FIVE
The next morning, when Robert arrived at Lovecraft Middle School, the hallways were filled with flies: houseflies, fruit flies, gnats, mosquitoes, and some winged critters he’d never seen before. As soon as he brushed one from his arm, another two landed on his ear or neck or forehead. It was like walking through a barn.
Karina was waiting at his locker.
“When did all this happen?” he asked.
She had no idea. “I went to bed and everything was normal. When I woke up, the swarms were everywhere.” A fly landed on Robert’s nose and he slapped it away. “People are blaming the janitor strike, but I’m not buying it.”
“Why not?”
“Flies aren’t born overnight. They hatch as maggots—little baby worms. They take a full week to grow into adults.”
“First the wasp, then the lice, now this,” Robert said. “Something’s up.”
“Definitely,” Karina said. “Where’s Glenn?”
Robert didn’t know. Every morning, Glenn stopped by Robert’s house on his way to school, but today he didn’t show up. “I saw him last night, and he was acting strange.”
“Weirder and weirder,” Karina said. “What’s next?”
They were interrupted by four men marching down the hallway. They wore bright yellow hazmat suits that covered their bodies from head to toe. Their faces were concealed by hooded visors.
“Coming through!” the leader called. “Stand aside, please!”
Each man carried a tank of pesticide marked with a skull and crossbones. They were squirting a gloopy brown liquid on the walls and floor.
“Watch out, please! Watch your step!”
One of the exterminators aimed his spray wand at Robert’s feet, and he had to jump to avoid being squirted.
“Hey, careful!” Karina shouted.
The exterminators ignored her and continued their march down the hallway.
“Why are they wearing masks?” Robert asked.
Karina studied the poison dripping down the walls. “This stuff must be really toxic.”
It didn’t smell toxic to Robert. If anything, the scent reminded him of pancakes. But there was no point in taking chances. He opened his backpack and peered inside. Pip and Squeak came to school with him every morning and usually spent the day snoozing in his locker. “You guys are sticking with me,” he said. “Just to be safe.”
When Robert arrived in homeroom, he discovered that six more of his classmates had freshly shaved heads. His teacher, Miss Lynch, was standing at the chalkboard with a long wooden pointer, highlighting the anatomy of a housefly.
While other homeroom teachers were happy to take attendance and then let students chat among themselves, Miss Lynch believed that every minute of the school day should be devoted to learning. She often read aloud from the newspaper to inform students of the latest current events. This morning, she was sharing “fun facts” about winged insects.
“Flies taste with their feet,” she said. “That’s why they’re always walking over your food. They especially love sweets: cupcakes, cookies, candies, anything with lots of sugar.”
Robert walked to his desk at the back of the classroom. Sitting on his chair was a daddy longlegs about the size of his fist. He used his notebook to brush the bug onto the floor and then sat down.
“Of course, flies don’t have teeth, so they can’t eat solids,” Miss Lynch continued. “Instead they liquefy their food by vomiting digestive enzymes onto its surface.” The whole class groaned—some of the kids had just finished eating breakfast—but Miss Lynch kept on going. “These enzymes act like a powerful acid, melting the food to a liquid state. Then the fly uses a long snout called a proboscis to slurp it all up.”
By the end of the explanation, Robert was ready to vomit himself. Fortunately, Miss Lynch was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she called.
It was Howard Mergler, president of the student council. He entered the classroom with the aid of forearm crutches. He had been in a car accident three years before, and now he walked with tremendous difficulty.
“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” he said. “May I make a quick announcement?”
“Of course.” Miss Lynch set her wooden pointer in the chalk tray and sat down. “Go right ahead, Howard.”
Teachers loved Howard Mergler. He was often described as a model student: smart, polite, courteous, responsible, considerate. Howard always tucked in his shirts, and today he was wearing a necktie. On weekends, he volunteered at the public library, reading Shakespeare aloud to blind senior citizens. Earlier in the year, Robert had the chance to become student council president, but he stepped aside so that Howard could serve. He figured that Howard was the perfect kid for the job.
There was just one catch: Howard wasn’t really a kid.
The real Howard Mergler was being held hostage inside Tillinghast Mansion. Now his hair and skin and even his crutches were being used as a disguise by a giant insect monster, and Robert and Glenn were the only ones who knew.
“Good morning, everyone,” Howard began. “I understand many of you are troubled by the arrival of insects in our school. I’m here to assure you that this is quite common. As winter approaches, it’s normal for insects to seek shelter.”
Normal? None of this was normal, Robert thought. The wasp on Glenn’s neck wasn’t normal. Stampeding ants in the parking lot weren’t normal.
“Since the janitors are on strike, we’re forced to tackle this problem ourselves. That’s why I’ve hired local exterminators to treat the school. You may have already seen them patrolling the hallways. The good news is, the bugs should be gone by the end of today.”
Miss Lynch gave him a round of applause. “That’s wonderful! Thank you, Howard,” she said. “Class? Can you please join me in thanking Howard? Everyone?”
A few students joined in the applause. The rest were busy itching their scalps and scratching their necks. Howard took a modest bow before leaving the classroom.
“Now let’s continue with our fun facts,” Miss Lynch said. “The average housefly weighs remarkably little, just ten milligrams. That’s less than a cotton ball.” She stood and lifted the wooden pointer from her desk.
It was weird, Robert thought.
Just a few minutes earlier, hadn’t he watched her place the pointer in the chalk tray?
Miss Lynch shrieked. The pointer had come alive in her hands, flailing its spindly legs and chirping loudly. In fact, it wasn’t her pointer at all—it was a giant walking-stick insect! Miss Lynch let go and the creature scrambled for the exit, collapsing its bony frame until it was low enough to wriggle under the door.
The students were in hysterics. Miss Lynch fumbled open a bottle of hand sanitizer and squirted it all over her fingers. Everyone was laughing like it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.
Everyone except Robert Arthur.
He knew that giant walking sticks were just the beginning, and that Howard Mergler wasn’t going to fix anything. He knew the infestation at Lovecraft Middle School was going to get a lot worse.