Nothing comes free in this world. What people want in exchange for information depends solely on the person. Money was easy. Money is universally desired. Eddie Maxwell, voted Atlas Academy's #1 janitor ten years in a row, was not so easily bribed. The man was frugal. Stored money in many piggy banks and had no need for my crumbled five bucks at the bottom of my book bag.

His needs always changed. Last time, he wanted a robe. Soft, but not thick. He didn't want a pattern and laughed when I sarcastically offered to have it monogrammed for him. The first time I required something of him, he wanted a fruit basket. The list of demands never fell into place and built something that made sense. The biggest head-scratcher was when he required only one left red boot. When I inquired what I should do with the right foot, he said that wasn't his problem. Jacks said he was just messing with me.

In front of him again, I was beginning to think Jacks was right.

"Do you have it?" he asked, leaning against the lunchroom wall. He wasn't looking at me, pretending to inspect the other janitors' work cleaning the floors and waxing the tables. It smelled like a ghastly amount of lemon fresh and peroxide. I was sure Eddie just enjoyed pretending he was in a spy novel.

"Of course," I said, only slightly insulted. He should already know, I am always prepared. I reached into my bag and paused, peering at him "and I don't even want to know why you want this."

I revealed a pack of fake mustaches to a man with a thick salt and pepper handlebar mustache with the curls on the end and everything. He was aging like fine wine with deep laugh lines. His laughter came from deep within his chest, low and echoing. He plucked them, examining his prize. "That's great. Nicely done, Mr. Turney, these will work perfectly. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I want the keys to the basement," I said. There was no beating around the bush for me. I treated everything like a wish from a genie. I had to be specific in order to avoid getting a nasty trick played on me.

Eddie snorted. "Wanna ask me for somethin' else?"

I narrowed my brow. "No."

"Well, that's a toughy, Mr. Turney. Seeing as there's no basement at all."

"But..." My brain halted like I ran face-first into a wall. "That can't be."

"And yet," Eddie shrugged. "Here we are. On the ground floor. The lowest there is."

"But what about the boiler room?"

"Behind the gym."

"Not under?"

Eddie shook his head. He slid his pack of mustaches inside his blue jumpsuit and grabbed his utility cart. Behind all the bottles of questionable liquids, I swore I spotted a bottle of whiskey with a skull top. He said as his bellow appeared from every corner of the empty lunchroom. "But by all means, go out there and start digging a hole until you hit a completed basement. Call me if you find an entertainment center, kay? We'll host a Barney screening for you little kiddies."

So, I ended that encounter, one pack of mustaches less and stuck on the ground.

#

The lack of productivity was too much and I couldn't let the rest of my day be wasted. I plucked Joseph from track practice whether he liked it or not. "Can I at least jump in the shower?" He asked, his skin still flushed from running. He explained, grabbing his stuff from his gym locker. "I'm meeting Catherine later-"

"What does she care? You smelling a little sour wouldn't exactly blow her mind you know?" I felt painfully overdressed, the only one in full uniform while the Neanderthals around me were half-dressed and losing more clothes by the second. Billows of steam poured from the neighboring shower room. Its dewy nature tricked my skin into thinking it was sweaty. Someone was singing every other line from Pour Some Sugar on Me.

Sighing, Joseph nodded. "Right."

He zipped up his tracksuit jacket and he led the way. There was a clubhouse most of the jocks used to hang out. Where they showed the faculty that they did their homework that they had some wholesome fun and weren't getting into any trouble at all and there as no reason to take anyone's sports scholarship away. Joseph had informed me of the real place to hang out was one of the less used storage buildings. People went there to smoke pot and make out.

"Please try to act normal, okay?" Joseph begged me. "I know you don't, but these people actually think I'm cool."

With a request like that, I should have burst into the room, raving about the voices in my head warning me about the end of the world. I should have announced the plans Joseph and I shared to create a spaceship to take us back our home planet. I should have snapped back that I was normal and that being "cool" didn't matter in the real world. Instead, I balled up my hurt and threw it into the wastebasket with the rest. "I'm just going to ask a few simple questions," I glared at him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to grade them on their grammar."

We walked the rest of the way in silence, but just before the door, a question sprang up in my head. "Where do people even buy pot anyway?"

Joseph whirled a wide-eyed look at me and I curled my lips back into my mouth. Keeping his hand on the knob, he closed his eyes as if in prayer. This was one of the school's newest additions. Nothing like the massive Gothic structure of big stone and pointy steeples. Most of the new buildings were made of out brick, still holding color and youth. These buildings were the greatest victims of graffiti. Something about writing "school suks" on the castle walls over thousands of years old felt like a bad move like a move worthy of a curse. Not that anyone, but Jacks really believed in those kinds of things. But it was better to be safe than sorry and cursed.

Finally releasing a sigh, Joseph (who had aged ten years since leaving the locker room) knocked three times and only twisted the knob. He did not open it. Someone on the other side did, a girl I did not recognize. She flung herself at him. "Hey man! Come on in!"

Upon entry, Joseph and I were offered a few samples of the contraband. I politely declined while Joseph jumped on the ugly plaid couch and was passed a rolled up brown joint. He took a puff like it wasn't his first time and melted between his fellow jocks. He'd need that shower now if he wanted to get this by Cathy. One girl sitting criss-cross on the floor had been staring at me since I walked into the room. "Miles?" She guessed.

"Not even close," I said as I brought out my notepad. "Listen, someone has stolen the soccer team's penalty flags."

"Huh? But I saw them like an hour ago-"

"The girl's soccer team."

"Oh, then like who cares," he snorted, but as quickly as he said it, a girl in the back kicked him in the back of the head. He cursed and then cursed again when he realized he dropped the joint.

The criss-cross girl spoke up again "Joseph."

"I'm Joseph," Joseph said.

"Tell me," I put us back on track, "who has access to the storage closet?"

"Only teachers," someone piped up, the girl in the back. "And certain students like the captains and the teacher's pet."

"Can you give me an example?"

"Oh, you know, the student council president, that girl, Penelope Something, Mickey Holly and-"

"Mickey Holly?" I perked up.

Joseph groaned. "Here we go."

I thought about it. Long and hard without writing many notes down after that. I asked more questions. I asked these players about their teammates and what they thought about them. They could have talked about the subject for hours, but my pen wouldn't move. A little voice in my head was pulling me like a small child pulling their mother's sleeve to get her attention when she was in the middle of something. I couldn't ignore this itch. I wanted to scratch it. We learn early to ignore itches to stop scratching at something because bowing to these urges will only make the itch worse.

But his name came up.

What were the chances? That Mickey Holly of all people was brought up in conversation. His name attached to anything, read like troubling news to me. Mickey Holly was the hurricane racing to the coastline. Mickey Holly was the name of the new flu epidemic. I did not believe in coincidences. For every action, there is a reaction. For every cause, there is an effect. For every lie Mickey Holly told, I was there ready to uncover the truth.

How could I not investigate when every fiber of my being was screaming when my gut was pointing the finger at?

#

  Welcome back to some Mickey Monday! I'm almost too pleased with that. I bet sometimes Joseph wonders why he became friends with Ben in the first place, haha.

Remember to leave a comment and tell me what you think! Do you think Ben rightly jumped the gun to accuse Mickey again? Or is he just being paranoid? Also! Don't you wish you had a janitor like Eddie? Haha.

If you liked what you read, be sure to check out my other novel "30 Day Trial Period"!