by R. L. Stine
“Oh.” Evan scratched his curly, red hair as he studied it some more. “Neat, Dad,” he said. “I see what you mean.”
Then something else caught his eye. “Hey—what’s this?”
Evan carefully stepped over several jagged, bent shards of metal. He made his way to another metal sculpture and ran his hand over the smooth, shiny surface. It was an enormous aluminum cylinder that rested above a flat wooden base.
“Go ahead. Spin it,” Mr. Ross instructed, smiling proudly.
Evan pushed the cylinder with both hands. It spun slowly over the wooden base.
“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.
12
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.
13
“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!”
14
“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.
It was a little after eight o’clock. They were standing in the street in front of Conan’s house. Leaning against the low hedge, they stared across the sloping front lawn into the large picture window in the front of the house.
The lamp in the living room was lit, casting a dim rectangle of orange light that spilled onto the front yard. The old trees at the sides of the small brick house whispered in a hot breeze.
“Are we really doing this?” Evan asked, huddling close to Andy. “Are we really going to break into Conan’s house?”
“We’re not going to break in,” Andy whispered. “We’re going to sneak in.”
“But what if the Monster Blood isn’t there?” Evan asked, hoping she couldn’t see his knees trembling.
“We have to look, don’t we?” Andy shot back.
She turned to study his face. He saw that she was frightened, too. “The Monster Blood will be there,” she told him. “It’s got to be.”
Bending low, she started to creep across the dark yard to the house.
Evan hung back. “You checked it out?” he called to her. “Everyone is really gone?”
“His pare
nts left right after dinner,” Andy told him. “Then I saw Conan go out about ten minutes ago,”
“Where?” Evan demanded.
“How should I know?” she asked sharply, putting her hands on her waist. “He left. The house is empty.” She came back and tugged Evan’s arm. “Come on. Let’s sneak into Conan’s room, get the Monster Blood, and get out of here!”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Evan said, sighing. “We—we could be arrested!”
“It was your idea!” Andy reminded him.
“Oh. Yeah. Right.” He took a deep breath and held it, hoping it would help calm him down. “If we don’t find it right away, we get out of there—right?”
“Right,” Andy agreed. “Now come on.” She gave him a little shove toward the house.
They took a few steps over the dew-wet grass.
They both stopped when they heard the low barking.
Andy grabbed Evan’s arm.
The barking grew louder. They could hear the dog’s heavy paws pounding the ground, approaching fast.
Two angry eyes. A loud warning bark. Another.
The dog attacked at full speed.
“Run!” Evan cried. “Conan has a guard dog!”
“Too late to run!” Andy shrieked.
15
The dog barked again.
Evan cried out and threw up his hands as the dog leaped for his throat.
The dog wasn’t as big as Evan had thought—but it was strong.
It licked his face, pressing its wet snout into his cheek.
It licked his chin. And then his lips.
“Yuck!” Evan cried, laughing. “Trigger—how did you get here?”
Evan pulled the cocker spaniel off him and lowered it to the ground. Its stubby tail wagging furiously, Trigger started jumping on Andy.
“Your dumb dog scared me to death,” she moaned.
“Me, too,” Evan admitted. “I didn’t hear him following us, did you?”
Andy squatted down and gave Trigger a few quick pats. Then she glanced down the street.