18 - Monster Blood II (5 page)

“I call it ‘The Wheel’,” his father told him.

Evan laughed. “That’s cool, Dad. You invented the wheel!”

“Don’t laugh!” Mr. Ross replied, grinning. “That sculpture was accepted at
the annual arts competition at your school. I have to take it to the auditorium
later this week.”

Evan gave “The Wheel” another spin. “I’ll bet no one else made a wheel that
really spins,” he told his father. “You can’t lose with this, Dad,” he teased.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor,” Mr. Ross muttered with a frown.

Evan said good-bye and made his way out of the garage, stepping carefully
over the jagged pieces of brass and tin. As he headed to the house, he could
hear the
clang clang clang
as his dad hammered away on his impression of
a leaf.

In the halls after school on Monday, Evan hurried around a corner and bumped
right into Andy. “I can’t talk now,” he told her breathlessly. “I’m late for
basketball tryouts.”

He glanced down the long hall. It was nearly empty. The gym door opened, and
he could hear the
thump
of basketballs against the floor.

“How come you’re late?” Andy demanded, blocking his path.

“Murphy kept me after class,” Evan told her with a groan. “He put me on
permanent hamster duty. I have to take care of Cuddles every afternoon for the
rest of my life.”

“Bad news,” Andy murmured.

“No. That’s the
good
news,” Evan replied bitterly.

“What’s the
bad
news?”

“The bad news is that Mr. Murphy is also the basketball coach!”

“Well, good luck,” she said. “Hope you make the team.”

Evan ran past her, his heart pounding.

Mr. Murphy is such a rat, he thought unhappily. He’ll probably keep me off
the team because I’m late to practice—even though it’s
his
fault I’m
late!

Evan took a deep breath. No. Stop thinking like that, he scolded himself.

Think positive. I’ve got to think positive.

Sure, I’m not as tall as the other guys. Maybe I’m not as big or as strong.
But I’m a good basketball player. And I can make this team.

I can make this team. I know I can!

Having finished his pep talk to himself, Evan pulled open the double gym
doors and stepped into the huge, brightly lit gym.

“Think fast!” a voice called.

Evan felt his face explode with pain.

Then everything went black.

When Evan opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at about twenty guys
and Mr. Murphy.

He was stretched out fiat on his back on the gym floor. His face still hurt.
A lot.

He reached a hand up and touched his nose. To his dismay, it felt like a
wilted leaf of lettuce.

“You okay, Evan?” Mr. Murphy asked quietly. As the teacher leaned over Evan,
the whistle that was on a string around his neck bumped against Evan’s chest.

“Did my face explode?” Evan asked weakly.

Some of the guys snickered. Mr. Murphy glowered at them angrily. Then he
turned back to Evan. “Conan hit you in the face with the basketball,” he
reported.

“He’s got bad reflexes, Coach,” Evan heard Conan say from somewhere above
him. “He should’ve caught the ball. I really thought he’d catch it. But he’s got
bad reflexes.”

“I saw the whole thing,” Conan’s friend, a huge hulk of a kid named Biggie Malick, chimed in. “It wasn’t Conan’s fault. Evan
should’ve caught the ball. It was a perfect pass.”

Perfect, Evan thought with a sigh. He touched his nose again. This time, it
felt like a lump of mashed potatoes. At least it isn’t broken, he thought
glumly.

Evan’s basketball tryout went downhill from there.

Mr. Murphy helped him to his feet. “You sure you want to try out?” he asked.

Thanks for the support, Evan thought bitterly.

“I think I can make the team,” he said.

But Conan, Biggie, and the other guys had other ideas.

During the ball-handling tryout, Evan confidently began dribbling across the
floor. Halfway to the basket, Biggie bumped him hard—and Conan stole the ball
away.

They blocked Evan’s shots. They stole his passes.

They bumped him every time he moved, sending him sprawling to the hardwood
floor again and again.

A fast pass from Conan caught Evan in the mouth.

“Oops! Sorry!” Conan yelled.

Biggie laughed like a hyena.

“Defense! I want to see defense!” Mr. Murphy shouted from the sidelines.

Evan lowered himself into a defensive stance. As Conan dribbled the ball
toward him, Evan prepared to defend the basket.

Conan drove closer. Closer.

Evan raised both hands to block Conan’s shot.

But to Evan’s surprise, Conan let the ball bounce away. In one swift motion,
he grabbed Evan by the waist, leaped high in the air, and stuffed Evan into the
basket.

“Three points!” Conan shouted in triumph.

Biggie and the other guys rushed to congratulate Conan, laughing and
cheering.

Mr. Murphy had to get a stepladder to help Evan down.

His hand on Evan’s shoulder, the teacher led him to the side. “You’re just
not tall enough, Evan,” he said, rubbing his pink chins. “Don’t take it
personally. Maybe you’ll grow. But for now, you’re just not tall enough.”

Evan didn’t say a word. He lowered his head and sadly slumped out of the gym.

Conan came running up to him at the door. “Hey, Evan, no hard feelings,” he
said. He stuck out his big, sweaty hand. “Shake.”

Evan held up his hand to show Andy. “It looks like a wilted petunia,” she
said. “I can’t believe I fell for Conan’s stupid handshake trick twice!” Evan
wailed. It was the next afternoon. Evan and Andy had walked from school to the small park near their houses. Evan had complained
about Mr. Murphy and Conan and the other basketball players the whole way.

The late afternoon sun beamed down on them as they walked. Andy stopped to
watch two monarch butterflies, their black-and-gold wings fluttering
majestically as they hovered over a patch of blue and yellow wildflowers along
the creekbed.

Even the trickling brown creek looked pretty on this bright day. Tiny white
gnats sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight over the shimmering water.

Evan kicked at a fallen tree branch. Everything looked dark to him today.

Dark and ugly.

“It just wasn’t fair,” he grumbled, kicking the branch again. “It wasn’t a
fair tryout. Mr. Murphy should have given me a better chance.”

Andy tsk-tsked, her eyes on the sparkling creek.

“Someone should teach Mr. Murphy a lesson,” Evan said. “I wish I could think
of some way of paying him back. I really do.”

Andy turned to him. A devilish grin crossed her face. “I have a plan,” she
said softly. “A really neat plan.”

“What is it?” Evan demanded.

“What’s your idea?” Evan demanded again.

Andy grinned at him. She was wearing a long, lime-green T-shirt over a
Day-Glo orange T-shirt, pulled down over baggy blue shorts. The sunlight made
all the colors so bright, Evan felt like shielding his eyes.

“You might not like it,” Andy said coyly.

“Try me,” Evan replied. “Come on. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Well…” Her eyes wandered over to the tree where they had buried the
Monster Blood. “It has to do with the Monster Blood,” she said reluctantly.

He swallowed hard. “That’s okay. Go on.”

“Well, it’s a pretty simple plan. First, we dig up the Monster Blood,” Andy
said, watching his reaction.

“Yeah?”

“Then we take some to school,” she continued.

“Yeah?”

“Then we feed it to Cuddles.”

Evan’s mouth dropped open.

“Just a little bit!” Andy quickly explained. “We feed Cuddles a tiny glob of
it. Just enough to make him the size of a dog.”

Evan laughed. It was a terrible idea, a truly evil idea—but he loved it!

He slapped Andy on the back. “You’re bad, Andy!” he cried. “You’re really
bad!”

Andy grinned proudly. “I know.”

Evan laughed again. “Can you see the look on Murphy’s face when he comes in
and sees his precious little hamster has grown as big as a cocker spaniel? What
a riot!”

“So you’ll do it?” Andy asked.

Evan’s smile faded. “I guess,” he replied thoughtfully. “If you promise we’ll
only use a tiny bit. And we’ll bury the rest right away.”

“Promise,” Andy said. “Just enough to play our little joke on Mr. Murphy.
Then we’ll never use the stuff again.”

“Okay,” Evan agreed.

They shook hands solemnly.

Then they hurried to the tree. Evan searched the entire park, squinting
against the bright sunlight. He wanted to make sure no one was spying on them
this time.

When he was sure the park was empty, he and Andy dropped to their knees under the tree and began scooping the dirt off
the hole with their hands.

They had dug nearly two feet down when they realized the hole was empty.

“The Monster Blood!” Evan cried. “It—it’s gone!”

“We must be digging under the wrong tree,” Evan said, sweat pouring down his
freckled forehead.

Andy pushed a wet strand of brown hair off her face with a dirt-covered
finger. “No way.” She shook her head. “This is the right tree. And the right
hole.”

“Then where is the Monster Blood?” Evan demanded shrilly.

They both came up with the answer to his question at the same time: “Conan!”

“He must have watched us bury it,” Evan said, his eyes darting around the
park as if he expected to see Conan jump out from behind a bush. “I
thought
he hurried away awfully fast that afternoon. He
knew
the paper bag
wasn’t empty.”

Andy agreed. “He hid and watched us bury it. Then he waited till we were
gone, and dug it up.”

They both stared into the empty hole in horrified silence.

Andy broke the silence. “What is Conan going to do with it?” she asked, her
voice just above a whisper.

“Probably eat it so he can grow bigger and pound me harder,” Evan replied
bitterly.

“But he doesn’t know what Monster Blood does,” Andy said. “He doesn’t know
how dangerous it is.”

“Of course he does. I told him all about it,” Evan replied. He slammed his
hand against the tree trunk. “We have to get it back!”

Before science class the next afternoon, Evan found Conan in the hall. He and
Biggie were standing next to Evan’s locker. They were laughing loudly about
something, slapping each other high-fives.

Conan wore a tight blue muscle shirt and baggy faded denim jeans with
enormous holes at the knees. Biggie had wavy brown hair down to his shoulders.
He wore a sleeveless white T-shirt and tight-fitting black denims.

They look like a couple of tag-team wrestlers! Evan thought as he stepped
between them.

“Hey, look—it’s Air Evan!” Conan joked. “King of the slam dunk!”

He and Biggie guffawed loudly. Conan gave Evan a slap on the back that sent him sprawling into Biggie.

“Uh… Conan? Did you find something in the park?” Evan asked, struggling
to regain his balance.

Conan narrowed his eyes at Evan and didn’t reply.

“Did you find something that belongs to Andy and me?” Evan repeated.

“You mean like your
brains
?” Conan exclaimed. He and his tag-team
partner roared with laughter over that gem.

“Why don’t we dribble him to class?” Biggie asked Conan. “Coach Murphy would
like to see us get in some extra practice.”

Conan laughed gleefully at that idea.

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Evan said sarcastically. “Look, Conan—that stuff you
took. It’s really dangerous. You have to give it back.”

Conan opened his eyes in wide-eyed innocence. “I really don’t know what
you’re talking about, Evan. Did you lose something?”

“You
know
I lost something,” Evan replied sharply. “And I want it
back.”

Conan flashed a sly grin at Biggie. Then he turned back to Evan, his
expression hardening. “I don’t know what you mean, Evan,” he said. “Really. I
don’t know what you and that girl lost. But tell you what. I’m a nice guy. I’ll
help you look for it.”

He grabbed Evan around the waist with both hands. Biggie pulled Evan’s locker
door open.

“I’ll help you look for it in your locker,” Conan said.

He shoved Evan inside the locker and slammed the door shut.

Evan started pounding on the metal door, shouting for help.

But the bell had rung. Evan knew the hall was empty. There was no one to hear
his cries.

He decided to try fiddling with the latch. But it was too dark to see
anything. And he was so jammed in, he couldn’t raise his arms.

Finally, two girls happened to walk by, and they pulled open the locker door.

Evan came bursting out, red-faced, gasping for air.

The girls’ laughter followed him all the way to Mr. Murphy’s class. “You’re
late,” the teacher said sternly, glancing up at the wall clock as Evan staggered
in.

Evan tried to explain why. But all that escaped his lips was a whistling
wheeze.

“I’m really tired of you disrupting my class, Evan,” Mr. Murphy said, rubbing
his nearly bald head. “I’m afraid I’ll be seeing you after school again. You can
give Cuddles’ cage a double cleaning. And while you’re at it, you can scrub the
chalkboards and clean out all the test tubes, too.”

* * *

“It’s so dark,” Evan whispered.

“It usually gets dark at night,” Andy replied, rolling her eyes.

“The streetlight is out,” Evan said, pointing. “And there’s no moon tonight.
That’s why it’s so dark.”

“Hide!” Andy whispered.

They ducked behind the hedge as a car rolled slowly past. Evan shut his eyes
as the white headlights moved over him. When the car turned the corner, they
climbed to their feet.