Professor Gargoyle (4 page)

Robert felt a chill. The smell of moldy mothballs was strongest right here. His heart pounding, he took a deep breath, grabbed the straps of his backpack, and plunged into the shadows.

All he’d done was step through the narrow doorway from one section of the library into another. But Robert felt like he’d somehow switched speeds—as if he’d stepped from a moving escalator onto steady ground. He nearly stumbled over his own feet.

In front of him was a long, rickety staircase. As he climbed it, the wooden boards creaked and groaned beneath his feet; the handrails were covered with a fine layer of dust. At the top of the stairs was a patchwork curtain made from dozens of fabric scraps. Robert stepped around it and found himself in what appeared to be a large, dusty attic.

Quilts and blankets were tied to the rafters to keep out the drafts, but they weren’t helping much; the room was extremely cold. Here and there were a dozen mismatched bookshelves, seemingly placed at random. The books themselves had leather bindings and yellowed pages. Everything was covered in dark wood and steeped in long shadows.

Even stranger, the room had no windows, no fire exits, and none of the digital gadgetry found throughout Lovecraft Middle School. The attic was straight out of the nineteenth century.

Robert approached a round wooden table in the center of the room. On its surface was an open book, facedown. Robert shuddered. The book’s spine appeared to be an actual spine—the bright white vertebrae of what might be a snake or lizard.

There was no title on the cover. Inside were words Robert had never seen before. One chapter was called
Gnopf-Keh
. Another was called
Gyaa-Yothn
. The pages were filled with outlandish black-and-white illustrations of strange beasts, flaming skulls, and volcanic landscapes.

“Freaky,” he whispered, unzipping his backpack and placing the book inside it.

“If you’re looking for normal,” a voice said, “you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Robert whirled around and there was Karina Ortiz, dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans.

“What is this place?”

“It’s an attic,” she shrugged. “Pretty cool hangout, don’t you think?”

Robert studied the floor plan he’d received from Ms. Lavinia. There were sections of the library labeled N
ONFICTION
and M
EDIA
R
OOM
but he didn’t see anything indicating an attic.

“The map’s useless, Robert.”

“That’s why I called to you for help. I’m lost.”

She smiled, flashing her braces. “You
were
lost. Now you’re with me. I know exactly where we are.” She patted the space on the floor beside her. “Why don’t you hang out for a little bit?”

“I’m in the middle of English class,” he reminded her. “I’m supposed to be looking for books.”

“Is that kid Glenn still bothering you?”

Robert felt another flush of shame. “You know, I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day. But I really don’t like to talk about Glenn.”

“You need to stand up to him. I know you’re scared of him. But the best way to deal with your fears is to face them head-on.”

This sounded like terrible advice to Robert. He knew that if he faced Glenn head-on, he’d end up with his head shoved into a toilet.

“Tell me something,” he said. “What are
you
afraid of?”

“Spiders.”

“No, I mean your
worst
fear. What’s the thing you dread more than anything else?”

“Seriously, it’s spiders,” Karina said. “I hate everything about them. The hairy legs, the twitchy bodies, the silk squirting out of their butts. They’re disgusting.”

Robert looked around the room. “Then maybe you should find a different place to hang out. This attic looks like it’s full of them.”

Karina shook her head. “Nobody bothers me here. It’s pretty hard to find. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I’ve got all kinds of cool stuff.”

The attic was full of things that a person might not expect to find in a school library: a dressmaker’s dummy, a half-strung cello, a battered aluminum rowboat. But the strangest of these was a large wooden door at the far end of the room. It was barricaded with three thick wooden planks. They were arranged haphazardly, as if they’d been nailed in a hurry.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Emergency exit.”

It didn’t look like any emergency exit that Robert had seen before. “Why is it nailed shut?”

“You’re only supposed to open it in an emergency.”

Robert wasn’t sure he believed her, but he didn’t have time to ask a lot of questions.

“I better go,” he said. “Can you draw me a map or something?”

Karina smiled. “You won’t have any trouble getting back, Robert. I promise. Just walk down the stairs and you’ll find your way.”

Robert didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to stick around and argue. Something about the attic felt weird; it seemed like a forbidden place, and he worried they’d get in trouble if a teacher caught them messing around in it.

He zipped his backpack closed and slung it over his shoulders. It was much heavier now with the old book inside.

“And Robert?” Karina called.

He stopped. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know a lot of people here. So if you ever want to hang out, just come back to this room, all right?”

Robert stepped around the curtain. He descended the rickety wooden staircase and squeezed through the narrow doorway. Once again he felt the same tingling sensation—and, this time, the floor seemed to speed up beneath him, yanking him forward.

Somehow Karina was right: It took only a minute of wandering through the shelves before Robert turned a corner and ran right into his English teacher.

“There you are!” Mr. Loomis exclaimed. “I’ve spent half the class looking for you.”

“I’m sorry. I was lost.”

His teacher grinned. “I know the feeling. A library this good, I could get lost for days.”

Robert liked Mr. Loomis. He wore pastel-colored sweater vests, loved books, and never needed to raise his voice. And he didn’t insist on being called “Professor” like a certain crazy science teacher.

“Did you find anything good?” Mr. Loomis asked.

Robert patted his backpack. “Right here.”

“You’ll need to check them out before you leave,” Mr. Loomis said. “There are lending kiosks near the entrance. Key in your student ID and the touch screen will guide you the rest of the way. Hurry now, Robert, before the bell rings.”

Robert walked over to the lending kiosks, which looked like the self-checkout machines in supermarkets. He unzipped his backpack, reached inside for the books, and felt a sudden shooting pain in his hand.

Something was biting him.

He dropped the backpack and the pain stopped. He looked down at his palm. There were two red marks on his thumb. Not deep enough to be punctures. But almost definitely teeth marks.

Teeth marks?

He glanced around the library. None of the kids were watching him. And Mr. Loomis was over by the media center, chatting with Ms. Lavinia.

Robert zipped his backpack closed, left the library,
and walked down the hallway to the nearest boys’ bathroom. He set his backpack on one of the sinks and had barely unzipped it an inch when a furry brown head peeked out.

A furry brown rat head.

Its eyes were black. Its whiskers twitched. It bobbed its head from side to side. Unlike the rats from the first day of school, this one seemed friendly. Maybe even playful.

Robert opened the zipper a little more and a second head emerged. This one had the same brown fur, the same black eyes.

Twins, Robert thought.

Like the red-haired girls in his science class.

Somehow the rats must have climbed into his backpack while he was talking with Karina. Robert unzipped it all the way, planning to shake them loose and set them free. But as they stepped out, Robert realized he was mistaken—these were not twins.

This was a single rat with two heads.

“Whoa,” Robert whispered. “What
are
you guys?”

Both heads looked up and squealed. They shared the same torso, the same feet, and the same tail. One of them brushed its neck against Robert’s wrist. It wanted to be petted!

“All right,” he said, stroking the backs of their necks with his finger. “You like that? Does that feel good?”

Clearly it did. The two heads closed their eyes and purred like baby kittens.

“How about water? Are you thirsty?”

He turned on one of the faucets and made a cup with his hand. The rats stepped lightly onto the sink and lapped the water from his palm. The two tiny tongues felt like tabs of sandpaper against Robert’s skin.

“There you go,” Robert whispered. “Take your time and drink up. That’s a good boy—er, boys.”

Just then, the bathroom door banged open.

The rats leapt from the sink into the backpack and Robert quickly zipped it closed.

Glenn Torkells stood in the doorway, grinning at Robert.

“Dweeb tax, Nerdbert,” he said, holding out his palm. “You know you’re not supposed to use the bathroom on Fridays.”