School Is A Nightmare - Quadzilla (Books 1-4) Special Edition

by Raymond Bean

  “There’s no school on Monday.”

  “On Tuesday then,” Mom said.

  “Am I grounded on Monday too?” I asked, knowing it was probably the wrong time to ask, but I couldn’t resist.

  “You’re grounded until next Monday. I think a week spent at home reflecting on why it’s important to respect other people’s wishes and follow rules is in order,” Mom said. “Mrs. Cliff also said you have a report due on Halloween. I want it done by Tuesday. You can work on it full-time over the holiday weekend. You have nothing else to do,” Dad added.

  “Can I play video games?” I asked.

  “No!” Mindy and Becky said at the same time.

  “Girls, mind your business,” Dad said.

  “Justin, you may not play video games, watch TV, or do any other activity that you enjoy. You’re grounded,” Mom said.

  “I can’t get the whole report done in a long weekend.”

  “Well, you’ll have to. I suggest you get to work,” Dad said.

  8

  I’m Sorry I’m A Werewolf

  Monday night, I dreamed I’d turned into a werewolf. I was roaming the halls at school, terrifying the kids. The funny part was that even though I was a werewolf, I was still scared of Mrs. Cliff. Right before I woke, she had tracked me down and was yelling at me about how being a werewolf wasn’t safe and I should be ashamed of myself.

  I must have said, “I’m sorry I’m a werewolf” out loud because Mindy said, “You’re such a weirdo.”

  “What are you doing in here?” I asked, slowly coming out of my werewolf dream.

  “I was checking to make sure you have those snakes safely in their crates.”

  “They’re called tanks, and they’re safe in their tanks.”

  “Mom wants Becky and me to check them throughout the day to make sure you’re keeping them safe like you promised.”

  Becky walked in and sat on my bed. “She doesn’t trust you anymore,” she said.

  “It’s a shame, too, because trust is the hardest thing to earn back,” Mindy added.

  “Can you guys get out of here?”

  “Sure,” Mindy said. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. You might want to eat up.”

  “It could be your last meal,” Becky said. “I’m sure Mrs. Cliff has a pretty horrible punishment waiting for you.”

  I’d forgotten all about the fact that it was Tuesday and Mrs. Cliff was going to tell me my punishment. I immediately thought about what I could do to make the punishment as little as possible. I imagined getting her flowers, but remembered she doesn’t like flowers. Then I remembered that her favorite thing in the whole world is an apology. I sat down and wrote out the most sincere and lovely apology the world has ever seen. I put it in an envelope and drew a bunch of sea turtles (her favorite animal) on it. Then I rushed down for breakfast.

  “You dreamed you were a werewolf?” my mother asked.

  “I guess I did. I just remember Mrs. Cliff was chasing me.”

  “That’s your guilt. You know that your behavior was monstrous and that your teacher shouldn’t have to deal with such disrespect.”

  “I wrote her an apology,” I said, holding it up.

  Mom took it from me and inspected the note. “I’m impressed,” she said. “Did your father help you write that?”

  “Nope,” I said.

  “Good for you, Justin. That’s nice of you.”

  “Does it mean I’m not grounded for so long?” I asked.

  “Nice try,” Mom said. “I don’t care if you get the president to call her. You’re grounded.”

  9

  I Have To What?

  Mrs. Cliff started the day on Tuesday by telling the kids, “Myrtle is still missing. I want you all to be very careful as you move about the room. If you see her, stay calm and tell me immediately. Also, she’s pregnant, so we’re hoping to get her before she has the babies or sneaks out of the school.”

  She didn’t say anything about my punishment, and I didn’t remind her. At one o’clock, when the class went to gym, she asked me to stay behind. “Sit down, Justin,” she said.

  “I made you an apology card,” I said, hoping it would earn me an easier punishment.

  “Thank you. I look forward to getting it.”

  “I’ll go get it for you.”

  “You can get it later. I’d like to talk a bit more about what happened last Friday. You deliberately disobeyed a class rule and ended up putting our class pet and her babies in grave danger.”

  “I’m really sorry. It was a bad idea, but Cameron made me do it.”

  “It’s upsetting that you’re blaming your actions on others, but it makes me realize your punishment is a fitting one. To make up for your disrespect for our class, you’re going to help give back to some other classes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I talked with your parents, and we decided you should lose your recess every day for the rest of the month.”

  “Where will I go during recess?”

  “You will help out in other classrooms. There are seventeen school days until Halloween. You’ll visit a different classroom every day and help out however the teacher sees fit.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But what if Myrtle comes back before then? Does that mean my punishment ends?”

  “Seventeen days is the deal, and you’re going to help out every last one of them.”

  10

  Where’s the Blue Clone Trooper?

  “How did school go today?” Dad asked at dinner.

  “It was fine,” I said.

  “He has to help out the other classes for the rest of the month as a punishment,” Becky tattled.

  “I know, Becky,” Dad said. “Mom and I spoke with Mrs. Cliff over the weekend.”

  “You’re going to miss recess for the rest of the month!” Mindy exclaimed.

  “I know,” I said. “The whole thing is completely lame, too, because Cameron totally set me up to get in trouble.”

  “You’re the only one that can get yourself in trouble,” Mom pointed out.

  “I shouldn’t have picked up Myrtle, but he should have never dared me to do it.”

  My parents and the girls didn’t get it. I had definitely messed up by picking up Myrtle, but Cameron hadn’t gotten in any trouble at all, and he had basically bribed me to do it. What kid would turn down thirty dollars for thirty seconds of work?

  Later that night, I was playing with my snakes when I realized my Clone Trooper costume hadn’t arrived yet. I walked down to the living room, where Mom and Dad were watching television.

  “Mom, did my costume come in the mail today?” I asked.

  “No, it didn’t. It should have come by now.”

  “Maybe it’s late because of the holiday weekend,” Dad suggested.

  “Can we check to see if it was sent out yet?” I asked.

  Mom logged on to the computer and checked to see if the company had sent her a shipping confirmation, but they hadn’t. Then she went on the site that she bought it from and sent them an email asking when we should expect the shipment.

  I walked into the kitchen and sat at the table with the girls. Their costumes were starting to actually look like lions. Mindy was sewing the tail onto hers. “It’s not too late for us to start on a Simba costume,” she said.

  “If you were Simba, it would be the cutest thing ever!” Becky said.

  “I don’t want to be the cutest thing ever. I want to be a Clone Trooper. I wish it would get here already. I want to make sure it’s the right one.”

  “You know, if you decided to be Simba, you could be in the contest with us,” Becky said.

  “What contest?” I asked.

  “There’s a costume contest at school for all fourth, fifth, and sixth graders. It’s at our school on Halloween day,” Mindy said.

  “I don’t think I got anything about it at school,” I said.

  “It’s probably in your backpack. Mindy and I got the notice today. Why don’t you
ever read anything they hand out?” Becky asked.

  I ran to my backpack, and there was a note about the contest. Mrs. Cliff hands out so much garbage each day that I don’t read any of it. The note said that there’d be a contest held at my school on Halloween and the winner would win a hundred-dollar gift card to Game Slam.

  I don’t enter contests because they usually have some sort of work involved, like making a drawing or writing an essay or something, but this one seemed perfect. All I needed was a killer costume, and my Clone Trooper costume would definitely be the best one. I figured I had that gift card in the bag already. I spent the rest of the night on the Game Slam site deciding on what games I would buy after I won.

  11

  Payback Is a Blast

  Wednesday, I lost my first recess, and I loved it! I was sent to Mrs. Cook’s class to help organize her library. All the first graders kept coming over and trying to talk with me. They were really fun, and I kind of liked having a break from the rest of my class for a while.

  On Thursday, I helped out in Mrs. Floaster’s class. She had me clean out the fish tank, which was fine with me because I love animals. It took me so long I was late getting back to class, but Mrs. Cliff didn’t seem to mind.

  Friday, she sent me to another first-grade class, but the teacher was absent, and the sub didn’t know what to do with me. She told me to read to a bunch of first graders for twenty minutes. The kids were so excited to have a fourth grader read to them that I felt like a rock star.

  The next week, the punishment got even better when Mrs. Lendal’s class had a birthday party for one of the kids in the class, and I had to help hand out cupcakes. I even got to eat one and listen to one of the class parents read a story to the class. It reminded me of when I was little and in first grade. They have it pretty good down there in first grade. They sing, listen to stories, and have none of the stress and pressure a fourth grader has to deal with.

  I think Mrs. Cliff started to realize her punishment wasn’t having the effect she’d hoped for on Wednesday, when I came back into the class whistling and smiling from ear to ear. I had just come from Mrs. Boudet’s class. I had to sharpen about a hundred pencils, and I didn’t mind one bit. Mrs. Boudet has this awesome sharpener that’s really loud, so she asked me to take it outside. She let me bring her cushioned leather rolling chair. It was a beautiful day out, and I relaxed in the shade, in comfort, while I sharpened the pencils.

  “May I talk to you in the hall a moment, Justin?” she asked when I returned.

  “Sure!” I said, a little too happy.

  We walked into the hall. She took her glasses off and put her hand on her chin. “I’m afraid my punishment isn’t teaching you anything. You seem to be having a good time in these classes.”

  “It’s hard work, but I’m learning my lesson,” I said.

  “What lesson are you learning?”

  “I’ve learned that it’s fun to help out,” I said, making it up as I went. “I wasn’t helping the class out when I dropped Myrtle, and it was a bad feeling. Now that I’m helping other classes, it’s a good feeling,” I said, unsure if she’d buy it.

  “Well, I didn’t plan on you enjoying your punishment so much, but if you’re learning the positive aspects of giving back, then I guess it’s worth it.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed.

  12

  Nobody Move!

  On Friday, I sat at my desk drooling on myself from boredom as Mrs. Cliff taught us about multiplication for the ten thousandth time, when I spotted a dark object dart across the floor. My quick reflexes from taking care of my snakes and hunting for critters in the woods sprang into action.

  I immediately snapped out of my haze and pounced on it. I slid under Brett Hayt’s desk, banging my head on his chair.

  Brett yelled at me, “Get off!”

  Mrs. Cliff stood and said, “Justin! What are you up to now?”

  I held my hands close together to make sure it didn’t get out. It was warm. “I caught Myrtle!” I said proudly. The class erupted and leapt from their seats.

  “Everyone stay seated!” Mrs. Cliff instructed, walking over to me and kneeling down. “If this is some kind of trick or prank, you’re going to be in hot water,” she whispered in a tone that gave me goose bumps.

  “I’m not kidding,” I said. “It’s Myrtle! I caught her!”

  “Stand up slowly,” she said. “Follow me over the tank.”

  I did as she said and followed her to the tank. She opened the lid, and I placed the mouse inside. Kids had completely ignored her direction to stay in their seats and crowded around.

  “She looks much smaller,” May said.

  “That’s because that’s not Myrtle,” Cameron said. “That’s one of her babies!”

  I thought Mrs. Cliff was going to cry. The kids shrieked. Jennifer Goulden ran to her chair and stood on it.

  “Get down from that chair this instant,” Mrs. Cliff demanded.

  “I don’t want to be in here,” Jennifer said, sounding as though she might cry.

  “Everything’s fine, Jennifer,” Mrs. Cliff assured her.

  “No, it’s not,” Jennifer said, pointing to the floor. There was another small mouse scurrying under one of the desks next to hers. It stopped, and the class immediately fell silent.

  Mrs. Cliff put her finger over her lips. “Shhhh.”

  I jumped on the chair in front of me and hopped onto the desk across from Jenny. “Nobody move,” I whispered. “I’ll get it.”

  “Justin,” Mrs. Cliff hissed, “get down from there immediately!”

  But before I could make my move, Mark launched himself toward the mouse and crashed into Jenny’s desk like a gigantic bowling ball. Jenny fell off the desk, knocking me over. We all ended up in a pile on the floor.

  When I opened my eyes, the mouse was inches from Jenny’s head. “Don’t move,” I whispered. “It’s right above your head.”

  Jenny shrieked again, startling the mouse. It scurried right toward her and got tangled in her long hair. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! The more it tried to get free, the more it tangled itself in her hair. Jenny sprung to her feet, and the mouse went along for the ride. It hung from her hair, wriggling to get free, like a strange, rodent Christmas tree ornament. All the kids in the class completely freaked out. It sounded as though we were all on a roller coaster.

  Mrs. Cliff gently grabbed hold of the mouse and tried to calm Jenny down. It wasn’t working. She worked to get the mouse untangled from Jenny’s hair, but the more she tried, the more it seemed to get stuck.

  “Call the nurse!” Mrs. Cliff shouted.

  Simon Freudel ran to the phone and called the nurse, who appeared in seconds with a pair of scissors. She quickly cut the mouse out of Jenny’s hair, but she was so focused on Jenny that she dropped it. It hit the floor and scurried off under the bookshelf. An eerie quiet fell over the class, as must happen after any disaster. Everyone was kind of in shock. Jenny broke the silence.

  “I hate this class! I’m going to tell the principal!”

  13

  Think about It

  The rest of the day was incredibly weird. The principal sent a sub into the room while they sorted out everything that had happened. An ambulance came to the school and picked up Jenny to take her to the hospital.

  On the bus ride home, everyone talked about what happened. I sat with my best friend, Aaron. “What’s the deal with you, man?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re always in some kind of trouble lately.”

  “I don’t cause the trouble. It just kind of finds me.”

  “Two weeks ago, it was letting the mouse in your class go, and now this. You better watch yourself, or you’re going to end up in real trouble.”

  “I didn’t do anything!” I insisted.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Just try to be careful. Halloween is in less than two weeks, and I need someone to go trick-or-treating with.”


  “We’re going to go together,” I reminded him.

  “Only if your parents let you! If you keep this up, I’ll be going by myself. Try to be a little more careful.”

  It was as if Aaron knew something I didn’t, because when I got home, Mom and Dad sat me down at the kitchen table, and Mom said, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if it keeps up, we’re not going to be able to let you go trick-or-treating this year.”

  “That’s not fair!” I said.

  “Justin,” Dad said, “in the past few weeks, you’ve gotten in trouble for leaving the tops off your snake tanks, letting the class mouse go, and almost killing a girl in your class. I think what your mother is saying is quite fair.”

  “I didn’t almost kill Jenny today. If anything, I was a hero. She was terrified, and I was trying to help her. Mark’s the one who crashed into her desk and knocked us all down.”

  “But you’re forgetting that there’s a teacher in the class. It wasn’t your place to try and catch the mouse unless she asked you to.”

  “She wasn’t going to catch the mouse! I had to help.”

  “We’re not talking about it anymore. If we get another call or a note from your school, you’re not going trick-or-treating. I suggest you keep your nose out of trouble,” Dad warned.

  It was totally unfair, but what could I do? I was getting the blame, again, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I marched toward my room, making sure they could tell how angry I was. Slamming the door was probably pushing my luck.

  “Lose that attitude,” Mom called.

  I opened my bedroom door and found Becky and Mindy were sitting on my bed, grinning.

  “What do you two want?” I asked.

  “We have a proposition for you,” Mindy said.

  “I’m not interested.”

  “You didn’t hear what we have to say,” Becky countered.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not interested.”

  “You’ve managed to get yourself in a lot of trouble, and we’re offering a way out,” Becky said.