Professor Gargoyle

SIX





Somehow Karina was right: It took only a minute of wandering through the shelves before Robert turned a corner and ran right into his English teacher.

“There you are!” Mr. Loomis exclaimed. “I’ve spent half the class looking for you.”

“I’m sorry. I was lost.”

His teacher grinned. “I know the feeling. A library this good, I could get lost for days.”

Robert liked Mr. Loomis. He wore pastel-colored sweater vests, loved books, and never needed to raise his voice. And he didn’t insist on being called “Professor” like a certain crazy science teacher.

“Did you find anything good?” Mr. Loomis asked.

Robert patted his backpack. “Right here.”

“You’ll need to check them out before you leave,” Mr. Loomis said. “There are lending kiosks near the entrance. Key in your student ID and the touch screen will guide you the rest of the way. Hurry now, Robert, before the bell rings.”

Robert walked over to the lending kiosks, which looked like the self-checkout machines in supermarkets. He unzipped his backpack, reached inside for the books, and felt a sudden shooting pain in his hand.

Something was biting him.

He dropped the backpack and the pain stopped. He looked down at his palm. There were two red marks on his thumb. Not deep enough to be punctures. But almost definitely teeth marks.

Teeth marks?

He glanced around the library. None of the kids were watching him. And Mr. Loomis was over by the media center, chatting with Ms. Lavinia.

Robert zipped his backpack closed, left the library, and walked down the hallway to the nearest boys’ bathroom. He set his backpack on one of the sinks and had barely unzipped it an inch when a furry brown head peeked out.

A furry brown rat head.

Its eyes were black. Its whiskers twitched. It bobbed its head from side to side. Unlike the rats from the first day of school, this one seemed friendly. Maybe even playful.

Robert opened the zipper a little more and a second head emerged. This one had the same brown fur, the same black eyes.

Twins, Robert thought.

Like the red-haired girls in his science class.

Somehow the rats must have climbed into his backpack while he was talking with Karina. Robert unzipped it all the way, planning to shake them loose and set them free. But as they stepped out, Robert realized he was mistaken—these were not twins.

This was a single rat with two heads.

“Whoa,” Robert whispered. “What are you guys?”

Both heads looked up and squealed. They shared the same torso, the same feet, and the same tail. One of them brushed its neck against Robert’s wrist. It wanted to be petted!

“All right,” he said, stroking the backs of their necks with his finger. “You like that? Does that feel good?”

Clearly it did. The two heads closed their eyes and purred like baby kittens.

“How about water? Are you thirsty?”

He turned on one of the faucets and made a cup with his hand. The rats stepped lightly onto the sink and lapped the water from his palm. The two tiny tongues felt like tabs of sandpaper against Robert’s skin.

“There you go,” Robert whispered. “Take your time and drink up. That’s a good boy—er, boys.”

Just then, the bathroom door banged open.

The rats leapt from the sink into the backpack and Robert quickly zipped it closed.

Glenn Torkells stood in the doorway, grinning at Robert.

“Dweeb tax, Nerdbert,” he said, holding out his palm. “You know you’re not supposed to use the bathroom on Fridays.”



It was another of Glenn’s stupid rules.

“Fine,” Robert said. He moved the backpack out of Glenn’s reach before taking two dollars from his pocket. “Here you go. All right? No problem.”

Glenn pocketed the money and stared at him.

And smiled.

“What are you so nervous about?”

“Nothing,” Robert said, glancing down at his backpack, relieved to see it wasn’t moving. Somehow the rats seemed to understand that they needed to remain very still.

“You’re not your usual self today, Nerdbert. I can tell. I’ve got a real good memory.”

“I paid your stupid tax, all right? Leave me alone.”

Robert grabbed his backpack and tried to leave, but Glenn blocked his way.

“What’s in your bag?”

“Nothing. Books.”

“Let me see.”

Glenn reached for the bag and Robert tried stepping around him, but he wasn’t fast enough. Glenn grabbed a shoulder strap and yanked hard, pulling Robert along with it.

“Careful!” Robert shouted.

“Careful of what?” Glenn asked.

“None of your business! Leave me alone!”

At times like these, Robert thought of the characters in his favorite books—the supposedly normal kids who possessed secret powers. Robert wished he had eyeball lasers that could fry Glenn to a crisp. He wished he could summon a giant beast that would drag Glenn away kicking and screaming.

But this wasn’t a fantasy novel. This was real life.

Glenn grabbed Robert’s wrist and twisted it behind his back, then shoved his face against the wall. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Nerdbert. I’m going to keep twisting your arm until you let go of your backpack. Do you understand me?”

“Enough!” shouted a deep voice.

Robert looked to the door of the restroom and saw Mr. Loomis charging toward them.

Glenn released his grip.

“Principal’s office,” Mr. Loomis told him. “Now.”

“But I was just playing—”

“Now!” Mr. Loomis’s voice boomed off the walls. Maybe he never shouted in English class, but here in the boys’ bathroom it was clear he meant business.

Glenn flashed Robert a dirty look. “I’ve got a real good memory,” he warned, before stomping out the door.

Mr. Loomis knelt beside Robert. “Are you all right?”

Robert shook out his arm. “I’m fine.”

“Does Glenn pick on you a lot?”

“Not really.”

Mr. Loomis frowned. “This was the first time?”

Robert shrugged. “Yeah.”

The 12:30 bell rang. Normally it would be time for lunch but today there was an early dismissal. Outside the bathroom, the hallway was filled with the noise of kids opening lockers and chatting about their weekends.

“So, can I go now?” Robert asked.

Mr. Loomis studied his face, as if he were literally searching for the truth. “Robert, you need to be focused on your schoolwork. Not worrying about bullies. I can make this problem go away, but I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

It was the opportunity Robert had been waiting for. Here was a teacher willing to listen and capable of stopping Glenn once and for all. And yet Robert was too ashamed to tell him the truth.

Boys were supposed to stand up for themselves. If Robert told Mr. Loomis everything—if he told him about the gummy worms and the dweeb tax and all the name-calling—he knew he would sound pathetic. It was too humiliating.

He could feel the creatures in his backpack squirming, getting restless.

“There’s no problem,” Robert said. “Can I go now?”