The Sleepover (10 page)

“Well, we can't return ducklings without, ya know, any ducklings.” Paige puts a hand on her hip the way she always does when she's annoyed. “If she gets us busted, I swear . . .”

“We have to split up and look for her in the other classrooms,” I whisper. “Wait! Get down!”

The janitor comes out of the English classroom and leans his mop against a locker. Phew—that was close! Hold on, is that a Taylor Swift song he's whistling? Weird (but kinda funny). He pauses in the hallway, looking down the corridor before hitching his pants up and setting off to his left. I tuck myself flat against the doorway and watch as he pushes into the teachers' bathroom, leaving his bucket in the middle of the hall.

“We have a minute or two. He's in the bathroom. You go that way, and I'll look over there.” I point across the hall.

When Paige nods, I race to our drama room and slip inside the hanging rack of costumes all set up for next month's production of
Annie
. An orange wig of curls hangs over a hanger and tickles my nose. I swat it away. It would be a
disaster
to sneeze at a moment like this!

I scan the room but don't see any signs of an awkward girl, and I definitely don't see any clusters of ducklings. Herd of ducklings? Flock of ducklings? What did Veronica say it was? I shake my head.
Not important, Meghan. Find Veronica, return the ducks, and look for clues that might help you find Anna Marie. In that order.

I abandon my hiding spot in the classroom and move to the doorway, where I slowly stick my head out into the still-empty hallway. I suck in a deep breath, getting ready to
dash back into Miss Shanley's classroom. Maybe Paige found Veronica, and they're returning the ducklings right this very second. A flash of movement across the hall catches my eye, and in the split second before I register what I'm seeing, my heart stops as completely as it did the time I couldn't bring myself to jump off the ski lift when I reached the station at the top. Unlike then, when I had to be pulled off by my legs as I swung around the turnstile, this time my heart recovers immediately. It's Paige, easing out of a classroom, holding Veronica by the arm.

I sigh with relief. Paige spots me and grins, and we take a step out of our doorways when a noise at the other end of the hallway snaps our necks around. The door to the teachers' bathroom is opening! I duck back inside the drama room and pray so, so hard that Paige and Veronica did the same in the science room. I can hardly bear to look.

I hear whistling getting closer and then the sounds of a mop being pushed in and then lifted out of a bucket. I try counting again to calm down, but it doesn't help the way it did before. My heart keeps racing like it's playing catch-up in Mario Kart. But if the janitor saw anything, he wouldn't be whistling. He'd be shouting. So he
didn't
notice us! Now I just have to cross my fingers he isn't headed for the drama classroom next. The whistling stops.

I count to twenty again and then screw up all my
courage to peek into the hallway again. All is quiet. Should I stay? Should I go? What are Paige and Veronica doing right now? I hesitate in the doorway for a few seconds, and then I just . . . go. I dash across the hall to Miss Shanley's class, exhaling when I see Paige and Veronica already inside. They're busy placing the tiny ducklings back into the plastic tub.

“Couldn't I just keep Waddleworth?” Veronica is saying. “Who would notice?”

Paige slips the backpack off Veronica's shoulders. “We need to find Anna Marie, not babysit a duckling all day. Why don't Megs and I do this part, and you stand lookout in the doorway?”

Veronica lowers her shoulders and crosses the room.

“You should be nicer to her,” I say to Paige as we gently return the rest of the ducklings and refill their water supply from a bottle sitting next to the tub.

“I know, I know. I'm not trying to be mean. She just doesn't really pick up on any signals, so I kind of have to be blunt, ya know? Besides, we can't let her
keep
one of the ducklings!”

I nod but keep quiet, and eventually Paige says, “Fine. I'll try harder.”

That's all I was saying to begin with.

When we're satisfied the little guys are comfortable and safe, we turn back to the doorway.

But Veronica isn't there.

“D
id you know, in Japan, schools don't have janitors? The kids do all the cleaning every day because Buddhist traditions associate cleanliness with morality. Isn't that cool? Well, not for you, obviously. You'd be out of work if you moved there, huh?”

I watch in horror as Veronica walks in the opposite direction from us, yammering away to the janitor. Um, say
what
? What is she doing?

I can't see his face, but he sounds pretty annoyed when he says, “That's great, kid. But you still haven't answered me. What are you doing here?”

Veronica hops over wet mop marks on the floor. “Oh. That's easy. I'm returning this backpack I found outside.”

The janitor mops back and forth, from locker bank to locker bank, crisscrossing the hallway. “Doesn't explain what you're doing, wandering the classrooms and . . .”

The voices trail off as the pair round the corner. I steal one last look at the ducklings, happily tumbling around in the plastic tub, then at Paige. “We have to follow them,” I whisper. “If he calls the police or something . . .”

“I know.”

We creep from the classroom and down the hallway. We stay a good distance behind Veronica and the mopping janitor, ducking into each classroom doorway as we make our way along the hallway. Veronica continues to chatter away, seeming completely “whatever” about getting busted.

Oh. My. God. I think he's walking her to the main office. I'm sure my eyes are completely frantic as I try to will Paige to look at me. When she does, I make hand motions to indicate Veronica is about to walk into the Hornet's Nest (which is Anna Marie's nickname for Principal Wexman's office).

Surely, she won't be here on a Saturday, though. Even principals get a day off, right?

Paige doesn't seem to get what I'm trying to say with my hands, and she makes a face, then darts into the next doorway. I see the exact moment she realizes which hall we're about to turn down. Her whole body freezes.

Up ahead I can just hear the indistinct sounds of Veronica chattering away at the janitor. What is she
doing
? Why couldn't she have just stayed in the classroom like we'd told her?

I'm afraid to peek around the corner. But I have to. My
heart zooms right into my throat when I do because
Veronica is going into the office
.

And holding the door open for her is our principal!

We're dead. Or expelled. Or expelled and then dead.

At this point I'm tempted to throw my hands up and turn myself in. Maybe I'd get brownie points for offering myself up. But Paige tugs my shirt and whispers, “Let's sneak closer.”

My brain is whirring with so many different disaster scenarios that involve my parents—who think I'm blissfully sleeping away the morning at Anna Marie's—getting called by the principal to come pick me up at school. Or worse, what if Principal Wexman involves the police? We
are
on school property when we're not supposed to be and, even though we didn't
technically
break in because the door was unlocked, Principal Wexman isn't one for technicalities. Last year she suspended Sarah Mills for packing a butter knife in her lunch bag so she could spread peanut butter on her apple slices, because our school has a zero tolerance policy on “weapons.”

But in the midst of all these horrific thoughts, I don't have the mental capacity to make any decisions, so I just follow along as Paige creeps closer. Within seconds we're right outside the door to the office, which is open just wide enough that we can hear what's happening inside.

“So nice of you to return the backpack, but I'm curious how you got in? The school is closed until the game.”
Yikes. Principal Wexman's voice is all gravelly and serious.

“Tried the door and it was open, so how could I know it was off-limits?”

“Which door was open?”

“Um, you know, I can't be positive. I'm so turned around with all these hallways. This sure is a big school. I'm e-schooled, so the only hallways I have to walk are between my bedroom and the living room, except if you count the one to the bathroom, which I guess you'd have to since I use that approximately seven times a day. Mom says I have the tiniest bladder known to man, even though I'm not a man. Anyway, it's really a nice school you have here. I bet I'd like it. Do you have a unicycle floor hockey team? Cuz that'd be a deal breaker for me coming here if you don't. . . .”

If I weren't about to soil my pants, I'd be rolling on the floor laughing right now. I wonder what Principal Wexman is making of Veronica. Next to me, Paige's shoulders start shaking, and she stuffs her fist into her mouth.

“Uh, no, we don't have a team for unicycle . . . Did you say floor hockey? Ahem. No. But our basketball team is only a few games away from going to the state championship.”

Oh, this is actually good. If Veronica can get Principal Wexman going on about our basketball team, we might be okay. The woman is obsessed.

But I should know better. This is Veronica we're talking about. Sure enough, the next thing she says is, “You should really consider unicycle floor hockey. It's a great workout. Extra-good for balance. If you want, I can write to the International Unicycling Federation and get you the info you'd need to get accredited.”

At this Paige can't hold back anymore. She lets out this noise that sounds like a cross between a dog bark and a cough. All is quiet in the office and then . . .

“One moment please,” says a gravelly voice.

I grab Paige's shirt. My eyes are popping out of my head like a cartoon character's. Heels click-click across the floor, and I can't bear to look. I bury my face in Paige's shirt.

Someone clears her throat very, very close to me. I steal a peek.

“Hello, girls,” says my principal.

I
once read about people who suffer an extreme fright, and then their hair turns white overnight. I sincerely hope that doesn't happen to me, because it's going to be bad enough being the girl with one eyebrow.

“Hello, Principal Wexman,” Paige says brightly, as if nothing at all is wrong and we make a habit of skulking around the school hallways on our days off.

“H-hi,” I manage. I can't look our principal in the eyes. I'm sure I seem beyond guilty.

“May I inquire as to what you ladies are doing hiding in a doorway outside my office?” Her voice sounds less scratchy and more sticky-sweet, but I'm not fooled one little bit.

“Oh well, we could hear you had a visitor, and we didn't want to interrupt.” Still Paige is able to keep her voice all sunshine and innocence.
How does she do that?
“So we were just waiting politely.”

“Mmm” is
the reply. Principal Wexman doesn't sound like she's buying this. “And just what brings you to West Oak on a Saturday?”

“Meghan,” Paige says. I swallow hard. Did she just say
my
name? Paige reaches behind her back and finds my hand, never dropping her smile. She squeezes.

“Meghan here lost her backpack in all the excitement of the pep rally yesterday, and we figured we'd try to find it. We checked her locker and took a quick peek around, so now we were headed to you to see if it ended up in the lost and found. Speaking of the pep rally, what do you think our chances are in the game later?”

Paige knows
exactly
how to distract Principal Wexman, and for a second I think it's going to work.

She takes a breath as if to answer us, but then her forehead wrinkles.

“I don't understand why everyone thinks they are at liberty to roam the hallways of this school when, clearly, it is not open to students.” She darts a glance back at Veronica, who's now in the hallway too. Principal Wexman's gaze falls on the backpack in Veronica's hand, and she purses her lips.

“I take it this is this missing item?” she asks me.

“I— It— Um,” I stammer.

“
Yes!
You've found it, Principal Wexman. Thank you so,
so much! Meghan here has been superworried she wouldn't get to finish her math assignment before Monday, and you know what a good student she is. She's
very
dedicated to her schoolwork.” Paige is laying it on a little thick, but Principal Wexman doesn't seem to notice. She reaches her hand for the backpack Veronica holds out and then passes it silently to me. But just before I grab it, her grasp tightens.

“I suppose just because school is not in session doesn't mean we shouldn't follow proper protocol. Lost-and-found items have to be verified. Can you tell me what the contents of this backpack are to prove it's yours?”

“I— Uh— Um.” This is never going to work if I can't spit out more than syllables. I take a deep breath and say, “Um, a notebook and, um, a math book and . . . and a calculator.”

I know full well none of those items are going to be in the backpack, but I can't figure out what else to say. This is a disaster.

Principal Wexman slides open the zipper and peers inside. Her nose crinkles as she tugs a corner of Veronica's fluffy yellow bathrobe out. She levels me with a questioning look and then stuffs her hand back in.

“Huh. Weird,” Paige says right away. “Someone must be playing a prank on us. You know what: I'll bet it's those Hillside kids. They love to ramp up the rivalry before a big game, right? I say we don't stand for this.”