How I Broke My School

By Diane Owens

Thunderous crashes, flickering lights, unexplained wind gusts. The principal says it’s just faulty wiring. Others believe a dead janitor haunts the school. Either way, it’s a scary place for an overly anxious 12-year-old. When Anna’s anxiety gets the best of her, the school bully calls her a coward. Determined to prove him wrong, Anna sneaks into the school’s basement to confront the ghost. Instead, she discovers the real reason her school is so different. And things are about to get a whole lot crazier.

For those looking for chuckles and chills, this humorous, suspenseful fantasy calls upon the Chinese philosophy of yin and yang to explore the true meaning of courage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diane Owens
• Release date: May 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463190395

Diane Owens

DIANE OWENS manages the Orion Middle School Library where she gets to hang out with two of her favorite things: middle grade books and the people who read them. She also helps young writers at the school through her participation in the Writers’ Workshop class. You can visit Diane online at allwritewithme.com. The author created this online writing community to assist and encourage young writers. The site includes tips, techniques, activities and group projects. Drop in to share your own writing and see what other kids are working on. Teachers and parents can find educational companion materials for No Ordinary Lizard and Swept Up at allwritewithme.com. These reading and writing guides reinforce Common Core ELA Standards for grade levels 3-6. Teachers and parents can also connect with Diane and other users of the All Write with Me website at facebook.com/allwritewithme. Diane lives in Orion, IL with her wonderful husband and son and misses living with her wonderful daughter who’s grown up and moved on. Coming Soon How I Broke My School For Anna, who's overly anxious, and Levi, who's overly cautious, sixth grade is a welcome relief. It's their last year at a school everyone believes is haunted. But it's also the year the school bully calls them both cowards. Wanting to prove him wrong, Anna and Levi sneak into the school to confront the ghost. Instead, they discover two irresistible mice. Taking them home transforms everyone. Anna no longer worries about anything. Levi becomes dangerously daring. The teachers don't feel like teaching and the school becomes a playground. It also makes the Chinese storm gods, who were supposed to be guarding the mice, really, really angry. Now it's up to Anna to outsmart these bumbling deities before the gods destroy the world. Frequently funny and sometimes scary, this suspenseful fantasy calls upon the Chinese philosophy of yin and yang to explore the true meaning of courage. Don’t miss the release If you would like to be notified when this book becomes available, subscribe to the author’s email alerts.

Book preview

1

I want to get going, to get it over with, but we have to wait until the sun goes down. To pass the time, I start listing reasons why I shouldn’t do what I’m about to do. I'm still adding to my list when the sun finally sets.

Turns out there are a lot of reasons not to go to school when it’s officially closed, completely deserted, and possibly haunted.

I go anyway. Because Levi is my best friend. And I have keys.

As soon as Levi shows up, I unlock the school’s front door, step aside then wait for Levi to go in first. But he’s too busy scowling at his shoes.

You’re doing the right thing, I tell him. Again.

Really, Anna? You just broke into the school. What if we get caught?

We didn’t break in. I nod at the keys dangling from the lock.

I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count, Levi says. Since you stole them.

Borrowed them. So you don’t fail sixth grade. My dad would understand.

Levi blinks at me through the smears that make me wonder why he even bothers wearing glasses. Then why didn’t you just ask him to let us in?

Because we’ve known about this paper for three weeks. He wouldn’t understand why you waited until the night before it’s due.

It’s a stupid assignment.

It’s 50 percent of your grade!

Levi already knows this. It’s why he finally agreed to meet me here. But I remind him anyway because he is not allowed to change his mind. I am not the type of kid who breaks into locked buildings. Or borrows keys without asking. Or does things behind my dad’s back. Well, I guess maybe I am because I’m here, pushing Levi through the door, but I only do things like this when I have a good reason, like keeping my best friend from flunking.

Levi stops in the middle of the too-long, too-shadowy hallway. He peers down the sixth-grade end, then turns toward the kindergarten end. Why is everything red?

It’s the light from the exit signs. I point at the glowing letters above our heads.

Levi shivers and I laugh. There's nothing wrong with red. It's cheerful. Like Christmas lights.

Or creepy. Like horror movies. In our school, it could go either way.

Levi takes a step back. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. We should go. I’ll just get my notes tomorrow and ask Mrs. Studer to give me more time.

She won’t. Come on. I pull him down the eerily glowing hallway, biting my lip to keep my teeth from chattering.

Our shoes squeak on the polished floor. It’s the only sound around. I think. I hope. My ears strain to catch any noise that shouldn’t be there.

When we get to Mrs. Studer’s room, I slide the key into her door then jam Dad’s flashlight into Levi’s stomach. Use this, I say. But keep it pointed at the floor. If anyone drives by and sees lights, they’ll wonder what’s going on.

Levi waves the flashlight aside and flips the light switch instead. No one’s going to wonder. The lights turn on and off all the time.

By all the time he means every day in every classroom since 1920. No one has to touch a switch, be near a switch, or even be in the same room.

The teachers and principal say it’s just faulty wiring.

Three lunch ladies, seven aides, and over half of the kids say it’s the janitor who died in the school’s basement a hundred years ago, when he tripped and drowned in a puddle of water. They say he’s been haunting the school ever since.

I don’t know what I believe but I know Levi’s right. If anyone sees a lit-up classroom, they’ll blame it on bad wiring or a bad ghost story. They won’t blame it on two sixth-graders worried about a bad grade.

I bounce the keys against my palm as Levi heads for his desk. By the time I finish 15 bounces, he’s gathered all his notes.

All we have to do now is walk out. I count the tiles as we step over each one:… ten… eleven… twelve…

Levi stops and I run right into him. He points at the door that leads to the basement. It’s open.

Huh. They never leave it open. Ever.

We should go down there, Levi says, sounding like it’s the best idea he’s ever had. It’s not.

We can’t. You have to write ten pages by tomorrow morning. You don’t have time to hang out with a dead janitor.

Levi makes a sound that pretends to be a laugh. Tell me you don’t believe that stupid story.

Which one? The one about the janitor dying in the basement or the one about the kid who never returned from the basement?

Some of the excitement falls off Levi’s face. I – I’ve never heard that second one.

It happened when my dad was a kid. I shrug my shoulders to show Levi that what I’m about to tell him doesn’t bother me. Some boy went down there on a dare and no one ever saw him again. They say the janitor ate every last bit of him. That’s when they started locking the basement door.

Levi started wincing at the word dare. He’s still wincing when he asks, Did your dad tell you that?

No. Jamie heard it from her mom. Dad said it was just a rumor. He said the kid moved away.

Levi smiles. Well, that makes a lot more sense, doesn’t it?

Yes. But I’m thinking it makes more sense not to risk it. I really don’t want to be a janitor’s late-night snack. So I don’t answer him. I just wait and hope he changes his mind. He doesn’t.

Come on, Anna. We can take each other’s picture to prove we did it. I’ve got my phone.

Now I get it. He wants to show everyone how brave he is because his stupid ex-best friend called him a coward a couple days ago.

Nobody cares what Carl thinks, I say. He’s always saying dumb stuff. Anyway, we’re not supposed to be here, remember? We have to go.

Levi stops staring at the door and aims his smeary glasses at me. It wasn’t just me. He said stuff about you, too.

I’ve never cared about anything that comes out of Carl’s mouth. Still. What did he say?

He called you Freaked Out Anna. He told everyone you were scared of your own shadow.

Carl is such a jerk. But... after my Supply Closet Meltdown, it’s possible others had agreed with him.

Who was there when he said it? Did anybody laugh?

Levi doesn’t answer. There must have been lots of laughing people.

Okay, I say, because who wants to be stuck with a name like Freaked Out Anna? Besides, anyone could see how important this is to Levi. We’ll go. But no exploring. I’ll be grounded for the rest of my life if Dad realizes I’m not home. Just a couple pictures and then we’re out. Okay?

Levi grins. You’re scared.

Of course I’m scared. But I don’t want Levi to know it. I take one big breath in then two small steps forward. Let’s go.

2

Every step leading to the basement is wetter than the one above it. Halfway down, I’m stepping in puddles. Afraid I’ll slip, I reach for the brick wall. My fingers land in the sticky threads of a huge spider web. I snatch my hand back and try not to wonder how big a spider would have to be to build a web like that.

What’s that smell? Levi asks.

It smells like the dumpsters in the back of Mel’s Grocers. Something’s rotting. Vegetables or meat. Probably both.

Tomorrow’s lunch, I say, hoping I’m right. We might get sick from a rotten lunch but we’ll definitely get killed by a rotting janitor. I picture him grabbing us with his cold, dead hands then slowly sucking out our brains.

I force the image out of my head. I’m way too old and way too smart to believe in ghost stories. I should be more like Levi, who’s currently plowing down the steps as fast as his legs can carry him. I’m sure he isn’t thinking about zombie janitors. And I shouldn’t be either.

I can do this. There’s no reason why I can’t. No good reason anyway. That shadow over there in the corner? It didn’t really flicker. And that smell? It’s just what happens to basements when they’re locked up for too long. There isn’t anyone here except us, even though it sure feels like those zombie hands are reaching out to grab me.

Covering my nose, I head to the nearest wall, check it for webs, then turn toward Levi.

He holds up his phone and frowns at the screen. You look horrified. Try smiling. We’re brave, remember? That’s why we’re here.

Brave. Right. Would that be a small, all-knowing half smile, or an overly wide, no-cares-in-the-world, full-on grin?

I feel it in my toes, then I feel it under my heels. A vibrating thrum in the floor, like a train’s coming.

Levi’s eyes widen. He feels it, too.

I push myself off the wall. It’s him! We’ve made him mad and now he’s going to eat us!

Levi grabs my wrist, holding me back from the stairs. It’s not him. It’s just water moving through the pipes.

That’s what they tell us, anyway.

Because that’s what it is.

We’re in the basement and the pipes are above our heads. How would that vibrate the floor?

I don’t know. But it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s just a stupid rumor. Nobody died in this basement. You can’t die in an inch of water.

Actually, I’m pretty sure you can. But before I have a chance to argue, Levi holds his phone in front of my face then snaps the button, even though I’m not smiling.

Above our heads, something starts to drip, like rain against a window. Except there aren’t any windows down here. We’re way under ground. There’s a whole school on top of us.

I will be really mad if I end up dying down here.

Levi shoves the phone in my hands and backs against the wall. After I click the button, he dashes over to inspect his tiny face inside his tiny phone. He sighs, shakes his head. You can’t really tell we’re in the basement. We should take a couple more. He walks over to the fuse box.

I’ve had enough. The floor is still rumbling, the water’s still dripping, and it sure smells like the janitor is still rotting. Every moment we spend down here increases the possibility of Dad finding out. It also increases the possibility of me and my best friend dying under a school.

Levi, I say, we can’t —

You’re right, Levi says, totally surprising me. He grabs my wrist and drags me toward the stairs. Let’s go. And whatever you do, don’t look back.

I whip my head around. There’s nothing behind us except shadows and water and cobwebs. Why? Did you see the janitor?

Levi groans. No. But I told you not to look. Come on. He yanks me forward.

I continue to squint at the dark corners. Oh! I say, pulling away from him. Mice! I run toward them then squat down to get a better view.

Levi is at my side in less than a second. What are you doing? You hate mice.

Not these mice. Look how cute they are!

I smile as I watch them, the fuzziest, roundest mice I’ve ever seen. One midnight black, the other white as snow, they’re all wrapped up in each other. Each round head rests against the other’s back, white on black and black on white, like a big, soft panda bear. For some reason I can’t figure out, they’re turning in a perfect circle, like they’re riding on a merry-go-round. The black one turns her head just a bit as she goes by. She blinks one eye and twitches her nose.

Did you see that? I think she likes me.

Levi squats and holds out his hand. The mice keep on spinning but the white one wiggles its ears.

I’ve always wanted a mouse, Levi says as he runs a finger down the white one’s back. Hey! Let’s take them home.

Nodding, I scramble up and look around. There. A pile of empty boxes leans against the wall. I choose the two smallest ones and give one to Levi.

Perfect, he says, picking up the white mouse.

I scoop the black mouse into my hands and lower her gently into the other box.

A thunderous crash explodes through the building.

3

My knees buckle and my heart pounds. I’m certain we’re seconds away from being zombie dinner.

Ready to go? Levi asks.

I push him up the stairs and scramble after him.

In the hallway, lights flash on and off. A patch of fog floats by and a gust of wind lifts my hair. The tiles are slick and my feet keep slipping out from under me. The door is a million miles away and I’m not running fast enough. There’s another crash and I scream. Partly out of fear and partly out of frustration. Running on this slippery floor is like running in a nightmare. I keep pushing forward but I don’t feel like I’m making any progress.

Finally, we burst through the front door. Across the parking lot, down the street, through the yards. We don’t stop running until we run out of breath.

You didn’t have to scream, you know, Levi says. That building’s always doing stuff like that.

And by always doing stuff like that he means at least once a week we hear thunder on sunny days, feel gusts of wind when the windows are closed, see patches of fog