Jacob Wonderbar and the Cosmic Space Kapow

by Nathan Bransford

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  Acknowledgements

  DIAL BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS

  A division of Penguin Young Readers Group

  Published by The Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand,

  London WC2R ORL, England

  Text copyright © 2011 by Nathan Bransford Illustrations copyright © 2011 by Christopher S. Jennings

  All rights reserved

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bransford, Nathan

  Jacob Wonderbar and the cosmic space kapow /

  by Nathan Bransford ; illustrated by C. S. Jennings

  p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-51507-5

  [1. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. 2. Interplanetary voyages—Fiction.

  3. Substitute teachers—Fiction. 4. Behavior—Fiction. 5. Fathers—Fiction.]

  I. Jennings, C. S., ill. II. Title

  PZ7.B73755Jac 2011

  [Fic]—dc22

  2010038152

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  CHAPTER 1

  Each type of substitute teacher had its own special weakness, and Jacob Wonderbar knew every possible trick to distract them. Male substitutes with long hair and women in tie-dyed skirts often had a guitar stashed nearby and were just waiting for an excuse to ditch the lesson plan and play a song. The mousy ones who spoke softly and tentatively when they introduced themselves would patiently answer every absurd question Jacob asked them and would be confronting a classroom gone wild within minutes.

  Older subs were more challenging. Having endured a lifetime of rowdy classrooms, they better understood that children were their mortal enemies. They came to class early and peered out warily through thick glasses, ready for battle. They armed themselves with ancient metal thermoses and cranky dispositions.

  Jacob sized up the new sub and wondered if he had finally met his match. She was impossibly tall and thin, with a wart on both cheeks and a glint of evil in her eye. She wore a long faded dress with a hideous floral print. Her shoes were clunky and beige. Everything about her seemed crooked: Her fingers were spindly, her posture was hunched, her nose was bent. She had a crooked set of yellow teeth and foul breath that smelled like burned coffee and rotten eggs.

  He watched carefully as she scrawled “Mrs. Pinkerton” on the chalkboard and underlined it six times with increasing ferocity. Her handwriting dripped with malice.

  She was the scariest substitute teacher he had ever seen.

  With a lurching twitch, Mrs. Pinkerton cleared her voice, a mixture of gravel and syrup, and warbled, “Good morning, class.”

  Jacob’s classmates were too scared to reply. He knew they were counting on him to gain the upper hand. He was Jacob Wonderbar, substitute teacher slayer extraordinaire. He had forced more subs to flee the classroom than he could count. His mission was simple: Distract the substitute from the lesson plan without getting sent to the principal’s office. Bonus points for making them reconsider their choice of profession and/or purpose in life.

  Mrs. Pinkerton smiled, sending a chill down Jacob’s spine, and warbled again, louder this time, “I said good morning, class.”

  A few of Jacob’s classmates answered with a quiet, nervous, “Good morning, Mrs. Pinkerton.”

  Jacob looked over at Dexter, his trusty friend with messy brown hair and a perpetual look of fear in his eyes. Jacob whispered, “This is not good.”

  Suddenly a ruler appeared in Mrs. Pinkerton’s hands and she furiously rapped a table. “I. Heard. That.” Silence filled the classroom. Dexter buried his head in his arms.

  Mrs. Pinkerton slinked over to Jacob’s desk. She appeared to grow taller with every step. She loomed over Jacob, and he smelled her fearsome breath. “Are you Jacob Wonderbar?”

  Jacob smiled at her rookie mistake. Never let a sixth grader identify himself. He shook his head. “No, sorry, you have the wrong ...”

  Mrs. Pinkerton cackled without smiling. The back of Jacob’s neck prickled. “Of course you are. I’ve been warned about you.”

  She turned to walk back to the front of the class but suddenly whirled around, leaned forward, and jabbed a crooked finger in front of Jacob’s face. “I’m watching you,” she whispered.

  Jacob felt a sudden pain on his earlobe, which could only have meant one thing. Sarah had flicked it.

  Sarah sat behind Jacob. She was a very pretty girl with piercing blue eyes and golden hair, and the one thing in the entire world that drove her the craziest was when people called her by both her first and last name, “Sarah Daisy.” She said it made her sound like the girliest girl on the planet. Needless to say, she did not appreciate it when Jacob passed her a note that said, simply, “Sarah DAISY.”

  Sarah flicked his ear again, even harder than the last time.

  “I HEARD THAT!” Mrs. Pinkerton shouted. As she stomped over to Jacob’s desk again, he smiled at his good luck. Sarah never got into trouble, and this time she was caught red-handed. Getting in trouble would make her mad, and Jacob found her quite hilarious when she was mad. Which of course only made her angrier.

  “Jacob Wonderbar, you have two strikes.”

  “Me? She was the one—”

  “Zip it!”

  “But—”

  “Zip!”

&nb
sp; “I—”

  “ZIP!”

  Jacob slumped back in his seat. Dexter raised his head out of his arms and shook it slowly, warning Jacob not to push it this time. He knew what Jacob was thinking before Jacob knew what Jacob was thinking. Then Dexter buried his head in his arms again.

  Jacob shook off Dexter’s warning. He waited until Mrs. Pinkerton was facing the chalkboard and coughed “Pinkerton” into his arm, hoping to inspire the class into a sudden fake coughing fit.

  “Demerit,” Mrs. Pinkerton immediately coughed back before any of Jacob’s classmates could so much as inhale. She walked over to Miss Banks’s demerit chart and moved Jacob’s card five slots to the right, an unexplored region of demeritdom that he had previously assumed was only reserved for criminals.

  Jacob’s ears burned as he weighed his options. He thought about his mom, at work in some hotshot meeting probably. He knew that if he was sent to the principal’s office it would mean she would be called out of work, then she’d arrive at the principal’s office with a red tint in her cheeks, and when they got in the car his mom would look straight ahead and say, “I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret later,” and then they’d ride home in complete silence. He had already promised to never land himself in the principal’s office ever again.

  But Mrs. Pinkerton had to be stopped.

  “Dexter Goldstein?” Mrs. Pinkerton called out.

  One eye appeared out from Dexter’s tangled arms. “Present?”

  Mrs. Pinkerton rapped her knuckles on her desk. “I am not calling roll. It is science time. I must insist that you stand in front of the class and recite the first fifty elements of the periodic table.”

  Jacob’s class had only studied the first ten elements. Dexter shook his head, since there must have been a mix-up. “But we—”

  “There is no mistake!” Mrs. Pinkerton yelled. “And I’d hate to think what would happen if you were to get one wrong.”

  After hesitating for a moment, Dexter slumped out of his chair and stood in front of the class. He gazed out the window and Jacob assumed that he was considering the possibility of an escape. Dexter looked at Jacob with an expression that said: “These twelve years have been nice and everything, but I am definitely going to die at the front of this classroom.”

  “Well?” Mrs. Pinkerton asked.

  Dexter stared at his feet. “Um . . . Hydrogen?”

  “WRONG!” Mrs. Pinkerton thundered. “I do not see umhydrogen anywhere on the periodic table. I suggest you try again without stuttering.”

  Jacob heard Sarah take a deep breath. The class was completely silent. Dexter’s face was pale.

  “Hydrogen,” Dexter whispered.

  “Correct,” Mrs. Pinkerton said. “Next?”

  “Um . . .”

  The class gasped.

  Dexter held up his hands. “I mean, not um. Definitely not um. Starting over. Pretend I didn’t say that word that I definitely . . . did not say.” Dexter took a deep breath. He took another. “Helium?”

  He closed his eyes and grimaced as he waited to see if Mrs. Pinkerton would allow that answer.

  Mrs. Pinkerton paused. “Correct.”

  Dexter nearly fainted.

  “Next?”

  “Beryllium.”

  Sarah smacked her hand on her face. “Lithium,” she muttered. “Lithium!”

  “I mean lithium,” Dexter said.

  Mrs. Pinkerton let out an inhuman growl and Jacob saw purple veins popping out on her face in places he didn’t even know people had veins. She grasped her ruler and broke it over her knee, flinging the pieces up in the air. “Cheating?! In my classroom?” She rushed toward Dexter, who shrunk away in fear.

  Jacob sprang into action. No one bullied Dexter, especially not a substitute teacher. It was time for the nuclear option.

  He reached into his desk and pulled out a baseball he had hidden away in case of emergency. He had practiced for hours for just this occasion. He threw the baseball toward the ceiling and hit the emergency fire sprinkler, which immediately burst into pieces and began drenching the class with heavy streams of water.

  The entire class screamed and began a mad rush toward the door, overturning desks and chairs and slipping in the water. Sarah laughed hysterically and slapped Jacob on the back.

  Amid the pandemonium, Dexter backed up against the wall and accidentally knocked a large framed picture of Albert Einstein to the ground, which then tipped over and bumped Miss Banks’s rolling chair, which rolled just far enough so that the arm of the chair barely clipped Mrs. Pinkerton’s coffee mug, which slid off of the desk, fell ever so slowly, crashed, and shattered on the floor into a million pieces.

  As the class streamed into the hallway and as water rained down, Jacob, Sarah, and Dexter stared at Mrs. Pinkerton, who looked completely calm. It was almost as if her “Reach for the Stars” coffee mug had not just been destroyed and she was not being doused with water at the rate of two gallons per second. In fact, she acted as if it were the most natural thing in the universe.

  “Dexter Goldstein, Sarah Daisy, Jacob Wonderbar. Principal’s office. Now.”

  “But—” all three said at once.

  “NOW.”

  CHAPTER 2

  First things first,” Mr. Bradley, the principal of Magellan Middle School, said to Jacob, Dexter, and Sarah as they sat soaking wet in his office, hoping they would not be in too much trouble. “You’re in a great deal of trouble. Coffee mugs exploding, classrooms flooding, allegations of cheating, an angry substitute teacher. This is all quite serious. Punishment will be leveled.”

  Mr. Bradley was completely bald except for a small patch of hair near the base of his neck that had somehow managed to avoid the catastrophic fate of the rest of the hair population on his head. His black glasses made his eyes appear approximately three times larger than they actually were, although his eyes were plenty big to begin with. He wore a yellowing white shirt and a red tie spotted with toothpaste. It’s best that his mustache not be mentioned at all.

  Mr. Bradley tapped his forehead in thought. “Considering the facts at hand, Sarah Daisy, you may return to the classroom. You are clearly innocent.”

  “What? But I’m the one who started this whole thing when I blurted out the answer. It’s my fault!”

  Mr. Bradley shook his head. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t possibly be guilty.”

  Sarah closed her eyes and let out a long exhale of pure resignation. She clenched her hands into fists. “It’s because I’m a cute little girl, isn’t it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I would say that is precisely it,” Mr. Bradley said.

  “This is discrimination! What if I wasn’t a girl? What if I had warts all over my face? Would you still treat me like a silly little girl? This is horrible! I demand equal punishment.”

  Mr. Bradley laughed and clapped his hands. “Such a clever girl. Back to class with you.”

  Sarah Daisy stormed out of the office, slamming the door as she left.

  “Dexter Goldstein . . . Dexter Goldstein ... what shall we do with you? Mr. Wonderbar’s favorite accomplice, if I’m not mistaken, and I’m never mistaken. What say you?”

  Jacob waited for Dexter to defend himself since he had only broken Mrs. Pinkerton’s mug by accident and was otherwise completely blameless.

  Instead, Dexter ran his hand through his hair, sighed, and said, “Nothing. I’m guilty as charged.” He looked over at Jacob. “Again.”

  Jacob knew why Dexter had issued a false confession. He had gotten Dexter into enough trouble that adults very rarely believed either of them when they claimed to be innocent. Mr. Bradley didn’t believe them when they said they weren’t the ones who taped the words “in the bathroom” onto all of Ms. Franklin’s inspirational posters celebrating qualities like determination and creativity, and he certainly wouldn’t believe that a flooded classroom was Jacob Wonderbar’s sole responsibility. After their many successful pranks over the past couple of years, Dexter’s only hope
in the face of punishment was to admit guilt and hope for leniency. Even when he wasn’t actually at fault.

  Mr. Bradley adjusted some of the souvenirs that littered his desk, including a clock in the shape of an old sailing ship and a gold star that said “#1 Principal.” He took out a pen, scribbled on a piece of paper, tore it off of his tablet, carefully folded it, and handed it over to Dexter.

  Dexter opened it very slowly. It read: “I am giving you two hours of detention. Your punishment will be halved if you answer this question correctly: Who is your favorite principal?”

  “Um. You are?” Dexter said.

  “Correct! I knew I could count on you. You may return to class. I will see you in detention next Wednesday.”

  Dexter sat still for a few seconds. “My mom is going to kill me,” he whispered. Then he stood up, punched Jacob lightly on the shoulder, and left Jacob and Mr. Bradley staring at each other in silence. Mr. Bradley scratched his mustache and cleared his throat.

  “Well well, Mr. Wonderbar, we meet again. I would say it’s a pleasure, only it’s not. So many office visits this year. Disruptions, lack of focus, practical jokes . . . you are a regular criminal mastermind. Do you know what your teacher Miss Banks said about you the other day?”

  Jacob shook his head.

  “She said that you show a great deal of promise. Did you know that? I strenuously disagreed with her, of course.”

  Jacob thought about the time he let the air out of Miss Banks’s bike tires and was mystified that she had said something nice about him in private.

  “But no matter. Today we have a case where you have soaked a thoroughly distressed Mrs. Pinkerton. A priceless coffee mug has been destroyed. I don’t know that there are enough hours in the day to give you the detention you deserve. What is your mother going to think about all of this?”

  Jacob stood up out of his seat. “I do not repent!”

  Mr. Bradley took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

  “Mr. Bradley. Rather than locking us up in detention, wouldn’t your time be better served reconsidering your policy for hiring substitute teachers? Didn’t you at least do a background check on that woman? We could have all been killed! How could I be punished for saving the class from a crazy person? I should probably receive a medal. There’s no need to call my mom.”