Pennybaker School Is Revolting, стр. 39
“But I have another lead.”
“No offense, Chip, but your leads stink.” At the word “stink,” Buckley and Colton howled, and even Wesley, Flea, and Owen cracked smiles. “Ha ha, yes, I said ‘stink.’ Your leads stink like cow poo, okay?” I started to close the door again, but Chip continued to hold it open.
“It’s a very good lead,” he said.
“No thanks. I think I’m done searching for Mr. Faboo.” This was news to me, and I hadn’t really thought it through yet, but maybe just accepting Mr. Smith would be less bad than what I’d have to go through to get rid of him.
Wesley gasped. “You mean you’ve given up?” He pantomimed fainting, dropping all the way to the ground with the back of his hand held across his forehead. He lay on the porch with his tongue hanging out.
“Mr. Smith is probably really nice once you get to know him,” I said. They gaped at me. “And I like brown. And vests. Pantyhose itch and are always falling down.” That last part was true. “And research papers can be really exciting to write.”
Even I didn’t believe that one.
“Come on, man,” Flea said. “Mr. Smith won’t even let me bring my didgeridoo into the classroom.”
“Yeah,” Owen agreed. “And he told me I could have only one computer at my desk. And he made me take off my satellite hat.” He pointed to his head, which was covered with a spaghetti strainer.
“And he won’t recite Shakespeare with me,” Wesley said from the ground, although he didn’t open his eyes, and when he was done speaking, he let his tongue loll out again.
“We need to find Mr. Faboo,” Flea said.
“And we need your help to find him,” Owen agreed.
“Sorry, guys; not today.” I wrestled the door away from Chip and began closing it. “You’ll have to continue the revolution without me. I’m out.”
TRICK #25
THE STINK BOMB
On Monday morning, things were back to normal.
Chip and Erma were leading a small group in a ballroom dance on the lawn. They were all wearing matching socks—ballroom dancing socks, no doubt.
Patrice Pillow sat in her usual morning spot under the weeping willow, peering through the bare branches with a pencil and a pad of paper. Every so often she would get a wicked look on her face and hurriedly write something down.
Dawson was handing out homemade doughnuts, while Cecily juggled three potted plants nearby. Hilly and Milly stood on the school steps and talked to each other in acrostic, which meant I had absolutely no idea what they were saying. Stephen had strung a high wire atop the greenhouse roof and was casually sauntering across it with his eyes closed while drinking a cup of tea.
Miss Munch was carrying the newly fixed and buffed Heirmauser head, and Principal Rooster appeared to be practicing miming. Either that, or he was actually trapped inside an invisible box.
Everyone seemed to be doing their own thing, and I probably should have used that time to work on some magic.
Instead, I decided to slip behind the bushes to see if Reap was around.
“Hey, Reap?” No answer. “You there?” Nothing.
I crouch-walked to the spot where he was always sitting. There were a couple of hunks of bread, which told me he’d been there recently, but now he was gone. I pawed at the bush a little until I saw movement inside. Two beady little eyes peered out at me.
I picked up a piece of bread and waved it at the bush.
“Here, buddy. Come and get it.”
The eyes didn’t move, so I waved the bread again.
“Come on, now. You know you want it. No?”
There was a slight shifting forward in the bush, and my heart leapt into my throat. Wouldn’t Reap be so surprised to find out that his mystery animal came out for little old non-animal-language-gifted me?
“That’s right,” I said excitedly. “It’s nice, yummy bread. Come out, come out. Have a snack.”
There was another slight shift, only this time in the wrong direction, and the animal’s eyes got dimmer as it pulled farther back into the bush.
“No!” I said. “Don’t go! It’s just a little bread. You can trust me.” I shoved my hand farther under the bush, hoping to entice it out with the sweet, bready scent. “Okay, if you won’t come out, maybe I’ll go in.” I parted the bushes a little wider, and to my surprise, a second animal—a much bigger animal—came toward me. “Hey, look, it’s a cat! Here, kitty, kitty …” But then the kitty came at me even faster, lunging at me with the strangest meow I’d ever heard. It was more of a chirp than a meow. The kind of chirp you would hear out of a …“Skunk!” I yelled, scooting back on my behind until I slammed against the school wall. “Not a kitty! Not a kitty!”
I shifted to the side and dug my heels into the dirt to try to scramble away. But the skunk was faster than I thought it would be. And madder than I thought it would be. And more determined than I thought it would be. Every inch I moved, it hopped toward me another two inches, mouth open and chirping.
And when I flopped over onto my belly to try to army-crawl out of there, the skunk saw its opportunity. It climbed over my back, leapt off my head, regarded me with its beady little eyes, and then promptly turned around, lifted its tail, and …
TRICK #26
TA-DA! A TEACHER APPEARS!
Miss Munch made me wait in the parking lot while she called Dad to come get me. It was cold, and I smelled so bad, I couldn’t even stand to be around myself. Not to mention, I was pretty sure I’d been in mid-scream when it got me, and I needed some serious alone time with a bottle of mouthwash.
“How on earth?” Dad said when he pulled up. He’d rolled down the passenger