The Magic Eraser Read online

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  Text copyright © 2020 by Aaron Starmer. Illustrations copyright © 2020 by Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved. Published by Penguin Workshop, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York. PENGUIN and PENGUIN WORKSHOP are trademarks of Penguin Books Ltd, and the W colophon is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 9780593222850 (pbk)

  ISBN 9780593094280 (hc)

  ISBN 9780593094297 (ebook)

  pid_prh_5.5.0_c0_r0

  To Rowan—AS

  For my dearest sister, Erika, the Carson to my Riley—thank you for always supporting and loving so wholly anyone lucky enough to know you. You inspire me to not fear making mistakes—even without a magical eraser—CLF

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One: Hopewell Elementary

  Chapter Two: Locker 37

  Chapter Three: Mrs. Shen

  Chapter Four: The Note

  Chapter Five: The Stain

  Chapter Six: Hunter Barnes

  Chapter Seven: What If?

  Chapter Eight: The “Wait a Second, Is This a Math Chapter?” Chapter

  Chapter Nine: The Thing That Was Inside Locker 37

  Chapter Ten: Disappearances

  Chapter Eleven: The Legs Dilemma

  Chapter Twelve: The Dungeon

  Chapter Thirteen: Unlucky

  Chapter Fourteen: The Flood

  Chapter Fifteen: Up a Rope

  Chapter Sixteen: The “wait a Minute, Is This a History Chapter?” Chapter

  Chapter Seventeen: In the Terrarium

  Chapter Eighteen: Operation Cockroach Rain

  Chapter Nineteen: In the Dark

  Chapter Twenty: Oh No

  Chapter Twenty-one: Bryce’s Jeans

  Chapter Twenty-two: Wet

  Chapter Twenty-three: Math Class

  Chapter Twenty-four: The “Come On, This Isn’t Another Math Chapter, Is It?” Chapter

  Chapter Twenty-five: 32 Is the Magic Number

  Chapter Twenty-six: Maybe This Wasn’t the Best Idea . . .

  Chapter Twenty-seven: He Could!

  Chapter Twenty-eight: Keisha James

  Chapter Twenty-nine: A Master Thief?

  Chapter Thirty: Busted

  Chapter Thirty-one: Cowards and Heroes

  Chapter Thirty-two: The “this Can’t Be a Chapter About Dumpsters, Can It?” Chapter?

  Chapter Thirty-three: Unerasable?

  Chapter Thirty-four: Dumpster Diving

  Chapter Thirty-five: Mrs. Shen Again

  Chapter Thirty-six: Solutions

  Chapter Thirty-seven: Coming Next . . .

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  HOPEWELL ELEMENTARY

  Before the first day of fourth grade, Carson Cooper thought Hopewell Elementary was exactly like any other school. It had classrooms for math, art, and science. It had a cafetorium, which was a cafeteria during the day and an auditorium at night. It had a gym with a climbing rope and something called a pommel horse in it.

  (A pommel horse is exactly like a regular horse—that is, if the regular horse only has two legs and doesn’t have hair, or a neck, or a head, but instead has handles on its back and stands entirely still so that gymnasts can jump on it.)

  In the front of Hopewell Elementary, near the stone steps leading up to the entrance, there was a big NO SKATEBOARDING! sign that was often ignored. Behind the school, there was a dumpster, full of things best left unseen and unsmelled.

  From September through June, Hopewell Elementary was full of students and teachers, who were mostly nice, most of the time. Carson didn’t love going there, but he’d been going there since kindergarten, so he was used to it. And he was used to thinking it was an entirely normal place.

  It was not an entirely normal place.

  In fact, Hopewell Elementary was the strangest, most amazing place in the universe. And that’s saying a lot. The universe had pulsars, black holes, and indoor water parks in it.

  Those places were nothing compared to Hopewell Elementary. Hopewell Elementary had Locker 37 in it.

  Locker 37 made all the difference.

  Chapter Two

  LOCKER 37

  Locker 37 was at the east end of the school, past the music room, in a dimly lit corner near a janitor closet full of toilet paper and laundry detergent. It was four feet tall, metal, and green. It had three slits in the door that worked as vents. It had a spinning combination lock with the numbers zero through forty-nine on it.

  On the outside, it looked like all the other lockers. So there was never any reason to suspect it was different on the inside.

  But, boy, was it different on the inside.

  Every day it was different.

  Anyone who knew the combination knew that.

  And on the first day of every school year, one lucky fourth-grader (or unlucky fourth-grader, depending on how you look at it) would learn the combination.

  Chapter Three

  MRS. SHEN

  “Welcome, friends, to the best year of your life,” Mrs. Shen said to Carson Cooper’s homeroom on the first day of fourth grade.

  It didn’t seem like an exaggeration. According to just about everyone, Mrs. Shen was the school’s best teacher. She told jokes that were actually funny. She held trivia contests. She showed YouTube videos in class. Having her as homeroom teacher guaranteed a good year. Being a fourth-grader made things even better.

  Fourth-graders were the kings and queens of Hopewell Elementary. They were the oldest and wisest. They knew the school’s secrets. For instance:

  Always buy school lunch on taco day, but never, ever, ever on fish stick day.

  The bathroom in the basement of the school is known as the Dungeon. Why? Because it looks like a dungeon, smells like a dungeon, and going to the bathroom in it is like a form of medieval torture. Avoid the Dungeon at all costs.

  Locker 37 can do anything. And by anything, that means ANYTHING.

  Carson learned this last secret right after Mrs. Shen told him this would be the best year of his life. That was when his knee brushed against something. Reaching down, he found a folded piece of paper stuck with a wad of chewing gum to the bottom of his desk.

  He peeled the paper off. He sniffed the gum.

  Watermelon.

  Then he unfolded the paper.

  It was a note.

  Chapter Four

  THE NOTE

  Dear Fourth-Grader,

  Congratulations on finding this incredibly important note!

  You are now th
e keeper of the combination to Locker 37. Locker 37 has helped fourth-graders at Hopewell Elementary for decades. We know it will help you, too.

  If you or another fourth-grader has a problem (any problem!), open Locker 37 and the locker will provide a solution. It won’t always be the solution you want, or expect, but it is guaranteed to work.

  Only fourth-graders know about Locker 37. So feel free to tell all your friends in fourth grade about it. It’s encouraged!

  But don’t tell anyone younger. And don’t ask anyone older for advice. Everyone who finishes fourth grade immediately forgets about Locker 37. You will, too.

  In the meantime, have fun. And best of luck!

  Sincerely,

  Last year’s fourth-graders

  P.S. We almost forgot to give you the combination! It’s 43-12-29.

  P.P.S. Oh yeah, and Locker 37 can do anything. And by anything, we mean ANYTHING! No big deal.

  P.P.P.S. Your life is about to get bonkers. Extremely bonkers.

  P.P.P.P.S. Feel free to chew the gum.

  Chapter Five

  THE STAIN

  Carson had a problem.

  Actually, he had a few problems.

  He had forgotten to bring his lunch, so he would have to buy lunch. And it was fish stick day.

  He didn’t understand how to multiply fractions. He had passed third grade, which meant he was supposed to understand how to multiply fractions. But he still didn’t understand how to multiply fractions.

  He was sort of tempted to chew that watermelon gum. Yes, he knew it was gross, but watermelon was his absolute favorite flavor.

  Forget those problems, though. Because he had one problem that was bigger than all the others combined.

  Carson had a stain on his pants.

  It might not sound like much to worry about, until you realize where the stain was. It was in a place on Carson’s pants where nobody ever wants to see a stain. Ever.

  No, not his thigh, or his shin, or the back of his knee. You know exactly where it was.

  Now do you get it?

  Carson noticed the stain as soon as he slipped the mysterious note about Locker 37 into his pants pocket. The stain wasn’t there when he got dressed in the morning, so he wondered how it could have found its way onto his pants.

  Did he sit on something wet while riding the bus?

  Did he bump into something gross in the hall?

  Did he rub against something nasty on the bottom of his desk? Watermelon gum, for instance?

  Ultimately, it didn’t matter where the stain came from. All that mattered was that it was there. It was big, and dark, and splotchy. It made Carson want to scream out loud.

  Mrs. Shen was still talking, so Carson held the scream in.

  “I’d like to introduce our class mascots. Meet Finn and Gill,” she said as she pointed to a pair of goldfish swimming in a bowl on a table in the back next to the radiator. “Would anyone in class be interested in feeding them every day?”

  A hand shot up and a voice called out, “I think I’ve shown how responsible I can be, as a founding member and president of the Junior Janitor Club. So I should be in charge of the fishies.”

  “Fair enough,” Mrs. Shen said. “And what’s your name?”

  “Keisha James, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, and nice to make your acquaintance, Keisha. Is anyone else interested in feeding the fishes?”

  The question was met with silence. The other students already knew Keisha was the best person for the job. She was an overachiever of the highest order, and had been nominating herself for positions since kindergarten.

  “It’s settled, then,” Mrs. Shen said. “Keisha will feed Finn and Gill. And I’ve also learned a little bit about her. So what about the rest of the class? I realize that many of you already know one another. But I don’t know most of you. When I call out your name, tell me something interesting about yourself.”

  What was interesting about Carson? He didn’t have the faintest idea. All he could think about was the embarrassment on his pants, and all he could do was stare at it. The stain was both terrifying and hypnotizing, and so he hardly heard Mrs. Shen when she called out, “Sarah Abramson.”

  And he hardly heard Sarah when she responded, “Hi. I’m Sarah, and I like to juggle.”

  He certainly didn’t see Sarah pull a pencil, a glue stick, and a ruler out of her backpack and start juggling them while still sitting at her desk. Which was too bad, because she was circus-level good. Mrs. Shen cheered and clapped. So did most of the class.

  Except for Carson. His hands and eyes remained on his lap. So when Mrs. Shen called out other names, in alphabetical order, he also missed that . . .

  Kendall Ali liked to cook . . .

  Hayley Baker could say the alphabet backward . . .

  And Nina Camacho knew more about lemurs than most lemurologists (which is the technical term for a lemur scientist, right?).

  Inevitably, it was Carson’s turn. When Mrs. Shen called out his name, Carson was still distracted. That’s why he answered with one word.

  “Pants,” Carson said.

  “Pants?” Mrs. Shen replied. “Do you mean you . . . like pants?”

  Carson was too embarrassed to say anything else, so he nodded.

  “I like pants, too,” Mrs. Shen said with a warm smile. “One of the world’s best inventions for hiding your underwear.”

  The class laughed. Carson lowered his head. And Mrs. Shen saved him from more embarrassment by calling on other students.

  Luckily, no one in class seemed to notice the stain. Carson knew that it was only a matter of time, though. Getting rid of the stain became his number one priority.

  He pulled the note out of his pocket and read the most important part of it again.

  If you or another fourth-grader has a problem (any problem!), open Locker 37 and the locker will provide a solution.

  Chapter Six

  HUNTER BARNES

  Carson hurried from homeroom toward Locker 37. He had a sweatshirt tied around his waist to hide the stain, but somehow Hunter Barnes still saw it.

  Hunter pointed and said, “Check it out. Carson had an accident.”

  It was true that the kids and teachers at Hopewell Elementary were mostly nice, most of the time. Hunter Barnes was the exception.

  Hunter wasn’t a bully in the traditional sense. He didn’t punch, kick, or even push anyone. He didn’t threaten people, either. By every measurement, he was one of the smallest kids in fourth grade.

  Still, he was a bully.

  His favorite thing to do was humiliate his classmates. He had a natural ability to see things that others were trying to hide. And he would reveal those hidden things to everyone.

  To EVERYONE!

  “Where are you going, Carson?” Hunter yelled. “To the bathroom? Didn’t you already relieve yourself? All over your stained PANTS?”

  Then Hunter cackled.

  Carson put his head down and kept moving.

  He passed the art room, but he could still hear laughter behind him . . .

  He passed the gym and the laughter was fainter . . .

  He hurried, faster and faster . . .

  He held the sweatshirt tight to make sure it didn’t fall off . . .

  He pushed his way through crowds . . .

  He jogged past the music room and the sounds of cymbals crashing . . .

  He kept going . . .

  Until it was quiet . . .

  And he was alone . . .

  In the dark hallway that led to Locker 37.

  Chapter Seven

  WHAT IF?

  People leave clothes in lockers all the time. So Carson thought it was possible that Locker 37 might have a clean pair of pants in it. That were his style .
. . and his size.

  Possible, though not likely.

  It seemed more likely that the note was a joke and that the locker was empty. At the very least, Carson thought he would have a moment by himself to figure out what to do.

  Carson knew this hallway well, and knew it was one of the darkest and loneliest parts of school. Only third- and fourth-graders went down the hallway, because they were the only ones who used lockers. The other kids used classroom cubbies.

  In third grade, Carson’s locker was Locker 28, and he remembered sometimes seeing groups of fourth-graders hanging around Locker 37. Sometimes they were laughing. Sometimes they were gasping. They were always whispering. He figured it was because they were up to some sort of mischief. Fourth-grade mischief, in particular, which was the most mischievous variety.

  Now that he was a fourth-grader with the combination to Locker 37, Carson was about to discover that this wasn’t about mischief. Or, to be more accurate, this was only partly about mischief.

  He placed his hand on the dial of the lock.

  He looked over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone.

  He was.

  He began to turn the dial.

  43.

  12.

  29.

  And . . .

  Wait a second.

  Before we get to the part where Carson opens the locker, let’s consider a question: How lucky was Carson to know about Locker 37 and its combination?

  Answer: very lucky.

  Because what if he didn’t know about Locker 37 and its combination? What if the only thing Carson knew was that there was a locker somewhere in school that solved problems? How easy would it be for him to find this problem-solving locker and open it?