Say Cheese and Die--Again! Page 4

  “I have to show it to Mr. Saur,” I told her. “I’m just going to show him the camera. And the picture of Jon.”

  “And the picture of you?” she asked, grinning.

  “No way.” I shoved it into my jeans pocket. “I don’t want anyone to see it. Ever.”

  Shari glanced at her watch. “Come on,” she said. “We’d better hurry! We’re late.”

  She started to run down the sidewalk, and I followed her.

  All the way to school, I kept picturing my photo. Kept picturing my gigantic body.

  Don’t worry about it, I told myself.

  The camera is broken. There’s nothing to worry about.

  Nothing to worry about.

  But guess what?

  I was worried.

  The halls were nearly empty when Shari and I arrived at school. The first bell had already rung.

  I hid the camera under a bunch of stuff on the floor of my locker. I didn’t have Mr. Saur’s English class until just before lunch. And I didn’t want to take a chance of Brian or Donny or somebody else grabbing the camera and messing around with it.

  I slammed the locker shut and locked it. Then I waved to Bird and Michael, who were hurrying into their classroom.

  I wanted to tell them I had the camera. And I wanted to tell them about Jon and the nail in his foot.

  But I decided I’d better keep quiet.

  Michael and Bird agreed with Shari. They didn’t want me to take the camera out again. They were too afraid of it.

  And they were probably right.

  I slid into class just as the final bell rang. I ducked low in my seat, trying not to be noticed. I had a long time to wait until Mr. Saur’s class.

  Today was the first day ever that I couldn’t wait for Sourball’s class to begin!

  Once again, I didn’t hear a word my other teachers said. In social studies, Mrs. Wackman was rattling on about bauxite production in South America. I wanted to raise my hand and ask her what bauxite is! I’ve always wondered about bauxite. I think it’s some kind of South American car. But I’m not sure.

  Her voice faded into the background. My mind was busy practicing my speech to Mr. Saur.

  “Mr. Saur,” I planned to say, “you made a terrible mistake yesterday. But I’m not going to hold it against you. I know you will be fair and change the grade on my report as soon as I show you this.”

  Whoa.

  That’s too stiff, I told myself. That doesn’t sound like me at all. I’ll never be able to get those words out.

  I tried a different approach. “Here’s the evil camera, Mr. Saur. And here’s a picture it took of a boy I met. A minute later, the picture came true. You asked me to bring in proof—and here it is.”

  That’s better, I decided. It’s straight to the point.

  Will he believe me?

  He’ll have to, I thought. Photos don’t lie.

  He’ll have to change my grade.

  I stared at the wall clock over the board. Why was it moving so slowly? Why?

  Finally, the bell rang. I jumped up, ran out the door, and dove for my locker. Bird called to me from down the hall. But I pretended I didn’t hear him.

  I pulled the camera from its hiding place and slammed the locker door shut. I tucked it carefully under my arm, protecting it.

  I saw Brian and Donny across the hall. They were shoving a fifth grader up against a locker. Making him bounce back like a yo-yo. That’s their hobby. Making kids bounce.

  And guess who is one of their favorite bouncers?

  That’s right. Me.

  I spun around and hurried the other way. I didn’t feel like bouncing today. And I didn’t want Brian and Donny to set their eyes on the camera.

  I took the long way around to Mr. Saur’s class, jogging the whole way. I held the camera snugly and practiced my speech.

  A group of kids were talking in front of the classroom, blocking the door. “Make way!” I cried, pushing through them. I wanted to see Mr. Saur before the bell rang.

  I stepped into the room. Blinked against the bright sunlight streaming through the windows.

  I turned and ran breathlessly toward Mr. Saur’s desk.

  But I stopped halfway there.

  My heart skipped a beat. And I let out a cry of dismay.

  “May I help you?” asked the young woman sitting behind Mr. Saur’s desk. “Are you okay?”

  I stared at her with my mouth hanging open to my knees. I didn’t answer her questions. I gripped the camera tightly in both hands, afraid I might drop it.

  “Where—where’s Mr. Saur?” I finally managed to choke out.

  “He’s not feeling well,” she replied, studying me. “I’m Ms. Rose. I’m substituting today.”

  “He—he’s not here?” I stammered in a high, shrill voice.

  She nodded. “I’ll be teaching the class today. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  I glanced down at the camera. “No,” I muttered unhappily. “No. You can’t help me.”

  The room was never this noisy when Mr. Saur sat behind the desk. Kids were shouting and laughing. Someone tossed a balled-up piece of paper at me. It bounced off my shoulder and onto Ms. Rose’s desk. I heard loud laughter from the back of the room.

  We always give substitutes a really hard time.

  When a teacher doesn’t show up, it’s always time to celebrate. But I didn’t feel like celebrating today. I was so disappointed.

  I started to my seat—then turned back to Ms. Rose. “Can I put this in my locker?” I asked, holding up the camera. “It will only take a second. My locker is right out there.” I pointed to the hall.

  The final bell rang. She held her hands over her ears. The bell was on the ceiling right over her desk.

  “Okay,” she said when the clanging stopped. “But hurry back. I’m going to be talking about the subjunctive tense today. And you don’t want to miss that.”

  Thrills and chills, huh?

  I thanked her and hurried to the door. The long hall stood empty. Everyone was in class.

  My sneakers thudded loudly on the hard floor. My mind was racing. Thinking about Mr. Saur. And about the camera. I’ll have to leave it in my locker until he gets back, I decided.

  I promised Jon I’d keep it only for one day.

  But what choice did I have?

  I turned the corner—and bumped into Brian and Donny.

  “Hey—” Brian grunted.

  “Hey—” Donny greeted.

  They say “Hey” a lot. I think it’s their favorite word.

  “You guys are late,” I said, trying to hurry past them.

  But they blocked my way with their big, wide bodies.

  “Sourball isn’t here,” Donny said, grinning. “He’s sick or something. So we’ve got a substitute.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I muttered.

  “So we’re in no hurry,” Brian said. “Why should we hurry for a substitute?”

  I tried to slip between them. But they were too quick for me. They squeezed together, and I bounced back off them.

  “We’re going to switch places.” Brian grinned. “I’m going to tell her I’m Donny. And Donny is going to say he’s me.”

  “Good joke,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Very original. Now, can I get by?”

  “No way,” Donny said, puffing up his big chest and leaning over me menacingly.

  “You have to pay a toll if you want to pass,” Brian demanded. He stuck out his big paw for money.

  “How much is the toll?” I sighed.

  “How much have you got?” Brian shot back.

  They both guffawed and slapped high fives. They really think they’re funny.

  “I’ve got to get to my locker,” I insisted.

  I tried once again to push past them—and Brian grabbed the camera.

  “Hey!” I reached for it with both hands. But Brian raised it high over his head.

  “Look—Greg brought his magic camera to school,” he to
ld Donny.

  “Oooh—I’m scared!” Donny replied sarcastically. He pretended to shiver and shake.

  “But the camera is bad!” Brian exclaimed, holding it out of my frantic reach. “It’s cursed, Donny! You remember Greg’s report.”

  Donny’s ugly grin grew wider. “You mean the report he got an F on?”

  They both had another good laugh.

  “Let’s check it out,” Brian declared. “Say cheese, Greg.”

  He lowered the camera to his eye and aimed it at me.

  “No—please!” I pleaded. I made another grab for the camera.

  But Donny grabbed me and pinned my arms behind my back. “Go ahead. Snap it,” he told Brian. “Let’s put a curse on Greg. Snap his picture.”

  “No—please!” I begged.

  Donny wrapped his huge paws tightly around me and pinned my arms against my back.

  “The camera really is cursed!” I protested. “You don’t know what you’re doing! Stop!”

  Brian ignored me, of course. He held the camera to his eye—and raised his finger over the shutter button.

  “Brian—please!” I wailed.

  I saw his finger lower over the button.

  Then a loud voice called, “What’s going on here, guys?”

  Brian cried out and nearly dropped the camera. Donny dropped my arms and stumbled back against the wall.

  “Mr. Grund!” I exclaimed.

  He’s the principal of Pitts Landing Middle School. Mr. Grund is young and has blond wavy hair and a really good tan. He looks more like a surfer than a principal.

  For once, I was glad to see him.

  “Where should you guys be right now?” he asked, glancing up at the clock on the wall.

  “Uh … we’re going to Mr. Saur’s class,” Donny replied, turning bright red.

  “We were just helping Greg with his camera,” Brian added. He handed the camera back to me.

  “That looks like a valuable old camera,” Mr. Grund said to me. “You should be careful with that, Greg.”

  “I’m trying,” I said. “I’m going to lock it in my locker right now.”

  I pushed past Brian and Donny and hurried down the hall. As I reached my locker, I heard Mr. Grund scold them: “Get to class, guys. And don’t give your substitute a hard time—okay?”

  “Okay,” Brian promised.

  “No problem,” Donny agreed.

  I met Shari after school, and we walked home together. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I got an A on my math test,” she announced.

  “Big surprise. You always get As in math,” I reminded her.

  “So? Maybe I like to brag.”

  I felt a little strange. Tired. Achy. I stopped about half a block from my house and tugged off my backpack.

  “What’s your problem?” Shari demanded. “Why do you keep fiddling with that backpack?”

  “I think someone messed with it,” I said, loosening the straps. “I had it just right. And now it’s too tight.”

  “Why would anyone mess with your backpack?” Shari demanded. She blew a bubblegum bubble nearly as big as her head.

  I stuck out a finger and popped it.

  “Yuck!” she cried out as it stuck all over her face. “Are you impressed? That was my biggest one ever,” she declared. “Wish I had a picture of it.”

  “Don’t say picture,” I grumbled. “Don’t say the words picture or camera.” I had already told her at lunch about Mr. Saur not showing.

  “Where is the camera?” she asked, pulling gum from her hair.

  “Locked up safe in my locker,” I said. I turned and saw Michael and Bird running down the sidewalk toward us.

  “Did you tell Michael and Bird I have the camera?” I asked Shari.

  She shook her head. “No. They’d be too upset. After all the horrible things it did last summer, they never want to see that camera again. And neither do I,” she added, glaring at me.

  “Hey—what’s up?” Bird called. He slapped me on the back so hard, I stumbled off the curb.

  Michael laughed. “You guys doing anything?”

  “Not much,” I replied, straightening my backpack. I still couldn’t get it comfortable.

  “Get your bikes,” Michael urged. “Come on. It’s a great day to ride around.”

  “Sounds good,” I agreed. Anything to get my mind off Mr. Saur and that stupid camera.

  “Let’s meet at my house,” Shari suggested. “I have to ask my mom first.”

  Michael and Bird jogged toward their houses. Shari and I crossed the street and headed to our homes, which are side by side.

  Mom and Dad were at work. Terry wasn’t home from high school yet. I dropped the backpack in the front hall. Pulled a box of juice from the refrigerator and drank it in two long sips from the straw.

  I still felt weak. Kind of lifeless. I thought maybe a long bike ride would help get my energy back.

  My jeans felt uncomfortable. A little tight. I ran to my room and pulled on my pair of really baggy shorts. Mom and Dad always teased me about these shorts. They say there’s room enough for a friend inside them.

  But I like them. I think they’re cool. And they’re really comfortable. I usually don’t wear them when I ride my bike. They’re so long and baggy, sometimes the cuffs get caught in the chain.

  I hurried outside and found Shari, Michael, and Bird waiting for me on their bikes. “Let’s go, Greg,” Bird urged. “It’s starting to get cloudy.”

  I pulled open the garage door and stepped inside, careful to walk around the black oil stains on the concrete floor. I took my bike from against the wall and walked it out onto the driveway.

  Then, I did my high-flying circus riding trick. It’s my favorite way of getting on my bike. I lean on the handlebars and heave myself up in the air. Then I come flying down on the seat.

  Up I went. Pushed my body into the air.

  Swung my legs in the air. Dropped onto the seat.

  And both tires popped.

  I heard the explosion and then a whoosh of air as the tires flattened against the drive.

  “Hey—what’s going on?” I cried.

  “Whoa!” Shari cried.

  Michael and Bird burst out laughing.

  “Nice tires,” Michael said.

  I knew that Michael was only joking. But his words sent a chill down my back.

  The snapshot flashed into my mind. The ugly snapshot from the evil camera.

  I saw myself all tall and huge. Like an enormous monster.

  I felt my face go hot and knew that I was blushing. I saw my friends staring at me. I climbed off my bike. “Guess I jumped too hard,” I murmured.

  “Maybe you need a tricycle,” Michael cracked.

  No one laughed. Michael’s jokes never make any sense.

  I squatted down and examined the tires. I ran my hands along the rubber—and found two big holes. Two blowouts. And they were new tires, too.

  I dragged the bike back into the garage. “I’ll take Terry’s old bike,” I told my friends.

  I actually like my brother’s bike better than mine. It’s a twelve-speed, and mine is only ten. He hardly ever rides it now that he’s got his driver’s license. But he doesn’t like me riding it.

  “Better not sit on it!” Bird suggested. “Maybe you should just walk it!” He and Michael laughed and slapped each other’s hands.

  “Ha-ha,” I said. “You guys are as funny as a flat tire.”

  “No. We’re as funny as two flat tires!” Michael joked.

  “Maybe you need a mountain bike,” Bird said. “Something sturdy.”

  “Maybe you need a sturdy punch in the face,” I threatened.

  “Are we going to ride or not?” Shari demanded, sighing. She glanced up at the graying sky. “If we don’t hurry, we’re going to get caught in the rain.”

  I eased myself carefully onto Terry’s bike. Then I followed them down the driveway and into the street.

  We rode aimlessly around town. When we r
eached the long, narrow park a few blocks from school, we bumped onto the grass and raced as fast as we could.

  Bird has the best bike and the longest legs. So he always wins our races.

  After about an hour, it started to drizzle, so we turned for home. I was glad. My legs felt heavy. My muscles ached.

  As we pedaled through the raindrops, I caught Shari watching me. Studying me.

  Despite the sweat rolling down my forehead, I suddenly felt cold all over. Why is she staring at me like that? I wondered.

  Why?

  The next morning, I woke up with two words on my lips: Mr. Saur.

  Today is the day I show him the camera, I told myself, stretching and yawning. And today is the day I get my grade changed.

  I stood up, still yawning. Rubbed my eyes. And saw that my pillow had fallen to the floor during the night.

  When I bent over to pick it up, I felt a tug on the front of my pajama shirt. The buttons all popped off and scattered over the floor.

  “Huh?” I opened my mouth in surprise—and heard a long rrrrrrip. It took a few seconds to realize that my pajama bottoms had ripped right up the back.

  “Oh, nooooo.” I opened my mouth in a long, low moan.

  The collar of the pajama shirt dug tightly into my neck. I tried to loosen it—and both sleeves ripped at the shoulder!

  My heart pounding, I straightened up and crossed the room to the mirror.

  My whole body was trembling as I stepped up to the mirror.

  I shut my eyes. I couldn’t bear to look.

  But I had no choice. I had to see. I had to know.

  Slowly, slowly, I opened one eye, then the other. I took a deep breath and gazed at my reflection.

  Had the snapshot come true? Was I a giant?

  I leaned into the mirror and stared at myself.

  No. Not a giant.

  I didn’t look too different. A little puffy. My cheeks were a little rounder. My shoulders were broader.

  I stepped back to check out the rest of my body—and Mom came walking into the room. “Greg, what are you doing? You’re going to be late for school.”

  I spun away from the mirror. “Mom—I grew last night!” I blurted out. “I—I ripped my pajamas.”

  She narrowed her eyes at the torn pajama top. “Greg, you didn’t grow overnight,” she said calmly. “Those pajamas always were a little small on you.”