Read The Hamster of the Baskervilles for Free Online Page A
Authors: Bruce Hale
was kind of fun. Usually the teachers threatened
me.
Finally, the hedgehog backed down. Her quills lay flat.
"Very well," she said. "But know this: Someone at school brought that creature here. Some so-called scientist is playing with forces they cannot control. And I won't have it."
Stiff and chilly as a grasshopper Popsicle, Heidi LaRue turned and stalked through the open door.
"And why do you think that?" I called after her.
The hedgehog turned up her nose. "Teacher's intuition." Then she spun and left us.
Mr. Zero leaned forward, his broad belly mashing the desk. "I don't have to tell you to keep this under your hat," he said. "Do I?"
I gave him my wide-eyed look. "Do you think there'll be room enough under it for everybody?"
The principal's whiskers bristled. "Gecko, I'm only calling you in on this because you're a low-down snoop. And you've done some successful snooping in the past."
"So what's my pay?"
"The satisfaction of a job well done," said Principal Zero.
"I can't get no ... satisfaction," I said.
He stood. "Find out the lowdown on this werewolf and tell meâonly me."
"And what if the story slips out?"
"No slips," he growled, "if you want to stay at this school."
That straight line was too easy. I let it slide and watched the big cat stew.
His eyes narrowed to slits, and his ears went back. "Mrs. Crow," rumbled Principal Zero to his secretary, "would you show Gecko the door?"
"I can find it myself," I said. "I'm a detective."
12. Jack and the Beans' Talk
Strolling back to class, I twirled my hall pass and chewed over what I'd heard. I knew why Principal Zero wanted to keep this werewolf thing quiet.
Full moon was tomorrow nightâthe night of Science Fair. If some supernatural critter terrorized the big event, the school supervisor would bust Mr. Zero from fat cat to alley cat quicker than you can say
kitty litter.
My feet carried me toward Mr. Ratnose's room. But I stopped just down the corridor. I looked at the hall pass in my hand.
How often do you get a pass from a principal? A smile tugged at my lips. I'd be going back to class the long way.
***
By the time you reach second grade, you start to learn the ropes. If you need nursing, see the nurse. If you seek aggravation, bug a vice principal. If you want the lowdown, ask a librarian.
I eased open the library door. The air was chilly as a truant officer's smile. I caught a whiff of old books, fried brain cells, and high-test espresso.
Cool Beans was Emerson Hicky's head librarian and resident expert on the supernatural. An opossum the size of a refrigerator, he had a head for strange facts and a body for ripping phone books in half.
He was as hard to miss as a stegosaurus on a sesame-seed bun.
Cool Beans was shelving books. His sleepy eyes surveyed me from behind wraparound shades.
"What's the word, Winston?" he rumbled. "Did you fall by for a good book?"
"No, I need the hot scoop on a bad wolf."
"Lay it on me."
I pushed back my hat. "I've heard reports of a werewolf, or a were-hamsterâsomething like that, on campus. Is it possible?"
Cool Beans lifted a lazy paw to scratch under his blue beret. "Wolves are scarce round here, but there's more wild things in this wigged-out world than you can even imagine, daddy-o. And that's the word from the bird."
"Huh?"
"It's possible."
Questions chased each other like kindergartners after an ice-cream truck. I picked one. (A question, not a kindergartner.)
"But a were-
hamster?
" I said. "I've only heard of were
wolves.
"
Cool Beans pointed at a book on the cart. I passed it to him. As he slipped it into place, he said, "There's all kinds of were-crittersâwolves, bears, frogs, even bunnies. Why not a hamster?"
"But
were?
"
"Anywhere, man."
I shook my head. "No, I mean, what makes an animal
were?
"
"Oh, a curse, sometimes, or a bite from another were-thing. It bugs 'em out, makes 'em wild."
At this, an inner door opened and a student entered. She shuffled along,
me.
Finally, the hedgehog backed down. Her quills lay flat.
"Very well," she said. "But know this: Someone at school brought that creature here. Some so-called scientist is playing with forces they cannot control. And I won't have it."
Stiff and chilly as a grasshopper Popsicle, Heidi LaRue turned and stalked through the open door.
"And why do you think that?" I called after her.
The hedgehog turned up her nose. "Teacher's intuition." Then she spun and left us.
Mr. Zero leaned forward, his broad belly mashing the desk. "I don't have to tell you to keep this under your hat," he said. "Do I?"
I gave him my wide-eyed look. "Do you think there'll be room enough under it for everybody?"
The principal's whiskers bristled. "Gecko, I'm only calling you in on this because you're a low-down snoop. And you've done some successful snooping in the past."
"So what's my pay?"
"The satisfaction of a job well done," said Principal Zero.
"I can't get no ... satisfaction," I said.
He stood. "Find out the lowdown on this werewolf and tell meâonly me."
"And what if the story slips out?"
"No slips," he growled, "if you want to stay at this school."
That straight line was too easy. I let it slide and watched the big cat stew.
His eyes narrowed to slits, and his ears went back. "Mrs. Crow," rumbled Principal Zero to his secretary, "would you show Gecko the door?"
"I can find it myself," I said. "I'm a detective."
12. Jack and the Beans' Talk
Strolling back to class, I twirled my hall pass and chewed over what I'd heard. I knew why Principal Zero wanted to keep this werewolf thing quiet.
Full moon was tomorrow nightâthe night of Science Fair. If some supernatural critter terrorized the big event, the school supervisor would bust Mr. Zero from fat cat to alley cat quicker than you can say
kitty litter.
My feet carried me toward Mr. Ratnose's room. But I stopped just down the corridor. I looked at the hall pass in my hand.
How often do you get a pass from a principal? A smile tugged at my lips. I'd be going back to class the long way.
***
By the time you reach second grade, you start to learn the ropes. If you need nursing, see the nurse. If you seek aggravation, bug a vice principal. If you want the lowdown, ask a librarian.
I eased open the library door. The air was chilly as a truant officer's smile. I caught a whiff of old books, fried brain cells, and high-test espresso.
Cool Beans was Emerson Hicky's head librarian and resident expert on the supernatural. An opossum the size of a refrigerator, he had a head for strange facts and a body for ripping phone books in half.
He was as hard to miss as a stegosaurus on a sesame-seed bun.
Cool Beans was shelving books. His sleepy eyes surveyed me from behind wraparound shades.
"What's the word, Winston?" he rumbled. "Did you fall by for a good book?"
"No, I need the hot scoop on a bad wolf."
"Lay it on me."
I pushed back my hat. "I've heard reports of a werewolf, or a were-hamsterâsomething like that, on campus. Is it possible?"
Cool Beans lifted a lazy paw to scratch under his blue beret. "Wolves are scarce round here, but there's more wild things in this wigged-out world than you can even imagine, daddy-o. And that's the word from the bird."
"Huh?"
"It's possible."
Questions chased each other like kindergartners after an ice-cream truck. I picked one. (A question, not a kindergartner.)
"But a were-
hamster?
" I said. "I've only heard of were
wolves.
"
Cool Beans pointed at a book on the cart. I passed it to him. As he slipped it into place, he said, "There's all kinds of were-crittersâwolves, bears, frogs, even bunnies. Why not a hamster?"
"But
were?
"
"Anywhere, man."
I shook my head. "No, I mean, what makes an animal
were?
"
"Oh, a curse, sometimes, or a bite from another were-thing. It bugs 'em out, makes 'em wild."
At this, an inner door opened and a student entered. She shuffled along,