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Not One Word by John M. Floyd Three ninth-graders in T-shirts and gym shorts turned to look as Father O’Neal hurried toward them down the empty hallway. Twenty feet away, through the open door of the teachers’ lounge, a man in a sweatsuit was talking into a cell phone and rummaging through the drawers of a desk. "You the boys who caught the snake?" O'Neal asked, puffing a bit.
Two of the youngsters pointed to the third. "There's your hero," one said. "Jungle Jimmy Todd."
O'Neal's eyes narrowed. "Ah yes," he said. "James and I are acquainted."
"Hello, Father," Jimmy murmured.
The priest––and head of the school––studied him a moment. "What happened, exactly?"
"We were helping Coach Steen bring some basketballs from the storeroom to the gym," Jimmy said, pointing to the half-dozen balls lined up against one wall, "when it crawled right up to us."
"Here in the hall?"
"Right over there," Jimmy said.
"What happened then?"
"It bit him," one of the other boys, Eddie Hendon, said.
Father O'Neal blinked. "Bit you?"
"Bit my sock," Jimmy said. He reached down to touch his ankle. "Then it wrapped itself around my leg."
"It was a python," Eddie said, looking pleased. "They're not poisonous."
"A python?!" O'Neal said.
"Or a boa constrictor. We're not sure which."
"A small one," Jimmy corrected. "A baby, probably."
"How small?"
"Four or five feet. I grabbed it behind the head, and Chuck and Eddie helped me uncoil it."
"What was it doing here, anyone know?"
All three boys shrugged. "Somebody's pet, maybe," Chuck Thomas said.
The priest looked around, frowning. Coach Steen was still on the phone in the teachers' lounge.
"Where's the snake now?" O'Neal asked.
"The broom closet," Jimmy said. "Just down the hall."
"How'd you get it in there?"
"Very quickly," Chuck said. Everybody grinned.
"Eddie opened the door and Chuck and I threw it in," Jimmy said.
Father O'Neal seemed to think that over, then asked, "What's Coach Steen doing in the lounge?"
"Looking for a key to the broom closet. To lock the door with."
O'Neal regarded the group a moment. "That was excellent work, boys. Excellent work." To Jimmy he added, "It appears you have redeemed yourself, James."
Jimmy looked uncomfortable. "You mean that thing last month?"
"You know what I mean."
"It was just butyric acid, Father. In a wastebasket. Nobody got hurt––"
"No, what everybody got," O'Neal said, "was a free day at home, because it stunk up the whole school."
"In my opinion," Chuck said helpfully, "the evacuation was very well organized."
The priest gave him a stern look, but didn't press the issue. "And I still haven't found out who switched the nameplates on the doors of the boys' and girls' restrooms last week."
"A terrible thing," Eddie agreed.
"Parents are still calling me about that," O'Neal said. "What a mess. Half the boys were in the girls' and half the girls in the boys'––"
"Sounded like an outside job to me," Chuck said, deadpan. "St. Richards, probably."
For a moment Father O'Neal actually looked amused. "Regardless," he said, serious again, "you boys did a good thing today. If you hadn't been here, or if this had happened between classes . . ." He shook his head. "Anyhow, I think this calls for an afternoon off. I'll speak to your teachers."
The boys all beamed. At that instant Coach Steen arrived, switching off the cell phone. "Couldn't find a key for the broom closet," he said.
"Doesn't matter. That closet's hardly ever used, nobody'll go inside." O'Neal glanced at the phone. "I hope you were calling the fire department, or the zoo, or whoever can come take this thing off our hands."
"The carnival," Steen answered. The fairgrounds were on the far side of a wooded area that bordered the school property. "I heard on the news this morning some animals had got loose. Sure enough, they said it sounded like one of theirs. They're sending somebody over."
The priest nodded, then frowned. "Where were you during all this, by the way?"
Steen's face reddened. "I was, ah, on top of the lockers over there." He cleared his throat. "I hate snakes."
"I'd probably have been up there with you," O'Neal said. "Better get outside, Coach, and watch for the cavalry." As Steen hurried off, O'Neal turned to the others. "I meant what I said, men. Outstanding work. Don't bother coming in after lunch."
"Aye aye, sir," Chuck said. Jimmy and Eddie grinned at each other.
"But not one word about this to Sister Agnes," O'Neal stared solemnly into Jimmy's eyes. "Especially you," he said, pointing a finger. "Not one word."
Jimmy nodded. All of them had a healthy fear of the priest's Second in Command. Sister Agnes was a bitter, ruthless woman who disliked the schoolchildren only slightly less than she disliked Father O'Neal. This fact––though not very nun-like––was common knowledge. The only good thing about her was that she usually stayed in the bat cave, which was the way most of the students referred to her office.
But this was, alas, no usual day. Ten seconds after Father O'Neal disappeared around the corner of the hallway, Sister Agnes appeared at the other end, striding along like an executioner on the way to the gallows.
When she saw the boys she stopped, her face darkening. She planted both hands on her hips and thrust her chin forward.
"What are you hoodlums doing in the hall?"
All three stared at her, petrified. An enraged python was nothing compared to this woman.
"You heard me," she said. "Why aren't you in class?"
"We're on an errand with Coach Steen," Eddie croaked. He pointed to the row of basketballs, as if they explained everything.
"Coach Steen is in the gym," she said, giving him a laser stare. "You're supposed to be, too."
"He's outside," Eddie said. All three boys cast a hopeful look at the sunlit doors at the east exit, but there was no sign of Coach Steen's wide body.
"I thought you said you were helping him."
Jimmy started to answer, then hesitated.
Not one word, Father O'Neal had said . . .
"All of you stay right there," she snapped. She turned, marched through the still-open door of the teachers' lounge, and stood there a moment. Then she stormed out again.
"What were you doing in the teachers' lounge?" she asked.
"We weren't in the teachers' lounge," Chuck said.
"There's a basketball in there," she said.
"We didn't put it there."
"Then who did?"
"Coach Steen."
"Why would he do that?"
Eddie looked ill. No one answered.
"Why don't you just tell me," she said, glaring at them, "where it is."
Chuck blinked. "Where what is?"
"You know what. My cell phone."
"Your cell phone?!"
She nodded toward the teachers' lounge. "I left it there on that desk, twenty minutes ago. Now it's gone. And the door's open, everyone else is in class, you're in gym clothes, and there's a basketball where my phone was. Add it up."
Eddie Hendon swallowed. "We didn't steal your phone, Sister Ag––"
"You stole it," she said, through clenched teeth. "And I want to know what you did with it."
All of them stood and looked at her, wide-eyed.
Then she focused on Jimmy. "I know you, James Todd," she said, her eyes as black and still as a lizard's. "You're the leader of this band of misfits. So tell me, where is it?"
Silence.
"WHERE," she roared, "IS IT?"
Jimmy took a deep breath.
"The broom closet," he said.
It was suddenly very quiet in the hall. She gave them another withering stare, then turned on her heel and stomped away toward the closet.
All three boys headed for the outside door. On the way there, Jimmy looked at Chuck and Eddie, who were gaping at him.
"That was three words," Jimmy explained.
Besides, her socks were at least as thick as his . . .
THE END John M. Floyd © 2007 |
