“Snake took the T. rex? My T. rex?” I slam my window shut and sit back on my bed.
“They were brutish devils, these ogre enemies of yours. But they will have theirs coming.” Thor raises his mallet high. “Our dragon may have gone to them as a friend, but he will surely unleash his wrath on these unsuspecting ogres. And he grows. It will not be long before they meet their doom.”
I slip off the edge of my bed to the floor. He’s right. The guys have no idea what they’ve done. Slimy Snake’s plan was probably to come in and steal the magic pouch all along. When I wasn’t here and he couldn’t find it, he took Tiny T.
Thor was right. Lenora too. Why would I want to be friends with brutes who would say mean things to me, leave me out, and steal my stuff? But as much as I’d love a little doom in Snake’s life right now, death by dinosaur—especially one I created—isn’t exactly what I imagined.
I pick up my phone and dial Snake. Amazingly, he picks up.
“Hyper, what a surprise.” He laughs.
“Give him back.” My voice is stern and strong.
“Hmmm, gee. Whatcha talking about?”
“My T. rex. He’s not yours. Give him back.”
“I don’t think it’s actually possible for a person to own a T. rex, is it?”
I hear hoots and howls in the background. Probably Josh, Alex, and Frankie. Snake must have me on speaker phone.
“You don’t know what you’ve done. He’s dangerous,” I say.
“Dangerous?” Snake scoffs. “He came right to me, like a dog. I’ll admit, he’s a little feisty in his cage now, but he’ll calm down.”
“He nearly chewed my finger off!” a voice in the background yells. Alex. Definitely Alex.
“He’s growing,” I say. “He was half that size when I got him five days ago. He’ll be a full-grown T. rex soon. Then what are you going to do with him?”
“If you want him back, then trade that magic pouch,” Snake says.
“You don’t understand. It won’t work for you. It only works for one person,” I say.
“Yeah, nice try. You want the dino, I want the pouch.”
“Hey, find out if Josh is with him!” Alex yells out.
“With me?” I ask. “Why?”
“Alex thinks Josh blew up in the gym!” another voice yells in the background. Frankie.
“Don’t be an idiot, Frankie,” Snake says.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Nothing. We couldn’t find him after school, and he’s not answering his phone. Alex is paranoid that he followed you to the gym. And then you blew him up,” Snake says.
My stomach falls through the floor, into the ground, and lands somewhere in China. Josh didn’t run after me, did he?
Oh, crud.
Did I blow up Josh?
No. No way. There was no one in the gym. Just me… well, me and a fire monster.
“I didn’t blow him up,” I say.
“Better not have,” Snake replies. “I want that pouch tomorrow. I’ll text with details. And if you tell anyone, you’ll never get your dino back. I’m serious.” With that, he hangs up.
I bury my face in my pillow.
I wish I could call Lenora.
SATURDAY MORNING
Having Mom and Dad together in the same room is super uncomfortable. They get weird, can’t look each other in the eye, and tend to say stuff with darts attached to the words. I hate it.
Having Mom and Dad together in the same room when the room is the principal’s office is even worse. Not only are they mad at each other, they’re also mad at me. And usually, so is the principal.
Having Mom and Dad together in the same room when the room is the principal’s office because I blew up the gymnasium… really, really sucks.
The smell of smoke and burnt wood still fills the air. Firefighters wander around the campus, inspecting the rubble. My life is over. Thrown in jail at age eleven. Before I ever get to live, hit another home run—and get back my stolen T. rex before he eats my former friends.
“Thank you for coming in on a Saturday morning. I felt this would be best done in person.” Principal Peckinpaw tucks her strawberry-colored hair behind her ears. “Mr. and Mrs.…” She looks at my mom through her big black glasses. “I’m sorry, do you still go by Hopper?”
“She sure does.” Dad exhales. Mom chews her lip, wringing hands in her lap.
I don’t say anything, just lean against the wall, bouncing my knee up and down. There’s a giant fish tank behind Principal Peckinpaw’s chair, saltwater probably, filled with blue-and-yellow striped fish. Maybe the magic could turn me into a fish. I could plop into the fish tank, never to be seen again—except in fish form. At least it would be better than juvie.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the potential severity of this matter,” the principal says. “Thankfully, no one was hurt. But it seems Westin was in the gym, and there are witnesses who claim they saw him run out yelling about a fire monster right before the explosion.”
I sit there in silence. A wall clock tick tick ticks over my head, counting down my remaining minutes as a free man.
Principal Peckinpaw glances at me with unexpectedly soft eyes. “I’m not accusing you of anything, West. But until the fire marshal clears you, I’m afraid you’ll remain suspended from school.”
Dad lets out a jagged breath. “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” He’s got his lawyer hat on.
“I’m afraid it’s school policy.” Principal Peckinpaw pushes her glasses up her nose.
I like our principal. Even though I get sent to her office all the time, she’s still nice to me, like Mr. Lowde is. She’s like the Good Witch, kind but in charge, floating in to take care of all of us little people. She’s always saying stuff like, “You’ll get it next time, West,” and “I see good in your eyes, Westin Hopper. Others will see it too.”
Dad leans back in his chair and rubs his eyes. He turns to Mom. “Pauline, I can’t have him next week if he’s not going to school. I’m in court starting Tuesday.”
“You’re not the only one who works, Phil.” Mom lowers her voice. “This is what fifty-fifty custody looks like. Remember how hard you fought for it, so you could pay less child support? Why don’t you get your nanny to watch him?”
“Fifty-fifty is because he’s my son,” Dad bites back. “Not to pay you less. You can take time off much more easily than I can. The ceiling won’t cave in if you’re not there. And please stop calling Cindy ‘the nanny.’”
I slide farther down in my chair and feel an army of tears banging against the back of my eyes. Any minute now, waterworks.
Principal Peckinpaw holds up her hands like she does at an assembly and claps: Bah-ba-da-bah-bah.
I instinctively clap the response: Bah-bah. Mom and Dad stop mid-sentence.
“Oh, dear. Do you often fight like this in front of West?” the principal asks.
Mom and Dad look back at her with their jaws dropped.
“You know,” Principal Peckinpaw says, leaning over her desk and smiling her Good Witch smile, “many children who get into trouble at school do so because there’s trouble at home. What must it feel like for West to watch you speak to each other this way? He loves you both.”
“Yes, well, er…” Dad stammers.
“I’m sure we try.…” Mom mumbles.
“I know it’s difficult,” the principal says. “But West needs you to make the effort. To be civil.”
I hold my breath. No one’s ever said anything like that to my parents before. Well, not in front of me anyway. It was freaking cool. I would jump on Principal Peckinpaw and plant a wet kiss on her except:
She’s not altogether sure I didn’t burn down the gym.
It would be a really weird and kind of creepy thing to do.
Mom holds her hand to her mouth, her cheeks pink. “Of course. You’re right.”
Dad shifts in his chair, his lanky legs crunched in front of the desk. “We’ll work something out for next week. Get a babysitter or something.”
“Yes, sure,” Mom says.
Dad pushes his chair back to stand, towering over me. His soft face disappears. “But you’re not off the hook, kid.” He glares at Mom. “If he set that fire—this is exactly why he needs a strict private school.”
“You don’t understand him.” Mom exhales. “That’s the last thing he needs. Don’t you think he’d do better in a nurturing environment, out in nature?” She looks at the principal for support.
Principal Peckinpaw doesn’t answer Mom. She sighs and looks right at me, softly. Like she’s telepathically telling me she gets it. She feels sorry for me. She knows. I halfway hope it means she’ll be my character witness when I go to trial. Maybe they won’t send me away for life.
A moment later, the principal stands to dismiss us. On the way out, she pats my shoulder and whispers, “I’m sure this will get cleared up, West. Don’t worry.”
Easy for her to say. She doesn’t know that:
I did start that fire.
My new best friend hates me because I won’t make her a zombie mom.
My old best friend hates me too… except I don’t know why.
I created a dinosaur that will probably grow to the size of a house and start eating people because he’s so hungry.
The guys I thought were my friends will be his first meal.
Mom and Dad walk me to the parking lot. I’m in a daze, trailing a few feet behind.
“You realize how frequently he gets in trouble the weeks he’s with you?” Dad says in a loud whisper. “Maybe boarding school is a better option.”
“Boarding school? Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have a father in the house anymore.” Mom’s voice has a sting to it.
“Oh, that’s rich, Pauline.”
“Rich. Ha! We have to move because of your stingy support payments. If you spent more money caring for your son and less on your girlfriend—”
“I’m fully prepared to pay for private school. And don’t bring Cindy into this!”
“I didn’t bring her in. You did. Your private school will eat West up. He has ADHD, remember?”
“He can’t use that as an excuse his whole life,” Dad says.
“It’s not an excuse!” Mom throws her hands up. “It’s a disability, Phil. Asking him to just try harder is like asking a blind kid to try to see.”
They think they’re whisper-arguing, but they’re lousy at it. I put my hands up to my ears to block it out. I wish I could disappear, so they wouldn’t fight over me anymore. And that’s when I see him—my fire monster. He’s lurking around the corner of a cement wall by the parking lot, trying not to touch anything.
“I’ll be right back.” My parents are too busy arguing to hear me.
I zip over to where he’s hiding and crouch down. “You’re alive. I thought you died in the explosion.”
The fire monster looks up at me with giant, puppy-dog eyes and a what-the-heck-just-happened expression. I guess he is pretty adorable… for a havoc-wreaking creature.
“You got me in a heap of trouble, you know.” I look around to make sure none of the firefighters or police officers are lurking. The last thing I need is to be seen playing with fire. “How’d you cause such a huge explosion anyway?”
He just shrugs his fiery shoulders. I can’t be mad at him. After all, I made him. And I understand more than anyone about doing bad stuff without meaning to.
I slip my backpack off my shoulders and pull out the wooden box. Lifting the lid, I adjust the opening of the pouch inside. “Can you get back in here without burning the box or my backpack or me or any more of the school?”
Please, please go in. Don’t pull a T. rex on me.
The fire monster nods quickly, waves goodbye, and, in a spark, slips into the pouch.
I glance down. A wisp of smoke wafts up from the edge of the box, but nothing else is toasted. Phew! But I can’t help wondering: the croc, the owl, the mummy, and now the fire monster… they all went back. So why won’t Tiny T?
Is Thor right? Am I supposed to get enlightenment from him or something?
So far, the only enlightening has been of the school gym.
I peek around the corner at Mom and Dad. Mom sits in her car, waiting for me. Dad is standing on the opposite side of the parking lot, near the driver’s side door of the Evidence.
My phone pings as I walk to him. I look at the screen, and my stomach squeezes. It’s from Snake.
If u ever want to see ur lizard alive, bring the pouch. My house. Rec room over garage. 2 p.m. today. No grown-ups or else.
“Everything okay?” Dad asks as I walk up. “You’re turning green.”
I nod, staring at the screen. They wouldn’t kill him. Would they? At least I know T hasn’t killed them—yet.
Dad kisses the top of my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?”
Tomorrow afternoon. I’m running out of time. I have to figure out a way to get T back—and return him to the Other Realm—before I go to Dad’s.
“Can you wait here a second, Dad? Don’t move.”
I dash over to Mom’s car and tap on her window. I roll my finger so she’ll open it.
“Get in the car, West.” She sighs. “I have a lot to do today.”
“Dad wants to take me right now. You know, save you from having to drop me at his house tomorrow.”
I know this lie will work for two reasons:
Mom hates talking to Dad, especially after they’ve been fighting, so she won’t check my story.
She’d probably rather not see my face for the rest of the day anyway.
Mom exhales. “Really, he said that?” She looks over in Dad’s direction, and he actually waves back, helping me without even knowing it. “What about your homework? Your planner?”
“I have my stuff.” I point to my backpack. I’m probably banished from school anyway, but I don’t remind her of that.
“All right.” Mom rolls up her window. Then she rolls it back down. “Wait. Gimme a kiss.” She sticks her cheek out, and as I lean in to kiss her, she reaches up to hug me. “What am I going to do with you?” She squeezes me tightly.
I squeeze her back, then run over to Dad, who’s now sitting in his car. Time for lie number two. I feel bad about it, but Tiny T’s life—and possibly my former friends’ lives—are at stake. And if Tiny T gets really huge before I can send him back to the Other Realm, then everyone’s lives are at stake. Lying is a small price to pay.
“Mom wants you to drop me off at a friend’s house,” I tell Dad, opening the passenger-side door. “It’s for a school project.”
“So she just left you?” Dad lets out a long breath. “All right, get in.”
I slip into the front seat and toss my backpack by my feet. I need help. And there’s only one place I might get it. I just hope she’ll see me.
SATURDAY—LATER
The wheels on Dad’s car spin up dust from the long dirt driveway that leads to Lenora’s yellow farmhouse. I hop up the front steps while Dad waits in the driveway.
“Is Lenora home?” I ask Grannie once she opens the squeaky old front door.
Grannie wipes the sweat off her neck with her apron front and yells up the stairs. “Nora! Company!” She turns and heads into the house. “Come in, son. Go on up.”
I turn and wave at my dad from the porch. A moment later, he and the Evidence disappear around a bend under the arch of oak tree branches. I step across the threshold and stop. The house smells like chicken soup. Hopefully not made with one of Lenora’s pets.
“Westin, right?” Lenora’s dad pops his head through the kitchen door. “Ni
ce to have you back!”
“Thanks, Mr. Pickering.”
“That’s Ned, remember. What are you kids up to today? Saddle up the horses maybe?”
I look up the stairs, wondering if Lenora’s coming down. “Um…”
“Course not,” he says. “You kids don’t want to hang out on a farm. Need a ride somewhere? Downtown, the mall?”
“Yes—probably. Could you drop us somewhere?”
“Sure, sure. Just holler.”
“Is Lenora…?” I point upstairs.
“Nora!” her dad shouts up the stairs. “You hear Grannie? Your friend is here.”
I hear foot clomps and a pair of legs appear at the mid-landing of the stairs. Lenora bends down to see who’s at the door.
“Oh. You. Heard of a phone?” She turns on her heels and walks back up the stairs.
Mr. Pickering grimaces. “Uh-oh. Looks like you’ve met the wrath of Queen Nora. Don’t worry, son, she’s softer than she seems.”
I stand there, not sure what to do.
“Geez, come on up already!” Lenora yells down.
I climb the stairs and walk down a dark hall. The walls are dingy white, and the four doors on either side are painted green. They’re all closed, except for the last one on the right. I head there and peer in. Lenora is sitting on the blue carpet next to her bed, folding a pile of clothes.
“What’s up?” She doesn’t bother looking up.
I go in and stand beside her, not sure what to do. Lenora’s room is super clean and tidy and surprisingly girly. White lace drapes let the sun peek through, a mirror with a gold frame hangs on one wall, and a painting of kittens peeking out of a basket is over the bed.
I shake my head. Her grannie must have decorated this or something.
On the bedside table is a framed photo of two grown-ups. I recognize the man—Lenora’s dad. The woman has copper hair, like Lenora’s. That must be her mom. Next to that is a photo of Lenora hugging a white chicken that I assume is—was—Bobbie.
I unzip my backpack and take out the wooden box, my sketchbook and pencils, and Uncle Marty’s drawings, which I packed this morning before leaving. Lenora doesn’t stop folding.
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