Peeking around the corner of the hallway, we quietly observe the science classroom from a safe distance. Lunch break has just ended, and the corridors are deserted. "We have to try," whispers Shadow with quiet determination.
"If that door doesn't open like it did two days ago," hisses Gnat, "we'll get in the old-fashioned way." The paperclip in his hand makes it clear he plans to pick the lock like a thief in an old movie.
"Are you a master thief now, Houdini?" I joke.
"More than you know, Candle-stick. You get pretty resourceful when your stepmother's only goal in life is to rob you of everything you love." His cynical response catches me completely off guard.
"But why?" I stammer, taken aback.
"Basic psychology, Burnears. Some people just can't stand other people's happiness." For the second time in two days, I realize how my own chronic self-pity has blinded me to my friends' struggles.
Without warning, Gnat approaches the door, paperclip raised like a weapon. We follow at a distance, holding our breath. He reaches for the handle, presses it down, and then freezes.
“Something’s wrong,” Shadow whispers. But then Gnat’s expression shifts to that potent mix of malice and mischief that is his smile as the door eases open if only a few centimeters. All kinds of alarm bells start ringing in my head. This is way too easy. This is über suspicious. Still, the three of us move slowly forward.
There we stand, staring motionlessly at the narrow crack of the door. The realization that we can actually go inside completely paralyzes us. A minute passes, then another. The longer we wait, the greater the risk of being seen. Then, Slug takes a slow, deliberate step forward, followed by a second and a third, pushing the door further open. The irony isn’t lost on me that he, of all people, turns out to be the most decisive among us. We follow him inside, like sheep following their shepherd."
Now that we’ve managed to enter the classroom, all we need to do is grab the list and deliver it to the vice-principal. At least, that’s what we thought. But even before the door closes behind us, it becomes abundantly clear that our “adventure” is over before it has really started. The room is completely empty. There's no trace of the strange objects we saw stacked in the middle of the room yesterday—nothing at all. I rush to the desk, but even halfway there, I can see it’s empty. No list, no antique ornate paperclip. Even the thick layer of dust that covered everything is gone. Someone has meticulously cleaned the entire room, like a murderer a crime scene.
The disappointment is so unexpected and big that Gnat can hardly control himself. Using a selection of classic and original swearwords, his eyes frantically search for hidden microphones and cameras. Shadow and I have learned to ignore him when he’s in a conspiratorial mood like this, but we can’t deny he is probably right this time. If the vice-principal and Williams couldn’t get in, who could have?
“There must be something,” I say, with forced optimism and fighting my own disappointment. “Let’s not give up yet. Let’s search the room. If we start in different corners, we can work our way toward the middle.”
Millimeter by millimeter, we examine the floor and walls, but despite our thoroughness, we finish in less than twenty minutes. The four cabinets against the back wall are our last hope, but they too are completely empty. Our second visit to the physics classroom turns out to be a complete failure within half an hour.
“The four losers on an expedition,” hisses Gnat, angrily kicking one of the radiators. “I’m out of here.”
“It must be somewhere. It has to be,” Shadow objects. Surprisingly, she seems to be struggling the most with this setback, and because of her determination, we search the room again, this time even scraping the cracks between the floorboards.
Gnat is somehow convinced there must be some kind of button or lever hidden in the cabinets that would open a secret door to an underground cellar or dungeon—something from a book he once read. But again, nothing.
Finally, even Shadow has to concede. “I can’t believe it,” she says. “Two days ago, this classroom was full of... stuff... things, fantastic things!”
“I knew there was something fishy,” Gnat hisses. “Even two days ago. Too many weird, inexplicable things. For instance, who repaired the hallway when we got out? It should have looked like a demolition site, but it looked totally normal when we left. This school glosses over all irregularities...”
“Yeah, we know, very suspicious, very malicious. But then again, you already see a global conspiracy when we run out of toilet paper.” But my attempt to downplay the situation can’t hide the fact that I’m pretty shaken myself. We all are. The fact that Gnat doesn’t shoot back at me says it all.