Trouble Magnet by Graham Salisbury

Author:Graham Salisbury [Salisbury, Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780375893933
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2009-06-16T07:00:00+00:00

“Get it!” Doreen screeched. “Kill it!”

Mr. Purdy blocked the door. The centipede ran toward him. Mr. Purdy raised his foot.

“Don't, Mr. Purdy! Don't kill it!”

Mr. Purdy looked at me. He looked at the empty jar. “I see,” he said, slowly lowering his foot. The centipede stopped and stood its ground. “You want to catch it for us, Calvin?”

I crawled up to the centipede and clamped the jar down over it. Trapped. It slithered up inside the glass. I flipped the jar right-side up and slammed the lid down.

I slumped back on the floor, catching my breath.

The whole class whooped and cheered and clapped.

Mr. Purdy stood looking down on me. He reached out and waggled his fingers.

I handed him the jar.

Mr. Purdy inspected the centipede. He held it up for Doreen to see. “Got him. No need to stay up there on your chair.”

Doreen didn't budge.

Julio crept back to his seat.

I looked up at Mr. Purdy.

“You,” he said. “Come with me.”

I stood and brushed myself off.

“Oooo,” the class taunted as I followed Mr. Purdy to his desk.

“Sssssss,” Mr. Purdy hissed.

“Sssssss,” the class hissed back, then fell silent.

“All right,” Mr. Purdy said. “The rest of you can go back to writing your paragraphs.”

At his desk, Mr. Purdy admired the centipede, turning the jar in his hand. “Sure is a big one.” He put the jar on his desk. With a screwdriver, he punched three holes in the lid. “Give the poor guy some air. He's had a hard day.”

Not as hard as me, I thought. “What do they eat, Mr. Purdy?”

“Bugs. However, he can go for days without eating. But let's talk about you.”

“Me?”

“What am I going to do with you? It's only the first day, Calvin.”

I shrugged and looked at the centipede. It seemed to be saying, This is all your fault, Coco-fool. Get me out of here.

Mr. Purdy tapped his fingers on his desk. “How many times have you messed up today?”

I shrugged.

Mr. Purdy sighed. “Do I have to send you to the principal's office?”

“No, sir.”

Silence.

“Tell you what. Next time, that's where you'll go. For now, I have something else for you. All this month, you're going to be our classroom greeter.”

No, no, Mr. Purdy, I pleaded in my head. Not classroom greeter, please, no, because classroom greeters had to stand at the door and shake hands with everyone and say “Welcome to class,” even the girls.

But I kept my mouth shut. It was better than going to the principal's office, where sometimes they called your mom.

“Go back to your seat, Calvin. See if you can write one simple paragraph without burning down the school.”

“Yes, Mr. Purdy.”

I slumped down in my chair and picked up my yellow pencil. I smelled the eraser, then stuck the pencil between my teeth and looked out the window.

When Tito popped back into my head, I bit down and snapped the pencil in half. I spat out slivers of wood and yellow paint.

How will I make it home alive?

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