Children of the Wolf

by Rodman Philbrick

  The kids now began to fidget and whisper. I heard giggles that I knew were aimed at me.

  “Pleased to have you here, Gruff. Do you have a last name?” asked Miss Possum in a very gentle and friendly voice.

  “No last name,” said Paul quickly. “Gruff doesn’t speak English very well yet.”

  One of the kids yelled out. “Ask him to speak wolf. He can howl like anything!”

  A bunch of kids burst out laughing. I decided I liked them better when they were just sitting there like brain-dead statues.

  Miss Possum frowned. It didn’t look very threatening. “Quiet, class,” she said mildly. “Gruff is new here and we all want to show him how pleased we are to have him in class.”

  She turned back to me. “We’re having language arts class now, Gruff, and this is the book we’re reading.”

  She handed me a big heavy book. I opened it but there were no pictures, just long lines of black squiggles. I turned the book around but the black marks still didn’t look like anything. I knew they were words—Kim had shown me words in some of her old picture books—but in this book there were so many and they were so small. I started to feel panicky.

  Then a burst of loud laughter startled me. I looked up in surprise.

  Miss Possum was staring at me wide-eyed.

  Some of the kids were pointing and laughing so hard they were falling out of their seats. “GRRRUFFF!” shouted someone from the back of the room and everyone laughed harder.

  I wanted to disappear through the floor.

  Miss Possum frowned at the class and turned the book around in my hands. But the kids kept laughing. For some reason it was funny to them that I didn’t know how to use the book. And the longer I stood there wanting to sink through the floor, the harder they laughed.

  So I started laughing myself. I turned the book upside down again, shrugging my shoulders. I laughed harder.

  I laughed so hard I drowned out the other kids. And somehow that made it better. If I could laugh at myself then it didn’t sting so much when they did it.

  Then I got a real shock. I looked out at all those mocking faces and saw that lots of them were grinning at me—in a friendly, interested way. And Paul was smiling, too, like somehow everything was okay now.

  I started to feel like I might even fit in—in a year or so.

  But just as I was starting to breathe again I saw a flash of movement outside the door.

  My spine turned to ice. It couldn’t be!

  I saw it again. A snarling face, covered with straggly hair, and sharp, dripping fangs.

  A werewolf!

  Here in the school! It was after the kids. We must have attracted it by making so much noise.

  I couldn’t let it get away.

  Growling deep in my throat, I leaped for the door.

  Chapter 11

  I opened the door and threw myself at the slobbering monster.

  But as I lunged, my fighting snarl changed to a whimper.

  I stopped so short my sneakers left rubber tracks on the floor.

  There was no werewolf lurking outside the classroom. Again, I had mistaken the school principal for a monster.

  “What is the meaning of this?” demanded Mr. Clawson furiously, backing away from me.

  It was lucky I still couldn’t speak properly. The true explanation would have sent Mr. Clawson into an even worse rage.

  “It must have startled him to see a face in the window,” said Miss Possum, hurrying to stand beside me. “I’m afraid the poor boy still isn’t used to so many people.”

  I nodded eagerly. “Yes, Mr. Claw-son,” I said. “I sorry.”

  “Poor boy! Sorry!” Mr. Clawson sneered. “He’s nothing but a wild animal.”

  No one in the class laughed. It was so quiet I could feel how glad the other kids were not to be standing in my shoes.

  “We have a long road ahead of us with this one, Miss Possum,” said the principal, stroking his lip. I could tell he was trying to think of a really good punishment.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Miss Possum with a little fluttery laugh. “He just needs a little time and guidance.”

  Mr. Clawson nodded as if he was agreeing with her. He pointed a finger at me. “Detention!” he announced in a voice of doom.

  Miss Possum looked sad. Behind me I felt the kids get even quieter. I started to shake with fear. What was this horrible thing called detention?

  Mr. Clawson turned on his heel and walked out.

  I couldn’t fix my mind on anything for the rest of the morning. I just kept worrying about what Mr. Clawson had said. What was detention? What would it do to me?

  At lunch Paul tried to explain it to me. “It means you have to stay after school for half an hour.”

  I nodded. “And what happen?”

  “Happen? Nothing,” said Paul. “That’s it. Nobody likes to stay after school when everybody else is out playing. And Mr. Clawson doesn’t let you do homework or anything. You have to just sit so it seems to take forever.”

  Sit for half an hour? That was all? I was so relieved my appetite came back. I had just picked up my sandwich and opened my mouth to take a bite when—

  PLOP!

  Something wet and gooey smacked me right in the face. I was so startled I forgot to close my mouth. Soft lumpy stuff dripped onto my tongue. It wasn’t bad. Tasted pretty good in fact.

  Paul jumped out of his chair and it fell with a crash. “Come on, Gruff, we’ve got to get out of here!” he yelled, pulling at my arm.

  As I leaped up in alarm a round piece of pink meat smeared with yellow bounced off my shirt, leaving a trail of ooze.

  I didn’t like that. I caught the meat before it hit the ground and pulled my arm back, looking around to see who had thrown it.

  “No, Gruff!” shouted Paul. “Come on.”

  I dropped the meat and followed him. Behind me someone yelled “Food fight!”

  When we reached the cafeteria door I looked back. Gobs and chunks were flying. A girl with a piece of wadded bread stuck in her hair rubbed a handful of brown glop into a boy’s face. Another kid was covered in the red goo they call “ketchup.”

  Food fighting looked like a lot of fun. My wolf family never did anything like this. Oh, sometimes the cubs scrapped over a piece of meat but basically wolves don’t play with their food. My fingers itched to throw something. I had good aim. I knew I’d be good at this game and I could even eat what landed on me!

  “Franks and beans,” said Paul, making a face. “What a mess.”

  “Yes,” I said enthusiastically. “Big mess. Why we leave?”

  Paul gave me a disgusted look. “Do you want to get blamed for this, too? Clawson has it in for you. You’d get detention for a week if he caught you throwing food.”

  I shrugged. Detention didn’t seem so bad if it just meant staying after school for a while.

  Looking at the kids laughing and hurling food and covered with bits and pieces of it, I wished I was with them. I licked at a lump of brown stuff stuck at the corner of my mouth. Detention would be worth it.

  But then, as teachers came running to break up the food fight, I felt a twinge of uncertainty. Paul was right. Mr. Clawson didn’t like me.

  I remembered the sudden gleam in his eye when he snarled, “Detention!”

  I shivered remembering how he had said no one would miss me if I disappeared.

  Mr. Clawson was planning something special for me.

  And he was the only one who was going to enjoy it.

  Chapter 12

  Paul had a mournful look on his face when he said good-bye at the end of school. “See you at home,” he said, but I could tell he didn’t believe it.

  I turned around and started trudging for Mr. Clawson’s office. My feet felt like they were made of lead. My stomach, too.

  “Not trying to sneak off, were you boy?”

  Startled, I looked up. Mr. Clawson was standing outside his office, waiting for me.

  Unable to speak,
I shook my head.

  “Good.” He rubbed his hands together. “This way,” he cackled. “We don’t want to be disturbed.”

  He led the way to a metal door painted green. Through the door were stairs leading down.

  The door clanged firmly behind us and shut out all the little noises of the closing school—kids running, teachers chatting, cars and buses leaving. Even if I screamed nobody would hear me.

  Our footsteps echoed on the stairs, the only noise. Mr. Clawson didn’t say a word. But he was close behind me.

  Down and down we went, deep below the school. I could feel the earth pressing on the walls around us.

  Dust hung in the air and there were already big spiderwebs in the corners even though the building was almost new. Big green pipes ran along the walls.

  Something clanked and gurgled ahead of us and I jumped in fear.

  Mr. Clawson chuckled quietly but he still didn’t say anything.

  We passed a room where the gurgling noise was coming from. Inside, a huge machine hummed and threw off heat.

  We turned a corner. The light grew dimmer.

  I didn’t think this was where the other kids came for detention. Probably most kids didn’t even know this creepy basement existed. Nobody would ever think to look for me here.

  “Here we are,” said Mr. Clawson heartily.

  We stopped before a heavy green door.

  A fat brown spider was busy building a web that attached to the doorknob. The startled spider made the mistake of running across Mr. Clawson’s hand when he reached for the knob and opened the door.

  “Gotcha, you little beast!” Smiling, the principal crushed the spider in his fist and dropped the crumpled body to the floor.

  “You’re gonna love it in here, wolf-boy,” Mr. Clawson growled.

  Beyond the door was nothing but darkness.

  He pressed a switch near the door and light flooded a small, windowless room. It was empty except for a wooden table and a couple of chairs.

  “Wait in here,” said Mr. Clawson, shoving me into the room. “I’ll be right back.”

  He hurriedly backed out and shut the heavy metal door behind him. I heard his footsteps heading back the way we’d come and then—nothing.

  I strained my ears for a sound of life outside. Some kids playing, maybe, or a janitor moving desks around. But no sound reached me in this faraway basement room.

  Sitting down at the table, I sighed and waited. I wanted to think about all the new things that had happened today but my mind kept jumping back to thoughts of Mr. Clawson. I couldn’t stop worrying.

  Where was he? What was he doing? Why did he hate me?

  I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It seemed like I had been in that room for hours.

  Maybe this was my whole punishment. Maybe nothing else would happen and soon Mr. Clawson would come and tell me to go home.

  The silence began to press on my ears. It felt like a heavy wet blanket wrapping my head.

  Maybe if I practiced my talking. “Hello,” I said, trying to break up the quiet. “My n-name is G-Gruff. Wh-What is yours?”

  But my voice was too loud. I tried it again in a whisper but even that was too loud. I was afraid I wouldn’t hear Mr. Clawson when he came to let me out. It seemed important that the principal shouldn’t hear me talking to myself.

  CLICK!

  What was that? I jumped up. It was right outside the door. But I hadn’t heard anyone coming.

  SNICK!

  That noise! I’d heard it before. I’d heard it this morning when Mrs. Parker locked the front door.

  No! I ran to the door and twisted the knob. It wouldn’t turn. I was locked in! And no one but Mr. Clawson knew where I was.

  “Help!” I yelled. “Help!”

  I pressed my ear to the door and listened. No one answered. No one came.

  But I heard whispering. Someone was out in the hall. Who? Why didn’t they answer me?

  I couldn’t make out what they were saying although I listened with all my might. I closed my eyes and concentrated. The whispering voices were coming closer. And closer.

  They were right outside the door. Something gave a low, evil chuckle.

  I jumped back from the door as if it were hot.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

  I looked around me. There was no place to hide.

  Then the lights went out.

  I was plunged into utter darkness.

  Chapter 13

  I’d never been afraid of the dark, but this was different.

  Deep underground in that spooky basement, no particle of light reached me. I stretched my eyes wide and saw nothing at all.

  Claws scratched at the outside of the locked door.

  I stumbled backward, knocking over a chair. The noise echoed in the black silence.

  The whispers grew louder as if the thing outside the door was pressed up against it, its lips to the crack between door and wall.

  I began to hear words.

  “Keep the secret, little one! Remember the three nights of the full moon. Remember the wereing or die. Keep the secret and save yourself!”

  There was a werewolf out there! The werewolves knew I was one of them. They knew I turned into a monster during the three nights of the full moon.

  But I had hidden from them and I hadn’t yet made my first kill. So I remained a boy the rest of the month. The werewolves were angry about that. Very angry. And unlike me, they could turn into monsters whenever they chose.

  I scuttled into a corner and pressed myself into the wall. Claws raked at the door and then began to scratch around the lock.

  “Remember who you are! Save yourself!”

  Panic bubbled through my blood, jumping and twitching under my skin.

  Had Mr. Clawson left me here for the werewolves to find?

  Claws scratched at the lock.

  Would they tear me to pieces? Or would they carry me off to live with them until the next full moon?

  SNAP!

  They’d gotten the lock open!

  I threw myself toward where I thought the table was. If I could get hold of a chair maybe I could fend them off for a few minutes.

  I was so scared I couldn’t think past the next minute when the monsters would be inside the room. Inside with me, in the dark where I couldn’t see them.

  My fingers grasped the leg of a chair. I wouldn’t let them take me.

  I heard the doorknob turn.

  The door began to creak.

  I scrambled to my feet, holding the chair above my head. I was ready to crash it down on the first werewolf through the door.

  Slowly the door swung open.

  Chapter 14

  Light flashed into my eyes.

  My arm jerked and the chair fell with a thunderous clatter.

  A figure slipped through the door into the room.

  “Gruff! What are you doing?”

  It was Miss Possum. She stared at me in amazement.

  “D-d-detention,” I stuttered. My eyes darted to the hallway behind her. Where were the werewolves?

  “Detention? Here?” She looked surpised. “Well, Mr. Clawson must have forgotten about you,” said Miss Possum. “It’s a good thing I came down for some supplies. And then I heard noises down this way.”

  She paused and peered back into the hallway, as if she’d missed something. “Strange,” she said, wrinkling her nose thoughtfully. “It sounded like an animal. I thought a cat might have gotten trapped down here.”

  I inched past her and peered out the door. There was no sign of the werewolves. Could I have imagined the whole thing? Could it have been a cat, like Miss Possum thought?

  “N-noises. Yes,” I said in a shaky voice. “Mr. Clawson has dog, maybe, or cat?”

  “Heavens, no,” said Miss Possum. “Mr. Clawson doesn’t have a dog. He doesn’t care for animals of any kind.” She touched my elbow and smiled kindly. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get out of here,” she said, steering
me toward the door. “Why don’t we go?”

  I peered into the shadows down the hall. Nothing moved.

  Tension began to flow out of my muscles. The darkness and the silence had spooked me, I thought. There never had been anything down here.

  Then my eye caught sight of something on the floor. Without thinking I stooped and picked it up. A cold invisible finger ran down my spine.

  “What’s that, Gruff?”

  Reluctantly, I opened my hand and showed it to her.

  “Oh,” she cried. “Fur! I knew I heard a cat scratching. We’ve got to find it, Gruff. Will you help me? It’ll starve down here.”

  All my fear and dread came rushing back. No, I wanted to yell, it’s not a cat! It’s a monster that probably eats nice teachers for an afternoon snack!

  But Miss Possum was already hurrying down the hall making little “psst, psst” noises and calling out “Here, kitty, here, kitty.”

  I rushed after her but she disappeared around a corner before I could catch up.

  “Goodness, it’s dark here!” Her voice came from deep in the shadows. “Gruff, could you get the light? The switch must be on the wall in that hallway, there’s no switch here—

  “AAEEEEK! AAAA! EEEE!”

  Miss Possum’s scream stood my hair on end. I dashed after her, my heart in my throat, forgetting all about the light switch.

  CRASH! THUD!

  The werewolves had got her!

  Chapter 15

  I skidded around the corner.

  The hallway was dark but faint light filtered in behind me.

  I could see Miss Possum struggling with something big. It was hard to see in the shadows, but I was pretty sure it had long arms and a shaggy head filled with sharp teeth. Miss Possum never stood a chance.

  Her screams had stopped. All that came from her were little grunts and gasps.

  She must be badly hurt already!

  Snarling, I leaped onto the back of the werewolf.

  OOF!

  Something hard and pointed hit me in the stomach. The thing pulled away from me. Off balance, I went crashing to the floor.

  Heavy objects fell all around me. I scrambled clear, trying to find the monster.