greasy rags, and putrid frog guts.
It was not a happy two hours. Finally, after having wiped sloppy red sauce off yet another page for what seemed like the one zillionth time, Courtney had had enough.
“It’s not here,” she announced.
“It’s gotta be,” said Mark while wiping a smudge of grease from his chin. “Keep looking.”
Courtney hauled herself out of the Dumpster. She was done.
“Look,” she said. “If it’s in here and we can’t find it, then nobody else will either. It’ll just end up at the dump and nobody will ever see it again.”
“That’s just it!” cried Mark. “Bobby trusted me with his journals. I could never face him again if I lost even one page.”
He began digging again with even more energy. A tear grew in his eye. Not because the Dumpster smelled rank, which it did, but because he felt horrible for having let his best friend down. Courtney leaned into the Dumpster and put a hand on his shoulder. Mark stopped digging and looked at her.
“We’re not going to find it here,” she said softly, trying to calm Mark down. “The more I think about it the more I think it’s gotta still be in the garbage can in the boys’ bathroom.”
Mark felt a spark of hope.
“You think?”
“We were in there just before last period, right? I always see the janitors emptying the garbage cans early in the day. I think there’s a good chance Mr. Dorrico saw the page and stuck it in the can and it’s still sitting there, waiting to get emptied tomorrow.”
“I think you’re right,” he exclaimed, his spirits rising. “All I’ve got to do is get there first thing, before it gets emptied.”
Mark felt much better. There was still hope, and a plan. Both were cautiously optimistic that they’d find the stray page the next day. The only thing they had to worry about for now was getting home and dumping their clothes before their parents caught a whiff of them. They bothreallyneeded a shower. It would be tough to explain why they smelled like rotten tomatoes, grease, and formaldehyde.
The next morning Mark was waiting at the front door of school as the janitors arrived for the day. He usually got to school early because he liked to hang out in the library and get some work done before classes, so the janitors didn’t think it was odd that he was there. Mr. Dorrico was with the group. Mark knew that this was his chance to find out about the paper, but after what happened in the bathroom with Courtney the day before, he was totally embarrassed about approaching the man. Still, he didn’t have any choice.
“Excuse me, Mr. Dorrico?” called Mark.
Mr. Dorrico stopped and looked at him suspiciously. The kids at Stony Brook almost never spoke to the custodians. It wasn’t a law or anything, but the two groups didn’t have much in common. Until today, that is. Mr. Dorrico stared at Mark. Mark could tell that he was trying to remember where he had seen him recently. Unfortunately Mark was going to have to remind him.
“My name’s Mark Dimond,” he said tentatively. “R-Remember yesterday? I was in the third-floor bathroom with Courtney and we were reading and — “
“That’show I know you!” exclaimed Mr. Dorrico.
At first he seemed happy for having solved the mystery of who this kid was, but his joy quickly turned sour as he remembered the scene from the day before.
“You kids think you’re funny, don’t you,” he scolded.
Mark didn’t feel like being lectured, but he figured it would be better to let Mr. Dorrico blow off steam. He might have a better chance of getting the information he needed if Mr. Dorrico felt like he had done a good job of telling him off. So Mark didn’t interrupt him. He stood there and took it.
“I’ve been working at this school for the better part of fifty years,” Dorrico went on. “There’s nothing I haven’t seen and nothing I haven’t cleaned up.”
Mark thought that was a particularly disgusting thought, but he let the guy ramble.
“So if you think you’re being clever or original by trying to make me look foolish, then you’ve got another think coming!”
“You are absolutely right, sir,” said Mark in the most respectful tone he could manage. “We both felt really bad about what happened. A girl shouldneverbe in the boys’ lavatory. To make light of that rule is an insult to everything this school stands for. We felt so bad about it, we decided the best thing to do would be to apologize to you.”
He ended his speech with a big, sincere smile. He was afraid he was laying it on a little thick, but he was on a roll and couldn’t stop. Mr. Dorrico was thrown. He wasn’t expecting a total apology.
“Uh, well,” he fumfered. “You’re right. Where’s the girl? Shouldn’t she apologize too?”
“She will,” answered Mark quickly. “As soon as she gets to school.”
“Okay then,” said Mr. Dorrico with finality. “I’m glad we agree.”
He started to walk off, satisfied with the knowledge that he had been shown the respect he deserved. But Mark couldn’t let him go. He ran quickly in front of him.
“Uhh, there’s one thing though,” he said tentatively. “When we were in there, we were doing homework. I know, bad place to do homework. But I’m afraid I might have left one of my papers behind. You didn’t see it, did you?”
Mr. Dorrico kept walking.
“I saw something,” he answered thoughtfully. “It was a green piece of paper with writing on it. Didn’t look like a normal piece of paper though. It was more like a piece of plant or something.”
“Yes! That’s it!” shouted Mark jubilantly. “Did you throw it in the trash?”
“I got a policy. Things get misplaced. If I find something that looks like schoolwork I’ll leave it where I found it for a day in case the kid comes back to fetch it. If it’s still there after a day then…”
Mr. Dorrico continued talking, but nobody was listening. Mark was already gone. As soon as he heard that the paper was left out in the open in the bathroom, he beat feet for the third floor.
Mark flew up the stairs, sprinted down the hall, skidded around the corner, and blasted through the swinging door that led into the lavatory. When he got inside he did a quick look around to discover there was no journal page to be seen. He dropped to his knees and looked on the floor. He checked all the stalls. He looked on the window ledges and under the sinks. No page. He then grabbed the wastebasket and turned it over. It was empty. Mark felt sick. Could one of the other custodians have thrown it away and then emptied the wastebasket last night? That wouldn’t be fair. Courtney said they didn’t empty them until the morning. But then where was Bobby’s page?
Mark sat down on the floor of the lavatory, totally beaten. His last hope was gone. He dropped his head into his knees and closed his eyes. He knew he had to clear his head and think. What would he tell Bobby? He had let his best friend down. Bobby was able to flume all over Halla and stop wars but he couldn’t even be trusted to hold on to a sheet of paper.
“‘Hi, guys. I gotta apologize for taking so long to write. So much has happened since I left you two, I’m not really sure where to begin.’”
Mark heard those words being read aloud. They were the first words from Bobby’s Journal #5 — the first words on the missing page.
Mark raised his eyes from his arms. When he did, his heart sank even deeper than it had been a few moments before. Standing inside the door to the boys’ lavatory, holding the missing page, was Andy Mitchell. Mark stared up at the kid with greasy dark-blond hair and a bad case of acne… and wanted to retch.
If it was possible to have a true archenemy in junior high, then Andy Mitchell was Mark’s archenemy. Mitchell was the kind of guy who loved to pick on guys like Mark. The word “bully” always jumped into Mark’s mind, but he was a little old to be afraid of bullies. Still, Mitchell loved to harass Mark. He’d cheat off of him in class — when Mitchell decided to show up for class, that is. He’d make fun of Mark’s stutter for the amusement of his equally idiotic band of friends, and he never passed Mark in the hallway without giving him a quick punch in the arm. Mark always had to be looking over his shoulder for Mitchell because he never knew where the next bomb was coming from.
The only time Mark was completely safe was when he was with Bobby or Courtney. Mitchell never messed with those guys. Like all good bullies, he was also a coward. Of course, since Bobby left on his adventure, Mark found himself alone more often and at the mercy of the ever present Mitchell. Mark knew he was a classic creep
