Bugged Out!

by Matthew Porter

  It was Nick. He and Abby were walking toward us. “What the heck, guys?” Nick said, throwing his hands up. “Abby and I stopped by your houses to pick you up, and you weren’t there. Why’d you take the bus?”

  Kelly laughed. “You big doofus, you didn’t tell us you were picking us up.”

  “Did you even text them this morning?” Abby asked, giving him the side eye.

  He smirked. “Well, no… but from now on, we’re picking you up for school.”

  Kelly’s smile turned into a frown. “Right now we’ve got more pressing matters,” she said quietly. “James saw that woman from last night in his yard this morning.”

  Abby shuddered. “What? That’s so creepy.”

  “Totally,” Kelly said. “We’re going to go to the police station right after school. Will you guys go with us?”

  “Sure thing,” Nick said with a serious expression. “We don’t want some loony chick stalking us, do we?”

  “Wait a moment, Nick,” I said, doing some calculations in my mind. “If you went to pick us up, how did you get here before us?”

  Abby sighed. “Nick’s tends to speed, like, the whole way. He must think he’s in NASCAR or something.”

  Nick shrugged. “I was only going twenty over the speed limit. That’s hardly against the law, right?”

  Twenty miles over? I thought, absolutely shocked.

  “Are you nuts?” Kelly said, apparently as shocked as I was. “The cops around here are super strict about issuing speeding tickets. They’ll give you a ticket if you go two miles over the speed limit, let alone twenty. You sure are lucky.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, luck had nothing to do with it. It was pure skill. I’m the speeding king,” he said, as if breaking the law was something to be proud of.

  “Whatever, Nick. You drive like a psycho sometimes,” said Abby, rubbing her temples.

  Nick crossed his arms. “I do not. I’m a very good driver.”

  Kelly smiled wickedly. “Better be careful. You don’t want to share a jail cell with the lady in the trench coat, do you?”

  Nick quickly shook his head. “Nope. I’d rather get a root canal.”

  ***

  The rest of the morning was otherwise uneventful. In biology, Mrs. Snider was going over the difference between parasitism, commensalism, and symbiosis. In literature we discussed Emily Dickinson, her unique writing style, and her peculiar fascination with illness and death. We reviewed the cardiovascular system in anatomy and physiology, which was definitely the highlight of my morning.

  Nick and Abby were not at lunch; apparently they were still figuring out their schedules. Kelly and I talked about that strange woman, exchanging theories as to who she was, each one making me more and more nervous. What if she really was a spy who also belonged to the circus and sold drugs and murdered people in their sleep? I would certainly be in big trouble since she knew where I lived.

  Speaking of trouble, when I walked into the gymnasium for physical education, Max, Adam, and Chris surrounded me. They herded me to the corner of the room and began to shove me around as if they were playing hot potato. Chris, who was easily the biggest one of the group, shoved me into the wall. He gave a brutish grin as he took my glasses and dropped them on the floor. He was about to stomp on them when someone grabbed him and forcefully turned him around. I was expecting it to be Mr. Isely, the gym teacher, but to my surprise, it was Nick.

  Max sneered at him. “What do you want?”

  Nick looked back at him with a pleasant smile. “It sure is nice of you to help my good buddy by picking his glasses up from the floor.”

  Chris shoved him, and he fell to the ground. “You’re new here, so let me give you the same advice Jeremy did yesterday: mind your own business before you get yourself hurt.”

  Nick calmly got up and brushed himself off. Before I knew what was going on, he was behind Chris. He grabbed Chris’s arm, forcing it behind his back, and pinned him to the wall.

  “I’m not scared of any of you, especially Jeremy,” Nick hissed. “And you guys better stop picking on James, or you’re the ones who’re going to be sorry. And while we’re at it—” he shoved Chris back into the wall “—I would apologize to him right now if I were you, or you might have to be spoon-fed for the next three weeks.”

  “Get off me, man. I ain’t doing nothing you say!” said Chris, in an attempt to sound tough, though he wasn’t doing too good a job.

  Nick pulled his arm up even higher, and Chris gave a high-pitched squeal.

  “That didn’t sound much like an apology,” Nick said calmly.

  “Ouch, okay!” Chris bellowed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

  “See, James?” he said, looking at me. “There’s hope for these guys after all.” He let go of Chris’s arm. “Now pick up the glasses and give them back, and don’t smudge the lenses, either.”

  Chris hesitantly picked them up and gave them to me.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly, looking down at the floor.

  “Say, ‘You’re welcome,’” Nick commanded.

  “You’re welcome,” Chris said behind gritted teeth.

  “Good,” said Nick. “Now get lost.”

  Chris and the other hyenas stared angrily at us and then walked to the other side of the gym.

  “They grow up so fast, don’t they?” said Nick, feigning sadness. He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

  “You didn’t have to do that. You could have gotten in a lot of trouble,” I said, looking around. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice what had just happened.

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have to if you did it yourself. Why do you let them pick on you like that?”

  “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not as physically intimidating as you are,” I said, holding up my rather flimsy arms. “Most of them are quite large. What can I do?”

  He shrugged. “For one, you could tell them to back off.”

  “Yes, but then I would be hospitalized. They would gang up on me.”

  “That’s because they’re a bunch of cowards. Hey, why don’t you just use some of your science magic on ’em?”

  I squinted at him. “My what?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, like slip some parasite eggs into their taco salad or something, maybe give ’em Ebola. That’ll teach ’em!”

  I frowned. “That is hardly ethical. Besides, I don’t have access to the Ebola virus. It’s a biosafety level-four pathogen and—”

  He slapped my shoulder. “Oh, ease up. I was just kidding. But we do need to toughen you up, at least enough so that those jerks won’t mess with you.”

  I started to feel anxious at the thought of strenuous physical activity, and the prospect of badmouthing the Hyena Gang. “I don’t think—”

  “We’ll hit the gym a few times a week,” he said. “We’ll call it Nick Camp.”

  “Nick Camp?” I repeated.

  “Yeah, Nick Camp. We can work out before or after we study for bio. It’ll be fun.”

  “I don’t know… I would much rather exercise my brain than my body.”

  “Doesn’t exercising your body also help stimulate the brain?”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “I read it in the biology book. See? You help me learn about biology and I can help you get into shape so you can defend yourself.”

  I hesitated. “I don’t—”

  “I’m not going to be there every time you need help. You need to do it yourself. Besides, we’ll take it easy the first week or so.”

  Mr. Isely walked into the gymnasium and blew his whistle. “Okay, guys, huddle up. It’s time to play some basketball.”

  Nick hopped up and down with excitement. “Awesome! Let’s go play some b-ball,” he said, jogging to the middle of the gym.

  “Oh, wonderful,” I mumbled. I hated sports—I mean, really hated sports.

  “All right,” Mr. Isely addressed the class. “Now to pick the team captains. Let’s see. Fellowmen, you’re tea
m captain,” he said to Chris, who was on Force-Pointe High’s basketball team. “And the other…” He looked towards me and Nick. “How about the new kid?”

  “Me?” Nick asked, pointing at himself.

  Mr. Isely’s eyebrows lowered. “You are the new kid, aren’t you?”

  Nick shrugged. “Guess I am.”

  “All right,” Mr. Isely said with a nod. “New kid picks first.”

  “My name’s Nick, Mr.…”

  “Isely.”

  Nick and Chris stood on opposite sides of the circle in the center of the gym. Chris was glaring at Nick with seething hatred.

  “I pick James,” Nick said with no hesitation or pause.

  “Huh?” I said, completely caught off guard. I was always picked dead last. Always. Even if there was a kid on crutches, they’d choose him before me.

  The whole class snickered. Even Mr. Isely looked befuddled. Nick didn’t seem to notice or care, though. He just nodded at me to come join him.

  I walked over to Nick with my head down. “Are you sure you want me on your team?” I whispered. “I’m not very good at sports, if you couldn’t tell by all the giggling.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said cheerfully. “We’ll pulverize ’em. Let’s do this.”

  “Yeah,” I said, attempting to sound excited.

  This game was significantly less dreadful than usual. It was gratifying to see our team beating Chris’s, and it was obvious that Nick was the best player on the team. He scored almost all the goals—or points, or whatever you call the blasted things. He managed to take the ball from Chris several times, which enraged Chris even more. At the end of class, Mr. Isely blew the whistle and dismissed everyone. As we were leaving, he pulled Nick aside to talk to him about something.

  Could it be he had seen Nick defending me against the Hyena Gang?

  In the locker room, Chris slammed his locker with enough force I thought it would break off its hinges. As if that didn’t make me jumpy enough, he marched over to me.

  “Dr. Stumpenstein,” he said with his typical sneer. “Tell that punk friend of yours that he’d better watch his back, because my crew’s gonna give him what he deserves.”

  Thinking about what Nick had said about me standing up for myself, I slammed my own locker and turned to look Chris straight in the face...and the words just came flowing out. “Are you really that mad that you lost a simple game? Are we stuck in kindergarten or something? Just leave him and me and everyone else alone. Or are you too asinine to understand me?” I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth.

  Chris’s face twisted with anger. He punched my locker and I jumped, wincing at the loud bang. “It ain’t about the game, you little snot. Nobody embarrasses me like that and gets away with it.”

  I had half a mind to apologize—well, three-quarters of a mind, if I’m completely honest. Chris cornered me, and I saw my reflection in his enraged eyes. I looked so little and frightened, like a rabbit about to be eaten by a large wolf, or a hyena.

  “Hey, guys, is there a problem?” asked Mr. Isely. He was standing in the doorway, tapping his foot on the ground. Nick was standing right in front of him.

  “No, sir. I was just congratulating James for being on the winning team for once,” said Chris, stepping away from me.

  Mr. Isely frowned at him. “Well, you had better get going before you’re late for your next class.”

  Chris grabbed his belongings and walked out of the locker room with the rest of the Hyena Gang, but not before shooting me another hateful glare.

  “You’d better get to class, too, Stump,” said Mr. Isely.

  “Yes, sir,” I said nervously. “I just need to get my books.”

  He nodded and left the room.

  Nick ran over to me and punched me in the shoulder. “Dude, I saw what you did. It was awesome!”

  My heart was still pounding out of my chest. “What was so awesome about it? I almost died.”

  “You stood up for yourself.”

  “Yes, but if it weren’t for Mr. Isely, I would have been pummeled into mulch.”

  “Nah,” said Nick, shaking his head. “I’ve got your back.”

  I didn’t like talking about the situation. It made me feel more anxious than I already was, so I changed the subject. “You had better hurry up and change so we can go to history. We’ll both be in big trouble, and you really smell of body odor.”

  He smelled his armpits. “Please, I smell like a champ.”

  “Whatever you say. I’m thirsty, so I’m going to get a bottle of water from the vending machine. I’ll meet you in the hall. Hurry up.”

  “Okay, okay. Hey, get me a drink too, will ya?” He handed me two dollars.

  I walked out and got two waters and quickly gulped mine down.

  Nick was running down the hall. “Okay, let’s go!”

  I handed him the water. He opened it and chugged it.

  “Now you smell like you got thrown into a pool of body spray,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “How much did you put on?”

  He puffed out his chest and grinned. “Hey, I gotta smell good for the ladies.”

  “If you say so. By the way, why did Mr. Isely want to see you after class? It’s not because you fought Chris, is it? I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry, that wasn’t it. He just wanted me to join the basketball team. He said that they need a player like me on board. I said absolutely. I was going to try out, anyway. Basketball is one of my best sports.”

  “That means that you are really going to have to get a good grade in biology if you want to stay on the team. This school has a strict policy about grades and sports.”

  “That’s why I have you, good buddy. Remember? You help me in bio, and I help you get rid of your bully problem.”

  “I remember—oh, look at the time,” I said, trying to change the subject again. “We only have two minutes to get to history.”

  Nick nodded. “Guess we’ll have to run.” He darted in front of me.

  “Wait for me!” I yelled. I started to run, trying to catch up. I hated running.

  We made it just as Mr. Simmons was taking attendance. We crept in and sat behind Kelly and Abby.

  “You guys are late,” whispered Abby.

  “Yeah, and you’re lucky Mr. Simmons is such a cool teacher. Don’t think he didn’t notice you guys tiptoeing in here,” said Kelly.

  “Won’t happen again,” Nick whispered.

  Mr. Simmons looked up from the attendance paper. “It had better not, Mr. Scott. Although I’m a ‘cool teacher,’ I expect you to be on time. Remember that.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Nick, saluting him.

  “Good,” said Mr. Simmons. “Otherwise, we’re going to have some problems. Now, let’s get started. Take out the packet of articles I handed out yesterday and discuss the effects of the Pearl Harbor attack in 1941 and its impact here on Force-Pointe Islands. Get with a group of three or four for about twenty minutes and we’ll discuss it as a class for the remainder of the time.”

  About ten minutes into the discussion one of Kelly’s friends, Amber Young, let out a piercing scream as she leaped out of her seat so frantically that she knocked her entire desk over.

  “What’s wrong, Ms. Young?” asked Mr. Simmons, running to her.

  She was practically hyperventilating and almost to the point of tears. “Th-tha-that giant bug crawled up my leg!”

  She pointed right under her desk and we all looked down. Mr. Simmons moved her desk and something scurried out from under it. When she’d said “giant bug,” I was expecting a fat, juicy spider or something. However, what was staring the class down from the corner of the room was no mere arthropod.

  My jaw dropped. It was the...thing I had seen the day before crawling into the air duct. It hadn’t been my imagination—the thing truly was as monstrous as I had perceived.

  It looked like a mantis of some kind, but its anatomy was, w
ell…strange wouldn’t even begin to describe it. It was enormous, about the size of a large rat, and its exoskeleton was bloodred with a few eggshell-white spots. Its forelegs looked like they belonged to a scorpion, more pincer-like than anything. It also seemed to have a long, sharp proboscis curled at its mouth.

  The whole class was on their feet. Some of them ran toward the door, but most of us were frozen where we stood, looking at the giant insect in silence. Mr. Simmons inched toward it with a hefty history textbook in his hands. “Do you know what kind of bug this is, Mr. Stump?” he asked in a hushed tone.

  “I have no idea,” I answered. Watching the insect’s red eyes glare at Mr. Simmons in an almost thoughtful, predatory manner, I said, “I don’t think it would be a good idea to—”

  With a loud screech, the insect scurried across the floor, crawled up Mr. Simmons’s leg and clasped its pincers on his neck. Its proboscis uncurled, and the monster jabbed it into his flesh.

  Mr. Simmons screamed in pain and terror as he tried to pull the proboscis out, but it was stuck in his neck. The whole class started to panic. Amber looked like she was about to pass out. Abby was standing on her desk, watching in horror as Mr. Simmons cried in pain. Kelly looked like she was going to be sick, and Nick picked up the history book Mr. Simmons had dropped when the insect attacked him.

  Nick held the book like he was going to strike the insect. Just when he was about to swing, Mr. Simmons fell into a chair. His lips were pale and his breaths were shallow.

  The insect removed its straw-like tongue from Mr. Simmons’s neck. It leaped off him with a powerful kick of its legs and landed on the floor. Nick threw the book at it, but it scurried up the wall and vanished behind a bookshelf.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Simmons?” Amber screamed, standing over him as the entire class congregated around him.

  Mr. Simmons clasped his hand to his neck. “I-I just feel drained.”

  Nick and another student, Clint Bowers, helped Mr. Simmons up and they took him to the nurse’s office. They had just left when a familiar scratching sound came from the wall. It was the mantis again; it was climbing the wall like some kind of demonic cockroach. Amber screamed, and the rest of the class ran out of the room. I tried to get a little closer to the insect, to get a better look at it. Not really paying attention to where I was going, I tumbled over a desk that had been pushed out of its place and fell on the ground. Two or three of my classmates tripped over me on their way out. By the time Abby and Kelly helped me off the floor, the insect had fled.