Case of the School Ghost (6 page)

As we start down the stairs there is one more loud crash of thunder. This time all the lights in the school go out. We are in total darkness.

“It’s okay,” Jillian says. “We’ve got flashlights.” She flips hers on. The boys do the same.

All three kids smell very, very nervous.

But we keep going. Down, down, down the stairs.

“You might not be able to get into the furnace room,” I warn them when we reach the bottom. “It’s probably locked.” I remember Maya took the key from the office when she hid the lizards in there.

“Here it is,” Michael says, shining his flashlight on a door. “This is the furnace room.”

Jillian puts her hand on the doorknob and turns. Surprisingly enough, the door opens. We all step inside.

“Ew,” Jillian says. “It’s kind of creepy in here.”

It’s also hot. Hot and loud. Who knew furnaces made so much noise?

I smell dirt, dust, mold, spiders, mice, and paint. I can even smell Blue Tongue and the other lizards if I sniff real hard.

Connor and Jillian shine their flashlights all around the room.

“Now what?” Jillian asks.

“I don’t know,” Connor says.

“Agatha?” Michael calls. “Oh, Agatha! We’re here. What do you want us to do next?”

“Did anybody bring the paper and the jar?” Jillian asks, pointing her flashlight at Connor and Michael.

They both squint in the bright light, then shake their heads.

Jillian sighs. “Why not?” she asks Connor. “How are we supposed to talk to her without the paper and the jar?”

We better go back and get it,” Michael says. “Otherwise we’ll never find out what we have to do next.”

“I don’t think we need it,” Connor says. He takes a deep breath. “Guys, I have to tell you something.”

“What?” Jillian and Michael both look at him curiously.

“I, uh, actually got two letters with my flashlight.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out another piece of paper.

“You did?” Jillian says.

“What does the second one say?” Michael asks, grabbing the paper away from Connor.

“It said I was supposed to move the jar and talk for Agatha,” Connor says.

“So you did move the jar,” Jillian says.

I knew it!

Connor nods. “I was supposed to get you all to come down here.”

“Then what?” Jillian asks. She takes the note from Michael and shines her flashlight on it.

“That’s it,” Connor says. “Just get you guys to come down here. But I wasn’t supposed to tell you about this second letter. I really don’t know why we’re down here or what we’re supposed to do next.”

Connor is telling the truth.

“Maybe we should look around,” Jillian says, handing the letter back to Connor. “Maybe there’s a clue in here somewhere.” She shines her flashlight around the room again.

“I can look for clues, too,” I say.

Sniff … sniff … sniff … I stop in front of a wooden chair. There’s a paper on the seat of the chair. It has the same chocolate and bubblegum scent on it as the letters and flashlights that Connor, Michael, and Jillian received.

I grab the paper in my mouth and bring it over to Connor.

“What have you got there, boy?” Connor asks, taking the paper from me.

Michael and Jillian crowd in. Connor shines his flashlight on the paper. His forehead wrinkles. “What in the world—?” he says.

“It’s a code,” Jillian says.

“How do we crack it?” Michael asks.

“I don’t know,” Connor says.

“Let me see,” I say, nosing my way in. “Maybe I can crack it.”

Okay, maybe not. These are definitely not sight words:

EHMC SGD RDBQDS CNNQ.

SVHRS SGD RBQDVR.

BKHLA SGQNTFG.

ZMC XNT VHKK KDZQM ZKK LX RDBQDSR! —ZFZSGZ

I don’t know why Connor, Michael, and Jillian can read other words just fine, but they can’t read these words.

“Is it backwards writing?” Jillian asks. “What happens if you try and read the words backwards?”

“Nothing,” Connor says. “C-M-H-E isn’t a word.”

“Are the words scrambled?” Michael asks. “Do we have to unscramble each word?”

“I don’t think so,” Connor says. “I don’t think these are the right letters. Most of the words don’t even have any vowels in them.”

There has to be a better way to figure out why we’re down here than to stare at words that aren’t really words. I put my nose to the ground and snifg. I sniff the chair … the furnace … a pile of boxes. So far I don’t smell any clues.

“Maybe there’s another paper hidden in here somewhere that tells us how to solve that code?” Michael suggests.

“No, I bet we have to figure it out on our own,” Connor says.

“How?” Michael asks.

“I don’t know,” Connor says.

Hey, what’s this? I sniff a big metal grate in the wall. I smell that same chocolate and bubblegum scent that I smelled on all the papers and the flashlights.

“Guys, come over here!” I say, wagging my tail.

“What if we replace each letter in the message with the letter that comes before it in the alphabet?” Jillian asks.

“So
E
becomes
D
,” Connor says. “
H
becomes
G
.
M
becomes
L
. And
C
becomes
B
.”

“D-G-L-B still isn’t a word,” Michael says.

“Guys! Over here!” I say again. Louder this time.

“Buddy, shh!” Connor says. “We’re trying to think.”

Connor turns back to the paper. “What if we go the other way? What if we replace each letter with the letter that comes after it in the alphabet?” he says.

“
E
becomes
F
,” Jillian says. “
H
becomes
I
.
M
becomes
N
.
C
becomes
D
.”

“FIND!” Connor, Michael and Jillian all say at the same time.

“That’s a word,” Michael cries. “Let’s keep going.”

I drop my belly to the floor. It’s going to take them forever to solve that code. I know that whatever we’re looking for, it’s on the other side of this grate.

Jillian goes word by word.

“Find … the … secret … door,” she says.

“It’s right here,” I say, sitting back up.

“Twist … the … screws,” Connor says.

I look up at the grate. There are screws in each of the corners.

“Climb … through,” Michael says. He turns to the others. “How do we go forward a letter with
Z
? There are no letters after
Z
.”

“Maybe
Z
becomes
A
?” Jillian says.

Like I said: FOREVER! It’s taking FOREVER for them to figure out each word.

They say the rest together: “And … you … will … learn … all … my … secrets.—Agatha!”

“So, where’s the secret door?” Michael asks.

“It’s here,” I say, scratching at the grate. “HERE!”

“Hey, what’s that over by Buddy?” Connor asks.

They all hurry over to see.

“Looks like a secret door,” Jillian says with a grin.

“And it’s got screws that twist,” Michael says, his fingers on one of the top screws.

Connor twists the other top screw. Jillian twists the two bottom screws. Then, together, they lift the grate out.

I jump into the hole in the wall. Whoa! It’s some sort of hidden tunnel. It smells damp and musty in here. The floor, walls, and ceiling are all made of concrete. Where does this tunnel go? I wonder.

“Wait, Buddy!” Connor says, climbing in after me. He shines his flashlight around the walls. The tunnel is tall enough for Connor to stand in. And wide enough for all three kids to stand in side by side.

I don’t see any secrets,” Michael says. “I don’t see anything.”

“Maybe we have to follow the tunnel and see where it goes,” Connor says.

I think Connor is right. Sniff … sniff … “I’ve got the trail right here,” I say, picking up the chocolate and bubblegum scent.

“Follow me!” I dash down the tunnel. The others follow slowly behind me, their flashlights lighting the way.

“Ooooooooooooooo!” a ghostly voice up ahead stops us all in our tracks.

“What was that?” Connor asks.

“I … thinnnk … we have … viiiiisitors,” the ghostly voice continues.

“Oh, goooooood,” says another ghostly voice. “I loooooove visitors.”

“I-i-is that Agatha?” Jillian whispers.

“I don’t know,” Michael whispers back.

Sniff … sniff … “No,” I say. “I smell humans, not ghosts.” Sniff … sniff … I also smell popcorn. And cookies. And candy. I LOVE popcorn, cookies, and candy. They’re my favorite foods!

The tunnel curves and I am moving faster now. “Come on,” I call over my shoulder to Connor, Michael, and Jillian.

We are getting closer to the popcorn, the cookies, and the candy. We are also getting closer to the chocolate and bubblegum scent.

All of a sudden, our flashlights light up a group of kids who are sitting on the floor of the tunnel in front of a closet door.

“Hey, you brought Buddy,” one of the kids on the floor says. I go over and let him pet me. Then I sniff at the closed door behind his. I smell dirt … fertilizer … gasoline … tools. Where are we? I wonder. What’s on the other side of that door?

“Who are you guys?” Michael asks.

“They’re fifth graders,” Jillian says. “This is Tim O’Brien.” She points her flashlight at a boy who smells like chocolate, rain, mud, and baseball. The boy squints.

“Tim lives on my street,” Jillian goes on. “And that’s Alex Shafer.” She shines her flashlight on a girl with long, wet hair who smells like chocolate, rain, and mud. “I don’t know the other two.”

I know one of the others. I know the boy who smells like chocolate, rain, mud, rabbit, and basketball. His name is the same as the girl’s: Alex. He’s Maya’s brother. Hmm. I think I know now where Maya got the idea to hide those lizards in the furnace room. Her brother probably told her about it.

“I’m Alex Lensing,” the boy Alex says.

“And I’m Meera Amin,” says a girl who smells like chocolate, rain, mud, and bubblegum. Ah-ha! She’s the one whose scent I smelled on the grate, and in the tunnel, and on all those papers and flashlights.

“You’re probably wondering why we’ve called you here tonight,” Tim says, turning on his flashlight.

“You called us here?” Michael says. He sounds a little disappointed.

“What? Were you thinking Agatha called you here?” Meera says, chomping on her gum. The other fifth graders smirk.

“We are the members of the Agatha Society,” Tim says. “We’re the ones who invited you here tonight.”

“Members of the what?” Connor says.

“The Agatha Society,” Tim repeats. “It’s a secret club that’s been at this school for more than forty years. The only people who know about it are the people who are in it now, the people who have been in it before, and now you guys.”

I’m not sure what I think about secret clubs. There used to be another secret club at this school. It was called the Sharks. I remember a boy pulled the fire alarm to get into that club. I hope this isn’t that kind of club.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone about this club before we go any further,” Meera says. “Do you promise?”

Connor, Michael, and Jillian all look at each other. “I guess. Sure. Okay.”

“That doesn’t sound very serious,” the boy Alex says. “If you’re going to join the Agatha Society, you have to take it seriously.”

“How do we know we even want to join?” Connor asks. “You haven’t told us what the club is or what you do.”

Tim, Alex, Alex, and Meera look at each other. “Mostly we sit around and eat candy,” the girl Alex says.

“Uh-uh.” Meera nudges Alex. “We do other stuff.”

“Like what?” Jillian asks.

“We keep the story of Agatha alive,” Tim says.

“Was Agatha a real person?” Connor asks.

“Yes,” Meera says. “She went to school here a long, long time ago. Her story is written down in here.” Meera holds up an old book.

Jillian reaches for the book, but Meera yanks it away. Only full members of the Agatha Society can see the club book.”

“What do we have to do to become full members?” Michael asks.