The Smoky Corridor

49

“Hi, Mom! You remember Ms. DuBois?”

“Sure.”

Zack didn’t have time for much more than a quick pass off of Zipper through an open car window.

“I am so sorry about this,” Judy said to Ms. DuBois.

“I’m sure Zipper just missed Zack,” said Ms. DuBois. “No harm, no foul, as they say.”

“From now on, he doesn’t go outside without bodyguards.”

“Well, we best hurry back inside,” said Ms. DuBois. “If we’re not in the cafeteria for our lunch period, Mr. Crumpler might become suspicious.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Zack said.

Judy blew him a quick kiss. Zipper had his paws pressed against the edge of the window, a huge smile on his snout.

“You’re riding shotgun, pal.” Judy picked Zip up and placed him on the passenger seat. “In fact, you might want to lie low until we clear the school zone.”

Zipper seemed to understand. He hopped down to the floorboard, where he hunkered on the rubber mat, head tucked between paws in sneak-attack mode.

“See you after school, Zack!” Judy said as she pulled away.

“See you, Mom!”

“Love you!”

“Love you, too!”

The second bell rang.

“Come on, Zack,” said Ms. DuBois. “Back inside. So, where did you boys hide?”

Zack was just about to tell Ms. DuBois about the swiveling supply shelf in the janitor’s closet and the root cellar and the cool carved stone when he saw Mr. Willoughby walk through a door. Not a doorway, a door.

He was shaking his head and mouthing a single word over and over: “No!”

“Um, here and there. No place special.”

“Well,” said Ms. DuBois, “it worked!”

Yeah.

But apparently, Zack couldn’t tell any grown-ups about the root cellar, either!