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