Pirates of Underwhere by Bruce Hale

Author:Bruce Hale
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2008-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

The Brush-Off

After some effort, we managed to catch the zombie lizard in a bottle. Fitz kept staring at it with round yellow eyes.

Since someone had seen the Throne in action, we figured we’d better move it. Hector, Zeke, and I lugged the thing back to our house. We left it in the backyard under a blue tarp.

The Brush we stashed in my dad’s office—a room so messy, small animals have disappeared in it.

At school the next day, Zeke and I kept eyeing Melvin and the other boys in class. Which one was the spy? And what would he do with his knowledge?

When second recess rolled around, I waited until the classroom emptied to talk to Mrs. Ricotta. I hate to have an audience for bad news.

“I, uh, need to miss part of Mathletes practice today,” I said.

Her brown eyes looked concerned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s—well, yes,” I said. “I mean, not wrong, exactly, but it will be, if—”

I hated to lie to Mrs. R. But how do you tell your teacher you need time off to save the Undies?

“Mathletes is a very serious commitment,” she said.

“I know that.” I twisted a pencil in my hands.

“I can’t have my people dropping out for any old reason,” said Mrs. Ricotta. “It wouldn’t be fair to the team.”

“Please,” I said. “Just this once.”

She bit her lip. “Well, all right. This one time. But you finish your business quickly and come right here.”

“Thanks, Mrs. R!” I said. “You’re the best!”

I rushed outside to tell Zeke and Hector. They were sitting on a low wall by the basketball courts, looking glum.

“Cheer up!” I said. “Mrs. Ricotta’s going to let me miss part of practice today. I can come meet the pirates in Underwhere.”

Zeke barely looked up. Hector said, “That’s nice.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Where’s the happy? What’s going on?”

“He lost it,” said Hector.

“Lost what?” I said. “His mind? His looks? Don’t worry—he’s never had ’em to lose.”

Zeke sank his head in his hands. “The Brush,” he muttered.

“You’re kidding,” I said. “Right?”

Hector shook his head.

“But the Brush is safe at home in Dad’s office.”

“Was,” said Zeke.

I clenched my jaw. “What did you do, dwarf brain?”

“I, uh, used it on my homework last night—just to check the answers.”

“You what?” I cried. “That’s cheating!”

He looked up. “I didn’t mean to cheat. It was just an experiment. And it gave me all the right answers.”

Hector smirked. “That’s a first.”

“So?” I said. “Then you brought it to school. What for?”

Zeke’s shoulders slumped. “A lie detector.”

“Huh?” I crinkled my forehead.

“He rubbed it on Melvin,” said Hector.

“You didn’t!” I said.

“I did.”

“Then he asked Melvin if he’d been spying on us,” Hector continued.

“You didn’t!” I said.

“I did.”

“Then Melvin grabbed the Brush, hit Zeke, and stole it,” Hector finished.

“He didn’t!” I said, pushing Zeke with both hands.

“Ow!” he cried. “Stop shoving! He stole it, not me.”

I fumed. Of all the hare-brained, numbskulled bozos, my brother had to be the harey-brainiest and numbskulliest.

“But Melvin would never have swiped it if you hadn’t taken it from home and brushed him with it!” I said.

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