Trouble Magnet (8 page)

“Get it!” Doreen screeched. “Kill it!”

Mr. Purdy blocked the door. The centipede ran toward him. Mr. Purdy raised his foot.

“
Don't,
Mr. Purdy! Don't kill it!”

Mr. Purdy looked at me. He looked at the empty jar. “I see,” he said, slowly lowering his foot. The centipede stopped and stood its ground. “You want to catch it for us, Calvin?”

I crawled up to the centipede and clamped the jar down over it. Trapped. It slithered up inside the glass. I flipped the jar right-side up and slammed the lid down.

I slumped back on the floor, catching my breath.

The whole class whooped and cheered and clapped.

Mr. Purdy stood looking down on me. He reached out and waggled his fingers.

I handed him the jar.

Mr. Purdy inspected the centipede. He
held it up for Doreen to see. “Got him. No need to stay up there on your chair.”

Doreen didn't budge.

Julio crept back to his seat.

I looked up at Mr. Purdy.

“You,” he said. “Come with me.”

I stood and brushed myself off.

“Oooo,” the class taunted as I followed Mr. Purdy to his desk.

“Sssssss,”
M
r.
Purdy hissed.

“Sssssss,”
the class hissed back, then fell silent.

“All right,” Mr. Purdy said. “The rest of you can go back to writing your paragraphs.”

At his desk, Mr. Purdy admired the centipede, turning the jar in his hand. “Sure is a big one.” He put the jar on his desk. With a screwdriver, he punched three holes in the lid. “Give the poor guy some air. He's had a hard day.”

Not as hard as me, I thought. “What do they eat, Mr. Purdy?”

“Bugs. However, he can go for days without eating. But let's talk about you.”

“Me?”

“What am I going to do with you? It's only the first day, Calvin.”

I shrugged and looked at the centipede. It seemed to be saying, This is all your fault, Coco-fool. Get me out of here.

Mr. Purdy tapped his fingers on his desk. “How many times have you messed up today?”

I shrugged.

Mr. Purdy sighed. “Do I have to send you to the principal's office?”

“No, sir.”

Silence.

“Tell you what. Next time, that's where you'll go. For now, I have something else for you. All this month, you're going to be our classroom greeter.”

No, no, Mr. Purdy, I pleaded in my head. Not classroom greeter, please, no, because classroom greeters had to stand at the door and shake hands with everyone and say “Welcome to class,” even the girls.

But I kept my mouth shut. It was better than going to the principal's office, where sometimes they called your mom.

“Go back to your seat, Calvin. See if you can write one simple paragraph without burning down the school.”

“Yes, Mr. Purdy.”

I slumped down in my chair and picked up my yellow pencil. I smelled the eraser, then stuck the pencil between my teeth and looked out the window.

When Tito popped back into my head, I bit down and snapped the pencil in half. I spat out slivers of wood and yellow paint.

How will I make it home alive?

A
t the end of the day, everyone grabbed their stuff and lined up at the door. Except me. I stayed at my desk. Trapped. Like the centipede.

“Is something wrong, Calvin?” Mr. Purdy asked.

“No, sir.” I dragged myself up and got in line.

“See you on Monday!” Mr. Purdy said.

The class burst out like ants from an ant hole.

I crept up to the door and peeked out.

No giant bodyguard, but Julio was there, waiting for me.

“You see Tito?”

“No.”

“Quick,” I said. “I got to get out of sight.”

Rubin was waiting for us by the chain-link fence behind the school. On the other side of the fence was a grassy field. I had to cross it. Then I had to make it past the intermediate school, where Tito had a lot of scary friends. After that, there were long, bushy, hiding-place streets all the way to our neighborhood.

We started across the field.

Julio grabbed my arm. “Hey! You forgot your centipede!”

“Forget it. We can give it a name and make it the class pet.”

“Fang,” Rubin said.

I shook my head. “Not Fang, Stanley.”

“Stanley,” Julio said. “Why Stanley?”

“I like Stanley. Manly Stanley.”

“That's cool, too,” Rubin agreed.

My scalp started to tingle. Something didn't feel right. “We got to watch for Tito.”

Rubin swerved over and bumped me. “Man, you sure messed up his shirt.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

We made it to the intermediate school with no problems. There were lots of kids around, getting rides or walking home. Some were unlocking their bikes from the chain-link fence.

No Tito.

So far, so good.

Just past the intermediate school, Rubin waved and headed down his street. “Stay alive, bro.”

Thanks a lot. I started to sweat. Tito could be hiding in any hedge or any bush in any yard, waiting to jump out.

The street ahead was quiet.

It looked safe … it felt safe … until Julio gasped.

I froze. “What?”

He pointed. Tito and Frankie Diamond were crouching in the shade of somebody's monkeypod tree. Tito hadn't spotted us yet.

But Frankie had. He nudged Tito.

Tito sprang to his feet.

I gulped. “Back! Now!”

Tito sprinted toward us, Frankie Diamond right behind.

I yelped and raced toward the intermediate school, Julio burning rubber beside me. We sped past the main entrance to the back parking lot. Nothing
to hide behind. No cars. No buses. No bushes. No nothing!

Except …

It was our only hope.

We leaped toward the huge garbage bins and scrambled up over the rim of the first one we came to. It was empty. But slippery black gunk grew on the bottom.

Julio pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose. “Yuck!”

I clapped my hand over his mouth. “Shhh!” I pulled my shirt up, too, because the smell was worse than some dog's terrible breath. But it was better than getting beat up.

I heard Tito shout, “Where'd they go?”

“Inside the school! Try that door!”

Feet thumped past on the blacktop. A door opened and slammed shut.

I inched up and peeked over the top. “Quick! Before they come back out!”

We struggled up and fell out of the garbage bin … and ran.

And ran.

And ran.

Close to home, we staggered to a walk, gasping for air. My hands were shaking. My legs felt like rubber. “That was … way … too … close.”

Julio bent over, catching his breath. “Almost … home.”

The word
home
hit me like a hammer.
“Darci!I
was supposed to walk her home!”

I turned and raced back toward the school.

“Wait!” Julio shouted. “They'll get you!”

I kept running.

A
mazingly, I made it to Ms. Wing's room without running into Tito and Frankie Diamond. The door was locked.

I banged on it. “Darci! Are you in there?”

My voice fell back into the empty schoolyard.
“Dar-ceeee!”

Mr. Moto, the janitor, poked his head out of a classroom. “What you want?”

“My sister, Mr. Moto. Darci Coconut. Have you seen her?”

“Everybody gone. Go home. Nobody here.”

Maybe she went home by herself, I thought. She could do it. She wasn't scared.

I took off.

Take the long way home. It's safer.

But why hadn't I run into Darci when I ran back to school to look for her? If she'd been walking home, I would have passed her.

Now I was really worried. I picked up my pace, jogging, then sprinting as thoughts of creeps and bad guys flooded my brain.

By the time I reached my driveway, I was sweating like a boiling crab and twice as mad. At myself. What kind of brother forgets his own sister?

I ran into the garage.

“Darci!”

I threw open the door.

She was in the kitchen, pouring herself a bowl of Rice Krispies. She looked up. “Hi, Calvin,” she said, as if it was just any old regular day.

I slumped back against the door and sagged with relief. “I was … supposed … to walk … home with you… I forgot.”