But Mud was out the door and racing down the hall, her bookbag over one shoulder, dragging her down. She shouted behind her, “I’m about to puke! I’m going to the office!”
She barely heard Mrs. Skyfield calling the office on the intercom before the door closed behind her. She raced down the hallway at a dead run. Every footstep tilted her body forward, about to slam down face first and die of a crushed head.
She raced into the office, dropped low, and slid under the flat panel that separated the reception area from the administrative areas. The woman up front was shouting at her to stop but Mud opened the door to the principal’s office and ran full blast into a meeting between some angry parents and Ms. Jenson.
The man was standing, shaking his finger at the principle. Screaming. Red-faced. That was all Mud saw before she ran into him full tilt and knocked him off his feet, across the corner of the desk, and to the floor. Mud landed on top of him, her bookbag continuing its range of motion, and slammed into his head. Withmomentum. He moaned, just a little, rotating his head up to her where she sprawled.
Mud swiveled her eyes up to the principal and said, very softly, “Eeek.”
There followed all sorts of adult stuff, the ridiculous things adults said to a kid and to each other when a kid not their own did something stupid. Mud didn’t listen to much of it. Instead, even while she lay on top of the slightly stunned man’s very large belly, she pulled her cell phone from her bookbag and turned it on. And dialed the Queen’s head of security.
The wife of the downed man yanked Mud to her feet, shouting at her. The principal was speaking the usual principal stuff in the usual principal tone of voice that they probably taught in principal school 101. Mud ignored them all and shoved the cell into Ms. Jenson’s hand, while tapping the speaker button.
“Winter Residence of the Dark Queen of the Vampires,” a man said.Alex. Thank God.
Everyone in the room went dead silent, including all the people who had come from out in the hallways and gathered at the door.
Ms. Jenson stared at the phone, her mouth slightly open. “Wha . . . Who . . . Ahhh.” Not very articulate all of sudden.
Mud got to her feet and said loudly. “This is Mud, sister of Nell Nicholson Ingram Occam, and Longfellow just flew by the window of my classroom, and I’m in the principal’s office probably in trouble because I ran down here and barged in and knocked down a man who was yelling and now he’s lying on the floor.”
“I see,” Alex said. There was just the hint of amusement behind the two words. And that vanished. “Can we speak privately?”
“No there’s like a dozen people in here.”
“Is the principal in the office with you?”
“Yes. That’s who was trying to talk to you when you answered.”
“I see,” Alex said, sounding terribly patient and yet not patient at all. “What is her name?”
“Ms. Jenson.”
“I assume I’m on speaker phone. Ms. Jenson, may we and the young lady speak privately? This is the Dark Queen’s head of communications. The queen’s head of security is on the way to the school.”
Ms. Jenson’s sense had returned or maybe she had remembered how to speak English, because she grabbed and gripped the cell phone in tight fingers and said, “Just a moment please while I facilitate this.”
“What is your name again?” she asked Mud. “Mindy?”
“Mindy Nicholson.” That was her official name, like on her paperwork, but everyone who mattered called her Mud. There were hundreds of Mindys. Maybe thousands. There was only one Mud.
The administrator said, “Take the phone and go with Safety Officer Benson.Now.” There was steel in that word.
Inwardly, Mud flinched. She slung her bookbag over her shoulder and followed the uniformed officer out the door to the security office.
He closed the door and pointed to a chair. “Sit. He still on the phone?”
“I’m still here,” Alex said. “You are Officer Paul Benson? Badge number 1467?”
The officer, who was about to sit in his desk chair, halted halfway to sitting. His brain was processing, doing things behind his eyes, most of them clear as day to Mud.They know my full name. They know my badge number. This may really be a call involving the queen of the vampires. And my upline people needto handle this but they aren’t here.I am. And I’m screwed if I say the wrong thing. Followed by a different, sour expression that said,Politics . . .
Mud decided the officer looked nonplussed. A little befuddled. Maybe mystified. Mud liked words almost as much as she liked plants, and that was a lot. She was part plant herself, not that she could share that secret with anyone.
The police officer continued downward, though much more slowly, to a sitting position. He tapped a bit on his computer, probably pulling up her file. It wasn’t extensive. Mud didn’t get into trouble. Much. When he got comfortable, and the flummoxed moment (flummoxed was a great word!) had passed, he said to her cell phone, “Yes. And you are?”
“Alex Younger.”
“And this is Eli Younger, in the queen’s official winter residence,” another voice said. The background noise on his connection was really loud, a thumping thudding roar. “May I count on your discretion, officer?” Eli asked.
