The rest of Thursday—and Friday—were busy.
Ben helped the witches work on their flying painting, and then he spent some time working on his article about Art Week.
"Almost done," he thought happily as he floated to the newspaper office on Friday afternoon.
All he needed now was the ending.
In a few hours, the school would host a ceremony with Leonardo da Creepy.
Once Ben reported on that, he'd have everything he needed to finish his article.
The only thing left to do until then was gather up Pixel's photos for the newspaper story.
As Ben hurried through the hallways, he couldn't help thinking that the school looked awesome.
Artwork hung from all the walls, and colorful displays filled the building.
The mummies' straw pyramids had been moved to the cafeteria, and once again, Mr. Freaky's junk sculpture sat in the lobby.
To his own surprise, Ben felt proud.
"It was a tough week," he thought.
But Art Week was nearly over, and maybe, just maybe, it would be a success.
"Hey, Ben!"
Inside the newspaper office, Mog and Pixel were looking at something.
"There you are!" Mog said.
"I've been looking for you.
I finally have something good enough to display for Art Week."
Ben looked around. "Where is it?"
"It's not here, silly," Mog said. "Pixel has a photo."
Pixel held out his camera so Ben could see.
"Huh. It's a sculpture."
Ben peered into the camera again.
"It sort of looks like a dog."
"That's right!" Mog beamed.
"It is a dog!
I figured if Mr. Freaky could make a sculpture out of junk, I could too."
Ben gave him a high-five.
"I like it, Mog. Did you make it with playing cards?"
"Right again," Mog said.
"I call the sculpture Cards Playing Dog."
"Very funny." Ben smiled.
"I'm glad you gave up on those dumb photos with the mustaches.
This is real art."
"Thanks," Mog said.
"Now I have to find Ms. Van Ghoul.
She's looking for the perfect spot for it. See you later!"
Ben and Pixel waved good-bye.
Then Ben looked at Pixel.
"Speaking of photos, how are the Art Week photos going?
Are they all ready?"
Pixel nodded. "Yep. All I have to do now is take a photo of the witches' flying painting.
It's finally finished."
"Woo-hoo!" Ben cheered. "What a relief."
"I'll go now and be back in a few minutes."
Pixel floated out through the door, and Ben sat down to reread his story.
A moment later the door flew open, and Mr. Freaky burst in.
His eyes swept the room.
"Are you looking for me, Mr. Freaky?" Ben asked.
"Er, not exactly. I mean, I did want to get an update on your investigation.
But right now I'm working on something else.
Apparently"—Mr. Freaky rolled his eyes—"Leonardo da Creepy doesn't exactly like kids or schools.
So he needs a"—the principal made air quotes with his fingers—"'quiet place' to relax during tonight's ceremony.
I suggested the cafeteria, but he said he couldn't relax there because it's too noisy.
Plus, it smells like barbecued bat wings.
So I thought maybe he could come here."
"The newspaper office is pretty quiet," Ben said.
"Except when we have tight deadlines. I'm sure it'll be fine."
"It'll do," Mr. Freaky said. "But it's messy.
And Mr. Bog is really busy right now, helping Ms. Van Ghoul with some of the artwork."
He took out a handkerchief and started dusting the desks and shelves around Ben.
Then he headed for the supply closet.
"Is there a broom in here?"
There was a sound as he opened the door, and then Ben saw something tumble out and hit Mr. Freaky.
"Oof!"
"Are you okay?" Ben asked.
Mr. Freaky didn't reply.
Instead he just stared at the object at his feet—it was a large portrait of a piranha family in a broken frame.
Ben gulped as Mr. Freaky slowly spun toward him.
"It's one of the missing paintings!" Mr. Freaky burst out.
"Ben, did you steal this?"
"Of course not!" Ben replied.
"I had no idea it was in there."
"Ben?"
Just then loud, panicked voices came from the hallway.
Ben recognized one of them—it belonged to Winnie.
"Our flying painting!" she screamed.
"Somebody wrecked our flying painting!"
"Oh no, not again!" Mr. Freaky moaned.
He blew his noses with the dusty handkerchief.
Ben took off for the gym, with Mr. Freaky flapping his arms after him.