She was the last one through the hatch. Sitting atop the closet that wasn’t there, she tossed the ladder back on the roof and locked the trapdoor.
She climbed down, stepping onto the chains and steel bar.
The children were waiting quietly inside the classroom, hands folded on their desks.
Mrs. Jewls walked to the side of the room and looked out the window. Either the cloud was moving closer, or it was getting bigger.
Or both.
“What kind of cloud is it, Mrs. Jewls?” asked Leslie.
There are times when adults hide the truth from children, so as not to worry them. But Mrs. Jewls was a teacher. And this was science.
“Take a good look, boys and girls,” she said, pointing out the window. Then, with a slight tremble in her voice, she said, “That is a Cloud of Doom.”
The room darkened.
9
The Gonnnnng
Louis, the yard teacher, was filling a green ball with air when the Cloud of Doom cast its gloomy shadow over the schoolyard. He felt an eerie chill as he pushed down on his air pump.
Suddenly there was a loud BANG, and the next thing Louis knew, he was lying on the blacktop.
He slowly sat up. He wiggled his fingers. He stuck out his tongue and moved it from side to side. He seemed to be okay. He stood up, still a little wobbly.
Bits of green rubber were scattered across the playground. His air pump was on the other side of the dodgeball circle.
The ball must have exploded from too much air, he realized.
He always tried to put the maximum amount of air into each ball. The kids liked them bouncy. The bouncier the better.
He picked up a piece of green rubber. Then another. And another.
There already weren’t enough balls to go around. The school couldn’t afford to lose another one. He’d have to sew it back together.
In the end he found seventy-three pieces. It was unusually dark for this time of day. He hoped he hadn’t missed any.
“The gong!” he remembered. He hurried to the principal’s office, stuffing cotton balls into his ears as he ran.
“You’re late, Louis,” said Mr. Kidswatter, but Louis couldn’t hear him.
He wheeled the giant gong out of the office to the bottom of the stairs.
At one time, the gong had been bright and shiny, but that was before Louis’s time. Now it was dull and heavily dented. A large mallet, also made of iron, hung from a hook bolted to the gong’s wood frame.
Louis unhooked it, and then took a couple of steps backward to steady himself. The mallet was heavy, even for someone as strong as the yard teacher.
He handed it to Mr. Kidswatter, who easily raised it over his shoulder. Mr. Kidswatter had thick arms, a thick neck, and a thick head.
Louis started the countdown. “Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .”
There was a red dot in the center of the gong. On the count of “One!” Mr. Kidswatter swung the mallet and hit it dead center.
GONNNNN-nnnnn-NNNNN-nnnnn-NNNNN-nnnnn-NNNNN . . .
Despite the cotton balls, the sound rattled inside Louis’s head, and echoed up and down the stairs.