Treasure Island. Between the brain-numbing assembly and his moment of happiness with Cindy, Matt had forgotten all about the cartoon he and Craz had made. Had it worked? Was Mrs. Bentz actually marooned in a book?
The bell rang. Matt grabbed at his loose pencils and pens and quickly shoved them into his backpack. He had to get to English.
“Aren’t you guys coming to class?” Matt asked as he stood back up.
“Nope. We’ve got important stuff to do,” said Skip. “Newspaper stuff.”
Diesel rounded up his remaining papers, a dog-eared science book, and a couple of pens, which he absently slid into his pocket. “That’s what happens when you’re important, Worfle. You get to miss classes, and teachers don’t mind. Not that you’d know anything about that!”
Diesel and Skip hurried off toward the stairs that led to the Lantern office as Matt walked down the hall, following the lingering scent of Cindy’s shampoo. As the late bell rang, he actually ran for class, anxious to meet up with Craz and find out what, if anything, had happened to Mrs. Bentz.
33
MEANWHILE . . .
“HEAVE HO!” SHOUTED THE SUN-SOAKED PIRATE, who went by the name of Job Anderson. “Just cuz you’re womanly don’t make no bones with me. Shoulder those oars!”
Mrs. Bentz was helping the pirates carry their jolly-boat from the beach into the jungle. It was hot, sweaty work, and she couldn’t be happier.
“So tell me again,” the one-legged Long John Silver said as he hobbled behind the crew. “You say you’re from the future?”
“From the future!” squawked Captain Flint, the parrot perched on Long John’s shoulder.
“Well, technically, it’s the present,” Mrs. Bentz said, as more sweat dripped off her headband and into her eyes. This was a way better workout than her silly step aerobics DVD. “See, you’re all characters in a book. And I’m having some sort of wildly vivid dream.”
“Aye, so we’re all in this dream of yours, are we?” Long John arched an eyebrow as he stopped to lean on his crutch and take a long draw on his pipe.
“That’s the only explanation,” Mrs. Bentz said with a grunt. “But for the life of me I don’t remember going to sleep.”
Dick Johnson, a third pirate, leaned over so he could talk softly to his one-legged leader. “I think this one has been in the sun too long, I do. And look at what be her garb.”
Both pirates eyed Mrs. Bentz, who remained stuffed into her two-piece fluorescent workout clothes.
“A more feverish guise I’ve never seen. Should we cut her free of her demons?” And with this, Dick lifted his cutlass as a threat.
“I say not,” Long John Silver whispered back. “Odd as she be, she may just help us with that heavy promise of treasure that’s waitin’ ahead. Of course, once we’re loaded up and the gold is ours to keep, there’s no tellin’ what might happen to her.”
He smiled an evil grin and poked his calloused finger into Dick’s gut.
“No tellin’ at all. . . .”
34
SUBSTITUTE TEACHER
CRAZ WAS ALREADY SEATED BY THE TIME MATT got to class, anxious at the sight of their teacherless classroom.
“Bentz hasn’t shown up yet,” Craz said as Matt slid behind his desk. “Could be a good sign.”
“Let’s hope,” said Matt. “Hey, guess who I actually spoke to?” A big grin was plastered on his face.
Craz had seen his friend’s dopey look before. “Cindy? No way!”
“Oh, yeah,” Matt said. “And she actually spoke back to me. It was almost a real conversation.”
“Way to go, bro.” Craz gave Matt a slap on the back. “So, did you ask her out? Get her phone number? Make a plan?”
“Craz. I talked to her. Let’s not rush into anything crazy, okay?”
“Fine. Just don’t go all slo-mo on her. Seize the moment. We graduate in four years.”
“I promise I’ll keep the ball rolling. I mean, now that I’ve broken the ice, there’s no telling what might happen, right?”
Craz smiled. “Right.”
The door burst open and a large man wearing a black beret and huge sunglasses strode into the room. “Class, close your books and open your minds. Dull thinking will not be tolerated!”
Boyd T. Boone dropped a battered leather briefcase onto the floor. He opened it and took out a ham sandwich and a human skull, which he placed on the desk facing the kids. “Alas, poor Yorick. He flunked my class.”
Matt and Craz high-fived. Their plan had obviously worked.
INSIDE THE LANTERN OFFICE, SKIP SAT with his feet on his desk while he watched Diesel work feverishly to get a last-minute cartoon into that day’s paper.
“The Kilgore student council as aliens. I love it,” Diesel said as he penciled a rough sketch that made each of the student council members into bizarre beings from outer space. “You heard them at the assembly. It’s like they just want to take over the school. Totally from another planet.”
Skip had a box of chocolates balanced on his legs. He popped a dark chocolate caramel into his mouth. “I know. All that yabbering on like they could actually make this school a better place. Hogwash.”
Diesel stopped drawing. “Wait. Did you really say, ‘hogwash’?”
“I crack myself up sometimes,” Skip said. “Hey, I know. Hogwash should be their home planet! What do you think?”
In answer Diesel sketched a speech balloon above his alien characters and lettered the silly word as if they were all yelling it at once. “Perfect,” he said, and then showed his finished draft to Skip.
Skip nodded. “As soon as you scan that cartoon, I’ve got it set up so the new issue will start printing. Hogwash and all.” He popped another candy into his mouth. “How much time do you need to ink it up?”
Diesel rifled through his backpack. He pulled out his favorite eraser and a bunch of different pens. “Not much. Ten minutes. Max.”
Skip used his pinky fingernail to dig out a chunk of caramel from one of his molars. “I love my job.”
“Ditto,” said Diesel. “Nothing better than making cartoons!” He spread his pens out on the desk and was looking for his favorite one, a Flexo-graph stylus with a .05-millimeter tip, when he noticed the strange green pen in his pile. He’d never seen the fancy pen before and figured that he must’ve picked it up after bumping into stupid Matt Worfle in the hallway. Diesel grinned, knowing Matt would most likely think he’d lost his pen.
Diesel uncapped his Flexo-graph pen but stopped. There was something about Matt’s pen that made him curious. He picked it up and unscrewed the cap, testing how it felt in his hand. He inspected the shiny tip and then drew a few squiggly lines on a scrap of paper. He watched the ink flow and liked the fluid lines the pen made, which is why he scrapped his favorite pen for Matt’s.
“Tough break, Worfle,” he said, holding the ornate pen in his tiny hand.
Diesel blew across the alien drawing to clear off any dust. Then, using Matt’s pen, he carefully inked over his pencil lines, having no idea he was making the last cartoon of his short career.
35
AFTER-SCHOOL SNACK
IT HAD BEEN A GOOD DAY. THEY’D GOTTEN TO miss health class because of the student council assembly, and then English had been a hoot with Boyd T. Boone as substitute teacher. He’d performed a one-man mash-up, mixing Hamlet with SpongeBob SquarePants. Totally wild.
To celebrate, Matt invited Len and Sammy to join him and Craz for a pig-out at the Shack. Their treat. After all, they’d used the pen to make some more money, and what good is having free cash if you don’t share it with your friends?
“I hope Bentz is on a nice long vacation,” said Len as they walked down Ma
in Street. “That sub guy is awesome.”
“And let’s be honest,” added Sammy. “How great was it getting a break from Treasure Island? I forgot English could actually be cool.” Sammy opened the door, and the guys walked into the Shack, instantly inhaling the scent of greasy french fries and burgers.
“Ahh, heaven,” sighed Matt. “Hey, where’s Hank? Day off?”
Craz’s first reaction was to look around for his brother, but then he remembered Hank didn’t work there because Hank didn’t exist. He didn’t have any brothers. Or sisters. And for half a second Craz’s stomach twisted into a little knot.
“Right,” Craz said with a nervous chuckle. “Hank’s got the day off.” Craz quickly looked away and led the guys to a corner booth.
It was decided that four orders of fries and a milk shake apiece should start them off just fine. While they devoured their snacks, the conversation turned to their favorite nonschool topic: girls.
“Nancy Applebaum. Now, there’s a girl I could get crazy about,” Sammy said. “Smart. Cute. And she hasn’t hit her growth spurt yet, so I’m still taller than her.”
“She’s definitely in your height range,” said Craz. “Of course, you have a better chance of discovering a fifth dimension than going out with her.”
The guys laughed, and even Sammy had to agree. Nancy’s orbit was nowhere near his.
“Hey, speaking of impossible matchups,” Craz said. “Guess who Mr. Matt finally got chatty with.”
“Cindy?” Sammy was shocked. “No way . . .”
Matt grinned. “Yup. And you know what? Once I actually said a few words, talking to her was easy. Sort of.”
“I knew you could do it,” said Len, raising his glass. “That’s what I’ve been talking about!”
Sammy took a long swig of his milk shake. “So, what did you think of that editorial cartoon of Cindy in today’s Lantern? Pretty funny, right?”
“You know we don’t read that trash,” Craz coolly said.
But Matt was curious. “What cartoon?”
Sammy reached into his backpack and pulled out a folded copy of the newspaper, which had been distributed around the school during last period. “Diesel made all the student council members into aliens. It’s actually pretty good.”
Matt grabbed the newspaper and flipped through the pages until he found Diesel’s half-page cartoon. Sure enough, there were the four student council kids made into four different alien creatures. The big-headed, oval-eyed leader was clearly meant to be Marcia, and she was holding a scepter that was shooting crazy blobs of goo. The other aliens wore name tags and were all yelling the same word—“hogwash.” Matt searched the comic and saw that Diesel had drawn Cindy as a gelatinous blob with three eyeballs and a crooked smile.
Matt seethed any time he saw Diesel’s byline in the Lantern, but this time it made him even madder because the squirt had made fun of the girl he liked so much.
“I wish just once he’d use his pen to draw something that was actually funny.” Matt balled up the newspaper and shoved it aside.
“I dunno. I thought it was kind of funny,” offered Sammy. “I mean, not like your cartoons, Matt. But still . . .”
Craz changed the mood by ordering a second round of milk shakes and four brownie sundaes. Matt checked his wallet. He only had fifteen dollars left, which he knew wouldn’t be enough.
“Uh, sorry, guys,” Matt said. “But I don’t think we can cover more snacks.”
“What? Of course we can,” butted in Craz. “We can always find some more money. Right, Matt?”
Matt’s ears burned. He didn’t like showing off their secret cash supply.
“How’d you guys get so loaded, anyway?” asked Len. “Did you score part-time jobs or something?”
“Long story,” said Craz with a wink to Matt. “Let’s just say we’ve been drawing the money from a secret account.”
“Very secret,” Matt added coldly as he jabbed an elbow into Craz’s gut.
Craz leaned over to Matt and whispered, “Just slip outside, doodle up a few twenties, and zip over to Copy-Copy. Problem solved.”
Matt stayed tight-lipped. “I just don’t think we should solve every problem with the pen.”
“It’s your call,” Craz said. “But the bill is going to come and we aren’t going to be able to pay it. If you have another solution, I’m all ears.”
“Fine!” Matt reached into his backpack and rummaged around for the pen. “That’s weird,” Matt said with his arm buried in his books and papers. “I can’t find my pen.”
“Here. Borrow mine,” said Len, who held out a plastic ballpoint that he kept in his shirt pocket. “It’s got a gel tip.”
Matt started to freak. He dumped his entire backpack onto the table. Books spilled out onto the dirty dishes, along with sheets of loose paper, a few chewed-on pencils, and a long-forgotten rotted apple core. But no green pen. “It’s not here!”
Craz tried to calm his friend down. “Maybe you left it at home.”
“No. I had it at school. I know it.”
“Okay. Think backward. When did you last see the pen?”
Matt bit his lower lip. “I had it at the assembly . . . and then . . .” Matt’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”
Craz didn’t like the look on Matt’s face. “What is it?”
“I must’ve dropped it when Diesel and Skip crashed into me.” Matt grabbed the balled-up newspaper and opened it to the alien cartoon. “And Diesel picked it up.”
Now Craz shared Matt’s horrified look. “You don’t think he used it?”
Matt didn’t bother to answer. He stuffed everything back into his backpack, grabbed his coat, and raced out the door. Craz wasted no time and quickly followed, leaving Len and Sammy clueless in the booth.
Len sighed. “Well, looks like we’re buying our own snacks.”
36
OOZE NEWS
DIESEL AND SKIP WERE SUSPENDED INSIDE A bright green gelatinous bubble. It was entirely Diesel’s fault too. If he hadn’t added the ornate scepter to his cartoon, then the alien version of Marcia wouldn’t have had the power to enslave anyone with her intergalactic goo. But hindsight is twenty-twenty and unfortunately, as soon as Diesel had finished the comic, Skip had made a scan of it, which had brought the quartet of student council aliens into the Lantern office.
“Gorgle-hack!” the Marcia alien had shouted.
“Hogwash!” the other three had screeched.
Diesel had stared openmouthed at the creatures that looked remarkably like his cartoon, while Skip had protected his box of chocolates from the aliens’ prying eyes. And then Marcia raised her scepter and aimed it at the two boys, instantly capturing them (and the chocolates) in the blob of green translucent slime.
BY THE TIME MATT AND CRAZ GOT BACK TO school, the only other kids still hanging around were the football players, who were having a late afternoon practice out on the field. As usual, Coach Arakanian was using his favorite motivation technique—screaming his head off. “You call those squats?” he shouted at the exhausted players. “You all disgust me. Twenty laps. NOW!”
Matt and Craz raced across the field, dodging the sweaty football players. They knew that in two hours the school would be swarming with parents and teachers, and the last thing anyone needed was to throw a bunch of aliens into the mix.
“Look. We aren’t even sure if Diesel used the pen,” said Craz. “Let’s not go all worrywart over this. The best thing to do is—”
An eerie green glow suddenly lit up the Lantern’s basement windows, stopping Craz midsentence. “Never mind,” he added. “C’mon!”
They rushed to the side of the school, and their worst fears were confirmed as soon as they knelt down and
looked into the window.
There were the four aliens standing next to the prison of green slime. Diesel had really geeked out drawing Gary, who loomed over the others in excruciating detail, looking like a cross between a giant muscled cockroach and a slimy alien crab. The three-eyed undulating purple shape that was oozing all over Skip’s desk was definitely Cindy, while Tommy rolled around in circles as an intergalactic robot with retractable tentacle arms. And Marcia, student council president and obvious leader of the group, stood proudly by them all, her huge almond eyes glowing brightly as her yellow reptilian skin reflected the glare of the fluorescent lights.
“For the record,” Matt said, “I still hate Diesel’s drawing style.”
“But on the bright side,” offered Craz, “Diesel and Skip look like they’re stuck in my grandma’s lime Jell-O mold!”
True. Diesel and Skip seemed totally helpless. If nothing else, Craz and Matt were happy about that. They were also happy to see the pen clutched in Diesel’s fist . . . in the middle of the gross green goop.
“Okay. We just need to get our hands on the pen,” said Craz. “Then you can doodle your way out of this. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Matt said. He looked at Cindy and sighed. Sure, she was a purple three-eyed alien, but she was still the cutest alien he’d ever seen.
37
DISTRACTIONS
THEIR PLAN SEEMED SIMPLE ENOUGH. CRAZ WOULD create a diversion and Matt would rescue the pen.
“How hard could it be to get four aliens to chase me?” Craz stood outside the Lantern office doing deep knee bends and jumping jacks. “Ask anyone. I’m a natural target.”
He held the lid from a garbage can in one hand like a shield. “You ready?”
“Ready,” Matt lied. He hid behind the water fountain and gave his friend a thumbs-up sign.
The Awesome, Almost 100% True Adventures of Matt & Craz Page 12
