Missing—One Brain! Read online

  “Oo-ooo! Tim and Brianna!” cried several of the girls. Two of them started making kissy noises.

  “As if!” said Jordan, his face getting red.

  Hardly anyone in the class could believe Tim was capable of actually starting a romance, especially with someone like Brianna. That didn’t stop them from giggling about it, though.

  The problem was, everyone was ignoring the main issue, namely, that we now had three people missing!

  I realized this was the main issue at about the same time I realized I was shouting it out loud.

  The answer to one-third of my concerns—namely, where was the Grandfatherly One?—arrived more quickly than I expected, when Principal Grand came out of the school to announce that the building had been declared safe to enter.

  He looked a little embarrassed.

  “False alarm?” asked Ms. Weintraub.

  “You could say that,” replied Mr. Grand. His voice was sharp and I noticed that I could see more of his teeth than was usual. “The security team was checking your room when they came across Pleskit’s Grandfatherly One. The box was so… unusual… that the team thought it was a bomb—which was why we had to evacuate the building.”

  “Those morons!” cried McNally.

  “That was pretty much what Pleskit’s Grandfatherly One called them when he woke from his nap.” Mr. Grand frowned. “Really, it was very startling when all those… things came poking out of the box and it began to speak to us.” He turned toward me, and I could tell he was forcing himself to be calm when he said, “I must ask you to remember, Pleskit, that all visitors are required to register at the office when they enter the school. Though I was glad to meet Ventraah Komquist—and really, you must explain to me how your family name system works someday—I am also most annoyed that I was not informed we had such a dignitary among us. A little advance knowledge might have saved a lot of trouble!”

  Despite Mr. Grand’s crankiness, I was enormously relieved. The Grandfatherly One was all right!

  I had been concerned about his safety as a venerated ancestor, of course. But I had also been concerned because I had brought him to school without actually gathering the approval of the Fatherly One. If anything had happened to him, I might have found myself in even more trouble than I had been in on Geembol Seven.

  Unfortunately, this still did not tell us where Tim and Brianna had gone. But “One crisis at a time,” as the Fatherly One is fond of saying.

  Leaving Ms. Weintraub to deal with the question of Tim and Brianna, McNally and I went to retrieve the brain of my ancestral unit.

  When we entered the room that had been taken over by the security guards, they did not look happy to see us.

  “Okay,” said McNally. “Give me the brain.”

  The guards looked at one another nervously. The one who seemed to be their leader cleared his throat. “There’s a little problem,” he said.

  “What problem?” asked McNally.

  “We don’t have it.”

  “Well, where is it?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “You what?” roared McNally. “You boneheads! First you get the entire school terrified over nothing, and now you’ve lost my client’s grandfather? I hope you didn’t really want this job, boys, because when this is over I’m going to be using your ID cards for toilet paper. Come on, Pleskit. Let’s start looking.”

  He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me from the room.

  “Do you have any idea what could have happened to the Grandfatherly One?” I asked, struggling to keep from either going into kleptra or performing another dance.

  “Not the vaguest,” said McNally through clenched teeth. “But we’d better find him fast, or I’m going to be the one kissing his job good-bye.”

  “This is very upsetting,” I said.

  “You’re not kidding,” muttered McNally.

  “No, you do not understand. The Grandfatherly One’s BTD has a twelve-hour limit on life support. If we do not retrieve him before six o’clock this evening…” The fear was too great. At a loss for words, I let my sphen-gnut-ksher emit the odor of total despair.

  “Oh, man,” said McNally, waving his hand in front of his face. “That’s the worst one yet, Pleskit!”

  “The worst news or the worst smell?”

  “Both,” said McNally grimly. “Come on, we’re heading for the office.”

  * * *

  Mr. Grand was standing behind the counter that separates the front of the office from the private rooms in back. He smiled when he saw us. “Well, it’s been quite a morning, Mr. McNally. But all’s well that ends well, eh?”

  “This hasn’t ended yet,” snarled McNally. “Those idiots sent over to beef up security have lost the brain!”

  Mr. Grand did the same trick I had seen Tim do on a few occasions, the one where all the color leaves his face and he turns almost pure white.

  “What?” he asked, his voice tiny and strangled sounding.

  “You heard me,” said McNally. “Now, here’s what—”

  He was interrupted by the telephone. Ms. Blossom, the secretary, picked it up. Her eyes got wide. Putting her hand over the mouthpiece, she hissed, “It’s the embassy.”

  “What fresh disaster lurches toward us?” I whispered.

  Ms. Blossom had taken her hand from the mouthpiece. “Yes, I see. Uh-huh. I see. Well, really, Ms. Buttsman, I’m not sure.… Oh, I see. Well, yes. I’ll certainly give him the message. Thank you very much.”

  She put down the phone and stared at it.

  “Well, what is it?” cried Mr. Grand.

  “The ambassador is on his way to the school.”

  “What?” shrieked McNally.

  “He wants to do a follow-up to last week’s assembly. I tried to say that this was a bad time, but Ms. Buttsman said it was the only opening he was likely to have for the next few months.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him the school was closed?” cried Mr. Grand.

  “Well, since his son is here right now, I’m not sure he would have believed that,” she replied tartly. “Besides, you’re the one who told him to stop by anytime.”

  “I say that to all the parents! I don’t expect them to actually do it. Now what? Who’s going to tell the alien ambassador that we’ve lost his Fatherly One’s brain?” Suddenly his eyes widened and he turned to me. “Pleskit! You understand the interpersonal dynamics of your race better than any of us possibly could. Therefore, I think you should be the one to break this news to your parental unit. Besides, you’re the one who brought the brain to school to begin with.”

  Fresh terror gripped my clinkus.

  “Start looking!” I cried. “We’ve got to find that brain!”

  CHAPTER 17 [TIM]

  REVELATION

  The girls’ room! Now what was I supposed to do?

  For a moment I just stood there, staring at the door like a dog that’s been locked out of its house.

  “I can’t,” I whispered.

  You must! said a small part of my brain.

  “It’s forbidden!” I replied, feeling a new terror creep up on me.

  It’s necessary, insisted my brain.

  “But what if I get caught?” I muttered nervously.

  What if Brianna escapes because you’re afraid? countered my brain.

  Whoa! That was a new idea. Was there a window she could climb out of? I didn’t think so, but I didn’t know for sure. I mean, I’d never been in the girls’ room. What if there was a window, and Brianna climbed through it and got away while I was standing here dithering? The Grandfatherly One would be gone, and it would be all my fault!

  I had to go in. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and boldly went where no Tim had ever gone before.

  Well, semiboldly. The first thing I did was slip out of those squeaky sneakers. I didn’t want to spook Brianna into doing anything that might damage the Grandfatherly One. Given the alien technology, I figured his carrying case was probably pretty solid. But I c
ouldn’t be sure, and I didn’t want to take any chances.

  I managed to get in without making any noise.

  The entryway was set up the same way it is for the boys’ room—that is, when you first enter, there’s a kind of baffle to keep anyone who’s standing outside from looking into the room.

  I stopped behind the baffle to listen.

  I could hear Brianna’s voice, but it was muffled, and I couldn’t make out the words. Dropping to the floor again (I was spending a lot of time on the floor today!), I poked my head around the barrier.

  The first thing I noticed was that the girls’ room looks different from the boys’ room. It took me a minute to realize what was missing. (Hint: It’s where the boys stand when they don’t need to sit.) Also, there were more stalls than in the boys’ room—which makes sense if you figure that’s what everyone has to use, every time.

  Since I still couldn’t see Brianna I figured she must be in one of those stalls.

  Well, no need to stand up at this point. I just slithered forward on my belly until I spotted her feet.

  From my new position I could hear her more clearly. “Sir, if you could just answer a few questions, I’d appreciate it very much.”

  “Who are you?” asked the Grandfatherly One.

  “My name is Brianna Sawyer. I’m in Pleskit’s class.”

  “Oh, yeah—I noticed you earlier. Come here, let me get a closer look at you.”

  I could hear Brianna step forward—and imagined the Grandfatherly One’s vision tubes stretching out for a closer look. All of a sudden I heard him exclaim, “Great jumping galaxies!”

  “Something wrong?” asked Brianna innocently.

  “What’s going on here?” demanded the Grandfatherly One. “What are you doing messing around with those kids?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, lady, you can’t fool me.”

  Lady? What was he talking about?

  “Look, Toots, I’ve been around the galaxy a time or two. Things may differ from planet to planet, but it’s easy enough for me to see that you’re no standard-issue sixth grader.”

  Brianna laughed, a sound that squeezed my heart. “All right, you’ve got me. I’m not really a sixth grader.”

  “Then what are you?”

  I knew the answer even before she spoke—knew it, and hated it, and wanted to die of embarrassment.

  “I’m a reporter.”

  A reporter! I had fallen in love with an older woman!

  What was my mother going to say when she heard about this one?

  “Clever thing, aren’t you?” said the Grandfatherly One with a chuckle.

  “I like to think so. Now what do you say—will you answer a few questions for me?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I want to go back to the classroom now.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said Brianna. She sounded almost sad.

  “What is this?” asked the Grandfatherly One suspiciously. “A kidnapping?”

  “Oh, let’s not be so negative. I just need you to answer a few questions for me.” To my surprise, Brianna’s voice sounded desperate, almost fearful.

  “What’s the big deal, Toots?”

  Her voice grew hard, cold. “Look, old man—just answer the questions and I’ll get out of your face for good. Vanish. Scramboodle. If you won’t, I’m going to have to figure out some way to take you with me.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Take it however you want, Pops.”

  “I do not respond well to threats.”

  “Listen, you bodiless alien geezer. Answer the questions or—”

  I had heard enough. I stood up and pushed on the door of the stall.

  It wouldn’t open.

  So I kicked it in.

  CHAPTER 18 [PLESKIT]

  INTUITION

  “ATTENTION! ATTENTION! All students and faculty are urgently requested to look for a purple carrying case containing the brain of Pleskit Meenom’s Grandfatherly One. If anyone has the case in his or her room, please bring it to the office immediately.”

  While Principal Grand’s voice boomed out over the loudspeaker, McNally was organizing the security guards into three search teams. I could hear him discussing how they would divide up the building and who would go where.

  As soon as he put down the microphone, Mr. Grand said, “Ms. Blossom! Go classroom to classroom. Tell the teachers to turn things upside down looking for that brain!”

  “Aye-aye, sir!” said Ms. Blossom. Then she gave him a salute and left the office. I couldn’t tell if she was making fun of him or not. From the look on his face, neither could he.

  “This is all good,” I said. “But what if the carrying case is already gone? What if whoever took it has left the building?”

  “Security is too tight for that,” said one of the guards.

  McNally snorted. “Security is tight for people getting in. Getting out is no big deal.”

  From the look on the guard’s face, I could see that this was true.

  “Start looking!” cried Principal Grand. “We can’t let a little thing like that stop us! Meenom will be here before long. Failure is not an option!”

  The guards raced off in different directions. McNally went out to supervise the hunt. I was alone in the office, with only my fear and my guilt to keep me company. Fear, guilt, and a nagging suspicion at the back of my brain that I had overlooked something important—something that might be a key to the situation.

  One of the things we learn early on Hevi-Hevi is that most of us are smarter than we think we are, know more than we think we know. On Earth they speak of something called “intuition”—a kind of mysterious knowing that cannot be explained. We, too, believe in this kind of knowing. But we think there is an explanation. We believe it comes from the brain working at the subconscious level, putting together things we have seen without realizing that we’re seeing them. The hungry brain gathers information, and every once in a while sends us a message when we least expect it.

  The reason I mention all this is to try to explain why, when I went out into the hall and saw a pair of sneakers in front of the girls’ room, I suddenly knew I had to go inside. I could not have told you why this was so. But my brain insisted it was important.

  Unfortunately Ms. Feinbacher’s third grade was coming down the hall that very minute, heading for art class. I did not want to go barging into the girls’ room in front of twenty-five third graders. But my intuition was screaming at me that I had to check out the situation.

  Leaping in front of them, I held up one hand. My voice was soft but intense, I said, “Danger! Beware! I must request your silence!”

  Before they could ask any questions, I pushed open the door and stepped silently into the girls’ room. I stopped behind the visual barrier, listening carefully, hoping to gather new information.

  I learned more than I’d expected.

  Tim was speaking. “Who are you, and what are you doing with this brain?” he asked angrily.

  I felt a thrill. The Grandfatherly One was here!

  The voice that answered Tim belonged to Brianna Sawyer. Only it sounded huskier than usual. “I’m just trying to get a story, Timmy.”

  “Like all the other stories you got? The ones you sent to The National News and let me take the blame for? How could you do that to me?”

  “Oh, don’t be mad, sweetie. You don’t mind taking a little flak on my behalf, do you?”

  “I sure do,” said Tim. “Especially when it costs me my best friend!”

  Brianna laughed. “Silly Tim. If Pleskit were really your friend, he wouldn’t have been so easily taken in by that self-important little twit Jordan.”

  Grief and embarrassment twisted my gnorzle. How could I have been so blind?

  I felt a little better—but only a little—when I heard the Grandfatherly One say, “Don’t be so self-serving, lady. You set Tim up for a fall. True, my grandchildling fell for it more easily than he shou
ld have. But don’t try to paint yourself as such a sweet little innocent.”

  “I’m not at all innocent,” said Brianna. “But I do have a job to do. All I really want is an exclusive interview with you, Gramps. Don’t stand in my way, Tim, and I’ll even cut you in on this. It could be worth a lot of money. A lot. I’ve done my homework, kid; I know you and your mom don’t have that much. She’s got a lot of bills. We’re talking the kind of money that can get you out of debt, out of that crummy apartment—out of this school if you want. A whole new life.”

  I pressed against the wall, breathlessly listening.

  Tim said nothing.

  Brianna’s voice got softer, more intimate. “Even better, we’re talking career here, Tim. This will be one of the biggest scoops in history. When you grow up, you could get a job with any news organization in the country. You’d be set for life.”

  “So I can be just like you?” asked Tim bitterly. “No, thanks, lady. Look, Pleskit is my friend. Well, he may not be my friend at the moment. But I’m still his friend. And I’m not going to betray him for some bloodsucker like you. Come on, we’re taking that brain back where it belongs.”

  “Sorry, Tim,” said Brianna, sounding a little desperate. “That’s not part of the program. If you don’t want to help, that’s all right. I’ll be out that window with the brain box in just a minute. But I can’t let you sound the alarm. So I hope you’ll forgive me, but—”

  I heard a spraying sound, and then a thump—the sound of Tim’s body hitting the floor.

  “Help!” cried the Grandfatherly One. “Police! Forces of Justice! Any—”

  Then his voice was muffled.

  CHAPTER 19 [TIM]

  RECONNECTION

  Whatever was in the spray can Brianna pulled out of her pocket, it sure knocked me for a loop. The instant she spritzed it in my direction, I felt my knees wobble and my muscles go limp. A second later I was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. I was still wide awake—just totally unable to move.

  Terror seized me. I had never heard of a spray that could paralyze you like this. Would it wear off? Or was I going to be stuck like this forever?