MAX HAMBY and the BLOOD DIAMOND
CHAPTER 1
Squeak. Cluck. “Time to wake up.” Squeak. Squeak. Cluck. “Time to wake up.”
Max rolled over and snatched the alarm clock off the beside table by its neck. The large plastic chicken flapped its wings and opened its beak. . Squeak. Cluck. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and focused on the clock in its stomach.
Seven-thirty. He dropped the chicken on the bed, threw off the covers and groaned. The museum field trip.
The day hadn't even started yet and he was already in trouble. His seventh grade teacher, Ms. Higgins, was a stickler for punctuality and handed out more passes to the principal's office than any other teacher in school.
Max threw on his clothes from the day before, snatched up his backpack and raced out the door. It was quiet, except for the thud of his sneakers on the pavement. He charged up the street. The residents of Pleasant Seas were still asleep, except for one, the caretaker. There was never a good time to come face to face with Mr. Scrine. He was bent over, tending to several flowerbeds at the end of the road. Max took the corner a little too fast and squashed a few of his prized petunias. Mr. Scrine roared with anger and threw up his hands.
“Sorry,” he yelled, over his shoulder He sprinted down the street and turned the corner toward the school, then grunted with frustration. The bus was already there and a line had begun to form. No kid wanted to be last in line on a school field trip. Last meant sitting with Ms. Higgins at the front of the bus or worse, next to Milo Jenkins, whose only interest in life were the mythological creatures in his precious dragon dictionary. His fascination with myth and magic made him a bully magnet.
Max spied a group of kids running across the schoolyard and ran the last few feet to grab his spot in the line, then smiled to himself. One of them would be sitting with Ms. Higgins today and it wouldn't be him. Laughter rang out from the front of the line. He knew who it was, but leaned over anyway. Tommy Gooch hovered by the door. The class bully and his brainless twin brothers laughed and pointed at the kids waiting to get on the bus. He scooted to the right and hoped the girl in front of him would hide his face with her bushy, red hair. He peered over her shoulder to make sure Tommy and Ms. Higgins hadn't spotted him.
“I said fifteen minutes before the bus arrives, Mr. Hamby. You're late,” Ms. Higgins announced. Max jumped with a start and sucked in a mouthful of hair. The red-haired girl whipped around and angrily jerked away from him. Ms. Higgins peered over her glasses and frowned.
“Sorry, Ms. Higgins,” he said, quietly. The last thing he wanted to do was get the Gooch brothers attention, but it was too late.
“Sorry, Ms. Higgins,” said Tommy, in a high-pitched girly voice. His brothers snorted with laughter.
“There will be none of that, gentlemen,” warned Ms. Higgins, checking off a name on her clipboard.
“Yes, ma'am,” snorted Tommy, elbowing his brothers. They grew quiet when she lifted an eyebrow in their direction.
The doors of the bus swung open and the line began to move. “Up you go, Mr. Hamby,” said Ms. Higgins, motioning for him to move forward. “Do not dilly-dally.” The Gooch brothers sneered as they waited for him to pass. Max hesitated. He could tell by the look on their faces, they had something planned. Whether it was to trip him or cover him in spitballs, he wasn't sure. Thankfully, Ms. Higgins ushered them to the back of the line before they had a chance to do anything. He breathed a sigh of relief and got on the bus. Almost all of the good seats in the middle were taken. He scanned the rows for an empty seat. The back of the bus was empty, but no one dared sit there. Those seats were reserved for Tommy and his brothers. Everyone knew that. It was an unspoken rule. A few kids had tried it in the past, but quickly learned a painful lesson and never tried it again. He spied an empty seat closer to the front, but still in the middle and headed for it. A sudden kick from behind sent him sailing face first onto the bus floor. His cheek and jaw connected with the hard rubber mat and sent shockwaves of pain through his head.
“What is the hold up?” Ms. Higgins called out.
“Maxi-Pad hasn't learned how to walk,” snorted Tommy. The other kids joined in and laughed with him.
“Mr. Gooch, watch your language,” called Ms. Higgins.
Max felt his face grow hot and wished he'd stayed in bed. He picked himself up and hurried to his seat. He rested his head against the window and waited for the pain in his face to pass. Tommy leaned in and gave him a generous whiff of his rancid breath. “What's the matter? Maxi-Pad fall down and go boom?” He howled like a hyena and made his way toward the back of the bus. A few seconds later, a shower of spitballs hit the back of his head. He wiped them away and slumped in his seat to get out of the line of fire. Thankfully, the Gooch brothers switched targets. Milo Jenkins made the mistake of choosing a seat in front of them and quickly became a pawn in their game of keep-a-way with his backpack.
Max stared out the window and tried to ignore the growing chaos behind him. His stomach growled painfully. There'd been no time to eat breakfast and lunch was hours away. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it. Before long, the bus stopped with a sudden lurch. His backpack sailed off the seat and he slid forward whacking his bruised cheek. The other kids started to stand up. He grabbed his backpack and pushed his way past. He did not want to be kissing the bus floor again and made sure he was one of the first ones in line to get off.
“Alright children, single file, please. You will remain with the class at all times. There will be no touching, running, or fooling around. If you cannot follow these simple rules, you and your parents will meet with me in the principal's office after school. Is that clear?”
A collective “Yes, Ms. Higgins” rang through the bus. “Okay then, let's go. I believe this will be a most interesting day for all.” Max stepped off the bus and looked around. Interesting wouldn't have been the word he chose.
The group gathered in the entryway and were greeted by a stocky, scraggly-haired man in a navy suit jacket. The man announced that he would be their tour guide for the day and led them to the first exhibit. A hairy caveman with a spear stood over a cowering saber tooth tiger. Max scratched his head and grimaced. The exhibit wasn't accurate at all, considering the tiger's teeth and paws were bigger than the caveman's head.
By the third exhibit, every kid began to yawn and fidget. Laughter echoed through the museum from the back of the group. No one had to look to know it was the Gooch brothers. The tour guide stopped talking, clasped his hands together and waited till it was over. There was another burst of laughter. The tour guide's jaw tightened and his face flushed bright red. They quieted down and the tour guide continued.
The low, monotonous tone of his voice had a lulling effect and Max found himself entranced by a mole buried within the wrinkles on Ms. Higgins' neck. The thick hair in the center of the mole waved at him everytime she moved her head. It wiggled from side to side. A sudden hit to the back of his head caused him to stumble forward toward the hairy mole. He held his breath and backed up slowly. A slimy wetness dripped down the back of his neck. He cringed and brushed the spitball away before it slid down his shirt. It landed on the floor with a splat. He imagined smashing the spitball in Tommy's face. Two more spitballs landed in his hair. He gritted his teeth and wiped them off. The laughter behind him grew.
Ms. Higgins whipped around. “Is there something you'd like to share, gentlemen?” she hissed. Her face flared red with anger and the veins in her neck twitched. She glared a warning at the Gooch brothers and then turned around to continue listening to the tour guide.
After passing two more exhibits and tripping over his broken laces for the fourth time that morning, Max moved off to the side to tie his sneakers. He crouched down and glanced into the dimly lite room beside him, curious as to why the tour guide passed it by. A small exhibit stood in the center of the room. He stood up and read the sign posted on the wall. Rare Gems of the World. He leaned in to get a better look, but was too far away to see what was inside the glass case. His body jolted forward with a piercing pain to his lower back. He stumbled through the room, skidded across the floor and smacked his knees into wooden stand. The impact echoed through the room.
“It's the principal's office for you, Maxi-Pad.” Max glanced over his shoulder to see Tommy closing the door. “No, wait,” he shouted. He gripped the display case and tried to pull himself up, but his lower back and knees throbbed painfully. He had to get back to the group before Ms. Higgins he was gone.
Heat spread through the fingers of his right hand and he moved away from the display case. He lifted his palm and pulled back. He tried pulling his fingers away, but nothing happened. They were glued to the glass. “Great. Just great.” He growled with frustration and tugged his hand. Pain shot through his fingertips when the action threatened to rip his skin off. The lights flickered and he turned around to see if Tommy had returned, but the door was still closed. The display case vibrated and the ground shook under his feet.
Earthquake, he thought, crumpling to the floor. He flattened his body against the exhibit, but as quick as it started, the ground stopped shaking. The room grew dark. He stood up and stretched his body out as far as it would go, clawing at the air for the doorknob. A light flickered behind him. It was enough to see that he was still too far away from the door. Ms. Higgins would do a head count and discover he was missing. A trip to the principal's office was definitely in his immediate future. His fingers grew hot. He turned his head and stared into the display case. A smooth black stone blazed red-hot in its center.
“What do we have here?” a voice thundered through the room. Max told himself it was part of the exhibit and the earthquake must've triggered the ON switch. He felt around the stand for a button or plug. The voice cackled and it sent shivers down his spine. “I can smell your fear, child. That is good. It will make it much easier to take back what is mine.” He wondered if it was one of Tommy's tricks and scanned the walls for a speaker. They were bare, but there was another door in the corner.
Control room, he thought.
“Rest assured, mongrel, this is no trick. You are the offspring of thieves,” the voice hissed, “You bare the mark of thievery. I can feel it pulsating within you.”
If this was part of Tommy's prank to get him in trouble, it was the best one yet. He twisted and pulled at his hand.
“The time has come. I will have my revenge,” the voice shrieked.
“Help!” he shouted, “I'm in here.”
“No one can hear you, boy. Come to me and your death will be quick.”
His index and middle fingers slid through the glass like butter and his breath caught in his throat. The pull was even stronger on the other side. He dug in with his heels and pulled backwards as his fingers slipped inside the glass up to his knuckles. He bent the others back as far as they would go to keep them away from the glass. “Help me,” he screamed. His index and middle fingers were so close to the stone. It flashed and the rest of his right hand slipped inside the glass up to his wrist. His heart pounded inside his chest. “Help.”
The door in the corner crashed opened. Heavy footsteps thundered through the room. A pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him across the floor. The stone's light flickered and an angry scream filled the room. Max turned his head and caught a glimpse of a small hooded figure, as the door closed with a thud.
“Your time is short, boy. I will find you and when I do there will be no mercy,” the voice threatened. The lights came back on and the stone was silent again.
Max ran out of the room, but didn't get very far. He crashed into something blocking the doorway and fell to the floor. An old man stood tall and straight, dressed in a white tunic and black robe. He narrowed his gray eyes and pursed his thin lips until they disappeared within the scowl on his face.
“Mr. Eswick, I am terribly sorry.” A little round man with bulging, watery eyes and a pig nose rushed to the old man's side. His name tag read, Curator, in bold red letters.
Max ran a hand through his hair and wondered if this day could get any worse.
“What have you done, young man?” The curator grimaced in disgust. “Who are you here with? Where are your parents?”
Max stood up and the pig-nosed curator grabbed his arm. “I'm with Ms. Higgins' class.”
“Where is your group now?”
“I-I don't know,” he said, scanning the area. There were too many people to tell where his class was. He looked at the curator in confusion. The museum was intact. Patrons casually strolled by the exhibits. “There was an earthquake…” he started, “The whole building shook. You didn't feel it?”
“Young man, stop this foolishness. There was no earthquake. You will come with me to my office.” The curator's pig nose turned from pink to red and Max could tell the man was losing his patience.
“It was an accident. I swear.” The amount of trouble he was in kept just kept growing. By now, Ms. Higgins had noticed his absence and the meeting in the principal's office was a sure thing. Max opened his mouth, but snapped it shut when the curator put his hand up to quiet him down. It was a lost cause. Pig-nose wasn't going to listen to anything he had to say.
“It is alright. No harm was done,” said the old man.
Max could feel the old man's eyes on him and like the voice in the room; it sent shivers down his spine. He met the old man's gaze, but quickly looked away.
“The museum has rules...” the curator began, softening his grip on Max's arm, “I will take your word for it, Mr. Eswick. But, I cannot have children running around like it's an amusement park. Now, where is your group, young man?”
“MR HAMBY.”
The ear-splitting shriek boomed above the crowd and Max cringed. The curator's eyes grew twice as big and his mouth fell open. Max, slowly, turned around. There was Ms. Higgins with the rest of his class and she was angry. She looked like a human volcano ready to erupt and he didn't have to be close to her to know the veins in her neck were twitching like crazy. Tommy and his brothers stood behind her, doubled over in laughter. She stomped over to the men, cleared her throat and glared at him.
“Mr. Hamby is one of my students, sir,” she announced, pursing her lips. “I apologize for any mischief that's been caused. Thi boy was given strict instructions prior to entering your fine establishment.” She glared at him again, then continued. “He will be dealt with accordingly.”
Max couldn't tell if it was her clenched jaw or the wild look in her eyes, but the curator let go of him and backed away.
“Well, Mr. Eswick has stated that no harm was done. I believe the matter to be finished.” Without another word he walked into the room with the stone. He waited for the lights to flicker or the ground to shake, but nothing happened. The old man stood, silently, watching him.
Max shuffled his feet nervously and opened his mouth to apologize, but Ms. Higgins cut him off. “I am terribly sorry, sir. I do hope you weren't inconvenienced.”
“It is quite alright, madam. Now, if you'll excuse me,” he said, bowing his head. Ms. Higgins replied with a nod and walked away.
Max moved with her, but stopped and turned to apologize. There was a ripping sound at his feet and he looked down to see that he was standing on the guy's tunic. The old man whirled around in a huff and glared wild-eyed at the dirty hole Max's sneakers had made. “I'm so…” His words were cut off once more as a hand gripped his arm and pulled him in the other direction.
“Come along, Mr. Hamby. You have wasted enough time today. I am sure your mother will enjoy learning of your mischief,” said Ms. Higgins.
Max looked over his shoulder. The old man scowled and bared his teeth. Max mouthed the words, Oops and sorry, then pointed at Ms. Higgins. It wasn't an apology exactly, but at least it was something.
CHAPTER 1
Squeak. Cluck. “Time to wake up.” Squeak. Squeak. Cluck. “Time to wake up.”
Max rolled over and snatched the alarm clock off the beside table by its neck. The large plastic chicken flapped its wings and opened its beak. . Squeak. Cluck. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and focused on the clock in its stomach.
Seven-thirty. He dropped the chicken on the bed, threw off the covers and groaned. The museum field trip.
The day hadn't even started yet and he was already in trouble. His seventh grade teacher, Ms. Higgins, was a stickler for punctuality and handed out more passes to the principal's office than any other teacher in school.
Max threw on his clothes from the day before, snatched up his backpack and raced out the door. It was quiet, except for the thud of his sneakers on the pavement. He charged up the street. The residents of Pleasant Seas were still asleep, except for one, the caretaker. There was never a good time to come face to face with Mr. Scrine. He was bent over, tending to several flowerbeds at the end of the road. Max took the corner a little too fast and squashed a few of his prized petunias. Mr. Scrine roared with anger and threw up his hands.
“Sorry,” he yelled, over his shoulder He sprinted down the street and turned the corner toward the school, then grunted with frustration. The bus was already there and a line had begun to form. No kid wanted to be last in line on a school field trip. Last meant sitting with Ms. Higgins at the front of the bus or worse, next to Milo Jenkins, whose only interest in life were the mythological creatures in his precious dragon dictionary. His fascination with myth and magic made him a bully magnet.
Max spied a group of kids running across the schoolyard and ran the last few feet to grab his spot in the line, then smiled to himself. One of them would be sitting with Ms. Higgins today and it wouldn't be him. Laughter rang out from the front of the line. He knew who it was, but leaned over anyway. Tommy Gooch hovered by the door. The class bully and his brainless twin brothers laughed and pointed at the kids waiting to get on the bus. He scooted to the right and hoped the girl in front of him would hide his face with her bushy, red hair. He peered over her shoulder to make sure Tommy and Ms. Higgins hadn't spotted him.
“I said fifteen minutes before the bus arrives, Mr. Hamby. You're late,” Ms. Higgins announced. Max jumped with a start and sucked in a mouthful of hair. The red-haired girl whipped around and angrily jerked away from him. Ms. Higgins peered over her glasses and frowned.
“Sorry, Ms. Higgins,” he said, quietly. The last thing he wanted to do was get the Gooch brothers attention, but it was too late.
“Sorry, Ms. Higgins,” said Tommy, in a high-pitched girly voice. His brothers snorted with laughter.
“There will be none of that, gentlemen,” warned Ms. Higgins, checking off a name on her clipboard.
“Yes, ma'am,” snorted Tommy, elbowing his brothers. They grew quiet when she lifted an eyebrow in their direction.
The doors of the bus swung open and the line began to move. “Up you go, Mr. Hamby,” said Ms. Higgins, motioning for him to move forward. “Do not dilly-dally.” The Gooch brothers sneered as they waited for him to pass. Max hesitated. He could tell by the look on their faces, they had something planned. Whether it was to trip him or cover him in spitballs, he wasn't sure. Thankfully, Ms. Higgins ushered them to the back of the line before they had a chance to do anything. He breathed a sigh of relief and got on the bus. Almost all of the good seats in the middle were taken. He scanned the rows for an empty seat. The back of the bus was empty, but no one dared sit there. Those seats were reserved for Tommy and his brothers. Everyone knew that. It was an unspoken rule. A few kids had tried it in the past, but quickly learned a painful lesson and never tried it again. He spied an empty seat closer to the front, but still in the middle and headed for it. A sudden kick from behind sent him sailing face first onto the bus floor. His cheek and jaw connected with the hard rubber mat and sent shockwaves of pain through his head.
“What is the hold up?” Ms. Higgins called out.
“Maxi-Pad hasn't learned how to walk,” snorted Tommy. The other kids joined in and laughed with him.
“Mr. Gooch, watch your language,” called Ms. Higgins.
Max felt his face grow hot and wished he'd stayed in bed. He picked himself up and hurried to his seat. He rested his head against the window and waited for the pain in his face to pass. Tommy leaned in and gave him a generous whiff of his rancid breath. “What's the matter? Maxi-Pad fall down and go boom?” He howled like a hyena and made his way toward the back of the bus. A few seconds later, a shower of spitballs hit the back of his head. He wiped them away and slumped in his seat to get out of the line of fire. Thankfully, the Gooch brothers switched targets. Milo Jenkins made the mistake of choosing a seat in front of them and quickly became a pawn in their game of keep-a-way with his backpack.
Max stared out the window and tried to ignore the growing chaos behind him. His stomach growled painfully. There'd been no time to eat breakfast and lunch was hours away. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it. Before long, the bus stopped with a sudden lurch. His backpack sailed off the seat and he slid forward whacking his bruised cheek. The other kids started to stand up. He grabbed his backpack and pushed his way past. He did not want to be kissing the bus floor again and made sure he was one of the first ones in line to get off.
“Alright children, single file, please. You will remain with the class at all times. There will be no touching, running, or fooling around. If you cannot follow these simple rules, you and your parents will meet with me in the principal's office after school. Is that clear?”
A collective “Yes, Ms. Higgins” rang through the bus. “Okay then, let's go. I believe this will be a most interesting day for all.” Max stepped off the bus and looked around. Interesting wouldn't have been the word he chose.
The group gathered in the entryway and were greeted by a stocky, scraggly-haired man in a navy suit jacket. The man announced that he would be their tour guide for the day and led them to the first exhibit. A hairy caveman with a spear stood over a cowering saber tooth tiger. Max scratched his head and grimaced. The exhibit wasn't accurate at all, considering the tiger's teeth and paws were bigger than the caveman's head.
By the third exhibit, every kid began to yawn and fidget. Laughter echoed through the museum from the back of the group. No one had to look to know it was the Gooch brothers. The tour guide stopped talking, clasped his hands together and waited till it was over. There was another burst of laughter. The tour guide's jaw tightened and his face flushed bright red. They quieted down and the tour guide continued.
The low, monotonous tone of his voice had a lulling effect and Max found himself entranced by a mole buried within the wrinkles on Ms. Higgins' neck. The thick hair in the center of the mole waved at him everytime she moved her head. It wiggled from side to side. A sudden hit to the back of his head caused him to stumble forward toward the hairy mole. He held his breath and backed up slowly. A slimy wetness dripped down the back of his neck. He cringed and brushed the spitball away before it slid down his shirt. It landed on the floor with a splat. He imagined smashing the spitball in Tommy's face. Two more spitballs landed in his hair. He gritted his teeth and wiped them off. The laughter behind him grew.
Ms. Higgins whipped around. “Is there something you'd like to share, gentlemen?” she hissed. Her face flared red with anger and the veins in her neck twitched. She glared a warning at the Gooch brothers and then turned around to continue listening to the tour guide.
After passing two more exhibits and tripping over his broken laces for the fourth time that morning, Max moved off to the side to tie his sneakers. He crouched down and glanced into the dimly lite room beside him, curious as to why the tour guide passed it by. A small exhibit stood in the center of the room. He stood up and read the sign posted on the wall. Rare Gems of the World. He leaned in to get a better look, but was too far away to see what was inside the glass case. His body jolted forward with a piercing pain to his lower back. He stumbled through the room, skidded across the floor and smacked his knees into wooden stand. The impact echoed through the room.
“It's the principal's office for you, Maxi-Pad.” Max glanced over his shoulder to see Tommy closing the door. “No, wait,” he shouted. He gripped the display case and tried to pull himself up, but his lower back and knees throbbed painfully. He had to get back to the group before Ms. Higgins he was gone.
Heat spread through the fingers of his right hand and he moved away from the display case. He lifted his palm and pulled back. He tried pulling his fingers away, but nothing happened. They were glued to the glass. “Great. Just great.” He growled with frustration and tugged his hand. Pain shot through his fingertips when the action threatened to rip his skin off. The lights flickered and he turned around to see if Tommy had returned, but the door was still closed. The display case vibrated and the ground shook under his feet.
Earthquake, he thought, crumpling to the floor. He flattened his body against the exhibit, but as quick as it started, the ground stopped shaking. The room grew dark. He stood up and stretched his body out as far as it would go, clawing at the air for the doorknob. A light flickered behind him. It was enough to see that he was still too far away from the door. Ms. Higgins would do a head count and discover he was missing. A trip to the principal's office was definitely in his immediate future. His fingers grew hot. He turned his head and stared into the display case. A smooth black stone blazed red-hot in its center.
“What do we have here?” a voice thundered through the room. Max told himself it was part of the exhibit and the earthquake must've triggered the ON switch. He felt around the stand for a button or plug. The voice cackled and it sent shivers down his spine. “I can smell your fear, child. That is good. It will make it much easier to take back what is mine.” He wondered if it was one of Tommy's tricks and scanned the walls for a speaker. They were bare, but there was another door in the corner.
Control room, he thought.
“Rest assured, mongrel, this is no trick. You are the offspring of thieves,” the voice hissed, “You bare the mark of thievery. I can feel it pulsating within you.”
If this was part of Tommy's prank to get him in trouble, it was the best one yet. He twisted and pulled at his hand.
“The time has come. I will have my revenge,” the voice shrieked.
“Help!” he shouted, “I'm in here.”
“No one can hear you, boy. Come to me and your death will be quick.”
His index and middle fingers slid through the glass like butter and his breath caught in his throat. The pull was even stronger on the other side. He dug in with his heels and pulled backwards as his fingers slipped inside the glass up to his knuckles. He bent the others back as far as they would go to keep them away from the glass. “Help me,” he screamed. His index and middle fingers were so close to the stone. It flashed and the rest of his right hand slipped inside the glass up to his wrist. His heart pounded inside his chest. “Help.”
The door in the corner crashed opened. Heavy footsteps thundered through the room. A pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him across the floor. The stone's light flickered and an angry scream filled the room. Max turned his head and caught a glimpse of a small hooded figure, as the door closed with a thud.
“Your time is short, boy. I will find you and when I do there will be no mercy,” the voice threatened. The lights came back on and the stone was silent again.
Max ran out of the room, but didn't get very far. He crashed into something blocking the doorway and fell to the floor. An old man stood tall and straight, dressed in a white tunic and black robe. He narrowed his gray eyes and pursed his thin lips until they disappeared within the scowl on his face.
“Mr. Eswick, I am terribly sorry.” A little round man with bulging, watery eyes and a pig nose rushed to the old man's side. His name tag read, Curator, in bold red letters.
Max ran a hand through his hair and wondered if this day could get any worse.
“What have you done, young man?” The curator grimaced in disgust. “Who are you here with? Where are your parents?”
Max stood up and the pig-nosed curator grabbed his arm. “I'm with Ms. Higgins' class.”
“Where is your group now?”
“I-I don't know,” he said, scanning the area. There were too many people to tell where his class was. He looked at the curator in confusion. The museum was intact. Patrons casually strolled by the exhibits. “There was an earthquake…” he started, “The whole building shook. You didn't feel it?”
“Young man, stop this foolishness. There was no earthquake. You will come with me to my office.” The curator's pig nose turned from pink to red and Max could tell the man was losing his patience.
“It was an accident. I swear.” The amount of trouble he was in kept just kept growing. By now, Ms. Higgins had noticed his absence and the meeting in the principal's office was a sure thing. Max opened his mouth, but snapped it shut when the curator put his hand up to quiet him down. It was a lost cause. Pig-nose wasn't going to listen to anything he had to say.
“It is alright. No harm was done,” said the old man.
Max could feel the old man's eyes on him and like the voice in the room; it sent shivers down his spine. He met the old man's gaze, but quickly looked away.
“The museum has rules...” the curator began, softening his grip on Max's arm, “I will take your word for it, Mr. Eswick. But, I cannot have children running around like it's an amusement park. Now, where is your group, young man?”
“MR HAMBY.”
The ear-splitting shriek boomed above the crowd and Max cringed. The curator's eyes grew twice as big and his mouth fell open. Max, slowly, turned around. There was Ms. Higgins with the rest of his class and she was angry. She looked like a human volcano ready to erupt and he didn't have to be close to her to know the veins in her neck were twitching like crazy. Tommy and his brothers stood behind her, doubled over in laughter. She stomped over to the men, cleared her throat and glared at him.
“Mr. Hamby is one of my students, sir,” she announced, pursing her lips. “I apologize for any mischief that's been caused. Thi boy was given strict instructions prior to entering your fine establishment.” She glared at him again, then continued. “He will be dealt with accordingly.”
Max couldn't tell if it was her clenched jaw or the wild look in her eyes, but the curator let go of him and backed away.
“Well, Mr. Eswick has stated that no harm was done. I believe the matter to be finished.” Without another word he walked into the room with the stone. He waited for the lights to flicker or the ground to shake, but nothing happened. The old man stood, silently, watching him.
Max shuffled his feet nervously and opened his mouth to apologize, but Ms. Higgins cut him off. “I am terribly sorry, sir. I do hope you weren't inconvenienced.”
“It is quite alright, madam. Now, if you'll excuse me,” he said, bowing his head. Ms. Higgins replied with a nod and walked away.
Max moved with her, but stopped and turned to apologize. There was a ripping sound at his feet and he looked down to see that he was standing on the guy's tunic. The old man whirled around in a huff and glared wild-eyed at the dirty hole Max's sneakers had made. “I'm so…” His words were cut off once more as a hand gripped his arm and pulled him in the other direction.
“Come along, Mr. Hamby. You have wasted enough time today. I am sure your mother will enjoy learning of your mischief,” said Ms. Higgins.
Max looked over his shoulder. The old man scowled and bared his teeth. Max mouthed the words, Oops and sorry, then pointed at Ms. Higgins. It wasn't an apology exactly, but at least it was something.