His paws began to churn up the soft dirt.
“Let me down!” Evan shrieked. “Trigger—listen to me!”
Breathing hard, his hot, sour breath pouring over Evan, the big dog continued to dig.
A wave of horror swept over Evan as he realized what Trigger was doing. “No!” Evan shrieked. “Don’t bury me, Trigger!”
The dog dug faster, its front paws churning furiously. The soft dirt flew past Evan’s face.
“I’m not a bone!” Evan cried frantically. “Trigger—I’m not a bone! Don’t bury me, Trigger! Please—don’t bury me!”
“Don’t bury me. Please don’t bury me!” Evan murmured.
He heard laughter.
He raised his head and glanced around—and realized that he wasn’t home in his back yard. He was sitting in his assigned seat in the third row near the window in Mr. Murphy’s science class.
And Mr. Murphy was standing right at Evan’s side, his enormous, round body blocking the sunlight from the window. “Earth calling Evan! Earth calling Evan!” Mr. Murphy called, cupping his chubby pink hands over his mouth to make a megaphone.
The kids all laughed.
Evan could feel his face growing hot. “S-sorry,” he stammered.
“You seem to have been somewhere in Daydream Land,” Mr. Murphy said, his tiny black eyes twinkling merrily.
“Yes,” Evan replied solemnly. “I was dreaming about Monster Blood. I—I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Ever since his frightening adventure the past summer with the green, sticky stuff, Evan had been dreaming and daydreaming about it.
“Evan, please,” Mr. Murphy said softly. He shook his round, pink head and made a “tsk-tsk” sound.
“Monster Blood is real!” Evan blurted out angrily.
The kids laughed again.
Mr. Murphy’s expression grew stern. His tiny eyes locked onto Evan’s. “Evan, I am a science teacher. You don’t expect a science teacher to believe that you found a can of sticky green gunk in a toy store that makes things grow and grow.”
“Y-yes, I do,” Evan insisted.
“Maybe a science-fiction teacher would believe it,” Mr. Murphy replied, grinning at his own joke. “Not a science teacher.”
“Well, you’re dumb!” Evan cried.
He didn’t mean to say it. He knew immediately that he had just made a major mistake.
He heard gasps all around the big classroom.
Mr. Murphy’s pink face darkened until it looked like a red balloon. But he didn’t lose his temper. He clasped his chubby hands over the big stomach of his green sportshirt, and Evan could see him silently counting to ten.
“Evan, you’re a new student here, isn’t that right?” he asked finally. His face slowly returned to its normal pink color.
“Yes,” Evan replied, his voice just above a whisper. “My family just moved to Atlanta this fall.”
“Well, perhaps you’re not familiar with the way things work here. Perhaps at your old school the teachers liked it when you called them dumb. Perhaps you called your teachers ugly names all day long. Perhaps—”
“No, sir,” Evan interrupted, lowering his head. “It just slipped out.”
Laughter rang through the classroom. Mr. Murphy glared sternly at Evan, his face twisted in an angry frown.
Give me a break, Evan thought unhappily. Glancing quickly around the room, Evan saw a sea of grinning faces.
I think I’m in trouble again, Evan thought glumly. Why can’t I keep my big mouth shut?
Mr. Murphy glanced up at the wall clock. “School is nearly over,” he said. “Why don’t you do us all a little favor, Evan, to make up for the time you made us waste today?”
Uh oh, Evan thought darkly. Here it comes.
“When the bell rings, go put your books away in your locker,” Mr. Murphy instructed. “Then come back here and clean Cuddles’s cage.”
Evan groaned.
His eyes darted to the hamster cage against the wall. Cuddles was scratching around in the wood shavings on the cage floor.
Not the hamster! Evan thought unhappily.
Evan hated Cuddles. And Mr. Murphy knew it. This was the third time Mr. Murphy had made Evan stay after school and clean out the gross, disgusting cage.
