It all began with a rubber band.
Not just any rubber band—a rogue one, launched from Coach Mitchell's "team-building" exercise involving a slingshot and a motivational poster. The rubber band shot across the hallway, rebounded off a locker, then pinged directly into the emergency sprinkler switch, which momentarily sparked. The sprinkler didn't go off (yet), but it did distract a passing janitor, whose cart veered sharply and clipped Milo's backpack, causing it to slide across the floor and come to rest right outside the janitor's closet.
Naturally, Milo bent down to pick it up.
At that exact moment, a floor buffer that had mysteriously turned itself on barreled down the hallway, narrowly missed him, but knocked the closet door shut behind him.
Click.
"Oh," Milo said, blinking in the sudden darkness. "Well, I guess that's how today's gonna go."
"Milo?" Melissa called, tapping the locked doorknob.
"I'm fine! It's just a little dark and smells like lemon-scented ammonia. Nothing I haven't handled before," Milo replied cheerfully from inside.
Melissa and Zack peered into the small, dusty window. Milo waved at them with the flashlight on his multi-tool, already making himself comfortable among mops, buckets, and a surprisingly comfy pile of spare towels.
"We're gonna get you out of there," Zack promised, tugging at the knob.
"No need to break the lock," Milo said. "There's a spare key in my backpack!"
Melissa perked up. "Oh, great! Where is it?"
"Uhh… Zack had it last, I think?"
Zack turned slowly. "Wait. I—what?"
"Yeah, I handed it to you when we passed the vending machine after gym. Remember? I needed both hands to fix that soda that got stuck in the coils."
Zack's face slowly transformed into a mask of realization and dread. "Oh no. I definitely put it down somewhere. But where…"
For two friends of a boy whose entire life is dictated by Murphy's Law, Melissa and Zack had developed an impressive tolerance for chaos. But even they weren't ready for how this afternoon would unfold.
"Okay, let's retrace our steps," Melissa said, pulling out a notepad from her hoodie pocket. "We were by the vending machines… then the art hallway… then we ran into…"
"Elliot," Zack groaned.
"Yup. Who was doing that weird interpretive dance based on geometric shapes."
"Right. Then I tried to take a shortcut through the trophy hallway, but Bradley was there, talking to a mirror."
They turned the corner and saw him still there, dramatically adjusting his collar in the reflection.
"Nope," they said in unison, pivoting back.
They scoured the gym bleachers (which had mysteriously folded themselves halfway, trapping Zack for a solid minute), the cafeteria (where Mort was holding a "sandwich puppet theater"), and the nurse's office (where the nurse was busy helping Amanda Lopez rearrange her emergency bandage filing system).
All the while, Melissa and Zack drifted further off-track.
"You know," Zack said as they walked down the music hallway, "this would be easier if your laugh didn't distract me every five seconds."
Melissa raised a brow. "Distract you how?"
"I don't know. It's kind of cute. Like a pterodactyl that learned sarcasm."
She snorted. "Wow. That's the most backhanded compliment I've ever gotten."
"I try my best," he replied, hands in his jacket pockets, grinning.
"Maybe you should focus your best on finding the backpack before Milo becomes one with the mop population."
They reached the science fair area. Melissa stopped dead in her tracks.
"Wait. Is that his backpack?"
Zack squinted. "Perched on top of the papier-mâché volcano? Why?"
Melissa deadpanned, "Why not?"
Zack sighed and climbed the display table as carefully as he could. The volcano began to tremble ominously.
"Hurry up," she said, balancing the table.
Zack grabbed the backpack and leapt off—just as the volcano erupted with baking soda foam, coating a nearby model of the solar system.
"Every. Time." Zack muttered, handing her the bag.
Milo had found a mop, a bucket, and what looked like a long-forgotten student council crown from a spirit week long ago.
He placed the crown on the mop's head.
"Sir Mops-a-Lot, I hereby declare you king of Closetonia," Milo said, bowing dramatically. "I am but your humble subject. May your reign be free of mildew and your kingdom ever lemon-fresh."
He then began narrating his own adventure in a British accent.
Melissa triumphantly inserted the key into the closet lock. With a satisfying click, the door swung open.
Milo stood tall, mop in hand like a scepter, crowned and regal.
"You guys made it!" he beamed. "I was starting to plan a third act musical number."
Melissa looked around the room. "You... were busy."
"I made a friend," Milo said proudly, holding up the mop.
Zack chuckled. "Do we call you 'Sir Murphy' now?"
"I prefer 'Royal Disaster Consultant,'" Milo replied, slinging his backpack on with casual ease. "Thanks for finding this. You two didn't get too sidetracked, did you?"
Melissa and Zack exchanged a look. A flush colored Zack's cheeks. Melissa pretended to suddenly be fascinated by a hallway poster about dental hygiene.
"Nope," she said, just a bit too quickly.
"Not at all," Zack added.
Milo raised an eyebrow.
The mop tilted slightly.
"Right," Milo said with a knowing smirk. "Well, Sir Mops-a-Lot says otherwise."
They burst into laughter, the three of them walking down the hallway together, leaving behind a mop kingdom, a foaming volcano, and another very normal day at Jefferson County Middle School.