Leon and the Spitting Image (29 page)

“Well?” Miss Hagmeyer pressed. “Are you depositing your master piece in the finished bin?”

“No,” said Leon firmly.

The room fell silent.

Leon could see the muscles in Miss Hagmeyer’s face, pinched under normal circumstances, draw in even tighter. But before she said a word, Leon held out his pouch and pushed from the bottom. The head of the master piece popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

The full-size Miss Hagmeyer first glowered at the mini-Miss Hagmeyer, and then she glowered at Leon.

“Mr. Zeisel,” she said. “A place for everything and—”

“—everything in its place,” Leon said. “I know. Which is why I’d like
you
to have my master piece.”

Miss Hagmeyer jerked backward, as if yanked by an invisible thread.

“What?” she gasped.

The
proper
response is “excuse me,” Leon said to himself before repeating his offer. “I want
you
to have my master piece.”

Whispers spread through the classroom as Miss Hagmeyer plucked her likeness from Leon’s pouch. No one could believe he was giving his animile to Miss Hagmeyer—not after all the trouble she had caused him.

But it was Miss Hagmeyer herself who was the most flabbergasted. “Are you p-p-positive?” she stammered.

“Yup.”

Miss Hagmeyer suddenly leaned over and gave Leon a hug. For a moment, he thought he had accidentally reactivated the doll. But he hadn’t. He wasn’t touching the master piece. This hugging was entirely voluntary!

Oooooooohs again filled the room.

After Leon broke free, he noticed that Miss Hagmeyer’s eyes were sparkling the way they had the time she did sizzlers in the playground. She daubed a tear from her cheek with her wimple and said, “Thank you, Leon, I will cherish her.”

This is it. It’s now or never, Leon told himself.

“Miss Hagmeyer?” he said.

“Yes?” she sniffled.

“I was wondering…. Would it be okay if I made another animile?”

“Another
animile?” Miss Hagmeyer’s mouth curved into a shape that resembled a smile.

“To carry on the crusade,” Leon said.

A few students starting hissing. It wasn’t like Leon to suck up.

“Quiet!” Miss Hagmeyer snapped.

“The thing is,” said Leon, “I’ll need a few supplies.”

“Of course,” said Miss Hagmeyer.

Leon pointed at the countinghouse tally. “That yarn would come in handy.”

“The yarn?” said Miss Hagmeyer.

“It’s just the right color,” said Leon.

Miss Hagmeyer handed him the snagglers. “Help yourself.”

Leon walked over to the chart, snipped off the yarn, and tucked it into his pouch. “And actually,” he said when he returned the snagglers, “there are a few other things I could use, too.” He glanced at the supply cabinet.

Miss Hagmeyer pressed the brass key into his hand. “You take whatever you need.”

Leon undid the padlock, opened the cabinet doors, and filled his pouch with cloth, panty hose, and glass eyeballs.

“What are you making?” Thomas asked, gawking from his desk.

“An animile,” Leon said vaguely.

“Well, duh. I mean what
kind?
A gargoyle?”

“Nastier,” said Leon.

“Nastier than a gargoyle?” said Thomas approvingly. “A dragon?”

Leon shook his head. “Nastier,” he said. He closed the doors, replaced the lock, and returned the key.

“I hope that Leon isn’t the only one making animiles over the summer,” Miss Hagmeyer told the class. “Diligence shouldn’t stop with the end of the school year. After all, spool work can be
cool
work!”

Snickers greeted Miss Hagmeyer’s feeble attempt at humor.

Mr. Hankey stuck his head into the classroom and clanged his bell. “It’s nones, Phyllis.”

Miss Hagmeyer looked at the wall clock. “It most certainly is
not
nones, Mr. Hankey.”

“Well, I was told to get the fourth graders out to the playground. Principal Birdwhistle wants to see ’em.”

“Is something wrong?” said Miss Hagmeyer over the groans of her students.

“Not a thing,” the janitor said with a laugh. “Principal Birdwhistle had me set up a dunking pool. She should be sitting down in it right about now.”

The mood in the classroom suddenly turned boisterous. All eyes locked onto Miss Hagmeyer. “Fine,” she told the class. “Consider yourselves banished.”

As the students broke for the door, Miss Hagmeyer thwacked her instructional needle against the table. “Stop!”

Everyone froze.

“One last thing,” Miss Hagmeyer said. “When you have Principal Birdwhistle in your sights and a bean bag in your hand, make sure you prove to her that your year with the Hag has made your fingers
nimble!”
And with that she released her students. They galloped toward the playground like tournament steeds.

On the way, Lily-Matisse and P.W. cut Leon off and demanded an explanation for his curious classroom behavior.

“Have you gone completely insane?” said P.W. “How could you give her the doll?”

“It’s no biggie,” said Leon.

“No biggie?” said Lily-Matisse. “That’s like Merlin saying, ‘Here. Take my wand!’ I had some tumbling moves I wanted you to test out! Now we’ll never get to see the Hag do a full-twisting double layout dismount!”

P.W. scoffed. “Who cares about gymnastics? No more doll means no more Hagapult. I could’ve
replaced the winch and rubber band. It could’ve been all systems go. We could’ve
owned
Lumpkin.”

“No,” said Leon. “We couldn’t have. Not with the Hagmeyer doll. I finally figured out what the problem was. Master pieces can’t attack.”

“What are you talking about?” said P.W. “What about the food fight?”

“The food fight was an accident, not an attack. I was aiming at Lumpkin, but signal disturbance sent the cottage cheese off course—twice. And you just saw what happened with the panty hose.”

“Still,” said Lily-Matisse, “you could have put the master piece in the finished bin like everyone else. Giving it to the Hag was
so
Antoinettey.”

“Hey, I needed stuff from the cabinet,” said Leon. “Sucking up seemed like the fastest way to get it.”

“You should have dollworked the Hag over to the cabinet,” said P.W.

“I thought about that,” said Leon. “There wasn’t time. And getting her to unlock the door would have been tricky. Besides, everyone would have seen me.”

They entered the playground. Lily-Matisse shook her head. “I still can’t believe you’re thinking about sewing projects.”

“Yeah,” said P.W. “We’ve got more important things to deal with.”

“Such as?” said Leon.

“Such as a certain toothless curd-turd.”

“I’m not worried about Lumpkin,” said Leon.

“You’re not worried about the sidewinders?” said Lily-Matisse.

“Nope.”

“Or the dead-arms and noogies?” said P.W.

“Nope.”

“Then you’re nuts,” said Lily-Matisse.

“After all that’s happened today, Lumpkin’s going to
pulverize
us!” cried P.W. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“I don’t think so,” Leon said confidently.

Lily-Matisse gave him a sideways glance. “All right. What gives?”

“Yeah, Leon. What’s this
project
of yours?” P.W. demanded.

“Before I tell, I want the needle pledge.”

“Isn’t it kind of unnecessary?” said Lily-Matisse. “You don’t have the doll anymore.”

“The pledge,” Leon insisted.

“Fine,” said Lily-Matisse. “Crossmyhearthopetodiestickaneedleinmyeye. There. Satisfied?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Sheesh!” Lily-Matisse sealed the oath with a feeble pretend
ptooey
.

“P.W.?”

P.W. said the pledge and spat without complaint. “Okay, so let’s hear it.”

Leon pulled a strand of orange yarn from his pouch. “Remind you of anything?” he said, wiggling it.

P.W. and Lily-Matisse exchanged confused looks.

“I’ll give you a hint,” said Leon. He pointed at Lumpkin, who was jostling his way to the front of the dunking-pool line.

Lily-Matisse stared at the yarn, then at Lumpkin, then at the yarn. She abruptly cupped her mouth with her hand. “Oh. My. Gosh.”

“What’s gotten into you?” P.W. asked.

“Lumpkin’s
hair!”
Lily-Matisse blurted out.

“What about it?” said P.W.

“It’s the same exact orange color as the yarn!”

“It is?” said Leon. A giant smirk stretched across his face.

P.W. looked at the yarn more closely.

“Un-freakin’-buhlievable!” he suddenly shouted.

“What?” said Leon with fake innocence.

P.W. gave an excited poke at the pouch. “What else do you have in that goody bag?”

Leon removed a scrap of green cloth.

“That’s a perfect match for Lumpkin’s army jacket!” P.W. cried.

“Really?” said Leon, grinning more than ever.

All at once Lily-Matisse, P.W., and Leon began laughing uncontrollably. When they finally stopped, P.W. said, “We’ll be totally noogie-proof!”

“And sidewinder-proof!” said Lily-Matisse.

“Basically, we’ll be Lumpkin-proof,” said Leon.

“Freaky!” P.W. exclaimed. “Our very own Henry
Lumpkin doll! Think of the possibilities!”

“Knowing Leon,” said Lily-Matisse, “I bet he has.”

When Mr. Hankey clanged the final bell, Lily-Matisse, P.W., and Leon piled into Napoleon’s taxi and headed for the Trimore Towers.

“And how was your day, Monsieur Leon?” Napoleon asked. “One a scale of one to ten—”

“Eleven!” all three classmates shouted.

“Jinx!”

“Jinx!”

“Jinx!”

“Eleven?” said Napoleon. “Is such a thing possible?”

“Absolutely,” Lily-Matisse said. “Just ask the Hag. Leon got the highest grade in the class—
eleven
stitches per inch!”

The news pleased Napoleon immensely.
“C’est magnifique!
We must alert Madame Zeisel.” He grabbed his car phone and placed a call.

By the time the taxi reached the hotel, Leon’s mom and Maria were waiting out front.

“Terrific news, sweetie! I
knew
you’d pass. But top marks?” Emma Zeisel planted a big kiss on her son’s cheek. He blushed.

“Way to go, Leonito,” said Maria. “You showed that Miss Panty Hose!”

“Thanks,” said Leon.

A van pulled up to the hotel.

“Penguins!” shouted Lily-Matisse, pointing to the exiting passengers.

“Must be the Antarctica Society,” said Emma Zeisel matter-of-factly. “I better get back to Reception. Oh, Frau Haffenreffer is setting up some pastries and chips for the three of you in the coffee shop.”

“Want me to go change the signboard?” Leon asked.

“Not necessary, sweetie. Already taken care of.”

And indeed it was. When Leon and his friends pushed through the revolving door, they were greeted by the following notice: