The Curse of the Were-Hyena

by Bruce Hale

  “I’m sure he just caught some kind of bug,” said my dad.

  My ears grew warm. “You didn’t see him attack that chicken,” I said. “Or growl, or laugh like a maniac.”

  He held up a hand. “Maybe your teacher is having trouble at home, and it’s made him unstable.”

  Benny leaned over the back of the front seat. “But we saw the monster—both of us. How do you explain that?”

  Dad gave us an indulgent smile. “Another bear wandered into town. There was something about it in the news.”

  “But—” I said.

  “Now, now. I know how fear can mess with your perceptions.”

  “But—” said Benny.

  A sudden thought struck my father and his expression turned as serious as a daylong dental surgery. “Wait a minute. You really sneaked out to the graveyard last night?”

  “We really did,” Benny and I said.

  “Then you’re grounded,” he told me. “And you will be,” he said to Benny, “as soon as I tell your father.”

  “No!” I cried. “You can’t!”

  His black eyes sizzled. “I’m your father; I can do what I like. Now get out of this car and go to school. You’re making me late for work.”

  “Da-a-ad!”

  “Carlos…”

  I opened my mouth to protest again, but what I saw in his face made me think twice. “Okay,” I grumbled, climbing out of the car.

  Standing at the curb and watching my dad drive away, Benny said, “Grounded? How do we steal an amulet and hang it around some hyena-man’s neck if we’re grounded?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, feeling like I’d just been chopped off at the knees.

  In a daze we stumbled to class. As Benny and I passed the flagpole, Tina Green was waiting with some more bad news.

  “I followed through on our plan,” she said, falling in beside us.

  “What plan?” I asked.

  “Getting my pastor to do an exorcism on Mr. Chu,” said Tina.

  “Oh,” said Benny dully, “your plan.”

  Tina tossed her braids over one shoulder. “At first he didn’t believe me. Then he said Lutherans don’t really do exorcisms these days. But when I talked him into going to Mr. Chu’s house with me to ‘counsel’ him, things got weird.”

  I glanced over at her. “What do you mean?”

  Tina grimaced. “He was digging through the trash can looking for treats.”

  “Your pastor?” said Benny.

  “Mr. Chu,” said Tina, scowling. “When Pastor Wilson tried to talk with him, he kept laughing like a loon and going on about how the woods were his church.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s only semiweird.”

  “Right,” said Tina. “But then, when Pastor Wilson took out his Bible, Mr. Chu snatched it away and started gnawing on it like a chew toy. He told him he’d never been so insulted in his life.”

  “Mr. Chu?” said Benny.

  “Pastor Wilson,” said Tina. “Keep up, Brackman. Anyway, he ended up chasing us away from his house and biting the pastor on the butt.”

  “Butt biting,” I said. “That is weird.”

  “Pastor told me he called a shrink to help out, but Mr. Chu refused to talk to her.”

  “No surprise there,” said Benny.

  Tina walked backward so she could look both of us in the eye. “The adults clearly have no clue. It’s up to us. What are we going to do about this situation?”

  “We’re not gonna do anything,” said Benny gloomily. We trudged down the short hallway that led to our classroom.

  Tina scoffed. “Are you still stuck on that us-boys-have-gotta-do-it-alone bullpucky?”

  “Worse,” I said. “We’re grounded.” Rolling her eyes, she said, “And you’re going to let a little thing like that stop you?”

  “Maybe?” I said.

  Tina waved her arms about. “Did the Ghostbusters give up when the city tried to shut them down? Did Robin Hood crawl back into bed when the sheriff put a price on his head?”

  “No, but—” Benny began.

  But Tina was on a roll. “I say we march into that classroom, roll up our sleeves, and figure out how to turn Mr. Chu back into the teacher we all know and love!”

  A faint stirring of hope tickled inside my chest. “Yeah,” I said.

  “Yeah!” said Benny. “Grounded, schmounded. Full speed ahead!”

  To the ringing of the school bell, the three of us marched into our classroom, ready for action—and stopped dead when we saw who was sitting at our teacher’s desk:

  An absolute stranger.

  HIS STARE WAS as black as the inside of a panther’s nostril, his shaved head gleamed like the world’s ugliest Christmas ornament, and his bulky body made the desk look like doll furniture.

  Who the heck is that? I thought.

  “Who the heck is that?” said Benny.

  “Siddown!” growled the giant.

  Stunned, we found our seats. And then I recognized him. It was Mr. Stenchy Pits, the man we’d bumped into outside the comics store. I remembered us saying that he was either a spy or a preschool teacher.

  But that had been a joke. So what in the world was he doing in our classroom?

  “My name,” he said, glaring around the room, “is Mr. Kardoz. I am your substitute.” His voice had a foreign flavor to it.

  Fifteen hands immediately shot into the air.

  “You.” He jerked his chin at Gabi Acosta. “Pigtail Girl. What is your question?”

  “What happened to Mr. Chu?”

  “I do not know and I do not care,” Mr. Kardoz rumbled. “For today, he does not exist. I am your teacher.”

  Benny and I exchanged a horrified look. Was it already too late for Mr. Chu?

  Turning around in her seat, Tina gave us a grim nod. She was right—grounding or no grounding, if we didn’t act now, we would lose our favorite teacher for good.

  And get stuck with someone who looked like he’d rather be strangling ferrets than teaching kids.

  “Now,” growled the substitute, “who is the most trustworthy student?”

  Tyler’s hand shot into the air, followed closely by Amrita’s and Cheyenne’s. Mr. Kardoz raked his gaze over Tyler and read my classmate’s soul. “You?” he said. “I think not. You have the look of a troublemaker. Maybe I give you detention, Midget Boy.”

  “But I haven’t done anything!” Tyler protested.

  Yet, I thought.

  Big Pete raised his hand. “I think the politically correct term is Height-Challenged Boy.”

  Glowering, the giant purred, “Maybe I give you both detention. Today, after school.”

  “But that’s not fair!” Tyler whined.

  “Fair?” Mr. Kardoz snapped. “Fair is cotton candy and pony rides. Life is not fair. Two days’ detention.” When Tyler wisely shut up, the substitute’s attention shifted to Amrita, who looked sweeter than three bagfuls of Halloween candy. “You, Glasses Girl, what page of your math book is the class studying?”

  “Page thirty-seven, Mr. Kardoz,” she said.

  “Open your books,” the giant commanded.

  When a bunch of us moaned in protest, Mr. Kardoz raised a furry eyebrow. “You forget,” he crooned, “that I have absolute power here. If I say you will read your books standing on your head, then that is what you will do.”

  A nervous chuckle squirted out of one of my classmates.

  “That’s it!” roared the substitute. “Everyone up against the wall and onto your heads!”

  We exchanged horrified and puzzled looks.

  “Now!” yelled Mr. Kardoz.

  With much dragging of feet, my class made its way over to the wall, math books in hand. The giant roared with laughter at our pitiful attempts to do a headstand. When he’d laughed enough, he ordered us back to our seats.

  Could this man be one of the were-hyenas? He was certainly cruel enough.

  As I sat down, a much-folded wad of paper landed on my desk. Unfurling it, I
deciphered Benny’s scrawl:

  We gotta get out of here now! Time to save Mr. Chu!

  Benny’s eyes were dark with worry. I started to scribble a return note, then happened to glance up into Mr. Kardoz’s suspicious scowl. Dropping my gaze to my math book, I waited. No sense in tempting him to make us run laps while juggling homework. When the substitute’s attention wandered elsewhere, I held up a palm to Benny in a “wait” gesture and mouthed, Recess.

  His lips clamped tight in frustration, but he nodded. And we got on with the unique brand of torture that only a sadistic sub can dish out.

  At recess, Tina wouldn’t leave us alone. Following Benny and me from the monkey bars, to the swings, to the field, she hounded us for more details about the whole were-hyena problem. At first we resisted, but after last night, I knew we’d need all the help we could get. Finally, I filled her in.

  “So the way to cure Mr. Chu is to behead this ‘alpha hyena’?” she said.

  “Or hang the amulet around its neck,” I said, kicking a stray soccer ball to Benny. Sometimes I think better when I’m moving a ball around.

  “Okay, okay…” Tina fiddled with the beads on one of her braids, seeming to sort through everything we’d told her.

  Benny kicked the ball back, hard and wide. “Enough talk. Time for action.”

  I retrieved it from the bushes. “I agree. But first let’s figure out a plan.”

  “Here it is,” said Benny. “First, we bust out of school. Then we make it up as we go along.”

  “But—” I began.

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” said Benny. He checked to see if any of the yard-duty teachers were looking our way, and then said, “Come on, Carlos.”

  I shrugged at Tina. “When he’s like this, it’s easier to just go with it.”

  She folded her arms. “Let’s see where that gets you.”

  Leading the way across the field, Benny pretended to wander aimlessly. But as I followed, we steadily made our way toward the gate in the chain-link fence. Our ticket to freedom.

  Ten feet away, we made a final check. No teachers anywhere near; no kids either. Perfect. I could see Tina across the field, casually glancing in our direction. Did she know something that we didn’t?

  “Let’s go!” whispered Benny.

  We closed the distance in a rush, I put my hand to the gate, and a voice with a Texas twang said, “Going somewhere, boys?”

  Busted.

  We spun, trying to hide our guilty expressions.

  “Us?” said Benny. “Just admiring the fence. Solid construction!”

  “Uh-huh,” said our principal, Mrs. Johnson. “You know, this ain’t my first rodeo.” Where in the world had she sprung from?

  I raised my hands. “You got us. But we’re on a life-and-death mission for Mr. Chu.” I tried to stick close to the truth while still being vague.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Mr. Chu is at home.”

  “We know,” I said, “and our mission will help get him back in school.”

  Her mouth pursed. “You know, you can put your boots in the oven, but that won’t make ’em biscuits.”

  “Excuse me?” Benny said.

  “Calling something by a label doesn’t make it so.” Mrs. Johnson aimed one of her long fingers at Benny and me. “I know what you’re really trying to do, and it won’t work.”

  “You do?” I said. Did she really know all about the were-hyena?

  “Of course,” said the principal. “I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. I know when kids are trying to ditch school.”

  “Ohhh,” I said, glancing at Benny. He pushed his palms downward in a “chill out” gesture. He had a point. Real heroes don’t get their principal to solve their problems. “Um, you caught us fair and square.”

  “Let that be a lesson to you,” said Mrs. Johnson. “Now go play.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” we said.

  As we trudged past her onto the field, Benny said, “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you know we were making a break for it?”

  One corner of Mrs. Johnson’s mouth twitched. She tapped her temple. “Principal ESP.”

  I didn’t doubt it for a second.

  When Tina caught up with Benny and me on the far side of the field, she didn’t have to say “I told you so.” But she did anyway.

  “It’s too tricky to escape during school hours,” she said. “Even if you get past that fence, someone will turn you in.”

  Benny’s fists went to his hips. He gave her a look as full of attitude as a second-rate rapper in a third-rate music video. “Oh, and I suppose you’ve got a better idea, Miss Nosy?”

  A smile spread, slow as syrup, across her face. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Are you gonna tell us?” I asked. “Or make us guess?”

  “How do kids get out of school without anyone causing a fuss?” she asked.

  I lifted a shoulder. “Doctor’s note?”

  “Field trip.”

  Benny frowned. “Huh?”

  “Our class,” she said. “Field trip. Museum. Get it?”

  Clapping one hand to his head and the other to his chest, Benny slumped dramatically, like the idea was so bad it hurt. “Genius!” he said. “Only one tiny problem: the field trip has to happen today, and we don’t even have permission slips.”

  Her smile was smugger than a roomful of know-it-alls. “But Mr. Car-Nose doesn’t know that.”

  “That’s Kardoz.” I could feel a smile tugging at my own lips. “You know, you’re pretty sneaky. For a girl.”

  “Thanks,” said Tina. “I’m sure you have some redeeming qualities, too.”

  NEVER UNDERESTIMATE the appeal of a break in humdrum school-day routine—for kids and teachers both. A bit of fast-talking, a convincing lie or two, and—boom—there we were at the museum. When we walked through the doors, Ms. Icaza was waiting with a broad smile. “Welcome, children! We’re so pleased you came to learn about African culture.”

  Mr. Kardoz glowered. “Children,” he muttered. “Culture. In my day, the two never met.”

  Because no docents were on duty this early, Ms. Icaza decided to show us around the new exhibit herself. We all trooped upstairs. Our giant sub brought up the rear.

  After passing through a bunch of Greek statues of naked people (and listening to Tyler’s dumb comments about them), we rounded the corner into the new exhibit. Big Pete gasped.

  Standing directly in front of him was a tall wooden sculpture of a horned man with sinister, hooded eyes. I would’ve gasped myself if I’d been in front. But that was no reason to skip teasing Pete.

  “What’s wrong?” said José. “Too much like looking in the mirror?”

  “Oooh, sssspooky!” Benny joked. Even though I could tell the exhibit creeped him out, too.

  Big Pete scowled and raised a fist. But after our sub gave him the eye, he refrained from pounding anybody.

  An eerie flute trilled in the background as we entered the exhibit. Everything smelled seriously old and musty, like the back of your grandpa’s closet, only worse. I could tell this exhibit still wasn’t quite finished. Not all of the items were in display cases, and most were missing those informational cards.

  Ms. Icaza went into her talk about the mystical ceremonies of the Yoruba and the Dan. “These were a people who loved ritual,” she said. “They had ceremonies for baby naming, for deaths, for weddings—”

  “For bathroom breaks?” AJ asked. Kids chuckled.

  The museum lady made a face. “First floor, beside the entrance,” she said. “Now, everyone, come have a look at these staffs set with gems. They’re priceless.” The class pressed forward, but Benny and I hung back. To one side, the amulets hung in a dark little corner.

  Behind us, Mr. Kardoz leaned against a wall, scowling as he texted someone on his phone. Probably asking the Kremlin for his next assassination target.

  “So what’s our move?” Benny muttered, bringing his head close to mine.

  “Knock down
a statue?” I suggested.

  He grimaced. “Over too quick. Um, I could pick a fight with Tyler?”

  I glanced at Mr. Kardoz. “He’d give you detention, and then we’d never get free. Umm…”

  Tina stuck her head in between ours, making me jump. “It’s obvious,” she said.

  “Oh yeah?” said Benny. “What?”

  “Two of us fake fight, to distract everybody. The other one grabs the necklace.”

  I blinked. It was actually a pretty good plan.

  “Okay,” I said, “let’s do it. I’ll make the snatch.”

  Benny cocked his head, not wanting to seem too keen on her idea. “It’s not a totally terrible plan. I guess it might work.”

  Just then, beyond a knot of our classmates, I noticed Ms. Icaza watching us. “Chill,” I murmured, drifting away from them. The museum worker flashed me a smile and I returned it, making an I’m-impressed-with-your-place face.

  She gestured at a seriously whacked-out mask with tusks and spikes and two sets of eyes. “The Dan designed this bu gle mask to frighten the bejeezus out of people, and as you can see, it still works.” Several girls tittered. When Ms. Icaza began explaining the uses of the mask to my classmates, I ambled over to where the amulets hung. A velvet rope and some low posts were all that protected them from visitors’ grubby hands.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. Now that I was here, I had some doubts. How would I grab the necklace and hide it on me while standing in plain view of twenty-seven kids and two adults?

  I scanned the space. The museum might even have security cameras.

  The things we think of too late.

  Across the room, Benny and Tina had already started up their act. No time for second thoughts. I had to roll with it.

  Benny appeared to be teaching Tina some kind of judo hold. Shaking her head, she tried to show him how it was really done. They tussled, back and forth, drawing closer and closer to a statue of a tall dude with a pointy head.

  A few kids noticed them, but so far both adults were unaware.

  I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. Any second now…

  Grabbing Benny by the shoulders, Tina spun him around in a complicated move. But she used a bit too much body English. Benny stumbled and bumped the statue, which swayed alarmingly.