The Smoky Corridor (11 page)

“Yes! I am so not dead! Thank you!”

“No problem.”

Zack headed up the hall.

“How’d you know where to find it?” the girl called after him.

“Lucky guess,” Zack said with a shrug. He turned to give Alyssa’s grandmother a wink but the ghost was already gone.

39

On the
way to homeroom, Zack saw Ms. DuBois and asked her what she’d do if she thought somebody might be too sick to take gym.

“Well, Zack, I believe I would air my suspicions to Ms. Rodgers, the school nurse.”

So between homeroom and math, Zack did.

“I think there might be something wrong with his heart.”

“And what makes you say that?” asked the nurse, who seemed genuinely concerned.

“I saw him running,” said Zack, spinning a quick fib. “He got winded really, really fast. Like in two seconds and he’s not overweight or anything, either.”

“I see,” said Ms. Rodgers, reaching for the stethoscope hanging on the coatrack. “Thank you, Mr. Jennings. I’ll look into it.”

“Maybe Chuck shouldn’t go to gym class today.…”

“I’ll look into it, Mr. Jennings.”

•   •   •

At lunchtime, Zack’s table in the cafeteria grew a little more crowded.

Ms. DuBois was there, eating carrots and hummus. So were Azalea, Malik, Benny, and Chuck. They were joined by newcomer Alyssa, who just had to eat lunch with Zack. “Because he so totally saved my life this morning!” she said.

“Wow, Zack,” said Malik, “perhaps we are becoming the cool kids!”

Azalea scoffed at that. “Dream on.”

“Have you met any new friends, Azalea?” asked Ms. DuBois.

“Why bother? My dad’s in the army. We’ll be moving at the end of the school year. Maybe sooner. We move all the time.”

“Uh-oh,” said Chuck, slumping down in his seat, apparently trying to disappear.

Two teachers approached the table. Zack recognized Ms. Rodgers, the nurse. She was walking with a guy wearing blue gym shorts and a gray Pettimore Yankees T-shirt. There was a whistle around his neck; Ms. Rodgers had the stethoscope around hers.

Gym Shorts stuck his hands on his hips. Melon-sized muscles bulged on his arms, his legs, even his neck.

“Which one is he?” he asked.

“That’s Charles Buckingham,” said the nurse. “Hello again, Chuck.”

“Uh, hi, Ms. Rodgers,” he said shyly.

“Your mother is calling your family physician,” Ms. Rodgers said in her most soothing nurse voice. “Everything’s going to be fine but we might want to send you home a little early today.”

“Okay.”

“And no gym class. Not for a while.”

Chuck smiled nervously. “Okay.”

“Where’s the other one?” barked the man in the gym shorts. His thighs were as wide as stuffed turkeys.

The nurse pointed at Zack.

“Zack Jennings?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Coach Mike. Phys ed.” He checked his clipboard. “Looks like I’ve got you later this afternoon.”

Zack gulped. “Yes, sir. Seventh period.”

“Good. You need to put a little meat on those bones, son.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is everything all right, Coach Mike?” asked Ms. DuBois.

“Everything’s fine now, thanks to young Mr. Jennings. The boy has a sixth sense like those dogs that can sniff out diseases. You catch that on the news last night?”

“Sorry, no,” said Ms. DuBois. “But whatever did Zack do?”

“I’ll tell you what he did.” Coach Mike hiked up his gym shorts for emphasis. “He alerted us to his buddy’s irregular heartbeat.”

“It may just be a murmur,” added the nurse. “But it might suggest something more serious. Either way, we should play it safe until we know for sure.”

“So you see, Zack?” said Coach Mike. “You might’ve saved your pal’s life today.”

“He saved mine, too!” said Alyssa. “First thing this morning!”

The gym teacher thrust out his hand. “I just wanted to say well done, Mr. Jennings. Keep up the good work. See you in seventh period. We’re gonna make you some muscles!”

“Thanks,” said Zack. Mr. Willoughby was definitely right: It felt good to do good.

And then, over the spiky top of the gym teacher’s buzz cut, Zack saw the ghost of Bartholomew Buckingham dip into a long, gracious bow.

He had dropped by to say thanks, too.

That made Zack feel even better.

40

The next
three weeks flew by.

Almost every day, Zack bumped into a new guardian ghost sent to protect a family member from the potential zombie threat. Some of the ghosts Zack knew, like Kathleen Williams, who he’d met over the summer at the crossroads and again at the Hanging Hill Playhouse. She had been a nightclub and Broadway musical star back in the 1950s. Turned out her great-great-grandniece, Laurel Jumper, was a sixth grader at Pettimore Middle School.

“I heard her singing in the shower this morning,” the ghost gushed. “She has a
marvelous
voice. Simply marvelous! I only wish she believed in her talent enough to try out for the school choral group! Laurel could be a star on Broadway! A star!”

So Zack found Laurel and made a few subtle suggestions. Laurel auditioned for the school chorus and was, of course, snapped up right away. She even had a solo in the upcoming fall concert.

Laurel Jumper and other kids Zack helped joined his lunch bunch in the cafeteria, which had grown so large he
and Malik had had to drag two tables together to make sure everybody had a seat.

Judy volunteered as a class mom a couple of times and got to meet a few of the ghosts. Bartholomew Buckingham gave her tips on how to make
Curiosity Cat
more Shakespearean.

“I saw your show,” he told her. “Jolly good fun. But perhaps you might consider having a few of your cats duel each other in the final act?” He then put on a brief demonstration of feline fight choreography. There was a lot of leaping, prancing, hissing, and posing.

Judy told him she’d think about it.

Benny had new ideas every day (except when Judy was the class mom) about what Zack should blow up next.

Azalea depressed everybody with gloomy poems she wrote (but she always winked to let Zack and Malik know she was messing with their heads).

Chuck Buckingham’s irregular heartbeat turned out to be a pretty common heart murmur, so he could take gym class, which he and Zack were actually enjoying, because Coach Mike—despite the whistle, shorts, and buzz cut—wasn’t the typical P.E. teacher. More encouraging, less screaming. By the fourth week of September, when Zack flexed his arm, he could swear he saw a muscle bump.

Assistant Principal Crumpler was grouchier than usual, because Wade Muggins, the school’s custodian, had “gone AWOL”—which Zack found out from Azalea was an army term for not showing up to do your job. There was
a new janitor every week. They all kept quitting. None of them could stand working for Mr. Crumpler.

Ms. DuBois ate at Zack’s table whenever she was on cafeteria duty. So did Ms. Rodgers, the school nurse.

Even Kyle Snertz, Kurt’s younger brother, was sitting at the table and he wasn’t mumbling anymore, either. In fact, he was pretty funny. Everybody swore he would be a stand-up comic on TV someday and he said, “Wow, maybe I will.”

And so far, his big brother, Kurt Snertz—who said he hated Zack even more for turning his little brother into a “nerd loser”—hadn’t made good on his multiple threats to stick Zack’s head down a toilet.

Some days, after school, almost half of the sixth grade would hang out at Zack’s house. (Well, it felt like almost half.) Everybody wanted to meet Zack’s famous stepmom, Judy Magruder, because they had all grown up reading her
Curiosity Cat
books. They all liked Zipper, too.

Yep, for the first time in his life, Zack Jennings was cool.

He was also popular—well, at least with all the other
unpopular
kids, who, come to think of it, always outnumbered the popular kids anyhow. There could be only one star quarterback, one head cheerleader. There were tons of geeks, nerds, dorks, and dweebs. That was probably why they had so many names for being different.

All in all, September was a totally awesome month.

Then, in early October, Zipper got lonely.

41

Zipper stood
on the couch, gazing out the window.

Watching Zack disappear. Again.

His tail wilted.

Where did his boy go every morning, five days in a row?

Was it more fun than staying home and throwing the squishy ball in the backyard?

More exciting than pretending they were on a safari?

More laughs than when all the other boys and girls came by the house and Zipper showed them his tricks?

Hey, where were all those other kids during the day?

Did they go to the same place Zack went?

If so, it must be a fun place.

Very fun.

More fun than the house without Zack.

Zipper sniffed.

Zack’s scent was easy to pick up, even though Judy was burning toast in the kitchen again and the neighbors had just mowed their lawn, because Zack was his extra-special person. Every dog has one. Zack was his.

Zipper tiptoed through the kitchen.

“Going out, Zip?” Judy said as his nails clacked crisply on the tile floor.

Zipper gave her a quick yap and a tail wag.

“Have fun,” she said. “Just don’t water my rosebushes for me.”

He gave her another yap, this one signaling he understood where the approved rest areas were located in the backyard. He stepped through the flapping doggy door.

Judy and George had taught him not to stray beyond the backyard when he went out to do his business. Not to bother the neighbors or venture into the street.

But that had been before Zack started disappearing every morning.

Zipper sniffed twice.

Zack’s scent was in the wind.

All Zipper had to do was follow it.

So he did.

42

Eddie strode
into the main entrance of the school and found Assistant Principal Crumpler’s office, just like the boss had told him to.

It was upstairs in the building that had once been Horace P. Pettimore’s mansion.

He rapped his knuckles on the bald man’s half-open door.

“What?”

“I’m your new janitor, sir.”

“Humph. How long do you plan to stay on the job? A day?”

“As long as you need me, sir.”

“Humph.” Mr. Crumpler stood up from his desk and clipped a walkie-talkie to his belt, muttering the whole time: “Lousy board of education. Think I should unclog my own toilets … cafeteria tray washer flooding … lima beans on the floor … sloppy joes …”

That was enough to get them out the door and headed down the sweeping staircase to the main hall.

“Do I have an office?” Eddie asked.

“You don’t need an office! You need a mop! A bucket!”

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie was wearing a green shirt over green work pants and had a ring of keys clipped to his belt. He looked very janitorial. The boss wanted him at the school because that was where they had the best chance of finding the special child the spirit of John Lee Cooper had spoken of through the medium.

Eddie and Crumpler reached the grand foyer.

“Mighty fine oil painting,” said Eddie, admiring the large portrait of Horace Pettimore in its gilded frame.

The bald man propped his hands on his hips and sized Eddie up.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, sir.”

“That why you talk like you have molasses in your mouth?”

“I suppose so. I hail from Chattanooga, Tennessee, which, coincidentally, is very close to the Georgia border.”

“So?”

“Just makin’ small talk.”

“Well, knock it off! You’ve got work to do!”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Crumpler.”

Eddie wouldn’t say another word.

He wouldn’t point out that he came from a city extremely close to the Georgia home of Patrick J. Cooper, the hero teacher who had died in this very school, valiantly attempting to “save” the two Donnelly brothers in the smoky corridor.

Another terrible “accident.”

He chuckled quietly.

And that was when the small dog darted through the front doors Eddie must have forgotten to close when he’d entered the building.

43

“Mrs. Pochinko?”
Mr. Crumpler yelled into his walkie-talkie. “Alert animal control! We need a tranquilizer gun!”

He and the new janitor had chased the dog west, out of the main hall, past a few classrooms, up the steps, and into the cafeteria.

The fifth graders, who ate earliest, were squealing with delight as the mangy mutt scampered under their tables.

“Stop! Bad dog! Bad dog!” Mr. Crumpler was screaming. The bewildered children stared at him. “Eat your vegetables!” he hollered. “Eat them now!” He punched the talk button on his radio again. “Mrs. Pochinko?”

“Sir?”

“Give me a hallway lockdown. Give it to me now!”

“On it, sir.”

Mr. Crumpler stood frozen, mopping the top of his bald head with a paper napkin he had swiped from a boy who looked like he used his shirt sleeve instead of his napkin anyway.

This was Carl D. Crumpler’s worst nightmare come
true. A wild dog running amuck, jeopardizing the safety of all his students. Chaos. Rabies. Armageddon.

“You think maybe we should chase after it?” asked the rookie janitor.

Crumpler gave the man a look. “You bet I do, mush mouth!”

44

When Zipper
sprang through the open door and leapt up onto Zack’s desk, the whole classroom cracked up.

When the dog started licking his face like he was a ham-flavored ice cream cone, they went wild.

“Friend of yours?” asked Ms. DuBois.

“Yes, ma’am. This is Zipper. I guess he missed me.”

That was all he got to say before Mrs. Pochinko started braying over the PA:
“Teachers, students, please stay in your classrooms. There is an animal control issue in the hallways. Mr. Crumpler has the situation under … eh … he’s working on it.…”