Even though I went to school every day, I didn’t see the inside of a classroom again until the middle of the next week. That was because I had to sit in the Mancatcher’s office for the next five days. The teachers sent down work for me, but I didn’t understand it, so I don’t know what the point was.
On Wednesday Mr. Ketchum decided he had had enough of me, and said I could start going to class again. Like it was a big gift or something.
He personally delivered me. I was hoping we would go during first period, so I could go to home economics. I didn’t hate the class as much as I had
expected to, and I really liked Miss Karpou, since she was a little goofy and made funny mistakes. I think she liked me, too, which was a nice change from most teachers, I want to tell you.
As things worked out, I had to wait until second period, because first period the Mancatcher was busy bawling out Orville Plumber. I thought this was pretty funny. Only I didn’t laugh about it because if Orville had heard me, he would have plugged me good later.
“Ready for your grand return to society, Mr. Dougal?” asked the Mancatcher when he was done with Orville.
I nodded. The Mancatcher nodded back and gestured toward the door. I went out first.
When we got to science class, the teacher, Andromeda Jones, was getting ready to do a demonstration of static electricity.
“Now, class, I need a volunteer,” she was saying as we walked in.
I had no intention of volunteering. After all, Ms. Jones was one of the new people to come on staff since last year, which meant that she was a prime candidate for being the alien. So who knew what that machine was really for?
Besides, I thought the way she dressed was silly. She wore a lot of that safari stuff—you know what I mean, khaki clothes with more pockets than an eighth grader has zits. I had heard a rumor that she claimed she dressed that way because teaching junior high was more dangerous than making a trek through the jungle, but I don’t know if that was true or not.
Anyway, after about twenty seconds went by without anyone volunteering, the Mancatcher pushed me forward. “Duncan will be glad to participate in your demonstration, Ms. Jones,” he said cheerfully.
“Not me! Uh-uh. No way.”
The Mancatcher leaned down next to me and whispered, “Duncan, you
haven’t begun to learn how unpleasant I can be. Unless you want to spend the next five days in my office learning a new definition of misery, get up there and participate in this experiment.”
I sighed and walked to the front of the room. People started to giggle and snicker, which only made things worse. I started to blush. It’s just as well the Mancatcher was there. Otherwise I probably would have bopped someone.
“Listen up, everyone,” said Ms. Jones. “The purpose of this demonstration is to give you an idea of how free-flowing electricity can affect things.” She motioned to a black kid sitting in the second row and said, “Marcus, I want you to crank the generator.”
Marcus smiled. “Sure thing, Ms. Jones.”
I wasn’t surprised that Marcus was smiling. One night last spring my father had gotten drunk and done some things that were pretty mean. I was still in a bad mood when I came to school the next day, and when Marcus had said something to me that I didn’t like, I knocked him down and jumped on his lunch pail. So of course he was happy to crank the generator for Ms. Jones.
Once Marcus was in place, Ms. Jones put a huge helmet over my head. It was made of clear material, with a couple of jagged lightning bolts painted on the front. Lumpy knobs extended from the sides and the top.
Once the helmet was in place, Mr. Jones told Marcus to start cranking.
My scalp began to tingle. My hair started to move, as if a slight breeze were blowing through it.
Within a few seconds everybody was laughing like crazy. I suppose I did look pretty funny, with my eyes wide and my hair standing straight up.
Funny or not, I hate it when people laugh at me. I was so mad I wanted to bop someone. Only I couldn’t, because the Mancatcher was right there.
So I held what I was feeling inside. But I had had it. Forget trying to save the world. For all I cared, the aliens could come and take everyone away.
Suddenly I stopped thinking about people laughing at me. Something else was going on, something weird. The inside of my head was starting to tingle. I felt like I had ants walking around inside my skull.
“All right, Marcus,” said Ms. Jones. “That’s enough.”
Marcus gave the machine an extra crank or two for good measure.
“Marcus!” snapped Ms. Jones. “I want you to stop now!”
Looking like someone had just stolen his candy, Marcus stopped cranking. I promised myself I would bop him as soon as I got a chance.
The class was still laughing. My cheeks were burning as I headed for my seat.
I sat down and tried to listen, but my head was still tingling from the
demonstration. I don’t think they should be allowed to do things like that to kids.
After school I had an idea. That was kind of neat, since it didn’t happen all that often. I decided I would go talk to Ms. Schwartz over at the elementary school. Since the alien had put her in a force field last spring, she might believe me when I told her about what I had found in the dumpster.
On the way, I saw a bunch of kids from the seventh grade standing in front of Sigel’s Pharmacy. They were talking and muttering, but when they spotted me they began to hoot and holler.
Susan Simmons stepped out of the group and walked over to where I was standing. She poked her finger into my chest and said, “I knew you were a creep, Duncan, but even I never thought you would sink this low. I’ve met earthworms that I respect more than I do you.”
I looked at her in shock. Now what had I done?
CHAPTER EIGHT