The Unexplainable Disappearance of Mars Patel Page 9

  “Look out!” Mars yelled. “It’s coming right at us!”

  Caddie lunged to the right and JP lunged to the left, which left Mars to duck straight down. Meanwhile, Toothpick remained standing, watching the whole thing curiously.

  There was a loud crash a few feet in front of him.

  “What the heck?” JP said, jumping up.

  Toothpick bent down over the metal object that had veered into a nearby boulder. Now that it was on the ground, they could all see it was small enough to fit inside the palm of a hand. Toothpick poked it with a pencil. “Well, now it’s a broken drone.”

  “Attention, all students!” came an announcement over the PA. “Please report to your homerooms immediately. GIFT testing will be starting shortly.”

  Mars was leaning over next to Toothpick. “Is that a Pruitt logo on the side?” he asked cautiously.

  Toothpick nodded. “Let’s say Oliver Pruitt knows where you are. Or at least he wants to.” He picked up the broken drone and put it in his backpack. “I’m going to take a closer look at it. Knowing Oliver, this won’t be the last drone following you.”

  “More drones?” Mars asked.

  “Oliver wouldn’t just send one and let it crash,” Toothpick said. “Maybe this was a warning drone.”

  “Great,” Mars said. “Just what I needed.”

  “Come on, guys,” Caddie said. “We’d better go in. Let’s not be late to the GIFT.”

  Inside the school, JP took out a ham sandwich and chewed it quickly on the way to homeroom. JP could still feel their heart pounding, remembering the drone. It was one thing to say you would do something; it was another thing to well . . . do something. Was Oliver Pruitt actually after them with his saber-toothed drone?

  Homeroom didn’t help JP’s nerves.

  “Out of my way, They-Them,” Clyde Boofsky said, smirking.

  “Or can we just call her It?” wondered his evil minion pal, Scott Bane.

  “Even my dog knows she’s a she,” Clyde said. “I guess she’s smarter than you, JP.”

  JP gave them both a one-two shove. Then all was cool. But man, JP was getting tired of this stuff. JP sat down, eating the last of their ham sandwich gloomily. Why couldn’t life be more like a sandwich?

  JP loved making their own lunches, and the way they got to choose how to make a sandwich, with layers of meat and cheese and lettuce dabbed in ranch dressing. Sometimes JP made a killer chili with red beans that they brought in their thermos, and it was spiced up so it gave a nice burn down your throat. Their food was like a perfect universe of flavors and textures and happiness.

  Toothpick liked JP’s sandwiches, too. In fourth grade, JP had noticed how the others would pick on Toothpick all the time. He never did anything to stop them, even when they stole his backpack or tied his shoes together under the desk. So JP started following him around. At first, Toothpick didn’t like it. “But you’re not street smart,” JP told him. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “I know the direction of home,” he said. “And I have a good sense of due north.”

  JP smacked their forehead. “That’s just it. You don’t know the real rules of the game, like what people say and do right before they’re about to pound into you.”

  He thought for a moment. “You mean the bullying?”

  “You need someone to show you the ropes,” JP said.

  “That would be you?”

  JP grinned. “I don’t even charge. All I ask is that you and I eat lunch together every day. I keep the creeps away from you, and you . . .” They paused. “You try my sandwiches and tell me how they are. And you talk to me. You’re more interesting than these turkeys here.”

  Soon JP began bringing Toothpick lunches, too. They were tasty, full of carbs and proteins and unusual flavors (his favorite was the chili). In return, Toothpick talked about quantum physics and JP would say, “That’s cool,” even without understanding what he was saying all the time. That’s how their friendship grew. Like, Toothpick could tell when JP was in a bad mood because of something that happened in homeroom, and then he’d talk about soccer. He’d share league stats he’d looked up on his phone, which he probably didn’t have a clue about, but it always made JP feel better. Not because they were talking soccer, but because Toothpick cared. He cared deeply about many things; he just wasn’t good at showing it.

  That’s probably what made Epica so annoying. Lately, whenever Epica was around, Pick lit up like a firefly. Suddenly Pick was showing feelings, but for someone who wasn’t JP. And JP hated that.

  Boofsky and Bane were watching from the back row, making disgusting kissy faces. JP gave them the death glare with a finger across the neck in a slicing motion. That got the two of them to shut up, but for how long? Soon they’d be onto some other poor kid in class. It never ended.

  Maybe JP did need to take this GIFT after all. Get the heck out of this school. But where would the GIFT land someone except at Pruitt Prep? Was Oliver Pruitt a crazed genius or a crazed criminal? Or just plain crazy?

  Mars, Caddie, and Toothpick had homeroom together. As soon as Toothpick sat down, he looked at the clock to see how many minutes he had before the GIFT started. Not much time to look up drone operating systems . . .

  “Hi, Randall!” Toothpick didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

  Epica was sitting one desk down, with two pencils sharpened and ready to go in front of her.

  “Hi, Epica,” Toothpick said right away. “Ready for the GIFT?”

  “I’m always ready for school.” She was wearing a crisp blue blazer with the school’s emblem on the front pocket. No one knew where she got these blazers since there wasn’t actually a school uniform. “That’s the advantage of being you and me. We’re always ready.”

  “Um, yeah,” Toothpick said.

  “I mean, did you even study?” Epica asked. “You’re already so smart.”

  “Sorta,” Toothpick said. The GIFT was one of those exams with little information circulating on the Internet. No one knew what would be on it because the exam changed every year. Toothpick hadn’t been sure how to study for it, but he figured that a review of the periodic table, Homer’s The Odyssey, and Latin conjugates would be enough. As a precaution, he’d also memorized the back of three cereal boxes this morning in case there were any questions on popular culture or breakfast.

  “After the GIFT is done, maybe you and I can —” Epica was interrupted by the sound of Mr. Q entering the room. He was carrying his usual neon-green clipboard.

  “You and I can . . . ?” Toothpick prompted Epica. But she had fallen silent as Mr. Q spoke. So Toothpick tried to think of how that sentence might end. You and I can go to the beach to plot the coordinates of the next gale storm to reach Port Elizabeth. Or more simple: you and I can go to the beach. That would be awesome. The Port Elizabeth beach was rocky and full of crab shells and sand dollars. Was Epica the kind of girl to collect sand dollars and bleach them until they were pearly white? Toothpick had three of them on his desk at home. They were the most beautiful things he owned.

  “All right, put your phones away,” Mr. Q said, “and all other handheld devices. You will not be able to take them with you to the library, where the test is administered.”

  Toothpick considered the broken drone in his backpack. Did that count as a device? Maybe not, since he wasn’t technically holding it in his hand, and also because it was currently dead.

  “Did you see Mr. Q?” Mars whispered from behind Toothpick. “He’s looking at us funny.”

  “You still think we can’t trust Mr. Q?” Caddie whispered back.

  Just then Mars’s phone pinged.

  “Mars,” Caddie whispered insistently. “You have to put your phone away. Mr. Q said.”

  “Hey, guys,” Mars said, surprised, “I just a got a voice message from LIL.”

  “LIL?” Toothpick asked. “You mean Lost in London?”

  “Mr. Mars,” Mr. Q called from the front. “I can see your phone. I’m g
iving you until I finish taking attendance to put that phone away. That goes for all of you. Two minutes to power down.”

  “Listen to this,” Mars whispered. He played the voice mail quietly.

  “Mars, this is Julia, aka Lost in London. I watched your video and it was awesome! You’re great, Mars, and I can tell you that what you said is going to make a huge difference. But now you’re needed elsewhere. Don’t take the GIFT test. Go to the Luckstone Warehouse. Now. You’ll find what you’re looking for.”

  “‘What you’re looking for’?” Caddie repeated. “Why is she asking you to go to Luckstone? That place has been abandoned for years. She’s insane.”

  “Look,” Mars’s breath exploded. “What if Julia’s right? What if she knows what I’m looking for? I have to go. And I have to go now.”

  “Mars Patel! Caddie Patchett!” Mr. Q barked from the front. “Cell phones off. Everyone, please get packed up. We are lining up in exactly one minute to go the library.”

  “Mars, stop,” Caddie pleaded. “You think you’re going to find Aurora and Jonas there. But what if you don’t? How do you know you can trust this Julia? Besides, Mr. Q will see you leaving.”

  Mars turned to Toothpick. “What do you think?”

  “Missing the GIFT could ruin your life,” Toothpick said.

  “Thanks, Pick,” Mars said.

  “Unless,” he mused, “there’s a natural disaster, an act of God, or some other disruption to cause a delay.” Toothpick tried to think of anything else that could preempt the GIFT. Getting an emergency root canal?

  Mars sighed. “Well, maybe that’s what we need — a disaster. Something has to change, or who knows — one of us is going to disappear next.”

  “Excuse me,” Caddie said suddenly. And she was gone.

  “Wait, I didn’t mean literally,” Mars said. “Where did she go?”

  “Bathroom?” Toothpick guessed.

  “Really? Like, right before the GIFT? But she didn’t even help me —” Mars stopped.

  “Decide what to do next?” Toothpick asked. “You rely on Caddie a lot, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t!” Mars said. “I mean . . . OK, maybe I do.”

  Just then the PA came on. “Attention, attention, students. A pack of wild wolves has entered the front door of the school. They are in the halls and extremely deadly. Seek cover immediately!”

  Chaos erupted in the room. Everyone was immediately up from their chairs, talking and yelling at the same time.

  Mars was dumbstruck. “It’s Caddie. That’s Caddie, isn’t it?”

  “Also, please note,” she added over the PA, “the GIFT has been delayed by ONE HOUR.”

  Toothpick looked at Mars over the din. “I believe that’s your cue,” he said.

  Mars grinned. As students hysterically debated the size and number of wild wolves inside the school, and whether they were all going to die, he disappeared. In the front, Mr. Q said something under his breath that might or might not have been inappropriate for students to hear.

  “This is a disaster,” Epica said, glaring.

  “At least it isn’t a flood,” Toothpick said. “Floods and droughts kill more people than other natural disasters.” He hoped that would make Epica feel better. She looked genuinely upset. She must really want to take the GIFT. Maybe if she knew this delay was for the greater good, it would help, but Toothpick had to keep quiet for the sake of his friends. So instead he gave her a stick of his favorite gum, Hubba Bubba, and she smiled at last.

  At the front, Mr. Q still looked like he didn’t know what to do. He was eyeing the mayhem going on around him and seemed to accept the fact that within a few minutes, the school had become crazy town. Meanwhile, Toothpick reached into his backpack.

  “Whatcha got there?” Epica asked, blowing a bubble.

  Toothpick leaned his backpack over so she could see better.

  Her eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “And I have an idea what to do with it,” he said.

  “Ma, it’s me, Mars. Sorry my voice is muffled. It’s hard to talk when you’re biking in the rain. Anyway, you’re going to get a phone call from school. You’re not going to be happy. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m doing this for my friends. . . . Most people try to knock you down even before you get anywhere. Not my friends. They always hold me up. If you came to my school, you’d see that. You’d get why I’m on my bike in the rain.

  “Oh yeah, one other thing. There’s a drone following me. It’s the second one I’ve seen today, and it might be trying to kill me. So if I don’t call again, maybe you should find out about the drone. Mars, out.”

  Mars didn’t realize how creepy an abandoned warehouse could be. First, no electricity. As he entered, he was greeted with pitch-darkness. Second, there was a dripping noise as he felt a giant splat of water fall on his cheek. And then something scurried across his feet.

  “Ack!” he shouted. Was it a mouse? A rat? His scream echoed through the cavernous room, sending a flock of winged creatures (bats?) into the rafters. Great. He wasn’t alone after all. He had the whole animal kingdom with him.

  At least he had lost the drone. He had been surprised to see another hovering over him as he left the school on his bike. But then he remembered what Pick had said — there would be more drones. Pick had been right. As usual.

  This one had followed him relentlessly down the old highway, dipping dangerously close so that he could hear it whirring right behind his ears. It was so terrifying that he’d swerved right in front of a truck, and for a moment, Mars had seen his life flash before his eyes. Then he’d made it to the other side of the road. The truck honked loudly as Mars slipped away in the other direction and finally ditched the drone.

  Oliver’s trying to kill me, Mars thought. One way or another.

  “Jonas?” Mars called out now into the dark warehouse. “Aurora?”

  There was a loud crackle on the ground.

  “Who’s there?” Mars said quickly. “Oliver Pruitt?” His feet kicked something metallic. He stooped and picked it up. “You better stop. I have this crowbar in my hand.” He wasn’t sure what a crowbar was, but he figured it sounded dangerous. “And I’m not afraid to use it!”

  “Mars?” said a familiar voice.

  “Caddie?” Mars was dumbstruck.

  “Surprise,” she said.

  “What are you doing here? You followed me?”

  She gave a small smile. “Yeah. You’re OK, right?”

  “Yeah, but . . . Caddie, what about the GIFT? You were worried about being late. Now you won’t even . . .”

  “Let my mom worry about the GIFT now. Oof,” she stumbled forward as he met her halfway and stepped on her foot. “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, Caddie!” he said. He reached to steady both of them in the dark. “I guess we’ll be great at the dance, huh? Since I’m good at stepping on your feet.”

  Caddie smiled some more. “Yeah. And I’ll probably step on yours.”

  “We are still going to the dance tonight, aren’t we?” Things had been strange ever since they’d gone to Gale Island. But did Caddie feel the same way?

  “I can’t believe it’s tonight already,” Caddie said. “So much is going on. But, yes. I’d love that. I mean, as long as we’re not expelled.”

  Behind them came a creaking sound, and suddenly a door opened as outside light filtered in.

  “JP! Toothpick! Wait, you’re all here?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Caddie said. “They came, too.”

  “Of course. What did you expect?” JP said. “Who wants to take that stupid GIFT anyway?”

  “Actually, I can think of one person,” Toothpick said.

  “I’m not talking about Epica Hernandez,” JP said. “And boy, this place is a mess! Ick, look — puddles everywhere. Is that LIL person around? I don’t see anybody here but us.”

  “JP thinks LIL’s message was a hoax,” Toothpick said. “But I disagree. Whoever it is did their homework.
They warned you about the assembly. And look what happened with Oliver Pruitt.” He looked around curiously. “Do you hear that?”

  “You mean the drips?” JP asked.

  “Shush,” Mars said. Everyone stopped talking. “I don’t believe it,” he said.

  A buzzing sound came in the distance, and got louder and louder.

  “Oh no — JP opened the door and let the drone in!” Mars exclaimed.

  “What, didn’t it die at H. G.?” JP cried, crouching low.

  “It’s another one,” Mars said, his hands raised protectively over his head.

  “Then run for your life!” JP wailed.

  “No, wait.” Toothpick pointed to the dark gray unit that circled overhead. “This one is carrying something.” Around and around it traveled, coming closer until, with one careful move, it deposited a brown paper package squarely on the ground. Then it flew out the same way it had come.

  “I don’t believe it,” Mars said again.

  “You keep repeating yourself,” Toothpick said, “when it’s obvious that we’re all seeing the same thing.”

  “Maybe the package is booby-trapped,” JP said. “Nobody open it.”

  Caddie furrowed her brow. “I think it’s safe. I’m not getting any bad vibes.”

  “I’ll open it.” Toothpick moved forward quickly. “This is a mystery that can be solved.”

  “Yeah, but will you live to tell about it?” JP muttered.

  The package was covered in ordinary brown paper, with colored string wrapped several times around. The shape was long and narrow, and there were no markings on it. Toothpick used his house key to cut through the knots. Then he ripped the package open.

  “It’s papers,” he announced. He pulled them out. “Hundreds of papers.”

  Everyone crowded around him.

  “They’re flyers,” Caddie said, “of missing children! Look at that.”

  “This one is Lily from Perth, Australia,” Caddie said. “Have you seen Lily?”

  “This is Herman from Guatemala,” Mars said.

  “This is written in Chinese,” JP said.