Heck: Where the Bad Kids Go by Dale E. Basye Page B

cleansed.”
    She rose slowly, her dimpled knees popping in protest. “Well, the Galactic Order Department is always giving me grief about not serving fresh lunches,” she snickered. “How would you like to join us for lunch, you fuzzy little entrée, you?”
    Lucky stopped lapping to give Principal Bubb a long, heartfelt hiss.
    â€œOh, the feeling is more than mutual,” she replied as she grabbed her lop-eared, dwarf-rabbit purse and headed out of her office. “We’ll continue our little chat after my teachers’ meeting.”
    The lizard lady chortled wickedly before slamming, bolting, latching, and chaining the door behind her.
    The incarcerated ferret gazed angrily at the door before continuing his personal hygiene regimen. He was determined to have the last lap.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    Milton stared at his feet as he shuffled along the excessively lemony hallway, dreading his date with Damian. A familiar musk, however, poked through the chemical stench.
    Milton looked up and saw a fuzzy, lumbering white blur billowing toward him.
    â€œLucky!” Milton squealed.
    The ferret looked up suddenly, then ran into the wall at full speed. Milton rushed toward him and scooped the dazed creature into his arms.
    â€œLucky, you made it! Did you get my contract…?”
    Milton stared into his eyes. “Are you okay, little guy? Your eyes are kind of bloodshot…Hey, and where are your dice?”
    The ferret blinked its wild, confused eyes and wriggled in what seemed like severe discomfort.
    Milton wiped away goop from the animal’s eyes and sighed deeply.
    â€œIt’s okay, little guy,” Milton whispered sadly. “It was a tall order, snatching a contract for a boy’s immortal soul. I’m just glad you’re all right.”
    Milton scratched the animal behind the ears—or tried to, anyway—before it reared back and hissed. Milton gazed upon him with a look of parental worry.
    â€œC’mon,” he said, “let’s get you something to eat. You don’t seem like yourself.”
    As Bea “Elsa” Bubb clacked down a hall on her way to the teachers’ lounge, her fuzzy bunny purse (with floppy ears and all) began to vibrate. She stopped, looked over her shoulder suspiciously, then fished her surveillance pod out of her bag.
    She held the box in her scaly palm. Its tiny screen blinked red, casting her face in a lurid, scarlet hue. She jabbed the on button with her thumb, and a shower of static and snow danced on the screen.
    â€œHmmm,” she mumbled. “Some kind of interference. As if he were in the presence of something, something…” Principal Bubb shuddered.
“Good.”
    Through the geometric clouds of digital static emerged a gawky, concerned face dominated by a pair of broken glasses.
    â€œI should have guessed,” murmured Principal Bubb. “Milton Fauster, the rye seed in my dentures.”
    The screen went dark as the fake ferret was thrust, struggling, into the dim safety of Milton’s backpack.
    She smiled. “It’s always good to have a mole, even when that mole is a demon dog in ferret’s clothing.”

18 · FLEE THIS CIRCUS
    MILTON STRAIGHTENED HIS handwritten flyer, then pinned it to the bulletin board in the cafeterium.
    MILTON’S PAIR OF DICE: LOST
    â€œThere,” he whispered to the ferret tucked under his arm. “We’ll find your collar. I’m sure that’s why you’re acting so weird.”
    He rubbed the panting animal’s back, arriving at a cluster of swelling blisters by its tail. Milton frowned. “Why don’t you take a nap in the knapsack while I get you some food? You don’t look so hot.”
    The ferret flinched and squirmed as Milton stuffed him in the bag.
    The cafeterium was full of nervous boys in search of something edible that, ideally, wouldn’t maim them. Aside from the baited Automat