Pip Bartlett's Guide to Magical Creatures by Maggie Stiefvater

Author:Maggie Stiefvater
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2015-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

As this flock paddled up, all of the shiny green heads turned toward shore and muttered among themselves. To Tomas, they must have sounded like ordinary ducks quacking back and forth. But this was what I heard:

“Can you believe that girl’s dress? Does she really think yellow is her color?”

“She looks like a mallard duckling. Speaking of mallards, did you see that family of mallards by the docks? I am pretty sure they have lake fleas because they look so shabby.”

“Oh! Shabby! That reminds me of that grandmother we saw. Did you see her toenail polish? Is that what she considers fashion?”

“The times are changing.”

“Changing.”

“For the worse.”

“Except for us.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, look at that boy with tissues in his nose and that weird girl staring at us.”

“Maybe they have bread.”

“I don’t think they have bread. They look too stupid to have remembered to bring food to the island.”

“That girl wouldn’t share bread with us, anyway. I can tell. She’s staring at us like we’re pests. She’s the pest. Humans and lake fleas! They’re all so—”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I said, “Hey! I can hear you, you know!”

Tomas blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Not you! The Ducks.”

The line of floating Ducks blinked at me. One of them said, “You can understand us?”

“Yes,” I replied, as Tomas watched.

“Everything we said?” one of the other Ducks asked.

“Yes.”

The Ducks looked at one another. Then the first one said, “So don’t you agree that that girl in the blue bathing suit looks like a potato?”

I jumped up. “No! That’s a horrible thing to say about someone. Why are you always so horrible?”

The Ducks muttered under their breath before drifting a little bit away and glancing back at me. I heard one of them say, “Well, I guess someone’s feeling a little touchy today!”

There is absolutely nothing worse than a flock of judge-y magical Ducks.

“What did they say?” Tomas asked. He had one eyebrow raised. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not.

“I don’t think you want to know,” I replied. “They—”

Mr. Randall’s phone—which was still in my pocket—rang. I looked at the screen: It was the clinic.

“Mr. Randall!” I shouted down the beach. He was depositing Fuzzles on the sand, one every few yards; they smoldered nicely without igniting anything. I held up the ringing phone for him to see. “It’s the clinic!”

“Go ahead and answer. Might be your aunt calling back,” Mr. Randall said, then went back to dropping Fuzzles.

I tapped the “answer” button. “Mr. Randall’s phone, Pip speaking.”

“Pip? It’s me.” I recognized Callie’s voice at once. She said, “You and Tomas and Mr. Randall need to come back quick.”

“Why?”

“Because Mrs. Dreadbatch is here—sorry, ma’am—Mrs. Dreadbotch—is here and she’s mad. Something about a flaming truck?” Callie’s voice was irritated, and I could hear Mrs. Dreadbatch talking—well, yelling—in the background. Now that I thought about it, her voice was an awful lot like those Ducks.

“Pip? Are you there?” Callie asked. “On the phone, you have to talk.”

“I’m here. We just dropped the Fuzzles off. Mr. Randall’s almost done.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.