'But is it fast enough so we can fly away
'We gotta make a decision
“We leave tonight or live and die this way.” The song finished to loud applause and cheers from all the kids at assembly. Ms. Kaminsky took a queer little bow at her piano.
“Heavy duty,” Michael Goldberg muttered. Michael was standing right next to Maggie. He was her best friend in Washington, where she'd moved less than a year ago, coming from L.A. with her parents. Michael was being ironic, of course. As always. That was his East Coast way of dealing with people who weren't as smart as he was-which meant just about everybody in the free world.
Michael Goldberg was a genuine brainiac, Maggie knew. He was a reader of everything and anything; a gonzo collector; a doer; always funny if he liked you. He'd been a “blue baby,” though, and he still wasn't big or very strong. That had gotten him the nickname “Shrimpie,” which kind of brought Michael down off his brainiac pedestal.
Maggie and Michael rode to school together most mornings. That morning they'd come in a real Secret Service town car. Michael's father was the secretary of the treasury. As in the secretary of the treasury. Nobody was really just “normal” at Washington Day. Everybody was trying to blend in, one way or another. As the students filed out of morning assembly, each of them was asked who was picking them up after school. Security was tremendously important at Washington Day.
“Mr. Devine-,” Maggie started to tell the teacher/monitor posted at the door from the auditorium. His name was Mr. Guestier and he taught languages, which included French, Russian, and Chinese, at the school. He was nicknamed “Le Pric.”
“And Jolly Chollie Chakely,” Michael Goldberg finished for her. 'Secret Service Detail Nineteen. Lincoln town car. License number SC-59. North exit, Pelham Hall. They're assigned to me because the Colombian cartel has made death threats against my father. Aurevoir, mon professeur.
It was noted in the school log for December 2 1. M. Goldberg and M.R. Dunne-Secret Service pickup. North exit, Pelham, at three.
“C'mon, Dweebo Dido.” Michael Goldberg poked Maggie Rose sharply in her rib cage. 'I got a fast car. Uh huh, uh huh. And I got a plan to get us out of here.
No wonder she liked him, Maggie thought. Who else would call her a dweebo? Who else but Shrimpie Gold berg?
As they walked out of the assembly hall, the two friends were being watched. Neither of them noticed anything wrong, anything out of the ordinary. They weren't supposed to. That was the whole idea. It was the master plan.
Along Came A Spider
CHAPTER 4
At NINE O'CLOCK that morning, Ms. Vivian Kim decided to re-create Watergate in her Washington ADay School classroom. She would never forget it.
Vivian Kim was smart, pretty, and a stimulating American history teacher. Her class was one of the students' favorites. Twice a week Ms. Kim acted out a history skit. Sometimes she let the children prepare one. They got to be really good at it, and she could honestly say her class was never boring.
On this particular morning, Vivian Kim had chosen Watergate. In her third-grade class were Maggie Rose Dunne and Michael Goldberg. The classroom was being watched.
Vivian Kim alternately played General Haig, H. R. Haldeman, Henry Kissinger, G. Gordon Liddy, President Nixon, John and Martha Mitchell, and John and Maureen Dean. She was a good mimic and did an excellent job on Liddy, Nixon, General Haig, and especially the Mitchells and Mo Dean.
“During his annual State of the Union message, President Nixon spoke to the entire nation on television,” Ms. Kim told the children. “Many people feel that he lied to us. When a high government official lies, he commits a horrible crime. We've put our trust in that person, based on his solemn word, his integrity.”
“Hiss.” “Boo!” A couple of kids in class participated in the lesson. Within reason, Vivian Kim encouraged this kind of involvement.
“Boo is absolutely right,” she said. “Hiss, too. Anyway, at this moment in our history, Mr. Nixon stood before the nation, before people like you and me.” Vivian Kim arranged herself as if she were at a speaking podium. She began to do her version of Richard Nixon for the class.
Ms. Kim made her face dark and gloomy. She shook her head from side to side. “I want you to know... that I have no intention whatever of ever walking away from the job that the American people elected me to do for the people of the United States. ” Vivian Kim paused on the actual words from Nixon's infamous speech. It was like a held note in a bad but powerful opera. The classroom of twenty-four children was silent. For the moment, she had completely won their attention. It was a teacher's nirvana, however short-lived. Nice, Vivian Kim thought to herself.
There was a brittle tap, tap, tap on the glass pane of the classroom door. The magical mood was broken.
“Boo! Hiss,” Vivian Kim muttered. “Yes? Who's there? Hello? Who is it?” she called.
The glass and polished mahogany door slowly opened. One of the kids hummed from the score of on Elm Street. Mr. Soneji, hesitantly, almost shyly, stepped inside. Nearly every child's face in the classroom brightened instantly. “Anybody home?” Mr. Soneji piped in a thin squeaky voice. The children erupted with laughter. “Ohhh! Look. Everybody's home,” he said.
Gary Soneji taught mathematics, and also computer science-which was even more popular than Vivian Kim's class. He was balding, with a droopy mustache, and English schoolboy glasses. He didn't look like a matinee idol, but he was one at the school. In addition to being an inspired teacher, Mr. Soneji was the grand master of Nintendo video games.
