frightening, angry sound like a snake about to attack.
And then he turned all the way around. And I saw him … saw him so clearly.
And let out a gasp of horror.
The green rat creature— it had a HUMAN face !
3
“NO!”
A cry escaped my lips.
The creature hissed at me again. He pointed a long, skinny finger at me—and whispered in a raspy, dry voice.
“You’re IT.”
Then he spun around—and loped off on all fours. His long tail scraped the floor behind him.
A second later, he disappeared around a corner.
I blinked several times, as if clearing my sight. The hall stood empty once again.
“What was that?” I muttered. Was it an animal? If it was, how could it SPEAK?
The light in the hall was so dim, the walls so dark.
Did I really see that thing?
My heart pounded. Should I chase after it?
Did anyone know a strange animal was loose in the school?
I made my way to the corner and glanced both ways. Long, empty halls. No sign of the creature.
A number above the corner room caught my eye. Room 201. A hand-lettered sign beside the door read
MR. KIMPALL.
Breathing hard, I pulled open the door and lurched inside. The room was filled with kids, and they all turned to look at me.
I didn’t make a graceful entrance. I stumbled over my saxophone case, and my backpack fell off my shoulders.
Several kids laughed.
Mr. Kimpall, a short, middle-aged man with a shiny bald head, jumped up from behind his desk.
“An animal!” I gasped. “There’s some kind of weird animal out there!”
The laughter cut off. The room became very silent.
“Animal?” His expression puzzled, Mr. Kimpall came toward me. He was nearly as short as the sixth-graders in the class, and toothpick-thin.
He wore a yellow turtleneck sweater pulled down over straight-legged black pants. His bald head glowed like a pink Easter egg under the big ceiling lights.
“An animal? In the hall?” he asked.
I nodded, still breathing hard. “It was about this high. And it had a tail—”
“Did it see you?” a blond-haired boy in the back row asked.
“Y-yes,” I stammered. “It hissed at me and—”
A few kids gasped.
“You’re in major trouble,” the blond kid said.
Mr. Kimpall raised a bony hand. “Quiet, everyone. Stop.” He turned to me. “Everyone likes to tease the new kid,” he said. “Don’t pay any attention.”
Mr. Kimpall smiled. “You must be Sam Waterbury,” he said. He shook my hand. His hand was smaller than mine, cold and kind of wet. But his grip was hard as steel.
“I told the class you’d be joining us today,” he continued. “I saved a desk for you. Right over there by the window.” He pointed.
“But—but—”I sputtered.
He put a hand on my shoulder and started me on my way to my desk. I could see he didn’t want to talk about the creature I’d seen.
But I wanted to know. That thing was so ugly and weird, I wanted to know what it was.
I opened my mouth to ask again. But then I remembered my promise to my parents to be a good boy. A perfect angel.
“Don’t argue, Sam.”
“Don’t fight about things, Sam.”
“Don’t make trouble.”
So I dragged my sax case and my backpack to the empty desk by the window and dropped into the wooden chair.
Mr. Kimpall had moved to the front of the room. He had to jump to sit on the edge of his desk. “We’re talking about verbs today, Sam.” He pointed to a list of words on the chalkboard.
“Can anyone give me an action verb?” he asked.
A boy with short spiky brown hair raised his hand. “Tripped?” he said.
Mr. Kimpall narrowed his eyes at him. “Use it in a sentence, Simpson.”
“Sam tripped over his music case,” Simpson replied, grinning.
Several kids laughed. Mr. Kimpall laughed, too.
I could feel my face turning red.
Is this kid Simpson some kind of troublemaker? I asked myself. Maybe he’d like to trip over my fist!
“Come on, people. Let’s give the new kid a break,” Mr. Kimpall said, still chuckling. He asked
And then he turned all the way around. And I saw him … saw him so clearly.
And let out a gasp of horror.
The green rat creature— it had a HUMAN face !
3
“NO!”
A cry escaped my lips.
The creature hissed at me again. He pointed a long, skinny finger at me—and whispered in a raspy, dry voice.
“You’re IT.”
Then he spun around—and loped off on all fours. His long tail scraped the floor behind him.
A second later, he disappeared around a corner.
I blinked several times, as if clearing my sight. The hall stood empty once again.
“What was that?” I muttered. Was it an animal? If it was, how could it SPEAK?
The light in the hall was so dim, the walls so dark.
Did I really see that thing?
My heart pounded. Should I chase after it?
Did anyone know a strange animal was loose in the school?
I made my way to the corner and glanced both ways. Long, empty halls. No sign of the creature.
A number above the corner room caught my eye. Room 201. A hand-lettered sign beside the door read
MR. KIMPALL.
Breathing hard, I pulled open the door and lurched inside. The room was filled with kids, and they all turned to look at me.
I didn’t make a graceful entrance. I stumbled over my saxophone case, and my backpack fell off my shoulders.
Several kids laughed.
Mr. Kimpall, a short, middle-aged man with a shiny bald head, jumped up from behind his desk.
“An animal!” I gasped. “There’s some kind of weird animal out there!”
The laughter cut off. The room became very silent.
“Animal?” His expression puzzled, Mr. Kimpall came toward me. He was nearly as short as the sixth-graders in the class, and toothpick-thin.
He wore a yellow turtleneck sweater pulled down over straight-legged black pants. His bald head glowed like a pink Easter egg under the big ceiling lights.
“An animal? In the hall?” he asked.
I nodded, still breathing hard. “It was about this high. And it had a tail—”
“Did it see you?” a blond-haired boy in the back row asked.
“Y-yes,” I stammered. “It hissed at me and—”
A few kids gasped.
“You’re in major trouble,” the blond kid said.
Mr. Kimpall raised a bony hand. “Quiet, everyone. Stop.” He turned to me. “Everyone likes to tease the new kid,” he said. “Don’t pay any attention.”
Mr. Kimpall smiled. “You must be Sam Waterbury,” he said. He shook my hand. His hand was smaller than mine, cold and kind of wet. But his grip was hard as steel.
“I told the class you’d be joining us today,” he continued. “I saved a desk for you. Right over there by the window.” He pointed.
“But—but—”I sputtered.
He put a hand on my shoulder and started me on my way to my desk. I could see he didn’t want to talk about the creature I’d seen.
But I wanted to know. That thing was so ugly and weird, I wanted to know what it was.
I opened my mouth to ask again. But then I remembered my promise to my parents to be a good boy. A perfect angel.
“Don’t argue, Sam.”
“Don’t fight about things, Sam.”
“Don’t make trouble.”
So I dragged my sax case and my backpack to the empty desk by the window and dropped into the wooden chair.
Mr. Kimpall had moved to the front of the room. He had to jump to sit on the edge of his desk. “We’re talking about verbs today, Sam.” He pointed to a list of words on the chalkboard.
“Can anyone give me an action verb?” he asked.
A boy with short spiky brown hair raised his hand. “Tripped?” he said.
Mr. Kimpall narrowed his eyes at him. “Use it in a sentence, Simpson.”
“Sam tripped over his music case,” Simpson replied, grinning.
Several kids laughed. Mr. Kimpall laughed, too.
I could feel my face turning red.
Is this kid Simpson some kind of troublemaker? I asked myself. Maybe he’d like to trip over my fist!
“Come on, people. Let’s give the new kid a break,” Mr. Kimpall said, still chuckling. He asked
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