Homeroom Headhunters by Clay McLeod Chapman Page A
Authors: Clay McLeod Chapman
Tags: Fiction - Young Adult
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common with the bloodthirsty Desmodus rotundus is the fact thatâthis building has wings.
Vast, academically segmented wings.
Outstretched at either side of the schoolâs torso is an annex of twenty classrooms. Crescent-shaped, they curve inward as if in mid flap, ready to pluck up some poor unsuspecting student with their claws and fly away.
Math and sciences, along with several of our elective courses like industrial arts and home ec, are found within the left wingâwhile English and history, plus the auditorium and the orchestra room, are found on the right.
Whoever designed this building probably didnât take into account that this fat bat turns into a death trap at night. The school was cavernous enough during the day when the lights were on, but in the dark, without any windows, the halls felt more like century-old catacombs. And the lockers clustered together could have been tombs, for all I knew, each one containing the mummified remains of some sixth grader.
I couldâve sworn I heard a few bony fingers scraping across the other side of those tiny metal doors as I ran by.
Quit it, Spence. Keep a grip on that overactive imagination of yours!
⢠⢠â¢
I headed for the right wing. There was an exit at the very tip.
I gripped my flashlight but kept it off. The light would have been a dead giveaway.
That meant running in the dark.
If I can just reach the end of the hall, I might have a chance at breaking out of the building before losing my head.
Just thenâ whack! A thump in the stomach. The impact sent me buckling over.
I briefly turned on my flashlight to see what it was.
A track hurdle.
I aimed my light farther down the hall.
Dozens of hurdles were lined up along the corridor.
As I stood there, my flashlight darting through the maze, I thought I heard footsteps. I snapped off the light and strained my ears.
Nothing. Everything was silent.
Hold it together. Keep quiet. They could be close.
No time to reach the exit.
I tried to open the nearest door. Locked .
So I tried the next. Locked .
Come on, come on!
Sweat started rolling down my brow, into my eyes. The salt stung.
This is not good. This isnât good at all.
One more door. I grabbed hold of the handle.
Please open please open pleaseâ
Unlocked!
I rushed into the pitch-black classroom and slammed the door behind me.
Quick. A barricade. I need a barricade!
The teacherâs desk. Perfect. I pushed the desk against the door. The legs squealed over the linoleumâ instant giveaway .
But I was safe. Better to be stuck in here with them out there.
All the windows in our classrooms, save for those in industrial arts, were hermetically sealed year-round, but I tried opening this one anyway.
No luck.
No way out.
No air.
A wave of light-headedness rushed over me, and I leaned against the bulletin board to keep myself from falling.
Quick: Huff a puff from My Little Friend.
I let myself slide to the floor and sat there trying to hold it together. I closed my eyes, slowly getting my breath back.
WHOOSH! âthe air hissed by my shoulder.
I reached out and plucked a technical drawing instrument that had skewered the bulletin board.
Someone was in the room with me!
Looking up through the dim light, I could make out a ceiling panel that had been pushed back.
Oh no oh no oh noâ¦
A shadow shifted across the room.
Compass. He scurried down an aisle of desks and disappeared.
I leapt to my feet and shoved the front row of desks together, boxing him in. Then I grabbed the nearest corner of the teacherâs desk and yanked. The desk was too heavy to budge much, but it gave me just enough space to open the door and squeeze through.
But not before another compass buried itself into the doorâs wooden paneling.
âWhyah!â I blurted out as I toppled back into the hallway.
I shined my flashlight in front of me and charged every single blockade that stood between me and the
Vast, academically segmented wings.
Outstretched at either side of the schoolâs torso is an annex of twenty classrooms. Crescent-shaped, they curve inward as if in mid flap, ready to pluck up some poor unsuspecting student with their claws and fly away.
Math and sciences, along with several of our elective courses like industrial arts and home ec, are found within the left wingâwhile English and history, plus the auditorium and the orchestra room, are found on the right.
Whoever designed this building probably didnât take into account that this fat bat turns into a death trap at night. The school was cavernous enough during the day when the lights were on, but in the dark, without any windows, the halls felt more like century-old catacombs. And the lockers clustered together could have been tombs, for all I knew, each one containing the mummified remains of some sixth grader.
I couldâve sworn I heard a few bony fingers scraping across the other side of those tiny metal doors as I ran by.
Quit it, Spence. Keep a grip on that overactive imagination of yours!
⢠⢠â¢
I headed for the right wing. There was an exit at the very tip.
I gripped my flashlight but kept it off. The light would have been a dead giveaway.
That meant running in the dark.
If I can just reach the end of the hall, I might have a chance at breaking out of the building before losing my head.
Just thenâ whack! A thump in the stomach. The impact sent me buckling over.
I briefly turned on my flashlight to see what it was.
A track hurdle.
I aimed my light farther down the hall.
Dozens of hurdles were lined up along the corridor.
As I stood there, my flashlight darting through the maze, I thought I heard footsteps. I snapped off the light and strained my ears.
Nothing. Everything was silent.
Hold it together. Keep quiet. They could be close.
No time to reach the exit.
I tried to open the nearest door. Locked .
So I tried the next. Locked .
Come on, come on!
Sweat started rolling down my brow, into my eyes. The salt stung.
This is not good. This isnât good at all.
One more door. I grabbed hold of the handle.
Please open please open pleaseâ
Unlocked!
I rushed into the pitch-black classroom and slammed the door behind me.
Quick. A barricade. I need a barricade!
The teacherâs desk. Perfect. I pushed the desk against the door. The legs squealed over the linoleumâ instant giveaway .
But I was safe. Better to be stuck in here with them out there.
All the windows in our classrooms, save for those in industrial arts, were hermetically sealed year-round, but I tried opening this one anyway.
No luck.
No way out.
No air.
A wave of light-headedness rushed over me, and I leaned against the bulletin board to keep myself from falling.
Quick: Huff a puff from My Little Friend.
I let myself slide to the floor and sat there trying to hold it together. I closed my eyes, slowly getting my breath back.
WHOOSH! âthe air hissed by my shoulder.
I reached out and plucked a technical drawing instrument that had skewered the bulletin board.
Someone was in the room with me!
Looking up through the dim light, I could make out a ceiling panel that had been pushed back.
Oh no oh no oh noâ¦
A shadow shifted across the room.
Compass. He scurried down an aisle of desks and disappeared.
I leapt to my feet and shoved the front row of desks together, boxing him in. Then I grabbed the nearest corner of the teacherâs desk and yanked. The desk was too heavy to budge much, but it gave me just enough space to open the door and squeeze through.
But not before another compass buried itself into the doorâs wooden paneling.
âWhyah!â I blurted out as I toppled back into the hallway.
I shined my flashlight in front of me and charged every single blockade that stood between me and the
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