دوستام منو هیولا صدا می زنند فصل 02

My Friends Call Me Monster - Chapter 2

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

“How many of you have heard of the Loch Ness Monster?” Mrs. Hardesty asked. Several hands went up.

“Here she goes again,” I whispered to DeWayne. He sat beside me in class.

DeWayne rolled his eyes. “Always monsters.”

“The other sixth-grade class is doing the Civil War,” I said. “All we talk about is monsters. How weird is that?” DeWayne laughed. He’s a lanky, good-looking dude. He wears low-riding, baggy jeans and long T-shirts with hip-hop singers across the front. He has big brown eyes and keeps his black hair shaved close to his head.

He’s a good guy, except his laugh is too loud, which gets me in trouble a lot.

I suddenly realized Mrs. Hardesty had her beady little black eagle eyes on me. “Is something funny, Michael?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Would you like to share it with the whole class?”

I shrugged again. “Whatever.”

I should’ve just said sorry or something. Why do I always look for trouble with her?

Maybe because she’s always on my case?

She stared at me with that cold expression, her face frozen like a statue.

Mrs. Hardesty looks a lot like a bird, with tiny round eyes pushed up against a long beaky nose. She has short, feathery, white-blond hair that puffs up around her pale narrow face.

“Would you care to tell the class what you think the Loch Ness Monster looks like, Michael?” “Well … it looks a lot like DeWayne, except it’s prettier.”

That got everyone laughing, except for Mrs. Hardesty. She wrinkled her nose and made that sniffing sound she always makes when she’s unhappy about something.

She held up a large photograph. “This is a photo of the Loch Ness Monster,” she said. She moved it from side to side, but it was really hard to see in the dim light.

She always keeps it dark in the room. Kids are always stumbling over their backpacks. When we take tests, we have to hold the paper up close to our faces to read it.

It was a bright, sunny day outside, but the shades were down and the ceiling lights were dim as usual.

“As you can see, the monster looks a lot like a dinosaur,” Mrs. Hardesty continued. “A lot of people claim this photo is a fake. People don’t want to believe in monsters.” I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out my silver dog whistle.

“But hundreds of people visit the lake in Scotland every year,” Mrs. H said. “They want to see the monster for themselves.” Kids gasped in surprise as one of the window shades shot up with a loud snap. Sunlight poured into the room.

Mrs. Hardesty shielded her eyes. She edged sideways to the window and tugged the shade back down. The room grew dark again.

Mrs. Hardesty picked up her lucky rabbit’s foot from the desk. She always squeezes it in her hand when she gets tense. Which means she squeezes it a lot!

“Many other water monsters have been spotted over the centuries,” she said. “In ancient times, sailors believed in sea serpents. And —” SNAP.

The same window shade zipped back up to the top.

Mrs. H gasped and dove to the window. She tugged it down and held it there for a few seconds. Then she returned to the front of her desk, rolling the rabbit’s foot in her hand.

SNAP.

The shade flipped back up. Everyone laughed. Sunlight poured over the front of the room.

I hid the dog whistle under my desk. She hadn’t seen me blow it. She had no idea what a mechanical genius Michael Munroe is.

Yeah, I’m real good with tech stuff. People don’t expect it, because I’m Monster, the big hulk of a dude who is always getting into trouble.

But I’ve got a lot of skill with computers and all kinds of tech stuff.

Before class, I rigged the window shade. I put a tiny receiver on it. The dog whistle sent high-pitched sound waves to the receiver. Sound waves that humans can’t hear. And the sound made the window shade go flying up.

SNAP.

I did it again. Just to upset Mrs. H and get everyone laughing. Then I hid the whistle behind my textbook.

Mrs. Hardesty scratched her head. “Why does that shade keep going up?” she asked.

“Maybe an evil spirit is doing it!” DeWayne said.

He knew I was doing it. But he liked to torture her, too. “Owooooo.” He made a nice ghost howl.

Mrs. Hardesty’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t think it was funny. She was squeezing that lucky rabbit’s foot flat!

“One should never joke about evil spirits,” she said. Her voice trembled.

She kept a jar of black powder on her desk. She reached into the jar, pulled out a handful, and tossed it over her shoulder.

Is she the weirdest teacher on earth or what?

We’re always trying to figure out what the black powder is. Daisy thinks it’s ground-up bat wings. DeWayne says it’s powdered eye of newt. He learned about eye of newt in one of the scary books he’s always reading.

Mrs. Hardesty tugged the window shade down and examined it carefully. I hoped she wouldn’t spot the little receiver I’d planted there.

She returned to the front of the class. I raised my dog whistle and prepared to blow it again.

OOPS.

The whistle slipped out of my hand. I made a wild grab for it. But it bounced off my desk, hit the floor, and rolled halfway to Mrs. Hardesty.

Did she see it?

Yes.

She squinted at it, then raised her eyes to me.

“Uh … am I in trouble?” I asked.