D. MacHale - The Lost City of Faar

“I’ve been working at this school for the better part of fifty years,” Dorrico went on. “There’s nothing I haven’t seen and nothing I haven’t cleaned up.”

Mark thought that was a particularly disgusting thought, but he let the guy ramble.

“So if you think you’re being clever or original by trying to make me look foolish, then you’ve got another think coming!”

“You are absolutely right, sir,” said Mark in the most respectful tone he could manage. “We both felt really bad about what happened. A girl shouldneverbe in the boys’ lavatory. To make light of that rule is an insult to everything this school stands for. We felt so bad about it, we decided the best thing to do would be to apologize to you.”

He ended his speech with a big, sincere smile. He was afraid he was laying it on a little thick, but he was on a roll and couldn’t stop. Mr. Dorrico was thrown. He wasn’t expecting a total apology.

“Uh, well,” he fumfered. “You’re right. Where’s the girl? Shouldn’t she apologize too?”

“She will,” answered Mark quickly. “As soon as she gets to school.”

“Okay then,” said Mr. Dorrico with finality. “I’m glad we agree.”

He started to walk off, satisfied with the knowledge that he had been shown the respect he deserved. But Mark couldn’t let him go. He ran quickly in front of him.

“Uhh, there’s one thing though,” he said tentatively. “When we were in there, we were doing homework. I know, bad place to do homework. But I’m afraid I might have left one of my papers behind. You didn’t see it, did you?”

Mr. Dorrico kept walking.

“I saw something,” he answered thoughtfully. “It was a green piece of paper with writing on it. Didn’t look like a normal piece of paper though. It was more like a piece of plant or something.”

“Yes! That’s it!” shouted Mark jubilantly. “Did you throw it in the trash?”

“I got a policy. Things get misplaced. If I find something that looks like schoolwork I’ll leave it where I found it for a day in case the kid comes back to fetch it. If it’s still there after a day then…”

Mr. Dorrico continued talking, but nobody was listening. Mark was already gone. As soon as he heard that the paper was left out in the open in the bathroom, he beat feet for the third floor.

Mark flew up the stairs, sprinted down the hall, skidded around the corner, and blasted through the swinging door that led into the lavatory. When he got inside he did a quick look around to discover there was no journal page to be seen. He dropped to his knees and looked on the floor. He checked all the stalls. He looked on the window ledges and under the sinks. No page. He then grabbed the wastebasket and turned it over. It was empty. Mark felt sick. Could one of the other custodians have thrown it away and then emptied the wastebasket last night? That wouldn’t be fair. Courtney said they didn’t empty them until the morning. But then where was Bobby’s page?

Mark sat down on the floor of the lavatory, totally beaten. His last hope was gone. He dropped his head into his knees and closed his eyes. He knew he had to clear his head and think. What would he tell Bobby? He had let his best friend down. Bobby was able to flume all over Halla and stop wars but he couldn’t even be trusted to hold on to a sheet of paper.

“‘Hi, guys. I gotta apologize for taking so long to write. So much has happened since I left you two, I’m not really sure where to begin.’”

Mark heard those words being read aloud. They were the first words from Bobby’s Journal #5 — the first words on the missing page.

Mark raised his eyes from his arms. When he did, his heart sank even deeper than it had been a few moments before. Standing inside the door to the boys’ lavatory, holding the missing page, was Andy Mitchell. Mark stared up at the kid with greasy dark-blond hair and a bad case of acne… and wanted to retch.

If it was possible to have a true archenemy in junior high, then Andy Mitchell was Mark’s archenemy. Mitchell was the kind of guy who loved to pick on guys like Mark. The word “bully” always jumped into Mark’s mind, but he was a little old to be afraid of bullies. Still, Mitchell loved to harass Mark. He’d cheat off of him in class — when Mitchell decided to show up for class, that is. He’d make fun of Mark’s stutter for the amusement of his equally idiotic band of friends, and he never passed Mark in the hallway without giving him a quick punch in the arm. Mark always had to be looking over his shoulder for Mitchell because he never knew where the next bomb was coming from.

The only time Mark was completely safe was when he was with Bobby or Courtney. Mitchell never messed with those guys. Like all good bullies, he was also a coward. Of course, since Bobby left on his adventure, Mark found himself alone more often and at the mercy of the ever present Mitchell. Mark knew he was a classic creep whose power came from the fact that he wasn’t afraid to intimidate and belittle. But he was also the kind of guy who would find that power ebbing as his peers grew up and stopped taking him seriously. Unfortunately that time wouldn’t come for a while yet. For now, Mitchell was in charge.

Mitchell stood inside the lavatory door with Bobby’s journal page in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other.

“There’s two possibilities here, Dimond,” said Mitchell as he gave a quick, juicy snort. Mitchell always seemed to have a cold. It added to his hideous mystique. “Either this is some lame story you’re writing, or you know exactly what happened to Pendragon and you’re not telling anybody.”

Mark slowly stood up. His mind was in overdrive. What would he tell this guy to get him to give up the page and leave him alone? There weren’t a whole lot of options open.

“Y-You g-got me, Mitchell,” Mark said tentatively. “It’s a s-story. For English. Where did you get it?”

“I found it in here after school yesterday,” answered Mitchell. “What’s the deal? You miss your buddy Pendragon so bad you gotta make up stupid stories about him?”

“1–1 know. It’s really s-stupid,” said Mark.

This was going pretty well. Mitchell was making up all the answers. Mark didn’t have to do anything. Now all he had to do was get Mitchell to give him the page.

“Thanks for finding it.”

He held his hand out for the page. This was the moment of truth. Was Mitchell going to give it back?

“What’ll you give me for it?” Mitchell asked.

“What do you want?”

Mitchell gave this some thought. This was tough for him. He usually didn’t think much.

“Forget it,” he answered. “Just take it. It’s no fun messing with you anymore. It’s too easy.”

Mark had to try to stop from smiling. This was amazing. He was going to get the page back, no harm, no foul. He didn’t want Mitchell to think he was too happy about it, so he just shrugged and held his hand out. However…

It was at that exact instant that his ring started to twitch. Mark felt the telltale movement, but it was such a surprise that he could only stand there, frozen. Then the gray stone started to turn clear and glow. Bobby’s next journal was about to show up, and it couldn’t be happening at a worse time.

Mark clamped his other hand over the ring to hide it. He made eye contact with Mitchell, hoping against hope that he hadn’t seen the ring move. But one look into Mitchell’s wide eyes told him the truth. Mitchell had seen it, all right. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Finally…

“Gotta go!” Mark put his head down and headed for the door. But he had to go past Mitchell, and there was no way Mitchell was going to let him get past. He caught Mark and shoved him back into the bathroom.