Project Jackalope (5 page)

Agatha looked into the room and went into shock. “Nooo!” she wailed, rushing into the office. “Where are the papers? Where are the notes?”

She pulled file folders out of the racks that lined the walls, but they were all empty, except for a few stray paper clips here and there. “This doesn’t make sense! Professor Twitchett kept notes on everything!”

“Maybe he took them with him?”

“Well, yeah, but…I mean…” Agatha looked around in desperation.

“Maybe he didn’t want anyone to find them?” Seemed logical to me. I hadn’t really expected to find a
file with “Top Secret Jackalope Project” written across the front.

“Yes, I realize that, brainiac,” Agatha said. “But look around. This wasn’t a rush situation. Was he planning to leave? Because this took time, taking all of these papers out.”

She had a point. The pens were lined up neatly beside the desk blotter. The file cabinets were all shut. Believe me, that kind of thing doesn’t just happen.

Agatha stared around the room helplessly. “I thought there would be something, some clue about where he’d gone. A notepad or a file on the desk or something.”

The jackalope squirmed in my backpack. He’d been getting kind of restless back there since we left the school, and I was starting to get worried. All that wailing was getting to him. And deep, gaping flesh wounds are hard to cover up.

“Maybe it wasn’t him.” I hated to say it flat out like that, but come on, Twitchett would never line up pens.

“Maybe it wasn’t him.” Agatha echoed sadly. She must’ve noticed the pens too.

“So, what now?” I slipped the backpack off of my back slowly. Just to get it a little farther away from my jugular.

Agatha nodded at the backpack. “He left the animal hybrid. He must be planning to come back.”

No duh, since he pretty much said that in his note. “Well, good. I just wish he’d hustle.” The jackalope gave a big kick and shook the backpack in my hand, like he was trying to bust his way out of a cocoon. “The faster the better.” Twitchett was just lucky Mr. Jones had turned out to be such a jerk—if he’d been an okay guy I would’ve handed over the jackalope in a heartbeat, reward or no reward. Twitchett was so not worth all this trouble.

A shadow passed across the window and we heard someone whistling outside. “Bob!” Agatha said. “He’ll know where Twitchett is!”

She shoved me out into the lab area and slammed the door to Twitchett’s office just as Bob unlocked the lab door.

Bob turned out to be this skinny, frizzy-haired guy wearing a faded Slayer T-shirt. He had these watery blue eyes behind a pair of black hipster glasses and was holding a fancy camera. Everything about him screamed “trying to be cool.” Basically, the kind of skeezy creep I do my best to avoid. I’m not a total Neanderthal, though. I can be polite. I stuck my hand out to introduce myself. “So you’re Bob? I’m—”

“Agatha?” Bob interrupted, in this reedy voice that would’ve made me snicker any other day. He pushed past me, totally dissing my attempt to be cordial. “What are you doing here? You’re banned, remember?”

Agatha shrugged. “Well, yeah, but, Professor Twitchett? He hasn’t been around, and I thought…so where is he?”

Bob put his satchel down on the lab table and glanced around nervously. “I think he made himself pretty clear.”

“Don’t you know where he is?” Agatha blinked up at him with big puppy eyes. No one can resist that.

Bob shook his head. “Yeah, it’s funny. I don’t. Some guys were looking for him. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

Yeah, right, Bob. Way to lie, buddy. His Adam’s apple was bobbing around like it was Halloween.

Bob held up the camera apologetically and then shoved it into a drawer behind him. “Polar bear photos. Gotta keep up to date, you know.” He laughed awkwardly. Like we cared what he’d been taking photos of. “Anybody want a soda? Jeremy? Agatha?”

Agatha shook her head. “We’re pretty worried. And we need to talk to him about…”

I kicked Agatha in the shin, hard. I didn’t even try to be subtle.

Agatha glared at me, but she got the point. “A project. Just an idea I had.”

Bob’s watery eyes widened “An idea you had? Oh, the—” He coughed, then reached out and tousled Agatha’s hair. “What do you mean, something for school? You’ve got some big project? Maybe I could help.”

Agatha laughed and ducked her head away. She was acting jokey, but come on, no one over the age of five wants their hair tousled. What does Bob think,
we’re preschoolers? “No, it’s okay, I just need to talk to Twitchett.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us. He’s been super secretive lately, doesn’t share a thing. Not since he won that award for inventing that baboon posterior salve. Just top secret this, top secret that, right?” Bob grinned and stared at Agatha a little too long. There was some weird tension in the air, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, exactly. “Bet Jeremy knows all about it, though, right, Jeremy?”

He laughed again.

I shrugged. I was still trying to get over the baboon bomb Bob had just dropped. Posterior salve? Man, Agatha was right. Twitchett was a thief.

“Right?” Bob’s beady eyes were still fixated on me. Apparently Bob didn’t realize that sometimes a shrug is the only answer you get.

I rolled my eyes. “Beats me. Bubonic plague?”

Bob gave me a confused look, but Agatha grabbed me by the arm. “Yeah, thanks, Bob. You’ll let me know if you hear from him?”

Bob nodded. I didn’t like the way he was watching us, though. And something about the conversation was making all of my red flags shoot up, but I wasn’t sure what. It wasn’t just that Bob made me want to take a shower. I just wanted to get out of there. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, and that was when I heard the small ripping sound.

Agatha heard it, too, and a panicked expression shot across her face. Not exactly the look you want when you’re trying to play things cool.

“Agatha, Jeremy, wait a minute,” Bob said, taking a step toward us. “What’s going on? You’re not in school. What are you up to.” He didn’t even bother to make it a question, he just accused us flat out. Uncool, man.

Agatha smiled, “Conference day, that’s all. Right, Jeremy?”

I nodded and shifted my weight nervously. The fabric on the backpack started to give way. Not much, maybe an inch. But enough to make me want to throw up. And enough to make Bob eye my bag suspiciously.

It’s not like he was buying the conference stuff either. He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t try to con me, Agatha. What have you got there?”

Agatha grabbed my arm. “Nothing! Thanks for the help! See you soon!” Then she made a break for the door.

I took off after her and felt the backpack rip again. I swung it around and clutched it to my chest just as the strap broke. I could feel the pointy prongs stabbing into my chest as I ran, but I didn’t stop. I just hoped my gravestone didn’t end up saying “death by jackalope.”

Thankfully, Bob didn’t follow us. I’m guessing he has an allergy to anything that might be labeled “physical activity.” He just watched through the window as we took off through the zoo and out into the park.

As soon as we were out of sight, Agatha gasped and flopped to the ground under a tree. “That was so stupid. All we did was make Bob suspicious. And he’s a good guy! I’m so paranoid now! Why am I so paranoid of everybody?”

I shrugged and clutched nervously at the bag on my chest. Good guy or not, Bob creeped me out. But to
be honest, everybody was creeping me out these days. And Bob was really the least of my concerns. I had the jackalope immobilized for the time being, but if he wanted to get free, I wasn’t going to be able to stop him. He was one twitch away from a starring role on the ten o’clock news.

“Agatha, we’ve got a big problem here.” I indicated the bag with my head.

“We’ve got a couple of big problems here,” Agatha said, barely glancing at the bag. The jackalope squirmed and popped his head out of the top of my backpack. He looked like a jackalope burrito. So much for hiding him.

“Jeremy, we can’t keep this up. Those guys in the suits? If they really are CIA, that’s huge. We can’t keep running from them. We’ve got to confront our problems head-on.”

I nodded. “Great. Um, could you look at my bag a sec? Speaking of head-on?”

Agatha looked up and saw the jackalope staring down at her. “Oh, crap, Jeremy, you’re supposed to keep him hidden.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Like the burrito look was my idea.

Agatha dug around in her book bag and pulled out a scarf, which she wrapped around the jackalope’s head, so instead of a jackalope burrito, it looked like a turban-wearing bunny burrito. Much better.

“There’s only one thing to do, Jeremy,” she said, tying off the top of the turban.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Since all of Agatha’s ideas had turned out so well.

“We’re going home. We’re going to clear our names.”

“I don’t know about this, Agatha.” We were standing in the hedges of the apartment building across the street from ours. I was spending way too much time in hedges these days, that’s for dang sure.

The jackalope was now safely stowed in an environmentally friendly reusable grocery bag made from all-recycled materials. (I know this because it was written in huge hot pink letters across the front of the bag. Pretty snazzy, if you’re blind.) Agatha had picked it up at the local minimart on the way home. I owe her a dollar.

“Look, I know it seems dumb. But those Suits think we’re involved, so they’re not going to let up.
They’ve already cost me my perfect attendance medal for the year—I’m not letting them ruin anything else.” Agatha’s eyes were dark and crazy looking. I’m just glad she was blaming them for making her skip school instead of me.

“It’s simple, okay?” Agatha hitched her bookbag up on her shoulder. “We do it one at a time, so if anything goes wrong, the other one can go for help. We keep the animal hybrid out of sight at all times. Once we’ve answered their questions, they’ll realize we don’t know anything and leave us alone, right?” Agatha looked like she’d convinced herself, at least.

I hoped she was right. I wasn’t willing to live under surveillance for the next thirty years because my crazy neighbor left a mutant bunny in my bed.

We crept up to the front of the building and peered in. Agatha swore under her breath. “That stupid man in the suit is still there, just waiting for us. Jerk,” she said. Not a big surprise, really. Once we’d ditched them at school, they had to figure we’d come back. After all, we do live there.

“Uh-oh. Trouble,” I said. A large black car had turned the corner up ahead and was driving slowly down
the street toward us. It looked a lot like the one that had shown up at school. Close enough that I wasn’t going to risk hanging around.

We were totally stuck. We couldn’t go inside and we couldn’t stay outside. There weren’t a lot of options. Those CIA/Vulcan/secret agent types sure know their stuff.

“Quick,” Agatha said, cracking the door. “Maybe we can sneak past.”

Right. The lobby is not that big. It’d be like sneaking past someone in the bathroom. They’re going to notice. But we were just about to sneak inside anyway when we heard it.

“You! Hey, you! Up here!”

Mr. Suit #2 looked up and around. “Who’s there?” he called suspiciously.

“Quick! There he goes! Over there! Come quick!” The voice sounded like it was coming from upstairs.

Mr. Suit #2 hesitated and then hurried up the stairs. I shot Agatha a surprised look. I didn’t know who that was, but the distraction was just what we’d needed.

“You know what to do!” Agatha said, pushing me toward Mrs. Simmons’ apartment.

I knocked lightly on the door, nervously eyeing the stairs.

Mrs. Simmons must have practically had her ear to the door, because she jerked it open immediately. “Jeffrey!”

“Mrs. Simmons! Hi, can I come in? Thanks.” I winked at Agatha as I pushed my way past Mrs. Simmons into the apartment and ducked out of sight. Agatha nodded and started rattling her keys.

“Boy, it’s good to be home!” she shouted, as Mr. Suit #2 came clattering down the stairs. Plan One in place. I peeked through the crack in the door.

“Excuse me, miss, I need to ask you a few questions.”

Agatha turned around with her most innocent face on. Good thing, too, because Mr. Suit #2 looked really ticked off.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but this is a serious situation.” Mr. Suit #2 didn’t look like
someone you want to mess with. I sure hoped Agatha’s plan would work.

I scanned the hallway quickly as Mrs. Simmons closed the door. Funny, I didn’t see whoever had called him away. I frowned and looked down at the eyes glinting at me from inside the environmentally friendly grocery bag.

“Is that a present for me?” Mrs. Simmons stood in front of the door and pointed at the bag. Weird how this part of the plan hadn’t seemed quite so bad when we’d been talking about it. I must’ve been delusional.

“Uh, no, it’s my uh…project. But you can have the bag later, if you want,” I stammered, tucking the bag behind me. I could feel the jackalope peeking over the top. I just hoped its turban was still on tight.

“I’ll just take that for you. It’s for me, right? A present? A present because you didn’t find out where Professor Twitchell went?” Mrs. Simmons reached around for the bag, and I held it farther back. Seriously, who’s grabby like that? Except for five-year-olds, and it’s not like they’re even real people yet.

“No, I just haven’t heard anything. He’s not at the lab.” I took a couple of steps back, but Mrs. Simmons isn’t one of those people with a real good perception of personal space.

“Interesting.” Mrs. Simmons was peering around my back at the bag. “Is that a doggie? I’ll take that doggie.”

I nodded. “Yes, that’s it, it’s a dog. For my project. I have to keep it in the bag though. That’s my science project, Dog in a Bag. You don’t mind if I keep it here for a little bit?”

Mrs. Simmons clasped her hands together tightly. “Oh, not at all. I like dogs. You can leave it here as long as you want. I’ll take very good care of it. Very good care of it.”

She smiled at me, showing all of her big horsey teeth.

“Great, I’m sure you would.” No way in hell was I going to leave Jack alone with Mrs. Simmons. Crazed killer or not, that’s just not something I would inflict on anyone. Mrs. Simmons, that is.

I spent the next million years alternately playing keep-away with Mrs. Simmons and cussing out Agatha in
my head. Because hiding in Mrs. Simmons’ apartment was supposed to be the easy part of the plan. It was the questioning part that we’d been nervous about.

Just when Mrs. Simmons had me ready to give myself up to the cops, Agatha crept into the apartment dragging a pink Dora the Explorer suitcase behind her.

“You okay?” I said, going over as she shut the door quietly behind her.

“Yes, but there’s not much time,” she whispered. “You’ve got a guard at your door, too, and mine’s gone upstairs to consult. You better hustle. But first give me the hybrid.”

“Jeffrey has a dog,” Mrs. Simmons said loudly. “He’s going to give him to me. He’s my dog.”

“Uh, no, Mrs. Simmons,” I said. I couldn’t help but smirk at the suitcase. “You going on the run, Agatha? With Dora?” I snickered.

“It’s old, okay? From when I was little. And it’s not for me, it’s for the animal hybrid. You’ll need your backpack. For cover.” She rolled her eyes at me.

She had a point.

It wasn’t easy making the transfer, in part because we had to do it without getting our limbs ripped off by an angry turban-wearing burrito, and in part because we had to do it without Mrs. Noseypants Simmons noticing that my doggie was less than doggielike. (Which meant there was a little more dumping involved than I would’ve liked.) But seriously, from the minute Agatha said “animal hybrid,” it was like she was all ears.

“I thought you said your project was Dog in a Bag. That looks like Dog in a Suitcase.” One sharp cookie, that Mrs. Simmons. Can’t put anything past her.

“That’s part two of my project.”

“We’re studying how he adjusts to different environments, right?” Agatha shot me a look. “It’s a comparative study. He was in a cardboard box earlier.”

I cleared my throat. “That’s right.”

“I see.” Mrs. Simmons raised her eyebrows thoughtfully. Score one for Agatha.

I zipped the suitcase shut. I have to admit, I felt kind of weird leaving him with Agatha. It’s not like that bunny stinker was anything but a pain in my neck, but
it felt strange to just leave him behind. But I shook it off, grabbed the shreds of my backpack, and hurried into the hallway. I was just in time. Mr. Suit #2 was coming back down the stairs as I was going up.

I hardly glanced at him as I brushed past. But I was so busy being cool and casual that I didn’t even see Mrs. Garcia coming around the corner. Or stop before she bumped into my arm. And knocked my backpack onto the floor.

“Oh, Jeremy! I’m so sorry! Here, let me…what’s this?”

My experience with Mrs. Garcia has pretty much been limited to accepting cookies, so I didn’t realize how quick she could be. I barely had time to react before she bent over and picked up my backpack and then stood there looking at it, not giving it back right away like a normal person would. After a minute, she looked up at me, and I didn’t like the look on her face. It was that super sympathetic look that teachers give you right before they ask you if there’s something you want to tell them.

“Wow, Jeremy, this looks like it’s taken quite a beating.” She stuck her fingers through the slash marks in the top. “What happened here?”

“Oh, that? Nothing,” I said. I figured denial was the best way to go. What did she care anyway, right? It’s not like it was her backpack.

“Did something cut this? It looks like it was cut with something sharp.” Mrs. Garcia cocked her head and looked at me intently. “Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

Great. The teacher question. I shook my head.

“Did someone do this to your bag? One of your classmates?”

I shrugged. “It’s just messed up, that’s all. Bad quality.”

“And where are your books?” Man, Mrs. Garcia was not letting this go. It was just a stupid backpack. I don’t know why she was giving me the third degree.

“At school. Look, sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” I snatched the backpack out of her hand and hurried
toward my apartment. She was still staring me like I was a homeless puppy or something when I got to the door.

I turned my back on her and concentrated on the lock. Mrs. Garcia didn’t matter. I had bigger problems right now.

Mr. Jones was waiting.