Pigboy Read Free Page A

looked like he was in his thirties. His head was shaved. He had tattoos on his knuckles. I don’t know why I was surprised—I mean, who says farmers can’t have tattoos?—but I was.
    â€œI’m Ms. Creaser. I’m sorry. You must have been expecting Mr. Benvie,” she said. “He would have loved to come, but he’s got the flu.”
    The guy didn’t say anything. No “that’s too bad” or “give him my best” or anything like that. Mr. Benvie said they were friends, but the guy looked like he couldn’t care less. After a while, Ms.Creaser just started talking again.
    â€œThe class has been learning about traditional agriculture, and we’re all thrilled that you invited us to tour your farm.” That was stretching it a bit. I mean, I for one was not thrilled to be there. She smiled at him again. He just nodded.
    â€œHow did you get here?” he said.
    â€œBy bus,” Ms. Creaser said. You could tell she was wondering what she’d got herself into.
    â€œHow long are you staying?” he said.
    â€œWell, we have to be back at the school by 3:15 so we’ll leave about 2:00.”
    The guy nodded again. He looked at us. He looked at the bus. He chewed on a wad of something. He didn’t say anything for a long time. It was like he was figuring out what to do with us.
    He spat.
    â€œOkay,” he said after a while. “Let’s go.” He finally smiled. At least he was trying.
    His tour really sucked. I thought at first that it was a language thing, but after a while I realized that wasn’t the problem.He didn’t have an accent. He spoke English as well as we did.
    We walked through the barn. He was going, “That’s a shovel. That’s a pitchfork. That’s a cat...”
    Seriously. That’s what he was doing. I mean, how stupid did he think us city kids were? Like we wouldn’t know what a cat was? Everyone was rolling their eyes and sighing. Ms. Creaser glared at us.
    She tried to make the tour more interesting. We walked by these cows, and she asked how old they are when they start producing milk.
    The guy went, “Eighteen.”
    Ms. Creaser said, “Really? Eighteen years old? I didn’t think cows lived that long.”
    She was just surprised. She didn’t say he was lying or anything—but he swung around with this look on his face like he wanted to kill her.
    â€œWhat?” he went. “You think I don’t know what I’m talking about? That what you’re saying? Huh?” He swore under his breath. We all heard him. We were totally shocked.

    You don’t talk to Ms. Creaser like that.
    Everyone went quiet and just stared at the guy. Ms. Creaser was all red in the face. She was smiling, but it wasn’t a nice smile.
    She said, “Excuse me, Mr. van Wart, do you mind if we talk outside for a moment?”
    I wouldn’t have wanted to go outside with that guy, but Ms. Creaser held the door open like he was a kid in trouble. They both left. She closed the door behind her.
    All I could think about was getting stuck here in the dark with Shane and that pitchfork. Everyone was buzzing about how Ms. Creaser was really going to give it to van Wart. I hoped that would keep Shane occupied until she got back. I edged closer to Anna McCrae, just in case. She’s the nicest girl in class and pretty too. Shane usually tried to act halfway human around her.
    They were gone a long time. Shane had just made his first hog joke—“Anyone feel like a pig roast?”—when the door opened.

    The guy walked in. He was all red in the face. I figured he was embarrassed about being such a jerk.
    â€œYour teacher isn’t feeling well,” he said. “I’m in charge now.”
    He smiled.
    â€œNow we can have some real fun,” he said.

chapter six
    At first people were kind of nervous. Everyone was asking what was wrong with Ms. Creaser and