Dr. Critchlore's School for Minions Read online

  “I wanted to see Dr. Critchlore,” I said. “Is he available?”

  “Definitely not available.” She blinked rapidly, then turned around in her seat to face the portrait. “Go on in.” She waved me through.

  Dr. Critchlore wasn’t at his desk, but I noticed that the Top Secret Book of Minions was back in its museum-quality protective case near the window. Propped up on a stand and gently lit by an overhead light, it seemed to glow. There was something about that book; I felt its power just looking at it. No wonder Pismo had snatched it.

  A new TV was nestled in the bookcase, and there was no sign of the explosion that had destroyed the original. Miss Merrybench was very efficient.

  Dr. Critchlore was again sitting in his wingback chair, a cup of tea in one hand and the saucer in the other. At his feet was a chocolate Labrador retriever puppy, looking up at him with the cutest face I’d ever seen. All brown fluff, with enormous ears and a little button nose.

  “Excuse me, Dr. Critchlore?”

  “Hagerty,” he said, “what do you think of my new dog?”

  “He’s adorable,” I said. “Can I pet him?”

  Dr. Critchlore nodded me over. I squatted next to the puppy, which he took as an invitation to jump on me. I laughed as he licked my face.

  “Miss Happyseat gave him to me. She said she thought I needed a companion.”

  Aw, that was nice of her. I was glad someone was looking out for our leader.

  “What’s his name?”

  “I haven’t named him yet,” he said. “I’m not really good with names, Haversheim.”

  “How about something easy to remember? When you look at him, what’s the first thing that pops into your head?”

  “Pizza.”

  “What?”

  “The dog threw up on my rug. It looked like pizza.”

  “Okay,” I said, “Pizza it is. Why don’t you try it out?”

  Dr. Critchlore finished his tea and placed the cup and saucer on his little table. He patted his hands on his thighs and said, “Pizza?”

  Pizza jumped out of my arms and bounded over to Dr. Critchlore, putting his front paws on Dr. Critchlore’s leg. “Hello, Pizza.” Dr. Critchlore rubbed the dog’s head. The dog wagged his tail enthusiastically, his tongue hanging out. “Look at that! He likes me.”

  “He really does,” I said.

  Dr. Critchlore looked down at the dog, and the dog licked his hand. Dr. Critchlore giggled, which was really strange. I’d never seen him smile, and here he was giggling. It was almost as strange as seeing him cry. What was happening to our leader?

  “Pizza,” he cooed at the dog. “Thank you, Higgins. You’ve made me very happy.”

  I heard a little yelp and turned to see Miss Merrybench standing in the door, her fist by her mouth, her face twisted in sadness.

  “It’s a great gift, Miss Merrybench,” I said to her.

  “I love this dog!” Dr. Critchlore said, lifting the puppy to his lap. “I really love this dog.”

  Miss Merrybench left, and I turned to Dr. Critchlore. “She’s worried about you,” I said.

  “I have been a little down lately. But that’s not why you came. What can I do for you?”

  “Well …” I didn’t really know how to start. My face got warm. How could I, a lowly third-year, tell this great man that he wasn’t doing his job? “I’m … I’m concerned about some things happening at the school. The video, the explosion …”

  “Oh, not you too,” he said. “I just spent an hour on a conference call with the board of directors. Seems they’ve gotten some complaints.” Then he added, in a very sassy voice, “ ‘We need more students.’ ‘You aren’t keeping them safe.’ ‘It’s time for someone new to take over.’ Blah, blah, blah.”

  They wanted someone else to run the school? And he didn’t care? Never in my life had I imagined this school without Dr. Critchlore. The school bore his name! Without Dr. Critchlore, there was no Dr. Critchlore’s School for Minions.

  I’d come here for reassurance, but now I felt worse than ever.

  “That’s terrible,” I said. I wondered what could bring my headmaster back on track. “What if you found out who staged that video?”

  “Funny thing,” he said. He put Pizza back on the floor. “I did get a call from Dark Wendix’s henchman, a former student of mine. He said the Girl Explorers aren’t what they seem. Says they’ve been terrorizing the villages in the Sathrim Plateau.”

  “ ‘Terrorizing’? That doesn’t sound like Girl Explorers.”

  “Dark Wendix has tried to hunt them down, but they keep evading capture,” he said. “And eating all his livestock.”

  “Are you sure he said that?” I asked. “We are talking about little girls, right?”

  “Yes.” He slapped the arm of his chair. “What I wouldn’t give for minions with that kind of cunning! Which is why I’m devoting tomorrow to finding new recruits. I have some leads. It’ll be a busy day.”

  “That’s fantastic!” I said. I realized a little late that I sounded too relieved, because Dr. Critchlore looked startled.

  As I left, Miss Merrybench scowled at me. She was probably embarrassed that I’d seen her cry. Poor Miss Merrybench.

  I felt a little better about my situation. Dr. Critchlore was back on the job, and I would be getting a good night’s sleep before my test the next morning. Yes, things were turning around.

  As I entered the castle foyer on my way back to my dorm, a voice stopped me cold. “Mr. Higgins?”

  I turned. Uncle Ludwig stood in the opposite hallway, motioning with a bent finger for me to follow him.

  Never walk underneath a flying dragon without an umbrella.

  —GOOD ADVICE

  Despite spending a late night at the library reshelving books, I got up early the next morning and headed out to the base of Mount Curiosity for the test. Too early, because the grounds were quiet, the rest of the school still sleeping. I noticed a light on in Tootles’s tree house, so I went to see if Syke was awake.

  The house stretched between and around a whole bunch of trees. Syke had her own room in the top level, about three stories up. I threw pebbles at her window until I got her attention. She came to the window in her pajamas and waved. Then she disappeared, but a moment later her door opened. Now dressed, Syke grabbed a rope hooked to her porch and swung down.

  “Is it time for your test?” she asked.

  “Almost,” I said. “I was too nervous to sleep, and I wanted to ask you something.”

  We walked down the path toward the meeting place for the test, which was under a giant oak. Tree branches seemed to wave as Syke walked by them.

  “So ask,” she said.

  “Have you talked with Dr. Critchlore lately?”

  “Yesterday,” she said. “I always check in with him on the first day of school to show him my class list.”

  “Did he seem … different?”

  “Yes. Last year when I checked in with him, he was plotting new siege techniques using little models of minions on a topographical map of Ixtup. Yesterday he was still in his pajamas at ten, watching a soap opera and sobbing like a siren who’d been told she wasn’t pretty.”

  I shook my head. “What is going on with him?”

  “Midlife crisis,” she said. “Tootles told me he had one himself forty years ago. He said it passed pretty quickly. Riga told him if he wanted to live dangerously, she was more than happy to help. So she sabotaged his tools, put unpleasant surprises in his veggie loaf, and staged surprise attacks on him when he got home.”

  I laughed. “Too bad Dr. Critchlore doesn’t have a Riga of his own.” Or did he? Could Miss Merrybench be his Riga?

  “He doesn’t need anybody’s help,” Syke said. “Don’t worry, it will pass.”

  We reached the tree and sat down on a boulder. Talking to Syke helped calm me down. She never worried about anything.

  The other junior henchman trainees drifted over, and at last I saw Coach Foley and Professor M
urphy approach.

  “Line up over there,” Coach Foley said, pointing to an area marked off with a white chalk line.

  He and Professor Murphy conferred over a tablet computer. Coach Foley, big as a tree, had to crouch down to be at the same level as the stumpy Professor Murphy.

  “I’m going to watch from a better spot,” Syke said. “Don’t be an idiot.” She turned and climbed the tallest tree. She could climb any tree, whether it had branches or not. With her brown skin and iridescent green hair, she practically disappeared as soon as she touched a branch.

  Coach Foley blew his whistle. “Listen up,” he said. Then he nodded to Professor Murphy, who took a step forward.

  “Thank you, Coach Foley,” Professor Murphy said. He rubbed his big, bulbous nose and continued, “Let me just say that selecting the five of you most worthy to be junior henchmen is going to be very difficult. There are many factors to consider: intelligence, physical strength, the ability to think under pressure, and other skills an evil overlord would find useful.

  “We have designed a series of tests that will help us rank your skills, but we will also consider reports from your mentors.

  “This first exercise will test your physical strength, your ability to perform under pressure, and your bravery. It’s called ‘Save the Master.’ It re-creates a situation where you have to risk your life to save your master, an essential trait in a henchman. Coach Foley will now explain the test.”

  Professor Murphy stepped back into Coach Foley’s shadow. Coach Foley cleared his throat and said, “Right. This test is a re-creation of Evil Overlord Stefano’s death, when his top henchman botched the rescue. A rival overlord had captured Stefano and dangled him above a volcano by a giant crane. Over two days he was gradually lowered into the volcano. The eruptions of lava slowly burned him to death. Very sad, but also brilliantly evil.

  “We don’t have a volcano, obviously,” he continued. “So we’re using a simulation. Our dragon keeper, Jake, has put our best fire-breathing dragon, Ferocious Flame of Fury, in a pit on the flat ledge on the other side of Mount Curiosity.”

  “Puddles!” a bunch of kids called out, because that was the beast’s nickname. He had a habit of flying around the castle and leaving his mark, so to speak.

  “Puddles will be spitting fire at intervals,” Coach Foley continued. “Your task is to climb up to the ledge and free the master before he becomes charred.

  “You won’t be rescuing an actual master, of course. Just a life-size dummy.”

  “We’re going to rescue Runt?” Rufus said. Everyone laughed and then he added, “Oh, wait, he’s not life-size.”

  “Coach Foley, tell Jake to ready the dragon,” Professor Murphy said. Coach Foley called the stable master on his walkie-talkie. We all looked up at the mountain. The flat ledge was around the right side, near the valley between Mount Curiosity and Dead Man’s Peak, a sheer wall of granite.

  We couldn’t see the ledge, but a blast of flame rose from that side. Puddles was ready.

  “First up,” Professor Murphy said, looking at his clipboard, “Rufus Spaniel.”

  Rufus strutted forward, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles. He stripped down to his Critchlore Shape-Shifter Snap-Free Sweatpants™ and said, “I’m ready.” When he morphed into wolf form, the pants snapped off, ready to be used again when he morphed back into human form. Dr. Critchlore had invented them after he got tired of seeing the shape-shifters ruin so many clothes.

  “Go!” Professor Murphy said. He and Coach Foley started their stopwatches. Rufus bounded up the slope and disappeared into the forest.

  Professor Murphy watched his tablet computer, which had a live video feed of the suspended dummy. I leaned over to sneak a look at it swaying above the pit. A burst of flames came about a meter short of the dummy’s feet.

  Professor Murphy noticed me watching and turned the tablet away. “This is for judges only, Higgins. We don’t want you kids copying successful maneuvers.”

  “Sorry,” I said. I backed away and sat on a rock. Everyone seemed to be watching the mountain, even though there was nothing to see. I looked back at the castle and saw Dr. Critchlore by the side of the building. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt that read “Go Climb a Rock.” He walked beneath a row of oak trees, and suddenly a rainstorm of acorns fell down on him. Everyone knew Dr. Critchlore had a bad case of dendrophobia, the fear of trees. I could see why. He held his backpack over his head and hopped on his new motorcycle.

  That’s just great. He was supposed to be finding new recruits! I picked up a rock and threw it as far as I could into the distant trees. Then I threw another.

  I heard cheers behind me. Rufus had burst out of the forest carrying the master in his jaws.

  “Excellent,” Coach Foley said after checking the time on his stopwatch. He pulled his walkie-talkie from his belt. “Jake, set up a new master.”

  Professor Murphy held up a towel so Rufus could turn back into a human without everyone seeing him naked. Behind the towel Rufus put his shirt and Snap-Frees back on.

  I waited for my name to be called. And waited. Nearly everyone went before I got a turn, and they all returned with the master. Even Janet, who somehow convinced everyone that Jake doing the task for her wasn’t cheating. Which I guess it wasn’t, because … because … um … what was I talking about?

  “Runt Higgins,” Coach Foley said at last.

  I jumped up. “I’m ready,” I said. I kissed my medallion for luck, and then lined up at the start.

  “Go!”

  I raced up the hill and into the forest. I tried to pace myself. The trail was clear, and it felt so good to be moving instead of waiting in a pool of worry.

  Once I reached the right side of the mountain, I saw the ledge just above me.

  And then I heard a scream—a man’s scream, low and urgent.

  Could the dummy scream? Did they add sound effects to make it seem more real? I sprinted up the hill, a new sense of urgency propelling me forward.

  Another scream, and it wasn’t coming from the dummy. It was coming from Dead Man’s Peak. I looked up and saw a body dangling off the side of that sheer wall of granite. His legs were bicycling in the air as he tried to pull himself back up to the small ledge he held on to.

  It was Dr. Critchlore.

  The difference between the impossible and the possible is a team of minions.

  —DR. CRITCHLORE, IN A COMMENCEMENT ADDRESS

  I couldn’t see Coach Foley or Professor Murphy from my position on the mountain. I thought about going back to get help, but I didn’t think Dr. Critchlore could hold on that long. He had a couple of minutes, tops.

  Jake, the stable master, stood by a pile of mostly charred dummies. He was wearing his silver fireproof suit, and burns scarred part of his face. He was missing a few teeth too. I’d heard he’d taken a few too many blows to the head and wasn’t all there mentally. Being a dragon keeper was not a very safe occupation. Dragons are temperamental and territorial and unpredictable.

  Jake had taken off his hood, but he still wore his protective headphones. A dragon’s screech can make your ears bleed if you’re too close.

  He smiled at me. “Hi, Higgins,” he said, raising a hand.

  “Jake! Look, it’s Dr. Critchlore!” I pointed to the cliff wall.

  He kept staring at me, smiling.

  “Jake!”

  He raised his hand again. “Hi, Higgins.”

  Great.

  What to do? My heart pounded furiously. Then an idea burst through my panic. An idea sitting right in front of me. In the pit.

  I edged over to the side between bursts of flames. “Puddles!” I called. “Good dragon. Come here, boy! Out of the pit.” I waved my arms in an upward motion. “We have to save Dr. Critchlore!”

  He answered with a blast of fire directed at the dummy. Dragons are so competitive.

  “Jake, can you get him out?”

  Jake raised his hand and said, “Hi, Higgins.”<
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  Okay, fine. I ran over to the crane and released the rope that held up the dummy. The dummy fell right into the pit. I heard the sounds of it being torn to shreds. Bits of stuffing flew into the air.

  “Higgins, what are you doing?” Jake said.

  “I’m saving the master,” I said.

  I leaned over the side again. “Good job, Puddles,” I said. “You win. Now, c’mon out.”

  Puddles hopped out of the pit. I stroked his side and he wagged his tail. Dragons are always in a good mood after winning a game. I knew this from when I worked in the stables cleaning out the muck. Puddles’s favorite game was checkers, and he was such a cheater. He’d light stuff on fire to distract you, then switch around his pieces while you extinguished the flames.

  I climbed on his back, grabbing the harness that he always wore. “C’mon, Puddles, Dr. Critchlore needs us.” I gently tugged the harness, moving Puddles’s head sideways so he could see Dr. Critchlore.

  Oh no! Dr. Critchlore had lost his grip with one arm and was very close to falling to his death. I gave Puddles a “fly” command with my legs, and we lifted into the air.

  “Good boy, Puddles!” I screamed. “Get Dr. Critchlore! Big treats if you get him before he falls. Big treats! I’ll bring you a goat.”

  Puddles heard “goat” and whinnied. Goat was his favorite. He lowered his head and we zoomed straight for Dr. Critchlore, who looked like he only had seconds left.

  “Hang on, Dr. Critchlore!” I yelled. “We’re almost there!”

  “Me too!” A voice from above yelled. It was Miss Merrybench. Tied to a rope, she jumped off the cliff, spinning around in midair so that her outstretched feet hit the side of the mountain as she swung back. She rappelled down like a pro, kicking off the mountain and falling a great distance before she reined in. “I’ll save you, Dr. Critchlore!”

  Dr. Critchlore swiveled his head around—to look at me and Puddles, then back up at Miss Merrybench. Suddenly he lost his grip. He seemed to fall in slow motion, his body floating down, down, down.