Attack of the Vampire Weenies (12 page)

“No. I'll finish it later.” Actually, there wasn't any homework, but Priscilla didn't think she needed to reveal that.

When they reached Mrs. Grutcheon's house, Boopsie came charging over, yapping and vibrating. She sniffed Priscilla's feet and then started licking her toes. Priscilla wished she hadn't worn sandals.

“Oh, look at that,” Mrs. Grutcheon said. “How sweet. She really likes you.”

She gave Priscilla a quick tour of the house, explained the TV remote, and showed her how to make milk shakes. Then, as she grabbed her coat, she pointed to a leash hanging from a hook by the front door. “I already fed Boopsie. She'll probably nap for a while. Take her out when she wants to go. That's all you really have to do.”

“How will I know when she wants to go?” Priscilla asked.

“You'll know. Boopsie is very good at expressing her needs.”

Mrs. Grutcheon left. Priscilla went into the kitchen to make a strawberry milk shake. Boopsie followed her. “Leave me alone,” Priscilla said.

Boopsie sat, stared at Priscilla, and panted.

Priscilla took her milk shake into the living room and switched on the TV. She wasn't in the mood to play a video game, so she looked through the movies in the bookcase and found one she hadn't seen. Boopsie ran around for a while, sniffed things, chewed other things, then finally curled up near Priscilla's feet and went to sleep.

“This definitely works for me,” Priscilla said.

One and a half movies and three milk shakes later, Boopsie woke up. She ran to the front door and whined. Then she put her front paws on the wall right under the leash. She ran back to Priscilla and barked.

“Shhh, this is the good part,” Priscilla said.

Boopsie paced around and whined some more. Priscilla ignored her.

The movie ended. Prisicilla got up from the couch. Boopsie raced for the door.

Priscilla went back to the kitchen.
One more milk shake,
she thought.

Boopsie ran after her. When Priscilla reached the living room, she noticed another stack of movies on a table next to the couch. One of the boxes caught her eye. “My favorite!” she said. She sat, drank her milk shake, and started watching the movie.

Boopsie whined louder.

“Stop it!” Priscilla shouted.

Boopsie ran to the front door and scratched at it. Priscilla ignored her.

Toward the end of the movie, Priscilla realized she needed to go to the bathroom. She got up from the couch.

Boopsie sprang to her feet and ran in circles around her. “I told you, leave me alone!” Priscilla said. She walked down the hall to the bathroom.

Boopsie raced past her, reached the door first, and spun around. She stood in the doorway and growled.

“Hey!” Priscilla said. She backed up a step. “Let me in.”

Boopsie stood her ground. She was small, but she looked like she could do some serious damage.

Priscilla walked back down the hall. She knew there had to be at least one more bathroom in the house. She went upstairs. Yeah—there was one at the end of the hallway. She headed for it.

Boopsie got there first and guarded the door.

“That's it. I'm going home,” she said.

She went downstairs.

Boopsie blocked the front door.

Priscilla reached for the knob. Boopsie growled. Priscilla reached for the leash. Boopsie stopped growling.

Priscilla grabbed the leash, hooked one end to Boopsie's collar, and opened the door.

“Hurry up,” she said as the dog tugged her down the porch steps. Priscilla waited while the dog went to the bathroom.

“My turn,” she said as she tugged at the leash. “Hurry up.” She got inside and dashed for the bathroom. She almost made it. But four milk shakes means a lot of liquid.

Maybe I can blame the dog,
she thought as she stared at the wet spot in the hallway carpet.

Behind her, Boopsie growled.

“Guess not,” Priscilla muttered as she headed to the kitchen in search of cleaning supplies.

Boopsie hopped up on the couch and settled down. This was one of her favorites movies, too.

 

WARM RAIN

“Pair up, class.”

“Now?” That caught me by surprise. We weren't even inside the museum yet.

“Now,” Mrs. Kimmel said.

Everyone was running around the parking lot like this was the World Series of musical chairs and the music had just stopped. I spun toward my friend Marcus. But Gabriel beat me to it.

“Can we do groups of three?” I called to Mrs. Kimmel.

“
Pair
up,” she said, shooting me that annoyed look she gets whenever I ask a question.

I searched the crowd, hoping to spot someone I could stand to be stuck with for the next three hours. The good choices were rapidly vanishing. I don't do well under pressure. I like to take my time and think about things before I make a decision.

Daryl Hostner wasn't paired up yet. He was okay. It would be nice if he changed his shirt a bit more often, but the smell wasn't all that bad yet, since it was only Wednesday. I headed toward him. I was halfway there when he teamed up with Collin Anderson.

The situation was starting to stink worse than Daryl. Everyone had a partner. Wait. That would work. If there was nobody for me, then Mrs. Kimmel would have to let me go with Marcus and Gabriel. Or by myself, which would be just fine, too. I knew exactly what I wanted to see.

“Looks like it's you and me.”

I turned toward the voice. Oh no. Toby Praxton. Toby the Talker.

There had to be another choice. I spotted two other lone figures—Larissa Caliban, who was in a ten-second TV commercial once and has been unbearable ever since, and Dan Weft, who sprayed everything within five feet of him whenever he talked.

“Yeah, I guess it's you and me. That's outstanding.” Toby held up a folder crammed with papers. “You know what? You're in luck. I downloaded the museum guide last week. Then I researched every single exhibit. I'm all set. I know all the best displays. This is going to be an unforgettable experience.”

I'll bet.

Following Mrs. Kimmel like hyperactive ducklings, our class streamed into the museum through the side entrance reserved for mobs of kids.

“I even made a map,” Toby said. “That way, we won't risk missing anything. I figured we'd be asked to pair up, so I printed an extra copy for my partner. It's laminated.” He shoved a stiff sheet of plastic-coated paper into my hand. “You must be feeling pretty lucky to have gotten me before anyone else.”

“I definitely can't believe my luck,” I said.

“Meet back here at twelve fifteen,” Mrs. Kimmel called over the noise of our escape.

Gabriel and Marcus were already racing toward the dinosaurs. I started to walk that way.

“Where are you going?” Toby asked.

I pointed to the left. “Dinosaurs.”

“No, that's completely wrong. We need to go through the basement first. See, it's all marked here on the map. I even time-coded it.”

“Don't you like dinosaurs?”

Toby nodded. “Sure. Don't worry. We won't miss anything. That's the brilliance of my system.” He glanced at his map. “I've scheduled the triceratops for eleven thirty-seven.”

“Triceratops? You mean stegosaurus,” I said. That was the most famous skeleton in the museum. Though it's too bad Toby was wrong. A triceratops would be even more awesome than a stegosaurus.

“Yeah. Whatever. Come on, we can't get off schedule.”

“But…” It was too late. My friends were lost in the crowds. If I wasn't going to see the dinosaurs with them, I guess it didn't matter whether I saw them now or at 11:37. I sighed and followed Toby into the basement.

“Check it out,” he said as we walked through the first exhibit. “I love stingrays.”

“That's a skate,” I told him. I knew the difference because I'd done a report on them. I was beginning to suspect that for someone who did tons of research, Toby wasn't very good about finding accurate information.

“Sure, whatever. Come on—it's time to swing through the Ancient Artifacts of the Northern Hemisphere. I mapped a shortcut that will save us two minutes.”

Toby headed down a hall near the skate tank. He turned a corner, and we found ourselves in a wider hall, lined with display cases. One of the cases was open. There was a cart next to it, with tools and stuff, and some small signs. I guess they were getting ready to work on a display.

“Hey, cool!” Toby walked over to the open case and grabbed two wooden sticks. Each was about a foot long, with scary faces and animals carved into it. Toby waved them around. “Look, I'm a shaman.”

“You're a twit,” I muttered.

He tapped his own arms with the two sticks, and then his shoulders. “I'm casting a spell on myself.”

“Hey, kid! Put those down.” A guy came running toward us from the other end of the hall. “They're fragile.”

“Sorry.” Toby put the sticks back.

I looked at the cart next to the case. According to the signs, Toby had been messing with artifacts of the extinct Zwahari tribe, a nomadic people who'd lived in the Gobi desert three thousand years ago. The case had a wish stick and a curse stick, whatever those were. It also had a medallion of wisdom and a flute of prosperity. Too bad Toby hadn't played with those, instead.

We moved along, keeping right to Toby's stupid schedule, walking through the ancient agriculture exhibits and toward the Hall of World Climates.

I glanced at our schedule as we reached the Amazon rain forest exhibit: 10:37 to 10:57. “Twenty minutes?” I asked. “Isn't that kind of long to stand around getting wet?”

“Hey, the rain forest is huge,” Toby said.

“Yeah, the real one is. But this is just…” I let it go as Toby slipped through the door.

I followed him into a dark, steamy room filled with gigantic plants. The vegetation grew taller and denser as we moved along the path.

“This is awesome.” Toby pushed aside an enormous leaf that blocked our way.

“I guess you're right. The room is pretty big.” We'd walked at least a couple hundred yards without any turns.

“I hope they have white-handed gibbons,” Toby said. “Those are so cool.”

I wrote a report on gibbons last year, too. I'd wanted to do crocodiles, but Gabriel beat me to it. From what I remembered, those gibbons were in the Asian rain forest, not the Amazon. Besides—they weren't going to let wild animals run around loose right where people were walking. But I didn't say anything.

At least, I didn't say anything understandable. But I did let out a yell when a gibbon flew past us, leaping between the trees.

“There's one,” Toby said.

I glanced at my watch. The inside of the glass had steamed up, so I had no idea what time it was. Man, it was warm. I grabbed the bottom of my T-shirt and wiped my face, but the sweat kept flowing. I looked back the way we'd come. “Maybe we should just turn around,” I said.

Toby glanced at his watch, then shrugged. “I guess we've been here for a while.”

“Yeah. Let's find the exit.”

“I think we're lost. We should head for a river. That's the recommended method for finding your way out of a forest. There has to be a river nearby.”

“There's no river here. This is just—” I stopped talking as a new sound grew above the scattered drips, chirps, and animal calls that surrounded us.

Water. Running water, over to our left.

We had to leave the path and push through the tangle of plants to reach the riverbank.

It was a big river. A really big river. The air felt cooler by the water—which meant that instead of feeling like I was inside a pot of boiling water, I just felt like I was standing too close to one.

I looked at the map. It didn't show a river. “Toby?”

“What?”

“Don't say anything else until we're out of here, okay?”

“Why?”

I wasn't sure. Maybe I was crazy. But I thought about the gibbons and the river. Whatever Toby talked about after he'd touched those sticks and cursed himself, we ran into, even if it didn't belong here.

But if I told him what was happening, he might say something crazy, like
Maybe there are still dinosaurs roaming the rain forest.
As cool as it would be to see a living, breathing
Tyranosaurus rex,
I wouldn't want to become a snack for one.

“Just do me a favor. Okay? Don't mention anacondas or jaguars or anything. And definitely no dinosaurs.”

“Hey, I guess I can do that. But why would I mention—?”

“Sssshhh.” I put my finger to my lips.

Toby nodded, and made a zipping motion across his mouth.

We managed to go five steps in silence.

“Can I just say one thing?”

“I guess.” I didn't see how our situation could get all that much worse.

“I don't think there are jaguars here.”

“Good.”

He looked down the path. “But I'm really scared we'll run into some lions.”

“No!” I grabbed his shirt. “I told you not to talk!”

“Oops. Sorry. I won't say anything else.”

“That's not good enough. You need to take it back!” I screamed. “Say there aren't any lions in the rain forest. Hurry, before they show up.”

He moved his lips, but no words came out. He'd made that happen, too.
I won't say anything else.

Behind me, I heard a sound rise above the roar of the water. It was a different kind of roar. A hungry roar.

I turned and ran, tossing aside the map. I didn't think I'd need it anymore. We were off schedule. Chased by lions. Lost in a huge rain forest. It looked like we were never going to get out of here. At least, not alive.

 

LAST ONE OUT

“Last one out is
a rotten egg!” Chuck shouted, pushing his way through the crowd getting off the school bus. Chuck loved being first. He could, when necessary, put up with being in the middle, but he hated being last—at anything. It was Friday. No school until Monday. Last school day of the week was fine. Last of anything else just wouldn't do.