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the center window, a small cloud hung much lower than a cloud is supposed to hang. Homer stared at it.
    And something in the middle of the cloud stared back at Homer.

Weird Cloud
     
    A cloud with eyeballs is perfectly acceptable in a fairy tale. And if the reader finds the cloud confusing, he or she can reread the chapter as many times as he or she wants until it makes sense. There might even be a glossary in the back of the book with a definition:
     
Cloud with Eyeballs—A distant cousin to Tree with Ears
.
     
    But in the real world, clouds with eyeballs are not supposed to exist. Even Homer, who believed in all sorts of things that weren’t supposed to exist, like the Lost City of Atlantis and King Arthur’s Camelot, felt dumbfounded. But a treasure hunter knows to listen to his gut, and Homer’s gut insisted that this was not a mirage. So he crept to the window to get a better look.
    Mrs. Peepgrass stopped chasing Gwendolyn. “Homer Pudding, what are you doing now? Why are you staring out the window?”
    “Um, there’s a weird cloud.”
    Mrs. Peepgrass pressed her hand to her bosom as she tried to catch her breath. “I swear, you Pudding children are going to be the death of me. Homer, this is not the time to talk about clouds. Gwendolyn, put those dead frogs away and get on with your presentation.”
    “Fine!” Gwendolyn set the frogs on the coatroom shelf, then, with her arms folded tightly across her chest, she took her place at the front of the classroom. Homer, however, stayed at the window.
    The cloud moved closer. The pair of eyes blinked. They were normal-size eyes, the kind you’d find on most people’s faces. When Homer tilted his head, the cloud tilted. When he tilted his head the other way, the cloud tilted the other way. It was the creepiest thing he’d ever seen.
    “Homer!” Mrs. Peepgrass screeched.
    Gwendolyn stomped her foot. “Homer!”
    Homer wasn’t trying to be rude. He didn’t know that his sister had spent ten hours in front of the mirror practicing her presentation. He didn’t know that she’d changed her clothes four times that morning or that she’d brushed her hair with one hundred strokes to make it extra smooth. What he did know was that a cloud with eyeballs was staring at him and that is why he said, loud enough for the entire class to hear, “That cloud has eyeballs and it’s staring at me.”
    As soon as those words left his mouth he regretted saying them, of course. But words, once they float out of someone’s mouth, are forever. If you could figure out a way to retrieve words, you’d become a very rich person indeed.
    All the students jumped from their chairs and ran to the window. “What cloud?” Carlotta asked, pressing so close that Homer could smell her bubblegum lip gloss.
    “I don’t see a cloud,” Beatrice said.
    “That’s because there is no cloud,” Melvin said. “Homer’s a liar.”
    Indeed, the cloud had gone. Homer leaned on the windowsill, craning his neck to look up at the sky. How could it have disappeared so quickly? Had it evaporated? Could eyeballs evaporate?
    Earl punched Homer’s arm. “Maybe the cloud’s lost. Maybe you should let it borrow your compass.”
    Mrs. Peepgrass clapped her hands three times. “Back to your desks everyone. Homer, where do you think you’re going?”
    “I’m going outside to look…”
    “This is not the time for games. Back to your desk, young man.”
    “Homer!” Gwendolyn curled both her hands into fists. Her face got all blotchy. “Stop being so weird. You’re ruining my presentation.”
    Homer shuffled back to his desk. He didn’t want to ruin his sister’s presentation, but he couldn’t shake off the image of those unnatural eyes. Maybe he’d eaten one too many huckleberry pancakes for breakfast. His body was so busy digesting the big lump of dough that his brain had gone all fuzzy.
    He slid low in his seat and pulled his English composition book closer to his face. While Gwendolyn