the cafeteria, we agreed that no matter what Bartholomew asked Crunch to do, Korie, Tank, Mouth, and I would help him so we could all go to Camp Runamuck the way we’d planned.

  “Hot dangs, extra credit,” Crunch said, rubbing his hands together and all giggly.

  “‘Hot dangs’ aside, who in their right mind likes extra credit?” Mouth asked.

  “Hey come on,” Korie said. “Cut it out.”

  As they settled down, I knew it was time to outline a plan.

  “There’s nothing he can ask Crunch to do that we can’t get done,” I said.

  “He can ask Crunch to run a mile in, like, under an hour,” Mouth said. “We’d never get that done.”

  We all laughed … except Crunch.

  “He could probably ask Crunch to be on time for his class for the rest of the year,” Korie said. “It’s only two weeks.”

  Crunch heard that and griped. “Only two weeks! That’s horsefeathers. His class is the first one after lunch, and by the time I get done with going through the dessert line for the fifth time, there’s barely time to get there before the end of class, much less on time.”

  As everybody exploded in laughter over Crunch and his need for dessert, I saw a kid slip into the cafeteria and glide across the floor on a skateboard. Smaller than Mouth, he wore clothes that looked a little more rag than tag … and moved so quietly it was as if he floated through the crowds of kids. After driving away the sixth graders at the table right across from us, he sat … and waited.

  “Hey, who’s that …” I started to say.

  Then there was another kid … and another.

  Two more kids, all on skateboards, slipped into the cafeteria, moving unnoticed through the tons of kids jabbering throughout the room until they filled the table directly across from us.

  “Have you guys ever seen any of those kids in school before?” I asked the others, pointing to the table.

  They all took a quick look and shrugged.

  “I’ve never seen them before, either,” Korie said, pointing to two monstrous kids stepping slowly through the doors.

  Watching their movement, it seemed like it was in slow motion. They moved over, around, and through the rest of the kids in the cafeteria and didn’t even slow
down. “Each one of them is almost as big as Tank.”

  “They’re like twin Bigfoots,” Crunch said.

  “Bigfeet,” Mouth corrected him. He couldn’t even let that one slip by.

  After a minute, they took their seats with the others.

  “Hey, Crunch.” I turned to Crunch and he was gone. Looking up, he was on his way over to the table.

  “Where’s he going?” Mouth asked, watching him settle into the middle of them.

  Crunch was talking a mile a minute. The mystery kids all wore big smiles, and since he wasn’t running for his life, they might be having a good time.

  I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say when he got back.

  “What the heck is he doing?” Tank asked.

  “I hope he’s making friends,” Korie said.

  I cracked up. “Just as long as he’s not making enemies.”

  “Hey, Mouth,” I said. “What are they saying?”

  “Hmm,” Mouth said, squinting across the room. He started with Crunch’s voice. “Hey, guys, I’m Crunch,” he said. Crunch’s hands were moving as he talked. “I flail my arms around like this all the time to either keep my balance or to see if I can fly … I can’t remember which one. Those guys staring at us are my friends. The guy and girl really loooove each other …”

  “Cut it out!” I threatened, but he kept talking.

  “The handsome one talking now is Mouth. He’s the coolest one of all.” Crunch pointed over to us. “Oh, yeah. That big, dopey-looking one is Tank, but he answers to knucklehead, lunkhead, blockhead …”

  Tank grabbed Mouth and the narration stopped.

  I saw Crunch wave good-bye to the kids at the table and he ran back over to us.

  “What great guys,” Crunch said, sliding back into his seat next to Mouth.

  “What are they doing here?” I asked.

  “They just moved here,” Crunch said.

  “All of them?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Crunch said. “Their parents know each other so they moved here together.”

  “Where do they come from?” Korie asked.

  “I have no idea,” Crunch said.

  “What grade are they in?” I asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “You were over there for, like, an hour and moving your hands like you were conducting an orchestra,” I said. “What were you talking about?”

  “I was telling them how I got in trouble with that flapdoodle Bartholomew and have to do extra credit so I don’t have to go to summer school.”

  Korie, Mouth, Tank, and I were shocked.

  “Why would you tell all that to strangers?” I asked.

  Crunch shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t going to say anything, and then that one kid put his hand on my arm … and I couldn’t shut up.”

  I laughed. “You haven’t shut up once since the day I met you.”

  Crunch ignored me. “And they have the coolest names, too.” He pointed to the three smaller kids. “That’s Skylights. He loves being up high and can scramble up the side of a building in the blink of an eye.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “Grifter told me,” Crunch said, pointing to the next kid, sitting in the middle. “Man, he has some of the best stories.”

  “And the last one?” I asked.

  “That’s Touch,” Crunch said, running his hand over the place on his arm. “He’s the one who put his hand on my arm … and I told him everything that was in my head.”

  Mouth laughed. “That was a short conversation.”

  I ignored Mouth. “With those names, they sound like they’re in a Disney movie.”

  “What about those two bigger kids?” Korie asked.

  “Those are the Grumpkins,” Crunch said. “Twin brothers. They remind me a lot of the Wahoos in a Bigfeet kind of way …”

  “Yeah, but neither one of them is a midget like Mouth.” Tank laughed.

  “They don’t say much besides some really well-placed grunts …”

  Mouth laughed. “Oh, now they remind me of Tank.”

  Crunch finished his thought. “But you always kind of know what they’re thinking.”

  “Do you know what I’m thinking?” Mouth asked.

  Crunch closed his eyes and his brows furrowed. Then his eyes popped open. “Nope.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little strange?” Mouth asked.

  “What’s a little strange?”

  “That five new kids suddenly show up and nobody knew they were coming,” Mouth said. “Coach Butt-Kiss would be all over those Grumpkins for the football team.”

  “How long have they been here?” Korie asked.

  “They’ve been in town a few days,” Crunch said. “Today’s actually their first day in school.”

  “We should go over and meet them,” Tank said. “Make them feel like they’re welcome.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” I said.

  When I looked over to the table, the Cafeteria Monitor, Mr. Smeethington, was leaning on the table, jabbering away. They were ignoring him completely.

  I smiled. “Hey, I like them already.”

  Smeethington has always kept an eye on us but left us alone.

  A little man with an odd, hourglass-shaped head, shoulder-length white hair, although the top of his head is bald, and thick, black eyebrows. He is a bumbling, blustery man who seems to be afraid of nothing … except we found out one night that he really doesn’t like shadows.

  “What could Smeethington be saying to them that takes this long?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Korie said, “but they’re completely ignoring him.”

  “He seems to be talking to them like they’re old friends,” Tank said.

  “They’re not that old.” Mouth laughed.

  “And Smeethington doesn’t have any friends,” I said.

  We talked about it for a few more minutes, popping our heads up every so often to make sure they were still there.

  Finally, they all stood up at once and dropped their skateboards to the floor, leaving Smeethington standing by himself. He watched silently as they glided out of the cafeteria.

  “Did you just see them leave?” I asked.

  “I barely saw them come in,” Mouth said, continuing to eat his lunch.

  “How come they get to ride their skateboards in the cafeteria?” Tank said. “I tried to put mine in my locker one time and he had a fit. He called it a ‘rolling deathtrap.’”

  “Yeah,” Mouth agreed. “He didn’t say a thing to them.”

  “Did you see the clothes they were wearing?” Korie asked.

  “It looked like their mom forgot what year we’re in.” Mouth laughed.

  “Hey,” I said, defending them. “Crunch said they’re okay. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Me, too,” Korie piped in.

  “Of course, you too.” Mouth laughed. “It’s like you guys share the same brain.”

  “You’re awful,” Korie said.

  “Yeah, I agree,” Mouth said. “As far as those new kids are concerned, let’s keep an eye on them. If they’re hiding anything, it won’t be too long before something shows up … especially with those two giant Grumpkins.”

  “Does that work for everybody else?” I asked.

  “Works for me,” Crunch said.

  I looked at Crunch. “You can’t spill your guts every time you see them.”

  “It was one time,” Crunch defended himself. “Look, next time I won’t say a word …”

  Mouth laughed. “Then they’ll think you’re just an idiot.”

  “Nerts,” Crunch said and then stopped talking.

  “If they’re just trying to fit in … then Crunch found himself some new friends,” Korie said. “If they’re trying to fit in—with intent—we need to know that, too.”

  “Okay, then,” I said. “We’ll meet after school.”

 
We all went our separate ways for the rest of the afternoon.

  By the time the last bell rang, we were ready to hear what Bartholomew had to say.

  Chapter Four

  Classroom doors flung open and hundreds of kids spilled out into the hallway. Each of us stayed as close to the wall as we could, looking for either an opening or for the others. Tank and Mouth came like storm troopers down the hall with Tank flinging kids out of the way so he and Mouth had nothing or no one slowing them down.

  Running as fast as I could, I skated around crowds of guys heading to practice, crowds of girls talking about nothing anybody ever cared about, and teachers who looked like they were about to collapse as they struggled to get to their cars.

  Making a turn into the first hallway, I ran into Korie, who was trying her best to get through the crowd. But for every few feet she’d move up, she’d get dragged back twice as far.

  That’s when I saw Mouth and Tank making the turn and heading directly for us.

  “Hey, Mouth,” I yelled, waving my arms just as Korie got swept under the crowd.

  “Duck behind him,” Mouth said to Korie, grabbing her arm and dragging her to safety. “It’s the only way to travel once that last bell rings.”

  “Yeah,” Tank agreed, “and it’s a blast, too.”

  As Mouth, Tank, Korie, and I moved, I could see Crunch being lifted up in the air and crowd surfing over the hundreds of hands holding him up. He was giving them directions as he moved, slowly making his way toward Bartholomew’s.

  “Right turn up here,” he yelled. “Hang a left! Not so fast! Two classrooms down … and straight on ‘til morning.”

  By the time we got to Bartholomew’s, Crunch was standing there, waiting for us.

  “See,” he said, a broad smile on his face, “that wasn’t so hard.”

  I laughed. “You’re lucky they didn’t crowd surf you out a window and into a dumpster.”

  Walking into Bartholomew’s classroom, it had changed quite a bit since the last time we were there. Posters were tacked to the wall and stacked up around the room … hundreds of them. Each one was the picture of a separate fairy tale.