Totally Toxic (11 page)

Josh looked determined.

Howie looked terrified.

My mind raced through the facts I had so far: Mitchell had something to hide, and from all accounts he was an unsavory sort who'd take drastic action to keep his secret. If he caught anybody on his property—even a couple of sixth-grade boys—he might threaten them…

Or worse.

It hit me like a thunderbolt. If anything happened to Josh—or Howie, of course—I would be very, very upset. Especially if it was something I could prevent by going along. I wasn't sure how I'd protect my friends from George Mitchell while I was officially on probation, but at the very least there would be three of us instead of two, and Dad always says there's safety in numbers.

“Okay,” I said. “I'll go with you guys.”

“Excellent,” said Josh, and gave me a high five. It wasn't exactly romantic, but it was better than nothing.

We made plans to meet that evening at six o'clock in front of the school; then we'd bike over to the factory.

Since lunch period was almost over, we gathered up our trays and crossed the yard. Howie was rambling on to Josh about the camera when we passed Emily's table. She was sitting with Caitlin. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did, a little.

“What's with the camera?” Caitlin asked.

“Taking pictures for the yearbook?” said Emily.

“Uh… no,” said Josh, and caught my eye. He gave me a wink, then went to return his tray to the kitchen. Howie followed him.

“Emily's coming over to my house tonight,” Caitlin
announced. “We're going to cut up magazines and make collages to decorate our lockers.”

Emily glanced at me, like she was uncomfortable with the way Caitlin seemed to have appointed herself Em's personal social secretary. “Hey, you guys,” she said, obviously making an effort to include both Caitlin and me. “I'm going over to the eighth-grade girls' table to ask Megan Talbot where she got that cool eyeshadow. Wanna come with?”

“I've got to go talk to Ms. Krangle about the homework,” said Caitlin. She turned on her heel and strode away. I followed Emily toward the eighth-grade girls' table. When she asked about the makeup, Megan gladly informed us that glitter eyeshadow was becoming passe and natural, earthy tones were coming back into style.

On the way to class, Emily kept looking at my eyelids.

“What?” I asked.

“Just wondering if you'd do better with brown shadow or deep violet or maybe…” Suddenly she looked very upset. “Uh-oh.”

“What now?”

Emily looked horrified.”Oh, Zoe, I'm so sorry! I didn't notice it before, but… you've got a drippy string of pizza cheese stuck to your chin.”

“Do you think it was there while I was having lunch with Josh?” I asked, hoping like crazy that it wasn't.

Emily hesitated. “Probably not.”

Great! First Howie ruins my date, and then I find out that I've had pizza cheese hanging off my face for practically the entire lunch period. Not to mention the fact that that night Howie was coming on what could have been my
second
date with Josh Devlin.

I wiped the cheese away, feeling like a total dweeb.

bikes kicked up a small tornado of dust and gravel as we skidded to a halt at the fence that surrounded the factory grounds. The sun had already set, and a gloomy dusk was falling. It was cool and breezy, so I was glad I'd changed into jeans and put on a jacket before I left the house.

We peered through the chain link at the looming building. All the windows were dark.

We parked our bikes and made our way along the fence to the gate. It was chained and locked. Big surprise there. The infuriating thing was that if I had already passed my test, I could have jumped over the fence. Or I'd have been able to use my super-strength to bust the chain and lock with one hand—as long as no one saw me.

“How do we get in?” asked Howie.

“We could try picking the lock,” suggested Josh.

“With what?”

We looked around for something sharp to use as a makeshift key, but all we found was a couple of bottle caps, a grungy golf ball, and a Popsicle stick. Nothing sharp, nothing pointy.

I was beginning to squirm with nervousness about what we were trying to do. Squirming like a… lizard! A Coachella Valley fringe-toed lizard, to be exact!

“Josh, look!” I thrust my arm at him; the charms of my bracelet plinked and tinkled.

“Excellent!” he said. (He was practically reading my mind! How romantic was that?)

Naturally, Howie was lost. “I don't get it,” he said.

I showed him the little silver charm. “Do you know what this is?”

“Sure,” said Howie. “It's jewelry. Sterling silver, from the looks of it.”

“It's an endangered species charm bracelet, and this charm is a Coachella Valley fringe-toed lizard.”

“Pretty scrawny-looking,” he observed. “No wonder it's nearly extinct.”

I unfastened the clasp and handed the bracelet to Josh. “The point,” I said to Howie a bit impatiently, “is that we might be able to use the long, pointy toes to pick the lock on the gate.”

Josh was already slithering the silver lizard into the keyhole of the padlock. He bit his lip and looked very intense, and way, way cute.

He jiggled the charm carefully, then twisted….

The lock popped open.

“Josh! You did it!” I was actually pretty surprised that it had worked—I didn't think picking locks was something Josh had a lot of practice with.

“Thanks to you. You were the one who thought of the charm.”

“Yeah, but you were the one who figured out how to—”

“Guys…” Howie cleared his throat. “Can we do this mutual admiration thing later? It's getting dark.”

He was right. Josh handed me back my bracelet, and I clasped it back onto my wrist while he opened the gate just wide enough for us to slip inside.

We ran single file toward the building, stopping when we reached the hazmat container. Up close, it was a lot bigger than it had seemed from a distance. The vat was probably fifteen feet high; it had a metal ladder attached to one side.

“Guys,” I whispered. “I think we should check out this vat.”

Josh and Howie nodded, and we ducked behind the huge metal container. Actually, Josh and I ducked; Howie tripped and stumbled and clonked his funny bone against the side of the vat. He was about to let out a howl of pain when Josh clapped his hand over his mouth.

“Shhhh! We don't want anyone to hear us.”

But Howie's howling would have been the least of our problems. His collision with the metal tank had made a huge noise. The vat was still ringing with a loud, hollow echo.

At that moment, it was one of the most beautiful sounds I'd ever heard. It was the sound of
evidence.

“This thing is empty!” I whispered excitedly.

Howie rubbed his elbow and pouted. “So? What does that prove?”

“Howie's right!” Josh said, looking troubled. “Maybe the vat was recently emptied, following proper waste-management guidelines. Just because it's empty now doesn't mean it's always been empty.”

Good point. I considered it for a moment, picturing the stuff I'd seen pouring into the river, and the foaming water. I just had a hunch that this vat had never been used for its intended purpose. And then I had another thought. I was willing to bet a year's allowance that stuff as gross as that would leave something behind.

“If there had been toxic goop in there,” I began, “then even after it was emptied, I'm sure there would still be some …” I knit my brows, struggling to remember the word.
Residence? Resume?

“Residue!” I cried.

“Shhhh!” said Howie.

“Okay,” Josh reasoned. “So all we need to do is look inside this vat. If it's got gunky residue clinging to the inner walls, then we know the vat was recently used for holding dangerous stuff. If not, then we know the vat is just here for show.”

“Right,” I said, thinking of the green stuff Mom and I had seen pouring into the river. “And I bet it will be spotless in there! That's probably the thing that opens the lid,” I added, pointing to a big metal wheel near the ladder.

“You guys crank that,”Josh directed. “I'll climb the ladder and look inside. Howie, give me the camera.”

“No chance!”

“Howie…”

Howie clutched the camera to his chest as though it were a favorite teddy bear. “Uh-uh! You'll press the wrong button. Or drop it into the vat.”

“No, he won't,” I assured Howie.

“It's all right,” said Josh. “Howie can climb up and take pictures of the inside of the vat.” He glanced at me quickly, then looked away. Even in the dusky gloom I could see that his
cheeks were a little red. “Zoe, I'll stay down here with you.”

Howie approached the ladder. I happened to know that he'd never been crazy about high places, but if he was willing to overlook that detail, so was I. He tucked the camera in his shirt pocket and started his slow climb.

He took a deep breath and lifted his foot to the first rung; then he cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders…

Clearly, Howie was terrified. But to his credit, he didn't chicken out. He reached up to grip a higher rung. I actually heard him gulp.

Which, of course, left Josh and me to work the wheel. He took hold of it with one hand; I stood opposite him and grasped it, too.

“Ready?”

He nodded.

“Turn.”

We began to spin the wheel; it must not have been oiled, because it took a lot of effort to get it to budge. But when it gave, we could hear the squeak of the lid rising on its giant hinge.

Howie had reached the top of the ladder. Taking hold of the rim of the vat, he stuck his head under the lid.

“Do you see anything?”Josh called in a whisper.

Howie popped his head up. “Nope. Clean as a whistle.”

Josh and I exchanged broad smiles.

“That means Mitchell has never used this vat to contain the gunk left over from manufacturing detergent. Which means he must be getting rid of it somewhere else. Like dumping it straight into the Sweetbriar River!”

“We were right!” I gushed. “And the pictures will help us prove it.”

“Start taking photos!” Josh called up to Howie. “And use the flash. It's getting darker by the second.”