“Glad you could join us,” Mr. Bates said with a scowl.
All the other students were already seated at their desks, ready for class. Barrie and his friends made a beeline for their three empty desks at the back. He could tell Mr. Bates was itching to mark them tardy. But they’d beat the bell and made it just in time.
“Uh, sorry,” Barrie mumbled, taking his usual seat between Michael and John. He slumped lower in his seat, hoping to avoid further trouble. That had been close.
Too close.
As Mr. Bates launched into their first lesson—fractions—Barrie couldn’t stop replaying what had happened in the science lab: the taps turning on by themselves; how the water smelled and sounded exactly like the ocean; the thumping noises coming from the closet; the long curly black hair clogging the drain; the sword stabbing at him fr
om the sink.
He couldn’t shake one terrifying thought, even though he knew it was impossible—Captain Hook is haunting me. It shot through his head, making his heart pound even harder.
But ghosts weren’t real.
There has to be a logical explanation for all of this. I just need to search for more clues, he reassured himself.
The cases in his books all started the same way, with a haunted house or boat or island where it seemed like there was a real ghost terrorizing the inhabitants. But the kid sleuths always found a perfectly run-of-the-mill explanation that proved there wasn’t actually a ghost or anything supernatural.
“Students, time to turn in your math homework,” Mr. Bates said, pacing the aisles to collect it. Groans echoed out, accompanied by the rustling of paper as everyone pulled out their worksheets.
Math homework…oops.
Perhaps throwing away his assignment had been…premature.
Mr. Bates reached Barrie’s desk and held out his hand. His shadow fell over Barrie.
“Uh…I don’t have it,” Barrie said, searching for an excuse, even a wild one, to explain. But his mind went completely blank. I threw it away simply wouldn’t cut it.
Mr. Bates frowned. “Come see me at my desk, young man. We need to discuss this.”
Michael and John shot him concerned looks. They’d both turned in their assignments.
That was it—Barrie was in big trouble. Now he’d never get to go to the concert tomorrow night. Mr. Bates was sure to call his parents and tell them. This was the second school day in a row that he didn’t turn in his homework. He would get grounded for sure.
Uh-oh, John mouthed, dragging his finger across his neck. Michael just lowered his head. They both knew what this meant.
Feeling sick to his stomach, Barrie rose from his seat and followed Mr. Bates toward his desk. The class got started on the math problems that Mr. Bates had scrawled across the whiteboard. Fractions. They were awful. Though apparently algebra was worse.
“Look, I’m really sorry,” Barrie said before Mr. Bates could say anything. He lowered his head in shame. “I don’t have an excuse for why I didn’t do it. Just go ahead and punish me. Call my parents. Send me to the principal’s office. Do whatever you have to do.”
Mr. Bates blinked at him. His eyes looked odd suddenly. Unfocused. “Punish you?” he said as if confused.
“Yeah, for not turning in my homework,” Barrie said.
“Why would I punish you?” Mr. Bates said.
“Last week, I had to miss recess, remember?” Barrie said. “That’s what happens when you don’t turn in your homework. You get punished.”
Mr. Bates glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Right, other normal kids get punished. But you’re special. You don’t need to do your homework.”
“Wait, what?” Barrie whispered back.
“You’re excused from all future assignments,” the teacher said, still not quite looking Barrie in the eye. It was as if he was under a spell. “No more homework for you for the rest of the year.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” Barrie said.
“Heck, instead of doing those boring math problems,” Mr. Bates went on, “why don’t you draw or play a fun game? How does that sound, kiddo?”