The Smoky Corridor

8

“What’s your name, young man?” the bald man snapped at Zack.

“Zack. Zack Jennings.”

“Jennings?”

“Yes, sir. I’m a new student.”

“Did I ask you anything about your enrollment status?”

“No, sir.”

“I didn’t think so.”

The man had to be a teacher. He had pens and note cards stuffed in the pocket of his short-sleeved shirt. He wore old-fashioned aviator glasses, a striped tie, and a very mean look.

“You’re a Jennings, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

The bald teacher, who wore his belt above his belly button, put his hands on his hips to give Zack an even sterner look.

“Any relation to George Jennings?”

“Yes, sir. He’s my father.”

“Humph. Figures. What, pray tell, are you doing back here in the dark?”

“I, um, got lost. Trying to find a bathroom.”

“Is that so? And what do you call that room located directly behind you?”

“It’s a bathroom.”

“Really? I thought you said you couldn’t find it?”

“Well, I did … eventually.…”

“So you were lying when you said you couldn’t find the bathroom, since you obviously did!”

“Well, yeah—now I did.”

“Was that lip?”

“Excuse me?”

“Were you giving me lip? Back talk? Sauce?”

“No, sir, I’m just saying …”

“Oh, I see. You’re a smooth talker. Just like your father. Well, listen to me, buddy boy, and listen good: I will not tolerate any of your shenanigans. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.…”

“Hello, Mr. Crumpler.”

It was the pretty teacher from the auditorium. She flicked on a light switch and suddenly the cramped corridor wasn’t so dark anymore.

“Excuse me, young lady, who gave you permission to activate that light switch?”

The blonde laughed gently. “Well, nobody, I suppose. But I figured it didn’t make much sense for the three of us to be standing here in the dark.”

“Is that so? And who are you?”

The teacher held out her hand the way a princess would in a fairy tale.

“I am Daphne DuBois, Mr. Crumpler. Your new sixth-grade history teacher? We met last week during teacher orientation.”

“Humph. I suppose we did.” Mr. Crumpler pushed his glasses up on his nose a little.

“I do apologize that I haven’t had the chance to stop by your office for a more personal introduction. I only arrived in North Chester last week, and, I confess, I’ve been so busy setting up my classroom and working on my lesson plans that I haven’t had the chance to fraternize with my fellow faculty members.”

“I am not a faculty member,” said Mr. Crumpler, very deliberately. “I am your assistant principal!”

“Yes, sir, of course. And that is why I am doubly pleased to see you again.”

Zack noticed that Ms. DuBois had a compassionate way of speaking, even when talking to a cranky old crab like Mr. Crumpler, who’d probably been grouchy longer than he’d been bald.

“What are you doing in this sector of the school?” Mr. Crumpler demanded.

“That,” said Ms. DuBois, gesturing toward the door across the hall from the bathrooms, “is my classroom. Hopefully, several of my students and their parents will be dropping by this evening.” She held up a giant cupcake carrier. “I hope three dozen will suffice.” She turned to Zack. “Are you in the sixth grade this year?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Will you be taking history?”

“I sure hope so. I mean, I think so.”

“Good. It was a pleasure conversing with you again, Mr. Crumpler.”

“Humph.”

“Would you care for a cupcake before you go?”

“No, I would not.” He pointed two fingers at his eyes, then swiveled them around to point at Zack. “I’m watching you, Mr. Jennings.” He repeated the gesture. “I am watching you!”

Mr. Crumpler stomped away.

“Mr. Jennings?” said Ms. DuBois from the doorway. She had flicked on the lights in her classroom.

“Yes, ma’am?” Zack followed her into the room. The walls were covered with the most amazingly awesome posters and pictures. Scenes from Civil War battles. Famous faces from ancient civilizations. Drawings of the pyramids and Babylon. It was like stepping into one of his favorite video games, Age of Empires.

“Are you any relation to that handsome young lawyer who was just onstage with the firefighter?”

“He’s my dad.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?”

“Yeah. He’s probably wondering where I am. I better go back to the auditorium.”

“Would you like your cupcake now?”

Zack nodded.

“Help yourself.”

Zack went to her desk and grabbed one with a whole mountain of brown frosting swirled on top. He chomped off half its head with one bite.

“Any good?” the teacher asked.

“Delicious!”

“Well, go find your father. He deserves a cupcake, too!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Zack felt so warm and happy inside he almost forgot about Mr. Crumpler and the two Donnelly brothers.

Almost.

As he headed toward the door, Zack saw an old newspaper clipping pinned to a bulletin board. The headline was huge.

TWO DONNELLY BROTHERS

AND HERO TEACHER

DIE IN SMOKY CORRIDOR AT SCHOOL

The corridor just outside Ms. DuBois’s door.