Attack of the Tagger (3 page)

I don’t think Mr. Green believed I could help him. He wouldn’t even talk about it. He just wanted to scour the school. He wanted to call the police. He wanted to do things
his
way.

His way?

Sheez.
Some sidekick.

So I ran one way around campus to get into line with the rest of my class while Mr. Green walked a different way.

You can’t be too careful when your secret identities are at stake!

Mr. Green didn’t say a word to any of us when he unlocked the classroom. He just propped open
the door and inspected backpacks and hands as we went inside.

Since I was the last in line, I kept an eagle eye on everyone in front of me. Especially Bubba Bixby and
his
sidekicks, Kevin and Max. They whispered and laughed a lot, but Mr. Green couldn’t find a thing on them. He looked hard, too.

That didn’t mean they
hadn’t
done the dumb-baby face, but it did mean they thought they wouldn’t get caught.

Villains are sly at covering their tracks.

When we were all seated, Mr. Green didn’t pick up his guitar and strum through “Good Day Sunshine" or any of his other good-morning songs. He just stood in front of the class with his arms crossed, frowning.

Finally he said, “You know why we had that little inspection this morning, right?”

Everyone nodded.

“Does anyone want to volunteer any information about what happened to my van?”

No one said a word.

Mr. Green sighed. “Well, if you change your mind, you can always leave an anonymous note on my desk.” Then he said, “Does anyone want to help me dig through trash cans for evidence?”

“Sure!” a lot of us said.

“Raise your hand if you’re willing to look around campus for a can of red spray paint.”

Everyone’s hand went up.

Even Bubba’s.

“Okay, then.” He looked at his watch. “Here are the rules: No noise. No going into other classrooms. And don’t even
think
about stepping a toe off campus.”

Everyone nodded.

“If you find the spray can, do
not
touch it! Get me, and I’ll pick it up with a rag. We don’t want to mess up fingerprints.” He yanked open his desk and pulled out a whistle. “When you hear this blow, you’ve got thirty seconds to get back to class. We all clear on the rules?”

Everyone agreed.

“Anyone
not
want to do this? Raise your hand now; this is strictly voluntary.”

All hands stayed down.

He told different tables what part of school he wanted them to scour, then said, “Let’s go.”

I slipped my digital camera out of its secret compartment in my backpack and put it in my sweatshirt pocket.

Just in case.

Then I filed out with the rest of the kids, only I didn’t start looking in the area I was supposed to look. Instead, I zoomed around behind our classroom, behind the computer lab, over to the boys’
bathroom where Bubba holds his meetings.

His bully-club meetings.

I checked over both shoulders, then ducked inside the bathroom and looked around.

Nobody home.

So I zoomed down to the last stall, closed the door, and stood on the toilet seat.

No shoes showing!

I clamped down tight on my camera.

Didn’t want it to fall in!

And I was barely in position when, sure enough, Bubba, Max, and Kevin came busting into the bathroom.

I couldn’t see them, but believe me—I’d recognize their voices anywhere. Max’s is kind of whiny, Kevin always sounds like he has a cold, and Bubba, well, if you’ve ever been face to face with Bubba-breath, it’s something you’ll never forget.

Max was busting up, “Hee hee hee!”

Kevin was going, “Ha ha ha,” through his nose.

Then Bubba said, “Is the Happy Hippie bent or what? Dude! His beak is totally tweaked!”

“He totally thinks it’s you, dude,” Max said. “Did you see the way he was checking you over for red paint?”

“I hope he accuses me, man. I’ll sue!”

Max said, “So
now
are you gonna tell us? Huh huh huh?”

“Shut up, stupid,” Bubba said. “You sound like a dumb-baby.”

“Like that dumb-baby on the Green Machine, duuuu-uh!” Kevin said.

“So do you, stupid!” Bubba told Kevin. “Which is why I’m not breathin’ a word to either of you.”

“Come on, dude,” Max whined. “It’s
us.
”

“Yeah, we’re not gonna squeal!” Kevin said.

My ear pushed out even harder. So it wasn’t Bubba after all? Then I heard Bubba say, “I’ll tell you this much—you know him.”

“Who, man, who?” Kevin asked.

Max said, “Do you think they’ll nail him?”

“I ain’t squealin’,” Bubba said. “But believe me—they’ll never nail him. The dude is, like, invincible.”

All of a sudden, sunlight came streaming into the bathroom and I heard Mr. Green’s voice say, “Gentlemen, this is not a potty party.”

“’Course not, Mr. Green!” Bubba said. “We’re just checking out all the trash cans in here. Someone could’ve stuck it way down under all these paper towels or something.”

I could hear Mr. Green shuffling around for a minute. Then he said, “Get out there, boys. And make yourselves useful or line up in front of the classroom.”

“Yes, sir!” they said.

When they were all gone and I was sure the coast was clear, I hopped off the toilet and snuck out of the bathroom.

So they thought the guy who tagged Mr. Green’s van was invincible, huh?

We’d see about that.

I’d find out who he was!

I’d teach him to mess with my sidekick!

This was a job for Shredderman!

At Cedar Valley Elementary, the kindergartners hang their backpacks on a big wooden rack outside their classroom. It’s in a little alcove, and when I was in kindergarten, I never worried about anyone stealing my stuff.

That was before Bubba Bixby came to town.

I also never worried about anyone putting criminal evidence in my backpack, but that’s exactly what happened to Trinity’s little sister. When the A.M. kindergartners were packing up to go home, she found the red spray can. It was stashed in her backpack.

Trinity sits across from me in Mr. Green’s class.
Trinity, Freddy, Randy, and I are all assigned to Table 4. Freddy and Randy are just regular guys. Not bullies, just medium mean. Trinity, though, is pretty nice. She’s not very good at math, but she can draw like crazy. Especially horses. She’s great at drawing horses.

By the time we got in from lunch, everyone had heard about the spray can turning up. The police had been there taking pictures, talking to Mr. Green and Dr. Voss, walking around with the spray can in a big plastic bag.

Trinity was pretty worked up about it, too, because the can was found in her sister’s backpack. “Who could have put it there?” she whispered across the table to me.

“
She
put it there, Pony-girl,” Randy said.

“Did not!”

“Sure she did. She drew a picture of herself on Mr. Green’s van!” He rolled his eyes up and pulled a dumb-baby face. “Du-uh.”

Trinity said, “Shut up, Randy. I wasn’t asking you.

He shrugged and gave Freddy an evil grin. Then he looked back at her and said, “Sorry. I just didn’t hear your
boyfriend
answering you.”

Boyfriend? My eyes got big. My cheeks turned red. Was he talking about
me
?

“Shut up, stupid,” Trinity told him. “He’s not my boyfriend.” She looked at me. “He’s just my friend.” She whipped around to face Freddy and Randy. “Which is more than I can say about you guys.”

Then the three of them pulled faces and stuck tongues out at each other and said, “Shut up,” “No, you shut up,” about twenty times back and forth.

I just sat there feeling embarrassed.

Now, all day I’d been trying to figure out how I could get back to Mr. Green’s van without someone seeing me. But before lunch Mr. Green was
in such a bad mood that I didn’t want to ask him anything. Then at recess and lunch there were too many people around. Including police!

It would have been easy to get back to his van if I didn’t have to do it without being seen. But being invisible was key. The power of
Shredderman was in people
not
knowing who he was. In people thinking Shredderman could be anyone.

After lunch Mr. Green wasn’t quite so mad. So when our class was on the way over to computer lab, I asked him, “Can I go do something? I’ll be right back.”

He started to ask me what I was going to do, but I could see him change his mind. Instead, he gave me a quick nod and said, “Hurry back.”

To get to the teachers’ parking lot, you’ve either got to go through the playground or past the office. If you go through the playground, you’re wide open. Anyone in the portable classrooms might spot you.

But if you go past the office, well, that’s where Dr. Voss is. And getting spotted by her would be worse than getting spotted by all the other teachers combined! But still. There was one principal and about twenty-five teachers. Going by the
office might be more dangerous, but the odds were definitely better.

So I broke off from my class on the way to the computer lab and ran behind the portables, behind the library, behind the multi-purpose room, all the way to the office.