Description: 1 Morning Announcements Good morning, Strangeville School! This is Vice Principal Capozzi, filling in for Principal Gupta, who you''ll be happy to hear is recovering nicely from her unfortunate piranha incident yesterday. I''ve been assured by Janitor Gary that all carnivorous fish have now been removed from the first-floor drinking fountains. So if you happen to see Janitor Gary today, make sure to give him a big Strangeville thank-you! In related news, Nurse Porter informs me that we are temporarily out of Band-Aids. In the event of a paper cut, Nurse Porter recommends "having known better than to handle paper in the first place" and "honestly, you probably deserved it." Well said, Nurse Porter. Strangeville is lucky to have you! Moving right along to the lunch menu, it looks as though today''s choices will include steamed Maine lobster on watercress; unseasoned, lukewarm gruel; and, oh! A special new menu item! Chef Louis is describing it as "complete and total darkness, but in meat loaf form." Mmm, mmm. Sounds delicious, Chef Louis! On a more serious note, I''d like to remind all students to try to avoid angering the third-floor supply closet today. In fact, why not avoid the third floor altogether? I know I will! And, finally, I''d like to welcome new student Harvey Hill to Strangeville School this morning. Harvey hails from back east and will be joining Mr. Sandringham''s fifth-grade homeroom. I''m told he has "brownish hair," "average elbows," and "definitely a nose of some sort." So if you see anyone matching that description today, wish them hello! This is Vice Principal Capozzi, signing off. Have a fantastic day, Strangeville School! But not too fantastic. You know the supply closet doesn''t like that. . . . 2 Harvey In Mr. Sandringham''s fifth-grade homeroom, twenty-two sets of eyes turned in Harvey Hill''s direction. Well, twenty-three sets of eyes, if you counted the classroom lizard, Mr. Pickles. Harvey, who had not yet noticed Mr. Pickles and was, therefore, unaware of the lizard''s existence, did not. It was fine. Mr. Pickles was used to being overlooked. One day, the lizard often thought, he would have his revenge. Mr. Pickles had plans. Oh, yes, Mr. Pickles had big plans. Terrifying plans. Plans that would make you shoot up in bed in the middle of the night, sweating from head to toe, if you knew them. Plans so dastardly evil, so incomprehensibly fiendish, that to even understand the smallest part of them would make your teeth chatter and your bones rattle and your very soul quiver in its boots. But, anyway. Enough about Mr. Pickles! Let''s get back to Harvey. "Would you like to come up and introduce yourself, Harvey?" Mr. Sandringham asked. He squinted thoughtfully at the new student''s elbows. It was difficult to see from the front of the classroom, but they appeared to be average. Then again, elbows were a tricky thing. Mr. Sandringham had been fooled by elbows before. "Um . . . okay," Harvey said, a touch of reluctance in his voice. Strangeville may have been his fourth new school in as many years, but introducing himself in front of the class never got any easier. He pushed himself out of his chair and made his way to the front of the room, feeling the weight of twenty-two pairs of eyes following each step (twenty-three, counting Mr. Pickles, of course). "So, um, hi," Harvey said, giving an uncertain wave. Harvey was tall for his age, with wavy brown hair, thirty-seven freckles, and a mysterious secret. "My name''s Harvey Hill. Which, I guess, you already knew." He swallowed nervously, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. "My family just moved here from Boston, and, er . . . I like video games, and taking pictures, and . . . um . . . yeah. I guess that''s it?" he finished hopefully. "Wonderful," Mr. Sandringham said, beaming in approval. "I know we''re all hoping Strangeville will finally be a fit for you, Harvey! How are you liking it so far?" Harvey shifted from one foot to the other. "Um, it seems . . . good? I liked the morning announcements. They were funny." Mr. Sandringham''s forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Funny?" "Yeah. You know, all that stuff about the piranhas, and the lunch menu, and the supply closet?" Harvey asked. "At my other schools, they never joked around in the morning announcements." Mr. Sandringham''s face paled. The classroom grew still. Even Mr. Pickles looked alarmed. "I assure you," Mr. Sandringham told Harvey, nervously twisting his necktie, "there is nothing funny about the supply closet." Harvey blinked. The teacher straightened his shoulders, visibly composing himself. "Don''t worry," he said. "You''ll learn all about Strangeville soon enough. I''ve asked one of your classmates, Stella Cho, to show you around the school today. Stella, could you raise your hand?" He peered expectantly around the room, but no hands appeared in the air. "Oh dear," Mr. Sandringham said. "Stella appears to be missing." He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Oh well, I''m sure she''ll turn up at some point. Students usually do! In the meantime, before the bell rings for first period, does anyone have any questions for Harvey?" Twenty-two hands shot upward. "Do you know where I left my hockey pads?" "How do you calculate the square root of ninety-one?" "What''s the fastest way to get to Toledo, Ohio?" "Why do your own farts smell good, but everyone else''s smell bad?" "What''s the meaning of life, anyway?" "Excellent questions, everyone," Mr. Sandringham said, beaming at his class. He turned to look at the new student. "Harvey?" Harvey blinked again, taking a half step backward. Twenty-two pairs of eyes (Mr. Pickles had fallen asleep by this point) peered up at him, waiting for his response. "Um . . . ," Harvey said, "could I have the bathroom pass, please?" 3 The Bathroom Pass Harvey stepped into the hallway, cradling the bathroom pass carefully in his arms. At Harvey''s last school, the bathroom pass had been a small, laminated piece of paper with the words bathroom pass written across the front. At Strangeville, the bathroom pass was a goldfish bowl. With every step, the water in the bowl sloshed back and forth, threatening to spill over the edges. Inside, a single goldfish swam in lazy circles, looking unimpressed. The goldfish''s name was Brad. (Don''t get too attached to Brad, by the way; he dies in chapter 18.) Walking slowly, Harvey set off down the hall, searching for the nearest bathroom. Rows of lockers lined the walls, hung with brightly colored posters: vote flarsky for class president! chess club tryouts this week! remember, the supply closet is always watching! Harvey paused in front of the last sign, reading it several times. He was just about to move on when the nearest classroom door flew open, making him jump. Water slopped down the front of his T-shirt, surprisingly cold and smelling slightly of Brad. A girl poked her head out of the doorway, frowning at Harvey. She was short for her age, with a long black ponytail, thirty-eight freckles, and a highly developed sense of curiosity. "Are you here from the agency?" "Um," Harvey said. "I--" "Never mind," the girl interrupted, shaking her head. "You''re late!" "Er . . ." Harvey glanced down at the goldfish bowl in his arms. "Actually, I was just . . . looking for the bathroom?" "There''s no time for that now," the girl said impatiently. "You''ll have to wait!" Reaching out, she hauled Harvey into the classroom, the goldfish bowl tilting dangerously to one side. "I think there''s been a mistake," Harvey said, stumbling through the doorway and into the empty science classroom behind her. "I''m--" "Here about the rat problem," the girl interrupted, finishing his sentence for him. "I know, I''m the one who called you, remember? Stella Cho," she said, sticking out her hand. "Lead reporter for the Strangeville School Gazette. Also, fifth-grade student." "Oh," Harvey said, recognizing the name. Balancing the goldfish bowl in the crook of his arm, he reached out to awkwardly shake her hand. "Hi. Actually, I think you''re supposed to be showing me--" "Where Cuddles is," Stella said, interrupting him again. "What do you think I''m trying to do? Anyway, I''m pretty sure he''s somewhere in the ventilation system." She pointed at the open air-vent cover in the corner. A stepladder stood ready underneath. Harvey peered up at the ceiling in alarm. "Cuddles?" he asked. Stella sighed in exasperation. "The class rat!" She took the goldfish bowl from him and set it down on the nearest desk. "It''s my turn to feed him this week, but when I came in this morning, his cage was empty. He must have escaped. Just look what he did to everyone''s science-fair projects!" She gestured toward the counter at the back of the room, which was lined with a display of brightly colored poster boards. The projects in front were in various states of disarray: baking-soda volcanoes tipped on their sides, oozing puddles of lava, and plastic petri dishes pushed to the floor, their contents spilling haphazardly onto the carpet. There were broken bottles and toppled models and a partially eaten diorama of the rain forest ecosystem. "Oh," Harvey said. "Right. Um, the thing is, I''m not really . . . I mean . . . maybe you should ask your teacher for help?" he finished hopefully. "I''d love to," Stella said. "Only Ms. Crumbleton disappeared last week." "What do you mean, ''disappeared''?" Harvey asked

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