PLOP!
Something wet and gooey smacked me right in the face. I was so startled I forgot to close my mouth. Soft lumpy stuff dripped onto my tongue. It wasn’t bad. Tasted pretty good in fact.
Paul jumped out of his chair and it fell with a crash. “Come on, Gruff, we’ve got to get out of here!” he yelled, pulling at my arm.
As I leaped up in alarm a round piece of pink meat smeared with yellow bounced off my shirt, leaving a trail of ooze.
I didn’t like that. I caught the meat before it hit the ground and pulled my arm back, looking around to see who had thrown it.
“No, Gruff!” shouted Paul. “Come on.”
I dropped the meat and followed him. Behind me someone yelled “Food fight!”
When we reached the cafeteria door I looked back. Gobs and chunks were flying. A girl with a piece of wadded bread stuck in her hair rubbed a handful of brown glop into a boy’s face. Another kid was covered in the red goo they call “ketchup.”
Food fighting looked like a lot of fun. My wolf family never did anything like this. Oh, sometimes the cubs scrapped over a piece of meat but basically wolves don’t play with their food. My fingers itched to throw something. I had good aim. I knew I’d be good at this game and I could even eat what landed on me!
“Franks and beans,” said Paul, making a face. “What a mess.”
“Yes,” I said enthusiastically. “Big mess. Why we leave?”
Paul gave me a disgusted look. “Do you want to get blamed for this, too? Clawson has it in for you. You’d get detention for a week if he caught you throwing food.”
I shrugged. Detention didn’t seem so bad if it just meant staying after school for a while.
Looking at the kids laughing and hurling food and covered with bits and pieces of it, I wished I was with them. I licked at a lump of brown stuff stuck at the corner of my mouth. Detention would be worth it.
But then, as teachers came running to break up the food fight, I felt a twinge of uncertainty. Paul was right. Mr. Clawson didn’t like me.
I remembered the sudden gleam in his eye when he snarled, “Detention!”
I shivered remembering how he had said no one would miss me if I disappeared.
Mr. Clawson was planning something special for me.
And he was the only one who was going to enjoy it.
Chapter 12
Paul had a mournful look on his face when he said good-bye at the end of school. “See you at home,” he said, but I could tell he didn’t believe it.
I turned around and started trudging for Mr. Clawson’s office. My feet felt like they were made of lead. My stomach, too.
“Not trying to sneak off, were you boy?”
Startled, I looked up. Mr. Clawson was standing outside his office, waiting for me.
Unable to speak, I shook my head.
“Good.” He rubbed his hands together. “This way,” he cackled. “We don’t want to be disturbed.”
He led the way to a metal door painted green. Through the door were stairs leading down.
The door clanged firmly behind us and shut out all the little noises of the closing school—kids running, teachers chatting, cars and buses leaving. Even if I screamed nobody would hear me.
Our footsteps echoed on the stairs, the only noise. Mr. Clawson didn’t say a word. But he was close behind me.
Down and down we went, deep below the school. I could feel the earth pressing on the walls around us.
Dust hung in the air and there were already big spiderwebs in the corners even though the building was almost new. Big green pipes ran along the walls.
Something clanked and gurgled ahead of us and I jumped in fear.
Mr. Clawson chuckled quietly but he still didn’t say anything.
We passed a room where the gurgling noise was coming from. Inside, a huge machine hummed and threw off heat.
We turned a corner. The light grew dimmer.
I didn’t think this was where the other kids came for detention. Probably most kids didn’t even know this creepy basement existed. Nobody would ever think to look for me here.
“Here we are,” said Mr. Clawson heartily.
We stopped before a heavy green door.
A fat brown spider was busy building a web that attached to the doorknob. The startled spider made the mistake of running across Mr. Clawson’s hand when he reached for the knob and opened the door.
“Gotcha, you little beast!” Smiling, the principal crushed the spider in his fist and dropped the crumpled body to the floor.
“You’re gonna love it in here, wolf-boy,” Mr. Clawson growled.
Beyond the door was nothing but darkness.
He pressed a switch near the door and light flooded a small, windowless room. It was empty except for a wooden table and a couple of chairs.
“Wait in here,” said Mr. Clawson, shoving me into the room. “I’ll be right back.”
He hurriedly backed out and shut the heavy metal door behind him. I heard his footsteps heading back the way we’d come and then—nothing.
I strained my ears for a sound of life outside. Some kids playing, maybe, or a janitor moving desks around. But no sound reached me in this faraway basement room.
Sitting down at the table, I sighed and waited. I wanted to think about all the new things that had happened today but my mind kept jumping back to thoughts of Mr. Clawson. I couldn’t stop worrying.
Where was he? What was he doing? Why did he hate me?
I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It seemed like I had been in that room for hours.
Maybe this was my whole punishment. Maybe nothing else would happen and soon Mr. Clawson would come and tell me to go home.
The silence began to press on my ears. It felt like a heavy wet blanket wrapping my head.
Maybe if I practiced my talking. “Hello,” I said, trying to break up the quiet. “My n-name
