Homeroom Headhunters Read Free Page B

stalls.
    Turning around, I looked up at the ceiling as a fiberglass panel slipped back.
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding me.…”

omething very strange was going on here.
    Somebody was screwing with me.
    But before I could do anything about it I had to suffer through second period.
    I had Scotch-taped one of Sully Tulliver’s MISSING flyers to the inside of my three-ring binder. That way she’d stick with me through all six periods.
    â€œAny bright ideas on how to survive the next fifty-eight minutes?” I asked the picture.
    I could almost hear Sully answer: Set your desk on fire?
    â€œI’ve got a better plan.…”
    I took a seat at the very back of the room and assembled my sharpest pencils.
    â€œToday, we spearfish for medium-textured, fine-fissured fiberglass ceiling panels.…”
    Thar she blows!
    My record from my old school was six pencils in thirty minutes—and on day two here at Greenfield, I planned on obliterating my top score, in world history class.
    â€œWish me luck,” I whispered to Sully’s picture.
    â€œCan I get everybody’s attention, please?” Mrs. Witherspoon called out just as the bell rang. “Time for our oral presentations.”
    My chest seized. Oral— what ? My mind drew a blank.
    â€œTwo minutes,” she said. “Topic of your choice. Now, who’d like to go first?”
    Witherspoon wouldn’t pick me. Not on my second day. Not with only one day to prepare. That would be too cruel. No teacher is that—
    â€œMr. Pendleton.” Mrs. Witherspoon zeroed in on me, a hunter eyeing her quarry. “Might I ask what all the pencils are for?”
    â€œYou can never be too prepared, ma’am.”
    â€œMaybe you’d like to start us off, then?” Mrs. Witherspoon suggested. “What better way for you and the class to get acquainted.”
    Everybody’s heads turned. No one looked all too happy to be making my acquaintance.
    Where did this pack of rabid werekids come from? It was like they could sniff the fresh-student smell on me and were ready to pounce.
    â€œIs it possible to take a rain check?”
    â€œJust because you’re new to our school doesn’t mean you can come unprepared to my class, Mr. Pendleton. What sort of example would that set?”
    Was that … a challenge? I do believe so.
    Greenfield really hadn’t rolled out the red carpet for me. First, Riley sent me toilet diving. My clothes were still damp. And now Mrs. Wither whatever had to throw down the gauntlet.
    I had tried to play nice—but she’d clearly provoked me.
    I’d suffered enough indignities.
    Time for payback.
    â€œWell, I guess when you put it that way… I’d love to .”
    â€œI have my stopwatch ready to go whenever you are.”
    I took my time walking up to the front of the class, sensing each and every eye on me. My classmates’ stares practically pinned my limbs to the blackboard like a frog about to get dissected.
    Not one of them knew what to make of me.
    Or cared.
    Here’s a bit of advice for the newbies, courtesy of yours truly: The best defense is a good offense.
    Looking around the room, I could tell I wouldn’t be making any BFFs here. If I was going to crash and burn, I might as well have some fun with it.
    â€œI recently moved here from…”
    I scanned over the maps of the world wallpapering the classroom, thinking of a million and one other places I’d rather be.
    â€œâ€¦Papa New Guinea,” I said.
    â€œDon’t you mean Pa pua New Guinea?” Mrs. Witherspittoon asked. “The islands in the southwestern Pacific Ocean?”
    â€œThat’s what I said,” I said, as if I actually knew what I was saying. “Didn’t I just say that? Have you ever been to Papua New Guinea before, Mrs. Witherspork?”
    â€œSpoon,” she corrected me. “It’s Wither spoon .”
    â€œWell—