D. MacHale - The Lost City of Faar

“He’s messing with us,” added Courtney. “He knows we pore over every word of his journals and he gave us a cliffhanger. That’s just… wrong. This isn’t a game. Why did he… What are you doing?”

Mark kept reading through the earlier pages, looking for something. Courtney was suddenly intrigued.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” she asked. “Did you figure out who caused the habitats to crash? Was it Saint Dane?”

Mark didn’t answer. The scowl of tension didn’t leave his face either.

“Mark!”Courtney shouted with frustration.

This rocked Mark back into the room. His look of worry was replaced by the look of a small boy who just got caught doing something wrong.

“I–I’m an idiot. A total idiot, th-that’s all I can say.”

He was on the verge of tears. He held up the pages of Bobby’s latest journal. “It’s missing. The first page is missing.”

Courtney jumped to her feet and grabbed the light green pages from him. She shuffled through them quickly, looking for the missing page.

“That’s impossible. We read it together, in the bathroom at school. It’s got to be here.”

She flipped through the pages once, twice, a third time and then looked to Mark and shouted, “It’s not here!”

“I know!” cried Mark.

“Don’t panic. When was the last time we saw it for sure?”

“In the boys’ room,” whined Mark. “We were reading when Mr. Dorrico burst in yelling and I jammed all the pages in my pack and — “

Courtney dove at Mark’s pack and frantically dug through it.

“Don’t you think I already looked there?” said Mark with frustration. “Like five times already?”

Courtney threw the pack down and clicked into a different gear. She knew that being all frantic and pointing fingers of blame wouldn’t help get the page back. They had to think clearly.

“We had it in the bathroom,” she began, thinking out loud. “That’s for definite. But we came right here. That means we lost it somewhere between the bathroom and here. It’s gotta be here!”

Courtney started tossing the cushions on the sofa, desperate to find the lost page. Mark didn’t help. His mind was already jumping ahead.

“There’s another possibility,” said Mark softly. “M-maybe it never left the bathroom.”

“What?”

“1–1 mean, everything happened fast with Mr. Dorrico and all. Maybe I didn’t grab all the pages.”

Courtney stared at Mark. For a moment Mark was afraid she would lunge at him and tear out his adenoids. But she didn’t. Instead she glanced at her watch.

“School’s closed,” she said, all business. “If Mr. Dorrico found that page, he probably tossed it in the trash. That means it’s either still in that trash can, or outside in the Dumpster.”

The two stared at each other for a solid thirty seconds. Neither wanted to admit what the next step might be. Mark broke first.

“We’re going through that Dumpster tonight, aren’t we?” he said, sounding sick.

“Do you want someone to find that page and start asking questions? Like the police?”

That was a no-brainer. There would be way too many questions to answer if Captain Hirsch of the Stony Brook Police saw that page. Mark and Courtney hadn’t been entirely honest with him about their knowledge of Bobby’s disappearance, so if someone else found that page, they would look really bad.

“I’ll meet you there after dinner,” said Mark. “Bring rubber gloves. This is gonna be gross.”

And itwasgross.

Mark and Courtney met as planned, right after dinner. Both used the excuse that they were going to the library on the Ave. Instead they spent a solid two hours digging through the Dumpsters of Stony Brook Junior High. Neither could have imagined that one school could create so much disgusting ick in one day. Going through piles of discarded paper wasn’t so bad. Paper was dry. Where it got tough was when they had to search through the stuff thatwasn’tdry. Their journey through garbageland couldn’t have happened at a worse time. On that very day, the cafeteria had served spaghetti Creole, the furnace had been cleaned and overhauled, and Miss Britton’s biology class had the pleasure of dissecting frogs. That meant that the Dumpsters were loaded with sticky tomato sauce, greasy rags, and putrid frog guts.

It was not a happy two hours. Finally, after having wiped sloppy red sauce off yet another page for what seemed like the one zillionth time, Courtney had had enough.

“It’s not here,” she announced.

“It’s gotta be,” said Mark while wiping a smudge of grease from his chin. “Keep looking.”

Courtney hauled herself out of the Dumpster. She was done.

“Look,” she said. “If it’s in here and we can’t find it, then nobody else will either. It’ll just end up at the dump and nobody will ever see it again.”

“That’s just it!” cried Mark. “Bobby trusted me with his journals. I could never face him again if I lost even one page.”

He began digging again with even more energy. A tear grew in his eye. Not because the Dumpster smelled rank, which it did, but because he felt horrible for having let his best friend down. Courtney leaned into the Dumpster and put a hand on his shoulder. Mark stopped digging and looked at her.

“We’re not going to find it here,” she said softly, trying to calm Mark down. “The more I think about it the more I think it’s gotta still be in the garbage can in the boys’ bathroom.”

Mark felt a spark of hope.

“You think?”

“We were in there just before last period, right? I always see the janitors emptying the garbage cans early in the day. I think there’s a good chance Mr. Dorrico saw the page and stuck it in the can and it’s still sitting there, waiting to get emptied tomorrow.”

“I think you’re right,” he exclaimed, his spirits rising. “All I’ve got to do is get there first thing, before it gets emptied.”

Mark felt much better. There was still hope, and a plan. Both were cautiously optimistic that they’d find the stray page the next day. The only thing they had to worry about for now was getting home and dumping their clothes before their parents caught a whiff of them. They bothreallyneeded a shower. It would be tough to explain why they smelled like rotten tomatoes, grease, and formaldehyde.

The next morning Mark was waiting at the front door of school as the janitors arrived for the day. He usually got to school early because he liked to hang out in the library and get some work done before classes, so the janitors didn’t think it was odd that he was there. Mr. Dorrico was with the group. Mark knew that this was his chance to find out about the paper, but after what happened in the bathroom with Courtney the day before, he was totally embarrassed about approaching the man. Still, he didn’t have any choice.

“Excuse me, Mr. Dorrico?” called Mark.

Mr. Dorrico stopped and looked at him suspiciously. The kids at Stony Brook almost never spoke to the custodians. It wasn’t a law or anything, but the two groups didn’t have much in common. Until today, that is. Mr. Dorrico stared at Mark. Mark could tell that he was trying to remember where he had seen him recently. Unfortunately Mark was going to have to remind him.

“My name’s Mark Dimond,” he said tentatively. “R-Remember yesterday? I was in the third-floor bathroom with Courtney and we were reading and — “

“That’show I know you!” exclaimed Mr. Dorrico.

At first he seemed happy for having solved the mystery of who this kid was, but his joy quickly turned sour as he remembered the scene from the day before.

“You kids think you’re funny, don’t you,” he scolded.

Mark didn’t feel like being lectured, but he figured it would be better to let Mr. Dorrico blow off steam. He might have a better chance of getting the information he needed if Mr. Dorrico felt like he had done a good job of telling him off. So Mark didn’t interrupt him. He stood there and took it.