“Very funny,” Evan muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Just trying to be helpful,” Andy said.
“You’re about as helpful as a toothache!” Evan shot back.
“Ha-ha. Remind me to laugh at that sometime,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at him.
“How can we get rid of it?” Evan repeated, gripping the bag in both hands. “How?”
“I know!” a boy’s voice called, startling them both.
Conan Barber stepped out from behind a tall shrub.
“You can give it to me!” he declared. He reached out a big, powerful-looking hand to grab the bag.
Evan swung the paper bag behind his back.
Conan lumbered toward them over the tall grass. His eyes were narrowed menacingly at Evan.
How long has he been hiding there? Evan wondered. Did he hear us talk about the Monster Blood? Is that why he wants the bag?
“Hi, I’m Andy,” Andy chirped brightly. She stepped in between the two boys and flashed Conan a smile.
“Andy is a boy’s name,” Conan said, making a disgusted face. He turned his hard stare on her, challenging her.
“And what kind of a name is Conan?” Andy shot back, returning his stare.
“You know me?” Conan asked, sounding surprised.
“You’re famous,” Andy replied dryly.
Conan suddenly remembered Evan. He stuck out his big paw. “I’ll take the bag now.”
“Why should I give it to you?” Evan demanded, trying to keep his voice calm and steady.
“Because it’s mine,” Conan lied. “I dropped it here.”
“You dropped an empty bag here?” Evan asked.
Conan swatted a fly from his blond hair. “It isn’t empty. I saw you put something in it. Hand it over. Now.”
“Well … okay.” Evan handed him the paper bag. Conan eagerly reached inside.
His hand came out empty.
He peered inside the bag. Empty.
He stared hard at Andy, then at Evan.
“I told you it was empty,” Evan said.
“Guess I made a mistake,” Conan muttered. “Hey, no hard feelings. Shake.” Conan reached out his big right hand to Evan.
Evan reluctantly stuck out his hand.
Conan slid his hand over Evan’s and began to tighten his grip. Harder. Harder.
Evan’s fingers cracked so loudly, they sounded like a tree falling!
Conan squeezed Evan’s hand harder and harder until Evan screamed in pain. When Conan finally let go, the hand looked like a slab of raw hamburger.
“Nice handshake you got there!” Conan exclaimed, grinning.
He snapped his finger against Andy’s nose, then headed off quickly toward the street, taking long strides, laughing to himself.
“Great guy,” Andy muttered, rubbing her nose.
Evan blew on his hand, as if trying to put out a fire. “Maybe I can learn to be left-handed,” he murmured.
“Hey—where’s the Monster Blood?” Andy demanded.
“I—I dropped it,” Evan replied, still examining his hand.
“Huh?” She kicked away a clump of weeds and stepped over to him.
“I thought I could shove the can into my back jeans pocket while Conan was talking to you,” Evan explained. “But it slipped out of my hand. I dropped it.”
