Creature Teacher: The Final Exam Page 3

  “Th-that’s your real face.” The words spilled from my mouth in a trembling voice I’d never heard before. “I … I … I …”

  Her eyes bulged, round as onions. She gnashed her pointed teeth. She jumped to her feet, so heavily the whole room shook.

  Under the short sleeves of the massive red dress, her arms were like fat hams. She balled her hands into huge fists.

  She let out a long, sour breath. The room suddenly smelled like a garbage truck. Her cheeks fell like flabby cookie dough on both sides of her snarling snout.

  She didn’t blink as she gazed at me. Her brown eyes were wet like swampy pits. “Are you the new dog? Tommy Farrelly?”

  “Y-yes.” I choked out a tiny reply. I pressed my back hard against the wall.

  “Did someone tell you to do this to me?” she boomed. Her bellowing voice made the office window rattle. “Did someone dare you?”

  “N-no,” I answered honestly.

  “Too bad.” She licked her brown liver lips with a wide pink cow tongue. “You’ve made a very bad impression on The Teacher.”

  I lowered my eyes. “Sorry.”

  “Winners don’t apologize,” she said.

  “Sorry,” I replied again. “I just … didn’t believe them when they said you were a monster.”

  She let out a roar. “You don’t believe in monsters?”

  Another powerful whiff of garbage breath rolled over me. “Well … I do now.” My answer came out in a shuddery whisper.

  Mrs. Maaargh scratched the lumpy warts on her cheek with the claws on one hand. She squinted at me. “Didn’t anyone tell you I’m a bottom-feeder?”

  I swallowed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “What does that mean?”

  “I eat the dog at the bottom of my chart,” she said. She stepped up close to me. Her feet made a wet plop plop plop sound as she walked.

  I glanced down and saw that she was barefoot. Her feet looked like lumpy pillows. She left wet footprints on the floor behind her.

  “You’ll see my chart later,” she growled. “But, guess what? You’re there, Tommy. You’re at the bottom.” A lopsided smile made her doughy cheeks flap. “You’re looking like lunch to me.”

  This can’t be happening, I thought.

  This is the part of the story where the kid wakes up, and it’s all been a terrible nightmare.

  But I knew this couldn’t be a nightmare. No way I could ever dream up a monster this ugly or this frightening. Besides, dreams don’t stink to high heaven — do they?

  I have a good imagination. But no way I could ever dream up Mrs. Maaargh.

  With my back against the office wall, I slid toward the door. My knees were shaking so hard, I didn’t think I could stand up much longer. I just wanted to get out of there.

  But she bounced past me and blocked the doorway. “You can’t leave, dog,” she snarled. “You have to be punished.”

  “Punished?” I whispered.

  She nodded. “For hurting The Teacher’s face.”

  “B-but I said I was sorry. I —”

  “Sorry isn’t enough, dog.” Suddenly, I saw a big silvery serving spoon in her hand. I don’t know where it came from. But she waved it in front of me.

  “Go ahead. Pick my nose, Tommy.”

  “Huh?” I stared at the serving spoon. It was big. Bigger than a tablespoon. It was the kind of spoon Mom uses to serve mashed potatoes.

  Then I raised my eyes to her huge nostrils. They looked like cave openings in the middle of her face.

  Mrs. Maaargh shoved the spoon into my hand. “Take the spoon, dog. Quick. Pick my nose for me.”

  I felt my stomach lurch. I thought I was going to puke.

  “Pick my nose. Hurry.”

  I squeezed the handle of the spoon and stared into the darkness of her nostrils. My hand trembled. My stomach lurched again.

  Can I do it?

  My breath caught in my throat. My hand began to shake as I raised the spoon to her nose.

  “Pick it. Pick it for me!” she bellowed.

  I could see green drippings in her nostrils. Deep in her nostrils. I forced the spoon a little higher.

  Then I opened my mouth in an angry scream: “Noooooooo!”

  I tossed the spoon against the wall. Then I lowered my head, swerved around her, and bolted out the door.

  I stumbled into the hallway and kept running. The photos on the walls, the office doors and windows — they were all a blur as I stumbled and staggered to the exit.

  I shoved open the door with my shoulder. I darted outside. A counselor carrying a stack of Frisbees uttered a cry and dodged out of my way. Frisbees spilled over the ground.

  I felt as if my chest was about to explode. But I ran full speed, ignoring the pain.

  I sprinted past the running kids. There were dozens of them now, running in a total panic.

  I couldn’t get the odor of the monster’s breath from my nose. Was it clinging to my clothes? And I couldn’t get the sight of that green gunky stuff deep in her nostrils from my mind.

  I ran past the sports field, into the woods. I could hear the rush of waves in the lake on the other side of the trees.

  Where was I going? I didn’t know. Wherever my legs took me. I knew I had to get away from Mrs. Maaargh. Get away from Uncle Felix. Get away from the crazy kids, who only wanted to WIN.

  This camp was too insane, too dangerous.

  Sure, my parents were eager for me to be a winner. But if they only knew … If they only knew the truth about this camp, they’d never want me to stay.

  My shoes sank into the sand as I stepped out of the trees. I trotted along the beach. No one here. I still had no idea where I was running.

  Clouds had rolled over the sky, turning the lake water green and gray. The low waves washed onto the sand. The small dock came into my view.

  And I stopped. Panting hard, I stared. The boat. The little white boat that brought me to Winner Island was back, bobbing at the end of the dock.

  Forcing myself to breathe normally, I made my way closer. Was that guy Jared, the guy who piloted the boat, onboard?

  I crept to the side of the dock. The boat bumped the wooden pilings gently. I stood perfectly still and listened.

  Silence except for the whisper of the wind and the water and shouts from kids back at the camp.

  My eyes alert, darting in every direction, I walked down the dock and lowered myself into the back of the boat. “Anyone here?” I called.

  No reply.

  I can hide in the cabin down below, I decided. The boat will take me away, take me somewhere safe.

  Then I can phone my parents and tell them to come get me.

  I squeezed into the lower cabin. It was very small, smaller than the linen closet at home. But I didn’t care. I could make myself comfortable on the cabin floor. I didn’t care how long I’d have to wait — as long as the boat took me away from Winner Island to safety.

  I settled myself down, crossed my legs, and pressed my back against the cabin wall. My T-shirt was damp from sweat. My glasses were steamed up. My hair was wet, too, matted against my forehead.

  I took a deep breath and held it, trying to calm myself. The boat bobbed gently. Then I heard a rattling sound.

  Too soft to be the boat motor. Too loud to be crickets chirping.

  I sucked in my breath when I heard it again. A long rattle. Like someone shaking a baby rattle. Very nearby.

  My muscles tensed. I glanced around the tiny cabin. My eyes stopped on the hand-lettered sign posted on the wall to my side:

  WARNING: THIS BOAT PROTECTED BY A VENOMOUS RATTLESNAKE.

  I gasped as the rattle grew louder — and I saw a fast, darting flash of movement in front of my face.

  I ducked.

  The snake snapped its jaws inches above my head.

  Its tiny eyes glowed as it pulled back its head. The black forked tongue lashed from side to side.

  It rattled again, curling its body as it prepared another attack. The rattle grew to a
roar in my head.

  I froze, hypnotized by the sound, hypnotized by the shiny black eyes.

  Then I rolled on the floor as the narrow head shot forward and the fangs snapped again. Snaaaap. The fangs missed my ear.

  And then as the snake raised its tail to begin its rattle, I leaped to my feet. Off balance, I stumbled headfirst into the cabin wall. Shaking off the pain, I grabbed the rails with both hands and scrambled up the ladder to the top deck.

  The snake didn’t give up. It snapped again, a few inches from the back of my right ankle.

  I kicked at it. Missed.

  I grabbed the rail and hoisted myself onto the dock.

  Struggling to catch my breath, I took two steps — and bumped into Uncle Felix.

  He was wearing a baggy sweatshirt with the words: Never Cry Uncle. And baggy blue shorts that made his legs look like toothpicks. He frowned and shook his head at me.

  “I — I —” I stammered. I didn’t know what to say. “How did you know —?”

  “We have cameras everywhere, dog,” he said. He pointed to a tiny camera on top of the dock piling. He crossed his arms in front of him. “Listen to me. A winner never quits — and a winner never tries to escape.”

  “But I want to go home!” I blurted out.

  “You want to go home a winner, dog,” he said. “Losers never leave Winner Island.”

  “You know about Mrs. Maaargh?” I cried. “You know what she does?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, of course. It’s a real shame she came here,” he murmured. “I made her promise she’d only eat one kid. That was the best I could do.”

  “But … how can you let her do that?” I cried. “How can you —”

  He raised a hand to silence me.

  “She’s not a bad teacher,” he said. “She just gets hungry.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder and started to guide me back to camp.

  I stopped and turned to him. “Wh-what are you going to do to me now?” I asked in a trembling voice.

  “I’m taking you to The Teacher’s daily class,” Uncle Felix said. “She already knows you tried to escape. I’m sure that will put you at the bottom of her chart.”

  “I’m already at the bottom of the chart,” I muttered.

  “Do you know what I always say?” Uncle Felix asked. “A winner tries hard and a loser hardly tries.”

  He had a million useless phrases. Did he really believe that garbage?

  A hideous monster planned to eat me by next week, and he was telling me I should work hard and be a winner.

  Why not just pour on the salt and pepper and serve me up on a platter? Hey, Mrs. Maaargh, would you like fries with Tommy?

  “You can be a winner,” Uncle Felix said as we made our way off the beach. “But you have to do it on your own, dog. No one will help you. Only losers help others. A winner helps himself to whatever he wants.”

  “Uh … thanks for the advice,” I said. I tried not to sound sarcastic.

  We stepped into the circle of cabins. I saw kids hurrying to the lodge building next to the staff cabin.

  Uncle Felix pointed. “That’s where The Teacher holds her classes every day.” He gave me a gentle shove forward. “Good luck. Don’t be late.”

  I nodded and started to follow the other kids to the lodge. Some kids were racing, competing to see who could get there first. I saw Ricardo and Sophie running hard, side by side.

  Then I turned and saw Uncle Felix walking away. He was heading up the path toward the boys’ cabins.

  He isn’t going to his office, I thought.

  Suddenly, I had an idea.

  “A winner doesn’t give up,” I murmured to myself. I still wanted to get off the island and away from the horrible camp. Maybe my idea would work.

  I stepped up to the staff cabin. I spun around to make sure no one was watching. Then I crept inside.

  Two red-and-blue uniformed counselors stepped into an office near the back. They didn’t see me. My heart started to pound as I hurried toward Uncle Felix’s office.

  I peered through the window. No one in there. I knew I had to be quick. No way to know how long Uncle Felix would be away.

  And if I got caught again …

  I didn’t want to think about that. I just wanted to carry out my plan as fast as I could.

  I slipped into the office and carefully closed the door behind me. I gazed up at the ceiling. I didn’t see any cameras.

  Then I turned to the desk. Yes! I didn’t imagine it. Uncle Felix had a dark blue phone sitting on the corner of his desk. It had to be the only phone on the island. I remembered seeing it when I first arrived.

  I took a deep breath and made a mad dash over to the desk. I glanced back at the office window. No one in the hall. No one to interrupt me.

  Now I could call Mom and Dad and tell them what was going on here. Once I told them, I knew they would come for me tomorrow — if not sooner.

  Yesss! Yesss!

  I grabbed the phone. Raised the receiver to my ear — and screamed, “NOOOOOOOOO!”

  The liquid felt warm on the side of my face. It came squirting out of the phone and sprayed my cheek.

  I was so shocked, I dropped the receiver onto the desk.

  I raised my fingers to my cheek, and they came away purple.

  My heart was thumping in my chest. I felt my knees start to crumble. I grabbed the side of the desk to keep myself up.

  Uncle Felix had a mirror beside one bookshelf. I stared into it and saw the huge purple stain, still wet, on my skin.

  The phone had squirted purple ink as soon as I pressed it to my face.

  I spotted a stack of paper towels on a table across the room. I darted over to it and began to frantically wipe at the stain.

  The purple wasn’t coming off. It must have been permanent ink.

  I grabbed another stack of paper towels in my trembling hand and ran out of the office. I found a men’s room down the hall.

  I burst in. Luckily, no one was in there. I soaked the towels in the sink and began dabbing and wiping at the stain. But no. One side of my face was purple now. And the purple was not coming off.

  I really am in trouble, I decided.

  Now everyone will know what I tried to do. I am totally doomed.

  I had no choice. Every camper was at Mrs. Maaargh’s class. I had to go, too. I had to go with my big purple blotch.

  I dried off my face and walked out of the staff building. Maybe this is lucky. Maybe Mrs. Maaargh doesn’t like to eat purple food, I told myself.

  Good, Tommy. You can still joke. Even when you’re about to become monster meat.

  I stepped into the classroom. Mrs. Maaargh was pinning something on the wall and had her back turned. I spotted an empty seat in the last row. I tried to keep the purple side of my face hidden from everyone as I edged my way sideways down the row of chairs.

  As I made my way to the back, I saw two other kids — a boy and a girl — with purple stains on their faces. Did that make me feel better? Not much.

  I dropped into the empty seat and covered my cheeks with my hands. I saw Sophie in the front row. She had turned around and was staring hard at me. I pretended I didn’t see her.

  Ricardo sat at a desk by the window. He was gazing at a squirrel on the grass. He turned to the front when Mrs. Maaargh cleared her throat. It was a disgusting sound, like someone puking her guts out. But it got everyone’s attention.

  She picked at one of the knobby warts on her nose. “We have a new dog in class,” she told everyone. “Tommy Farrelly. He’s the one in the back row trying to hide the fresh purple stain on his face.”

  A few kids turned to stare at me. But most of them stayed silent and kept their eyes on Mrs. Maaargh.

  “For the benefit of the new dog,” she continued, “I’m going to go over what we’re doing here.”

  And then she belched really loudly. A long, vibrating burp that sounded like a sewer exploding. The kids in the front row all cringed and ducked as her sme
lly breath rolled over them.

  “That’s the last time I eat raccoon for breakfast,” she said. She shook her head. “That raccoon was overcooked.”

  She swallowed loudly. “To begin at the beginning, I am called The Teacher. That’s because my job is to teach you what you need to know. And what you need to know is … you’d better keep The Teacher happy.”

  She pointed a fat hand at the sheet she had just hung on the wall. “As most of you already know, this is my Wait Watchers Chart. It means we will all wait and watch to see who I will eat on the last day of camp.”

  I squinted at the chart. It seemed to have the names of all the campers on it.

  “I never send home the biggest loser at the bottom of the chart,” she said. “Parents send their kids here to be winners. And it wouldn’t be fair to them to send a loser home. So I eat the kid instead.”

  A few kids shifted uncomfortably in their seats. But no one made a sound. Ricardo had his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He stared hard at the chart.

  I saw his name. It was somewhere near the middle. Unless he totally messed up, Ricardo was pretty safe.

  Mrs. Maaargh bent down and picked something off the floor. It looked like some kind of fat insect. She popped it into her mouth and chewed it for a while.

  Then she pulled the chart off the wall and held it up so everyone could see it.

  No big surprise. My name was at the bottom. The super-big loser of the summer.

  To my surprise, Sophie’s name was next-to-last, right above mine.

  I saw the shock on Sophie’s face. She went pale. “Mrs. Maaargh?” She raised her hand.

  “Mrs. Maaargh?” Sophie called out again. “Why am I down at the bottom?”

  “Because you were seen helping Tommy,” Mrs. Maaargh answered. “Remember, Sophie — you know what Uncle Felix always says. A winner fights to win. A winner never helps a loser. That’s the fastest way to become a loser.”

  Sophie scrunched her face up angrily. I saw her ball her hands into tight fists. But she didn’t say another word.

  Mrs. Maaargh set down the chart. “We have a lot of time left for camp,” she said. “I can’t wait to see which one of you will join me for lunch!” She tossed her head back in an ugly laugh, enjoying her own joke.