Elrod McBugle on the Loose by Jeff Strand Page A

well everyone seemed to be taking care of their stuffed animals. She didn't mention me specifically, but I'm sure it was merely an oversight.
    There was a knock at the door, and Mr. Clark entered. "Hello, Mrs. Goggins," he said. "I'm sorry to interrupt class, but I needed to return something to Elrod."
    He held up the fake Sludge I'd bought. "Your theories were absolutely correct, and you'll be happy to know that the students who stole your bear are being punished."
    "Students?" asked Mrs. Goggins. "More than one?"
    "Oh, yes, several." Mr. Clark walked to the front of the room and set Sludge II on my desk. "It was a very well-planned heist, if I do say so myself. Elrod didn't stand a chance of defending his bear from these kids, not with all the distractions they planned. But with some of the best detective work I think I've ever seen from somebody his age, Elrod figured out who the culprits were and reported them to me."
    "Who were they?"
    "We've decided not to reveal that, because some of our top students are among the guilty. It took some of the smartest kids in school to get that bear away from Elrod, but in the end Elrod outsmarted them. He will be a great parent some day, I promise you that."
    "Well...that's a very nice thing to hear," said Mrs. Goggins. "I'll definitely take that into consideration when I'm grading the assignment."
    Mr. Clark gave me a thumbs-up sign. "Good work, Elrod. Your bear will be safe from now on." Then he left.
    I got an A on the assignment.
    And Mrs. Goggins let me keep the bear.

Chapter Fourteen Quiz
    1. Define the word "discretion."
    2. Define the word "philtrum."
    3. Define the word "word."

Chapter Fifteen
    THE MOST SCARED I've ever been in my life was because of another English assignment. It wasn't that the assignment itself was scary, it's just that...well, read on. (You're close to being done with this book anyway, you might as well find out how it ends.)
    Mr. Rodriguez spent the time discussing the right way to interview people. We also read a fascinating story about a guy who grew plants out of his nose and ears so that we could see what a proper interview looked like.
    Then, of course, we were told that we'd have to conduct an interview of our own. It had to be with an adult, and it couldn't be a relative. We didn't have to decide on the person yet, but our homework was to write up twenty sample questions.
    I wrote a lot more than twenty, but I had to reject a bunch of them. I figured questions like "Do you wear avocados as jewelry?" and "Have you ever stapled your tongue to a refrigerator?" wouldn't be acceptable.
    Even with me cutting out the ones I thought were too goofy, Mr. Rodriguez crossed out six of my questions, including a really clever one about belly button lint. We were then given two weeks to conduct the interview, write out the interview word-for-word, and then write a page describing how we thought the whole thing went.
    By Pre-Algebra, I still hadn't decided who I wanted to talk to. Who would be interesting? Who spoke English? Who had a dark secret that I might be able to get them to reveal?
    Definitely my Pre-Algebra teacher.
    Mrs. Logan was a sweet, middle-aged woman who wore pretty dresses, laughed easily, and would occasionally give a look that said "When you look under your bed tonight, I'll be there with an axe." She didn't give this look very often, and it never seemed like a purposeful look. Meaning, if somebody was whispering during class she wouldn't give the axe look to get them to shut up, but instead she could be in the middle of a perfectly civil lecture about integers and suddenly give that horrible look for no reason without stumbling over a word. The look would only last a couple seconds and then she'd be back to normal, though I'm sure many students in that class checked under their beds those nights before going to