Along Came a Spider

Soneji, who was over six feet tall.
    Finally, Ms. Kim turned to the children. “Maggie Rose and Michael Goldberg? Could the two of you please come up front? Bring your things if you would.”
    Maggie Rose and Michael exchanged puzzled glances. What was this all about? They gathered their belongings, and then headed to the front to find out. The other kids had begun whispering, even talking out loud in the classroom.
    “Okay. Put a lock on it. This isn’t recess,” Ms. Kim quieted them. “This is still class. Please have some respect for the rules we’ve all agreed to live by here.”
    When they got to the front of the classroom, Mr. Soneji crouched down to talk privately to Maggie and Michael. Shrimpie Goldberg was at least four inches shorter than Maggie Rose.
    “There’s a little problem, but it’s nothing to worry about.” Mr. Soneji was calm and very gentle with the children. “Everything is basically fine. There’s just a little glitch, that’s all. Everything is okay, though.”
    “I don’t think so,” Michael Goldberg said, shaking his head. “What’s this little so-called glitch all about?”
    Maggie Rose didn’t say anything yet. She was feeling afraid for some reason. Something had happened. Something was definitely wrong. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Her mom always told her she had too active an imagination, so she tried to look cool, act cool,
be
cool.
    “We just received a phone call from the Secret Service,” said Ms. Kim. “They’ve gotten a threat. It concerns both you and Maggie. It’s probably a crank call. But we’re going to hustle you both home as a precaution. Just a safety precaution. You guys know the drill.”
    “I’m sure you’ll both be back before lunch,” Mr. Soneji added in support, though he didn’t sound too convincing.
    “What kind of threat?” Maggie Rose asked Mr. Soneji. “Against Michael’s father? Or does it have to do with my mom?”
    Mr. Soneji patted Maggie’s arm. Time and again, the teachers at the private school were amazed at how grown-up most of these kids were.
    “Oh, the usual kind we get now and then. Big talk, no action. Just some jerk looking for attention, I’m sure. Some creep.” Mr. Soneji made an exaggerated face. He showed just the right amount of concern, but he made the kids feel secure.
    “Then why do we have to go all the way home to Potomac, for crying out loud?” Michael Goldberg grimaced and gesticulated like a miniature courtroom lawyer. In many ways he was a cartoon version of his famous father, the secretary.
    “Just to be on the safe side. Okay? Enough said. I’m not going to have a debate with you, Michael. Are we ready to travel?” Mr. Soneji was nice, but firm.
    “Not really.” Michael continued to frown and shake his head. “No way, José Canseco. Seriously, Mr. Soneji. This isn’t fair. It isn’t right. Why can’t the Secret Service come here and stay till school’s over?”
    “That’s not the way they want to do it,” Mr. Soneji said. “I don’t make up the rules.”
    “I guess we’re ready,” said Maggie. “C’mon, Michael. Stop arguing. This is a done deal.”
    “It’s a done deal.” Ms. Kim offered a helpful smile. “I’ll send over your homework assignments.”
    Both Maggie Rose and Michael started to laugh. “
Thank you, Ms. Kim
!” they said in unison. Leave it to Ms. Kim to have a good joke to fit the situation.
    The halls outside the classroom were nearly empty, and very quiet. A porter, a black man named Emmett Everett, was the only person who saw the trio as they left the school building.
    Leaning on his broom, Mr. Everett watched Mr. Soneji and the two children walk the length of the long hallway. He was the last person to see them all together.
    Once outside, they hurried across the school’s cobble-stoned parking lot, which was framed by elegant birch trees and shrubbery. Michael’s shoes made clicking noises against the stones.
    “Dork shoes.” Maggie Rose leaned into him and made a joke. “Look like dork shoes, act like dork shoes, sound like dork shoes.”
    Michael had no argument. What could he say? His mother and father still bought his clothes at freaking Brooks Brothers. “What am I
supposed
to be wearing, Miss Gloria Vanderbilt? Pink sneakers?” he offered lamely.
    “Sure,
pink
sneakers.” Maggie beamed. “Or lime green Air-outs. But not shoes for a funeral, Shrimpster.”
    Mr. Soneji led the children to a late-model blue van parked