Chapter 18

Luckily, Fay had been the morning announcement reader last Thursday. She knew exactly which button to push on the microphone to make sure she would be heard by the entire school.
She took a deep breath and pushed the yellow button. “AHOY YOU GOOGLE-EYED SCUMSUCKERS!” Fay hollered into the microphone in her deepest voice. She sneaked a peek at the bony pirate in the hall. He looked startled, like a deer in headlights. Fay smiled.

“THIS IS THE GHOST OF DAVY JONES!” she continued. “YOU KNOW WHO I AM! I’M THAT DUDE THEY NAMED THE LOCKER AFTER!”

There were frantic footsteps in the hallway, and loud exclamations as the pirates tried to make sense of the mystery voice.

“YOU CROSS-EYED BOOGERHEADS!” Fay bellowed into the microphone. “DIDN’T YOU HEAR THAT BELL? IT’S MORALLY IMMORAL TO MAKE CHILDREN STAY AT SCHOOL AFTER THAT BELL RINGS! YOU BETTER LET’EM OUT NOW, OR I’LL HAUNT YOU AND HAUNT YOU UNTIL YOUR BOAT SINKS FASTER THAN THE TITANIC!”

More muttering in the hallway.
“What’s th’Titanic?” said a gnarly pirate voice.

“Ta’ heck if I know,” replied the unmistakable, but slightly nervous, voice of Yellow Tooth, “but it don’t sound pretty. Hanky, Buttercup…let these guppies outa’ here. They’d have made lousy recruits anyways.”

There was running and cheering in the hallway, as all one-hundred and fourteen students of Elbow Harbor Elementary, minus Fay and Barnaby, streamed from their classrooms and out of the building. Judy Fipple carefully stood Mr. Officer up on her way out.

Fay heaved a big sigh, and peeked over the edge of Mr. Squibbly’s desk, while she waited for the right moment to sneak out and blend with the rest of the kids. Her feeling of relief was, unfortunately, short-lived.

“My dad’s gonna sue your pants off!” came a whiny voice from the hallway outside Mr. Squibbly’s office.

“Blimey Yeller!” exclaimed Buttercup, the bony pirate. “If’n it ain’t one o’them brats what knows Cap’n Arg!”

“And yer’ gonna help us find the Cap’n,” said Scratchy, the red-haired pirate. “Aren’t ya’? So’s we can make a new anchor outa’ him.”

Fay peeked over the desk. Yellow Tooth had Barnaby in the air by the shirt collar, as several members of his grimy crew pointed and chuckled.

“And you know what?” cried Barnaby. “You’re not gonna like having your pants sued off! And you know what else? You stink! And you’re stupid! You really thought that wasn’t a ghost, didn’t you?”

“Thought what was a ghost?” growled Yellow Tooth.

“That voice,” cackled Barnaby, still suspended by his shirt collar. “You dummy! That was Fay LaFarge talking on Mr. Squibbly’s microphone! You’re not as dumb as a post, you’re dumber!”

“No Hootsman,” hissed Fay, desperately fearing her cover had been blown. “You’re dumber.”

Maybe the pirates didn’t even know who Mr. Squibbly was. Maybe they still wouldn’t find her. Maybe…there wasn’t the blade of a cutlass pointing right at her nose. But there was.

“Well well,” said Yellow Tooth in a slow, ugly drawl. “Looks like we found Davy Jones. And he ain’t even in his locker!”

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