Octo-Man and the Headless Monster

by Jane Kelley

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Penguin Young Readers Group

  An Imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

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  Text copyright © 2017 by Jane Kelley. Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. Manufactured in China.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  ISBN 9780448487533 (paperback)

  ISBN 9780448487540 (library binding)

  ISBN 9780399539398 (ebook)

  Version_1

  For my husband, Lee, whose great ideas always save the day—JK

  To everyone who’s had a crazy idea and the courage to run with it—JVI

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Clint McCool Needs His Cap

  Chapter 2: Banned from the Set!

  Chapter 3: A New Escapade?

  Chapter 4: Clint McCool is a Monster?

  Chapter 5: Trouble on Twelfth Street

  Chapter 6: Clint McCool Saves the Day?!?

  Chapter 7: Clint McCool in the Movies??

  Chapter 8: Don’t Be Scared of a Dress!

  1

  Clint McCool Needs His Cap

  The clock ticks. Our teacher, Ms. Apple, talks. Kids multiply the sevens. Everything seems normal. But you can’t fool Clint McCool. I know we’re trapped here. And I know why. Someone doesn’t want school to end. The big hand of the clock is stuck. It can’t get to the twelve.

  “Break free,” I whisper to the big hand.

  Ms. Apple frowns at me. She thinks I’m not paying attention. But I’m the only one who is!

  I tap my finger. Nothing happens. Rats. My Speed Accelerator won’t work unless I push the right button on my cap. Marco made the buttons for me. He’s very clever. That’s why he’s the best best friend ever. The buttons are amazing. They always help me save the day. That has to happen more than you’d think.

  But I can’t wear my cap in school. Ms. Apple keeps it locked in her desk. My Laser Beam could cut a hole in the drawer. But its button is on the cap, too. How can Clint McCool save the day?

  Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash! I jump up. “I need a remote!”

  “Walter, sit down,” Ms. Apple says.

  That’s right. She called me Walter. My parents named me after my grandpa. Luckily, Clint McCool decided to name himself.

  I sit—on the edge of my chair. I stay ready for action. I wiggle my ears to send a message to Marco. He’s writing. Oh no. Is he doing math problems?

  I crinkle my nose to send a message to M.L. Her real name is Magnolia Lynn. No one dares to call her that. Not even her own mother.

  M.L. is writing, too. Did those sevens take over my friends’ brains? How can we have an escapade? M.L. and Marco are coming home with me today. School better end soon. My friends are forgetting how to have fun.

  Finally, the bell rings. Kids get in line. I rush to Ms. Apple’s desk to get my cap.

  Ms. Apple won’t give it to me. “I need to talk to your mother, Walter.”

  I’m doomed.

  Ms. Apple leads us to the school yard. The adults are waiting there. Mom smiles at me and my friends. She looks happy. Until Ms. Apple starts talking to her.

  “Ready for an escapade, Clint McCool?” Marco asks.

  That’s another reason he’s my best friend. He calls me by my real name.

  “Will your mom take us to the park?” M.L. says.

  “I drew a map of where the Gronks hid the treasure.” Marco opens up his notebook.

  M.L. and I look. Marco did a great job. Especially with the crocodiles in the moat.

  “At the top of the tower? Let’s go!” M.L. says.

  She loves to climb. That’s why she hates wearing dresses. The fluff gets in her way.

  “Before the Gronks know we’re coming!” Marco says.

  I run to get Mom.

  “Walter isn’t a bad boy,” Mom is telling Ms. Apple.

  “He doesn’t follow rules. He can’t sit still,” Ms. Apple says. “He never thinks before he acts.”

  “I’m always thinking,” I interrupt. “Aren’t ideas thinking?”

  “You shouldn’t have ideas like that at school.” Ms. Apple gives the cap to Mom—not me. “Remember what I said will happen if Walter doesn’t improve.”

  Mom, Marco, M.L., and I leave the school yard. We walk along Eighth Avenue.

  “What did Ms. Apple mean?” I try to get my cap. I need the Translator button. Grown-ups can be hard to understand. “What’s wrong with my ideas?”

  We turn the corner at Twelfth Street.

  Mom sighs. “You have so many.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” I say.

  “Is Clint McCool in trouble?” Marco says.

  “If Walter can’t behave, they’ll find ways to make him,” Mom says.

  I gulp. “What kind of ways?”

  “Ways,” Mom says again.

  “I could make him a new button,” Marco says.

  “I could keep him safe.” M.L. locks her arms around me.

  She’s strong. But I’m slippery.

  I break free. I run ahead.

  A man blocks the sidewalk with his arm. “Please wait here.”

  I can’t! M.L. will catch me. I run along Twelfth Street.

  “Walter! This isn’t behaving!” Mom yells.

  I run faster.

  Then I stop.

  A monster stands right in front of me. His head is an octopus. It oozes slime and ink.

  I rub my eyes. I still see the monster. He carries a jar full of brains.

  I scream. So does everybody else.

  “Get away from Octo-Man!” I hear the man shout.

  Octo-Man staggers toward me.

  Oh no! Are these the ways Ms. Apple meant?

  2

  Banned from the Set!

  Octo-Man skids to a stop right in front of me.

  Big cameras are pointed at Octo-Man.

  “Cut! Cut! Set up the scene again,” another man says.

  Now I get it. These people are making a movie.

  Octo-Man’s head is a costume. I wonder if Marco could make us one. I squeeze one of the arms. It breaks off in my hands.

  People gasp. “Oh no! Octo-Man is ruined!”

  A bald man snatches the arm away from me. “Look what you did!”

  Why is everyone upset? It’s just an arm. Octo-Man has seven others.

  Mom rushes over. “I’m very sorry. It was an accident. We’re going home now.”

  Mom puts her arm around my shoulders. That isn’t a hug. That’s how she steers me. We walk toward Ninth Avenue. Marco and M.L. follow us. Mom gives me back my cap. Marco straightens it. M.L. pulls it down over my eyes.

  Another guard stands at the corner of Ninth Avenue. After we pass him, I turn around. He blocks the sidewalk with his whole body.

  I try to see the
movie people. A redheaded lady sews the arm back on Octo-Man.

  “You better move on,” the guard says.

  “Can’t we watch from here?” M.L. asks.

  “No,” the guard says.

  “We won’t go on the set,” Marco says.

  “We promise,” I say.

  The guard frowns at me. So do Marco and M.L. They think it’s my fault they can’t stay.

  “Come on, kids. Let’s go home,” Mom says.

  Go home? We can’t go home! There aren’t any monsters in our apartment.

  Mom takes my hand like I’m a two-year-old. Is this the end? Has Clint McCool been defeated? No, wait. I can still save the day. I’m wearing my cap!

  Hmmm. Which button should I use? The Reverse Time-O-Meter? I can go back to before the arm broke. I start to push the button. Then I stop. I’d better be careful. I might go all the way back to school.

  “Oh no!” the bald man shouts.

  We all look. Octo-Man’s arm fell off again.

  “Does anyone know how to fix this?” the bald man asks.

  I do!

  I run around the guard onto the movie set. “I can help! Clint McCool will save the day.”

  I push the Idea Generator. Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash!

  “Tie it on. With a bloody bandage. Give him a pirate hook. Just get rid of it. Why does he need eight arms? Maybe he lost one in a fight.” I swing my arms at Octo-Man.

  The bald man crouches down and grabs my shoulders. “You want to help?”

  “Of course I do! Isn’t that what I said?” I fix my cap. I’m ready. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Stay away from the set,” the bald man says.

  Hmmm. How will that help? Why do grown-ups talk in code? I push the Translator button on my cap. “What do you mean ‘stay away’?”

  “Get out of here! Scram! Keep off the set!” the bald man yells.

  3

  A New Escapade?

  Mom grabs my hand again. We walk to the corner.

  “I’d better take Marco and M.L. home,” Mom says.

  “No!” we shout.

  “You got in enough trouble already,” Mom says.

  What Mom calls trouble is usually an escapade. This could be the best one ever. What could top seeing Octo-Man make a movie? Nothing except . . .

  Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash! If Clint McCool were in the movie!

  I’m so excited, I jump up and down.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Mom says.

  I can’t say. Mom shouldn’t find out my ideas—until it’s too late.

  I push the Face Changing button. I need to look serious. “I just remembered. We have homework.”

  “What?” Marco and M.L. look at me.

  I push the Message Transmission button.

  “Oh. That homework,” Marco says.

  “Okay,” Mom says, “but just for thirty minutes. I have to cook dinner and finish up some paperwork. Walter? Are you listening?”

  Actually, I’m not. If Mom wants me to, she should talk about something interesting.

  “Never mind.” Mom stomps into our building.

  Marco, M.L., and I follow her up the stairs.

  “Your mom seems mad,” Marco says.

  “Don’t worry. She won’t be for long,” I say.

  “How do you know?” M.L. says.

  “There’s a secret weapon in our apartment,” I say.

  Mom unlocks the door. A yellow beast gallops over. He licks Mom’s face.

  It’s Hercules, our dog. He has special powers, too. His slobber always makes Mom smile.

  We go into my bedroom.

  “What’s up, Clint McCool?” Marco says.

  “I’m going to be in that movie,” I say.

  “But you’re banned from the set,” Marco says.

  “So are we. And I wanted to watch Octo-Man,” M.L. says.

  “You can. We just need to get past the guard,” I say.

  Marco and M.L. look at each other.

  “Can’t you think of another escapade?” Marco says.

  “Where we could have fun?” M.L. adds.

  “And not get into trouble?” they both say together.

  “That movie needs Clint McCool. Then I won’t get yelled at for having ideas,” I say.

  “They don’t want your help. That bald man was really mad,” Marco says.

  “Let’s hunt for treasure like we planned,” M.L. says.

  Marco takes out his notebook. He opens it to the map. I see a tunnel under the fort.

  Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash! “I know. We could crawl through an underground pipe and pop up in the middle of Twelfth Street,” I say.

  “How can you get into the pipe?” Marco says.

  “M.L.’s strong. She can dig a hole,” I say.

  “With what?” M.L. says.

  I look under my bed. That’s where I keep my supplies. I find an apple core and an empty toilet paper tube.

  M.L. laughs.

  I frown. I have to find a way underground.

  Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash! “I know how to get in.”

  I run to the bathroom. I put my foot in the toilet.

  “Walter, what are you doing?” Mom says.

  “Washing my shoe?” I say.

  Mom crosses her arms. She doesn’t speak. Her lips are squeezed together tight.

  I take my foot out of the toilet. It drips.

  “It’s time to take your friends home. I need to walk Hercules,” Mom says.

  “Not yet!” I take off my shoe. I hop back to my room. I have to find a way past the guard.

  I push the Idea Generator. Oops. Wrong button. Instead of ideas, I get dance moves.

  Hercules barks. M.L. dances with me. Marco cheers. “That’s brilliant, Clint McCool!”

  Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash! “I know why the movie people sent me away. They thought I was just a kid. They don’t know I can do amazing things. There’s just one problem,” I say.

  “Only one?” M.L. says.

  “Choosing the best thing! Should I walk on my hands? Should I juggle? Should I ride a horse down Twelfth Street?” I say.

  “Walter!” Mom calls. “Time to go!”

  I run into the kitchen. “Mom, I need more time.”

  Mom gets something out of the refrigerator. “I told you. I have to walk Hercules right now. And then I have to cook dinner.”

  I gasp when I see what she’s holding.

  Zing, zong, zing. Brain flash!

  It’s the perfect thing to get me in the movie! Best of all, I won’t need a horse.

  4

  Clint McCool is a Monster?

  I grab the cauliflower from Mom.

  “What are you doing?” Mom says.

  “Marco and M.L. need a snack,” I say.

  “Wouldn’t they rather have cookies?” Mom says.

  “You always say to eat more vegetables.”

  I take the cauliflower into my room. “I can just walk past the guard. He won’t know it’s me,” I say.

  “You know the Invisibility button doesn’t totally work,” Marco says.

  I hold up the cauliflower.

  “Is that to bribe the guard?” M.L. asks.

  “No. Doesn’t this look like brains?” I balance the cauliflower on my head. It falls on the floor.

  Hercules sniffs it.

  “You lost your head.” Marco laughs.

  M.L. picks up the cauliflower. “Heads-up.” She throws it at Marco.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Marco laughs.

  I grab the cauliflower. “We don’t have time for jokes.”

  “Or snacks. Or fun,” M.L. says.

  I ignore her. I put the cauliflower back on my head. �
�These are my extra brains. Now I look like an actor in the movie. Right?”

  “Maybe,” Marco says.

  “It won’t stay,” M.L. says.

  I let go. It falls.

  M.L. catches the cauliflower.

  I take it back from her. “Marco, can you make some glue that looks like dripping blood?”

  Marco shakes his head.

  “You have to help me be a monster,” I say.

  “I think you already are one,” M.L. says.

  Hmmm. Is that a compliment?

  I put the cauliflower back on my head. “I’ll just hold it.”

  “You need to cover up your hands,” Marco says.

  “And your face,” M.L. says.

  I pull my shirt up to my forehead. “How does this look?” I say.

  I hear laughing.

  Hmmm. I must need a better shirt. I take off my shirt. Marco’s shirt has a skeleton. I put down the cauliflower and tug at Marco’s shirt.

  “What are you doing?” M.L. says.

  “Marco’s shirt looks scarier,” I say.

  “But it’s my favorite shirt,” Marco says.

  “I’ll give it right back,” I say.

  “Walter? Let’s go!” Mom calls.

  “Why won’t you help me?” I ask.

  “Why should we help you get in trouble?” Marco says.

  “I won’t. It’s the best escapade ever,” I say.

  Marco and I trade shirts. I put the cauliflower back on my head. I stagger around. I need to make noises. But what kind? Would a monster with extra brains groan? Gurgle? Rasp? Gurgle-rasp?

  “Arggggh, blergggle, arggggh,” I say.

  Mom knocks on the door. “Are you okay, Walter?”