Children of the Wolf, Page 2

  “Excellent,” said Mrs. Parker. “I’ll just give your hair a little trim and you’ll look quite respectable for your first day at school.”

  My neck felt strange and naked when she was done cutting my hair.

  Acting like a human was hard. And the worst part of my day hadn’t even started yet.

  Chapter 6

  Paul and Kim and I walked to school together. As we got close to the big square building I could hear the noise of kids running and yelling and shouting.

  Breakfast cereal congealed in my stomach.

  “Don’t be scared,” said Kim. “Everybody’s pretty nice here.” She made a face. “Well, maybe not everybody. But most people.”

  “I’ll watch out for you,” said Paul. “Just stick close to me.”

  But I wasn’t really scared. Nervous, maybe, but mostly excited. I’d learned that school was something all kids did and there were no grown-ups, except for something called teachers, whatever they were.

  True, these kids could do a lot of things I didn’t know about. But my wolf family was always doing things I couldn’t do and I’d been happy with them.

  But now I was with creatures like me—humans. I missed my wolf family terribly but I knew I’d never be a wolf. And here I didn’t need to have a super sense of smell or to run with the pack to find my food. Already I’d learned how to use a fork and a spoon and how to wear clothes. I was a human.

  It seemed to me the only hard thing I had to learn was talking. Humans were really good at that and used it for everything.

  But before I was ready we were in the school yard and there were kids surging and pushing all around me.

  I heard whispers. “It’s the wolf-boy! What’s he doing here?”

  “Wow, he looks almost normal.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He’s got a wild look in his eye.”

  “I wonder if he has a name.”

  “Go ask him. I dare you!”

  It got weirdly quiet. Kids stopped yelling and playing to stare at me. Not knowing what else to do, I kept moving, my eyes darting around, afraid to look at anyone.

  Then someone shouted, “Hey, wolf-boy! What’d you have for breakfast—chopped baby?”

  The crowd of kids laughed like it was the best joke they’d ever heard. Their laughter sounded mean, cruel.

  Suddenly I realized I’d lost Paul and Kim somewhere in the crowd. I was all alone!

  Somebody started barking and a bunch of other kids joined in.

  “RUFF, RUFF …”

  “WOOF, WOOF …”

  “AOOOH, AOOOH!”

  I wanted to cover my ears and slink away but I didn’t dare show how scared I felt. My wolf family had taught me that. Turn tail and everybody chases you. They can’t help it.

  Stand tall and sometimes it works.

  So I stood tall and glared at the kids who were barking. A couple of them stopped and one even turned away. But the others laughed even harder.

  Then one boy pushed through the crowd around me. He was a big kid with spiky blond hair and a nasty expression.

  He came up close. “Hey, wolf-boy,” he said, sneering down at me. “What do you want here? We don’t need you.”

  I swallowed hard. Even if I had the words I wouldn’t know what to say. I hoped he wouldn’t notice I was shaking.

  “What’s the matter, wolf-boy, cat got your tongue?” He squinted at me, pushing his face so close to mine our noses were almost touching. I just stood there frozen, not moving an inch.

  “He can’t talk!” someone yelled while I was still trying to figure out how a cat could have my tongue—anyone could see there were no cats here.

  “That’s right, you can’t talk,” said the big kid, raising his voice for the crowd of kids. “But I’ll bet you can fight.”

  Suddenly he reached out and shoved me. Taken by surprise, I stumbled backward. The crowd of kids moved back, making a circle around us.

  Some of them started chanting. “Come on, Big Rick! Show him, Rick! Hit him, Rick!”

  “Get ’em up, wolf-boy,” said Big Rick. “I know all about you, you weirdo. I’m going to mop the floor with you. You think you can come here and make trouble, you’re wrong. You can fool some of the grown-ups but not me. I know what you are.”

  Fear shot through me. What did he mean? How could he know about me? Nobody knew my horrible secret except my wolf family, and they weren’t telling.

  The werewolves! They knew—could this boy be one of them?

  “Stop it, Rick, stop! Let me through!”

  It was Paul. I turned to see him break away from two boys who were holding him.

  I felt a rush of relief. My friend was going to help me!

  Then something hard smashed me in the face. Pain exploded along my cheekbone.

  I was so surprised I just stood there, my hand to my face.

  I felt like I’d run into a tree. But it was just Rick’s fist. He had hit me when I wasn’t looking.

  “Come on, wolf-boy,” he taunted. “You chicken?”

  Paul appeared by my side. “Leave him alone, Rick,” said Paul, his chest heaving with exertion. “He hasn’t done anything to you.”

  “Beat it, squirt,” said Big Rick and shoved Paul so hard he fell down.

  Inside me, something snapped. He had no reason to hit Paul!

  Suddenly I knew I was going to fight this bully and beat him. He had never wrestled with Sharpfang, my wolfbrother. Sharpfang was all muscle and teeth. Rick was all mouth.

  I went into a fighting crouch and snarled at him from deep in my throat. It was a good deep menacing snarl but I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

  Rick dropped his hands and backed off, a look of fear and horror on his face.

  Then I noticed he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking behind me.

  Something heavy fell on my shoulder. Claws dug into my flesh.

  And behind me something snarled.

  Chapter 7

  I spun around.

  Red eyes burned into mine. “Caught!”

  At first I thought a werewolf had grabbed me in broad daylight! Terrified, I couldn’t have pulled away even if the grip on my shoulder wasn’t so tight.

  Then I realized it wasn’t a werewolf after all—just a man with gray hair sprouting out of his ears and bloodshot eyes. But the way he was looking at me was still scary.

  A ripple went through the kids behind me. “The principal!” They whispered in frightened voices. “Mr. Clawson is here!”

  Mr. Clawson ignored everyone but me.

  “I knew there’d be trouble with you,” he said through clenched teeth. “School hasn’t even started yet and already you’re fighting.”

  Paul spoke up. “But, Mr. Clawson,” he said, “Gruff didn’t do anything. It was Rick who started it.”

  Mr. Clawson scowled at him. “When I want your opinion, Paul Parker, I’ll ask for it. We’ve never had a problem with fighting in this school. And we’ve never had a wolf-boy either.”

  A bell rang and all the kids started to line up. I tried to move off with Paul but Mr. Clawson tightened his grip again. “I want to speak to you in my office. And then we’ll decide what to do with you.”

  Mr. Clawson marched me across the school yard and through a side door. We turned into a room where a woman sat tapping at a machine on her desk. She looked up and smiled.

  It was a friendly smile, like she was pleased to see me. I started to relax a little but Mr. Clawson marched past her like she wasn’t there. Her smile wobbled as if a thundercloud had passed.

  At the back of this room there was another door. Mr. Clawson opened it and pushed me inside. Then he pulled the door shut, leaving me alone.

  The room was dark. There was a window but the shade was pulled down. The things in the room seemed to watch me. And they didn’t like what they saw.

  Nothing in the Parker house had prepared me for this room. At the Parkers’ everything was new and shiny, mysterious maybe, but not scary. Mr. Clawson’s thi
ngs were old, older than I could even imagine. And they seemed to radiate a feeling of menace.

  On a big wooden desk with clawed feet a strange battered thing shaped like a metal head stared blindly at me, with slits where the eyes should be. Beside it was another weird object with three big screws. I shuddered and backed away.

  And the walls! At the Parkers’ house the walls were covered with pretty pictures of the outdoors. But instead of pictures Mr. Clawson had put up evil-looking weapons. In the center of the wall hung a big club with sharp metal spikes sticking out all over the end. This club had brown stains on the spikes and what looked like bits of hair. I leaned closer. It was hair!

  Behind me the door opened. I jumped.

  “Now we won’t be disturbed with any interruptions,” said Mr. Clawson, shutting the door firmly behind him. He leaned against it, studying me. There was a smile on his face, but it was a strange kind of smile. His eyes were as cold and gray as river pebbles.

  “I see you’ve been admiring my collection of medieval weapons,” he said in a cold voice. “Unfortunately, I’ve never had a chance to use any of them—yet.”

  He moved to the desk and I flinched as he brushed past me. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, resting his hand gently on the small metal object with the screws. “Some principals keep pencil sharpeners on their desks,” he said with a growly chuckle. “But this is no pencil sharpener. It’s something much more useful. Can you guess what it is? No? It’s a thumbscrew. Ingenious device and so simple. Let me show you how it works.”

  He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a small bowl of plump purple grapes. He put two of them in the shallow spaces between the screws, then began to turn two of the screws. As they turned, metal plates slowly squished the grapes until—PLOP!—they burst, spewing reddish pulp all over the polished desk.

  Mr. Clawson sat back and laughed. “Imagine what that could do to a man’s—or a boy’s—thumbs. Clever, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, putting my hands behind my back. My chest tightened.

  “And this,” said Mr. Clawson cheerily, laying his thick hand on the top of the metal thing that was shaped like a head. “This is armor. A helmet. It protected a man’s head from arrows and stones. You can see the dents,” he said, signaling me to come closer.

  My legs felt wooden. Stiffly I approached the desk.

  “It’s too small for me but perhaps you’d like to try it on.” Mr. Clawson’s eyes gleamed.

  I shook my head no and backed away.

  Mr. Clawson frowned. “Of course you would. Any normal boy would.”

  He picked up the head and came at me. There was no place for me to go. Numbly I stood there while he raised the thing over my head and then lowered it over my face.

  It was dark. I couldn’t see a thing. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Clawson. “That’s better.” He chuckled to himself and I heard him move away.

  Panicky, my breath was hot against my face. I needed air. I pushed up on the metal around my neck but couldn’t get it off. It was stuck!

  I was suffocating.

  Chapter 8

  I pushed harder at the suffocating helmet, my heart fluttering. It slid an inch and I could breath again.

  I could also see a narrow slice of the room through the eye slit.

  Mr. Clawson was taking the spiky club with the hair stuck on it down from the wall. “This club is called a mace,” he said calmly. “A blow to the head from one of these could be pretty nasty, even with armor.”

  He bounced the club in his hand, careful not to hit himself with the spikes, and looked at me, narrowing his eyes.

  “This is a nice town,” he said. “A new town, built around a fine company—Wolfe Industries, not that you’d know anything about that. And this is a brand-new school. It’s my school and I’m going to run it the way I please, understand?”

  I nodded, feeling the metal armor bang the back of my head. I couldn’t take my eyes off the club, bouncing against his hand.

  “You’re a troublemaker and you don’t belong here.”

  My face was hot. I felt like I was going to throw up inside the helmet. My hands were clammy with sweat.

  “And no one would miss you if you just disappeared, would they?” Mr. Clawson took a step toward me, hefting the club and smiling a secret smile.

  Paul would, I wanted to shout. Kim would! And Mr. and Mrs. Parker. But I couldn’t speak. I was choking.

  “Oh, the Parkers might experience a pang of regret,” Mr. Clawson sneered. “But they’d understand. The wild wolf-boy couldn’t handle his first day of school and ran off back to the swamp. Perfectly understandable, don’t you agree?”

  Mr. Clawson took another step toward me, then another. Slowly he raised the club. “No one will question it if you disappear.”

  I tried to cry out but my voice was muffled inside the helmet.

  Mr. Clawson showed his long, yellowish teeth in a cruel smile. “I sent my secretary on an errand,” he said. “There’s no one in this part of the building but you and me.”

  He came closer. I couldn’t see his face anymore through the eye slit. All I could see was his big broad chest and the arm raising the club over my head.

  I backed away and bumped against the door. The door! I had to get out! Quickly I scrabbled for the doorknob behind me. I couldn’t find it!

  Ducking sideways, I felt frantically for the knob. At last, there it was.

  I gripped the knob but it wouldn’t turn! My hands were too slick with sweat. They slipped right off.

  And then it was too late. My time was up.

  Mr. Clawson grunted with effort as he brought his arm back for a better swing.

  I threw myself sideways but there was no room to escape the blow.

  I heard a whoosh! of air, a terrible banging, ringing noise, and then nothing.

  Nothing but darkness blacker than night.

  Chapter 9

  Blood hammered in my head, making a dull thudding noise in the blackness surrounding me.

  Something scraped hard against my ear.

  “OW!”

  I was jerked to my feet.

  Panic leaped in my chest.

  My ear felt like it was being sawed off.

  Suddenly light flashed into my eyes, blinding me with brightness. A rush of cool air blew over my face. The helmet was off my head.

  I gulped in air and a shadow passed over me. My eyes cleared. I jumped and let out a yelp of fear.

  Mr. Clawson’s face was an inch from mine. His eyes were peering intently at me. He grunted.

  “You certainly are a jumpy boy,” he said with a satisfied grin. He put the old armor helmet back on his desk and straightened, looking down on me from a great height.

  “And now you’ve had your first lesson.” Mr. Clawson put his hands on his hips. “Which is that I run things and I know how to deal with troublemakers, right?”

  I nodded, swallowing nervously.

  Without taking his eyes off me, Mr. Clawson reached into his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. He glanced at it briefly. “I’m going to put you in Miss Possum’s class with Paul Parker. For the time being.”

  Miserable and frightened as I was, I felt a surge of hope.

  Mr. Clawson noticed. He narrowed his eyes. “I still think you belong in a special school for creatures like you. A place where they have locks on the cages”—he grinned slyly—“I mean the doors.”

  I blinked, feeling the little warm spot of hope grow cold.

  “But,” Mr. Clawson raised his voice, “against my better judgment I’ve decided to give you a chance to prove you can make it with normal kids. If not—”

  Mr. Clawson broke off suddenly and stared at his office door. The doorknob was turning.

  Mr. Clawson’s face turned purple.

  His eyes began to bug out.

  He bared his teeth and I could have sworn they were sharper and yellower.

  In one long stride he reached the door and y
anked it open.

  Chapter 10

  “Oh!”

  Paul stumbled into the office as the door jerked open. He almost fell as he let go of the doorknob.

  “Yes, Paul?” asked Mr. Clawson in a menacing voice.

  “Miss Possum asked me to see if Gruff was ready to come to class yet,” Paul answered, his voice trembling slightly.

  “I suppose so,” Mr. Clawson said reluctantly, shooting me one last, dark look. “But I’ll be keeping my eye on you, wolf-boy.”

  The halls of the school were deserted. I was so relieved to escape from the principal’s office that I hardly noticed at first. Then it started to worry me. Our footsteps echoed loudly in the stillness.

  “Where kids?” I asked, struggling to remember the right words.

  “Class has started,” said Paul. “Everyone’s in their classrooms. Come on, Gruff, we better hurry.”

  He stopped at a door, looked in the window and motioned me to look, too. “That’s our class,” he said.

  I looked in and saw rows of kids sitting motionless. None of them talked or smiled or moved. They just stared straight ahead at a lady who stood up in front and talked at them.

  My pulse started to race. Mr. Clawson ran this place! He had found some way to take over the minds of children. What was he planning?

  “What we do?” I asked Paul. “How we save them?”

  “Huh?” Paul shook his head at me. “Sometimes you don’t make any sense at all, Gruff. Come on, we’ve got to go in. Just stick with me and I’ll show you what to do.”

  Paul opened the door.

  “No, Paul!”

  Too late. He was already inside. I had to follow. I couldn’t leave him to rescue his friends alone. I hoped he had a plan.

  Taking a shuddery breath, I stepped into the room.

  Instantly, all eyes switched to me. The lady at the front of the room started to turn. I braced myself. I wouldn’t let her take over my mind, no matter what!

  “So, this is our new pupil,” she said, clapping her hands together.

  My knees began to tremble.

  “His name is Gruff,” said Paul. “Gruff, this is our teacher, Miss Possum.”

  She smiled at me. Miss Possum had rosy cheeks and very blue eyes. They crinkled when she smiled. She didn’t look in the least dangerous.