Beware the Ninja Weenies by David Lubar

Beware the Ninja Weenies by David Lubar

Author:David Lubar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates


POSER

I’d spent the morning walking around town, trying to find a summer job. No luck. Maybe I should have started looking before school ended, or during the first month of summer vacation, but I sort of put it off. Now, partway through July, it looked like all the jobs for kids had been snatched up.

I was heading home when I saw the poster. The ad was hand-printed in colored pencil on a sheet of paper that looked like it was torn from a drawing pad.

ARTIST’S MODEL NEEDED. MALE. AGE 10 TO 12. GOOD PAY IF YOU CAN STAND STILL.

There was an address at the bottom. I was pretty sure it was just a block or two away.

I realized there was a chance this could be some sort of trick. There were lots of creepy people out there. They were always warning us about that in school, and showing us safety videos with smiling people in vans who were pretending to look for lost puppies. But I wasn’t going to walk into some place without making sure I was safe. I was too smart for that. I got my phone and called my friend Tyler.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I’m checking out this job. It’s probably okay, but I don’t want to take any chances. I’ll keep my phone on. If you hear me yell or anything, hang up on me and call 911. Okay?”

“Sure. I’ve got you covered.”

I told him the address. I really didn’t think there was any sort of danger—not when the ad was posted right out there on the street, where anyone could see it—but it’s always a good idea to be careful.

The place was right where I thought it would be. The guy who answered the door looked like he was around thirty years old. He had a small paintbrush in his hand, and paint smears on the old denim shirt he was wearing. The odor of turpentine and bacon drifted out through the doorway. I guess he lived there. Past him, in a room down the hallway, I could see all sorts of artist’s stuff, like an easel and a bunch of canvases.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“The job for an artist’s model. That was your ad, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” He stepped back and stared at me for a moment, tilting his head different ways. “You’ve got the perfect look. Can you stand still for an hour at a time?”

“Can I wear my earphones?” I asked.

“Sure. As long as you don’t bounce around.” He started to walk down the hallway, then spun back and said, “Well, don’t just stand there.”

I followed him in, and he put me right to work. Though it felt weird to call it work, since all I had to do was stand there with my arms raised and my fists clenched like I was banging on a wall. While he was setting up his supplies, I pulled out my phone and told Tyler everything was okay.

“So I don’t get to call 911?” he asked.

“Sorry. No.



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