Read 18 - Monster Blood II for Free Online

rested above a flat wooden base.
    “Go ahead. Spin it,” Mr. Ross instructed, smiling proudly.
    Evan pushed the cylinder with both hands. It spun slowly over the wooden
base.
    “I call it ‘The Wheel’,” his father told him.
    Evan laughed. “That’s cool, Dad. You invented the wheel!”
    “Don’t laugh!” Mr. Ross replied, grinning. “That sculpture was accepted at
the annual arts competition at your school. I have to take it to the auditorium
later this week.”
    Evan gave “The Wheel” another spin. “I’ll bet no one else made a wheel that
really spins,” he told his father. “You can’t lose with this, Dad,” he teased.
    “Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor,” Mr. Ross muttered with a frown.
    Evan said good-bye and made his way out of the garage, stepping carefully
over the jagged pieces of brass and tin. As he headed to the house, he could
hear the clang clang clang as his dad hammered away on his impression of
a leaf.
     
    In the halls after school on Monday, Evan hurried around a corner and bumped
right into Andy. “I can’t talk now,” he told her breathlessly. “I’m late for
basketball tryouts.”
    He glanced down the long hall. It was nearly empty. The gym door opened, and
he could hear the thump of basketballs against the floor.
    “How come you’re late?” Andy demanded, blocking his path.
    “Murphy kept me after class,” Evan told her with a groan. “He put me on
permanent hamster duty. I have to take care of Cuddles every afternoon for the
rest of my life.”
    “Bad news,” Andy murmured.
    “No. That’s the good news,” Evan replied bitterly.
    “What’s the bad news?”
    “The bad news is that Mr. Murphy is also the basketball coach!”
    “Well, good luck,” she said. “Hope you make the team.”
    Evan ran past her, his heart pounding.
    Mr. Murphy is such a rat, he thought unhappily. He’ll probably keep me off
the team because I’m late to practice—even though it’s his fault I’m
late!
    Evan took a deep breath. No. Stop thinking like that, he scolded himself.
    Think positive. I’ve got to think positive.
    Sure, I’m not as tall as the other guys. Maybe I’m not as big or as strong.
But I’m a good basketball player. And I can make this team.
    I can make this team. I know I can!
    Having finished his pep talk to himself, Evan pulled open the double gym
doors and stepped into the huge, brightly lit gym.
    “Think fast!” a voice called.
    Evan felt his face explode with pain.
    Then everything went black.

 
 
12
     
     
    When Evan opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at about twenty guys
and Mr. Murphy.
    He was stretched out fiat on his back on the gym floor. His face still hurt.
A lot.
    He reached a hand up and touched his nose. To his dismay, it felt like a
wilted leaf of lettuce.
    “You okay, Evan?” Mr. Murphy asked quietly. As the teacher leaned over Evan,
the whistle that was on a string around his neck bumped against Evan’s chest.
    “Did my face explode?” Evan asked weakly.
    Some of the guys snickered. Mr. Murphy glowered at them angrily. Then he
turned back to Evan. “Conan hit you in the face with the basketball,” he
reported.
    “He’s got bad reflexes, Coach,” Evan heard Conan say from somewhere above
him. “He should’ve caught the ball. I really thought he’d catch it. But he’s got
bad reflexes.”
    “I saw the whole thing,” Conan’s friend, a huge hulk of a kid named Biggie Malick, chimed in. “It wasn’t Conan’s fault. Evan
should’ve caught the ball. It was a perfect pass.”
    Perfect, Evan thought with a sigh. He touched his nose again. This time, it
felt like a lump of mashed potatoes. At least it isn’t broken, he thought
glumly.
    Evan’s basketball tryout went downhill from there.
    Mr. Murphy helped him to his feet. “You sure you want to try out?” he asked.
    Thanks for the support, Evan thought bitterly.
    “I think I can make the team,” he said.
    But Conan, Biggie, and the other