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• Господарське право
• Економіка будівництва
• Економіка природокористування
• Економічна теорія
• Земельне право
• Історія України
• Кримінально виконавче право
• Медична радіологія
• Методи аналізу
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• Міжнародний маркетинг
• Основи екології
• Предмет Політологія
• Соціальне страхування
• Технічні засоби організації дорожнього руху
• Товарознавство продовольчих товарів

Contents

Title Page

Welcome. You Are Most Wanted.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Preview: Goosebumps® Most Wanted Special Edition: Zombie Halloween

About the Author

Also Available

Copyright

Come in. I’m R.L. Stine. Welcome to the Goosebumps office.

Please excuse the mess. I was pickling some pigs’ feet for my dinner. But I had trouble getting them into jars, since the feet were still on the pigs.

I had the same problem last week with lamb chops. I didn’t know you had to remove them from the lamb first!

I don’t really enjoy cooking. I just like to eat living things. I think it’s a lot more fun when your food is still moving — don’t you?

You are my second visitor today. This morning, my invisible friend came to visit. What a shame. I had to tell him I was too busy and I couldn’t see him.

I see you’re admiring the WANTED posters on the wall. Those posters show the creepiest, crawliest, grossest villains of all time. They are the MOST WANTED bad guys from the MOST WANTED Goosebumps books.

That poster you are studying is of Mrs. Maaargh. She’s a teacher. And yes, as you can see, she’s also a monster. That’s why her students call her Creature Teacher — but only behind her back.

A boy named Tommy Farrelly can tell you all about her.

Tommy met her at a very strange summer camp, a camp for winners. The problem is, Tommy may not ever return from this camp — unless he can find a way to pass Creature Teacher’s Final Exam.

Go ahead. Read Tommy’s story. You’ll soon find out why Creature Teacher is MOST WANTED.

My name is Tommy Farrelly. I’m twelve, and I wanted to hang around home with my friends this summer. But that’s not happening.

My parents are forcing me to go to Winner Island Camp. What kind of camp is that? Well, let me tell you the camp slogan. It’s: Winners Are Always Winners.

That’s right. It’s a camp where they teach you how to be a winner.

Now, I’m a totally normal guy. I’m happy most of the time. I do okay in school, mostly A’s and B’s. And I’ve got some good friends. So, I don’t mean to brag or anything. But I think I’m already a winner.

But that isn’t enough for my family. In my family, you have to be a WINNER. In my family, you have to be the fastest, or the luckiest, or the smartest, or the funniest, or the best, day and night.

My dad is a big, strong dude, about a mile wide. He played middle linebacker on his college football team, and they went to the national championship. Now he’s football coach at a junior college. All he cares about is winning.

My mom is a vice president at a bank. And she’s into long-distance bike racing. Sometimes she gets up at four in the morning and rides for sixty miles before breakfast.

Even Darleen, my six-year-old sister, is a superstar. She was reading huge books when she was four. Last year, she won the National Spelling Bee in Washington, DC, against a bunch of high school kids.

Get the picture? I like to chill with my friends and take it easy. How did I get in this family?

And now, here we were pulling up to the dock. In about an hour, the boat was going to come to take me to Winner Island. I saw a little white restaurant near the end of the dock. Above the door, a wooden sign carved like a fish read: ANDY’S FISH SHACK.

The lake sparkled blue and gold. The water rippled gently under bright sunlight. But my parents never take any time to enjoy a beautiful view.

We piled out of the car, and Dad cried, “Race you to the restaurant.”

Mom, Dad, and Darleen took off, running as fast as they could. Their shoes slapped the wooden dock. I took one last look at the shimmery lake. Then I trotted after them.

Darleen reached the restaurant door first. “I call the window!” she shouted. She pulled the door open and disappeared inside.

“First one to the table gets the biggest breakfast,” Dad said.

Do you see? Everything is a competition in my family.

Andy’s Fish Shack was small, with only a few tables. They had red-and-white checkered tablecloths. It was morning, but the restaurant smelled of chowder and fried fish.

A skinny old guy in a sailor’s cap and a long white apron was wiping glasses behind the bar. I guessed he was Andy. “Take any table, folks,” he called. The place was empty.

Darleen grabbed a seat by the window. I stopped to gaze at the long silvery swordfish mounted over the bar.

“Last again, Tommy,” Mom said, shaking her head.

Darleen giggled. “Tommy is always last.”

“That’s why we’re sending him to Winner Island Camp,” Dad said. “When he comes back in two weeks, you’d better watch out, Darleen. He’ll beat you to the table every time.”

She rolled her blue eyes. “No way.” My sister has a round face and crinkly blond hair. My parents say she looks like a little doll.

That makes her a winner again, since I’m kind of short and chubby, and I wear glasses.

The waiter took our breakfast order. Dad ordered three eggs and an extra helping of bacon to make sure he got the second-biggest breakfast. Mom competes by eating the least. “Could I just have the egg whites, please?” she asked. “And no potatoes.”

Wind off the lake rattled the window by our table. Outside, I saw a seagull dive into the water.

I had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t understand why I have to go to this camp,” I said. “I mean, seriously.”

“It’s only two weeks, dummy,” Darleen said.

“Don’t call me dummy,” I snapped.

Mom and Dad like it when Darleen and I fight. They say it shows we both want to win. It shows good competitive spirit.

My parents are weird — right?

“Your sister is right,” Dad said. “The camp is only two weeks, but it’s really going to toughen you up. You’re going to come back a different kid.”

Mom pulled the camp brochure from her bag. “Tommy, look what it says. There is a note from Uncle Felix in here. He’s the camp director.”

She read from the brochure. “When you arrive, you are a LOSER. But losers NEVER leave Winner Island.”

Those words gave me a chill. I mean, what does that mean — losers never leave? Where do they go? What happens to them?

Guess what? I soon found out. And it wasn’t pretty.

Andy set the breakfast plates on the table. Dad grinned. “I win. I got the biggest breakfast.”

“But my eggs are the yellowest,” Darleen said. It wasn’t funny, but Mom and Dad both laughed.

Dad practically emptied a bottle of hot sauce on his eggs. My family puts hot sauce on everything. Not me. I can’t stand the stuff.

“I don’t want to be a different kid when I come back,” I said. “I just want to be me.”

Darleen gave me a hard shove. “Who would want to be you?” she said. Again, my parents laughed as if that was the funniest joke in the world.

“Hey, I see the boat!” Darleen pointed out the window. “I saw it first! I saw it first!”

I turned and saw a white boat, moving fast toward us, bouncing on the blue-green water.

The heavy feeling in my stomach was now a huge rock. “Dad, this isn’t fair,” I said. “I’m two days late to this camp. It already started. The other kids will have a total advantage over me.”

He swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “That’s good for you, Tommy,” he said. He waved his fork at me. “You’ll just have to be even tougher.”

“Hey, I finished first!” Mom cried. She showed off her empty plate.

She usually wins the fast-eater prize.

We ate quickly. Dad dropped some money on the table and we hurried outside.

Seagulls screeched and flapped above the little boat as it bobbed up to us. A young man appeared on the deck and leaned over to tie a thick rope around the post on the dock.

His long brown hair fluttered in the wind beneath a red baseball cap turned backward. He had short brown stubble on his cheeks and wore ragged denim cutoffs and a red-and-blue camp T-shirt with the word Winner across the front.

He gave me a salute. “Are you Tommy?”

I nodded.

“Welcome aboard. I’m Jared. Jump on. Let’s go to Winner Island.”

A sharp wave made the boat bounce and tug at the rope.

My family gathered around me. Mom wiped a smudge of egg off my chin.

“Let’s say good-bye to the old Tommy,” Dad said. “Can’t wait to see the new Tommy.” He patted my shoulder. “Let’s see who can hug him the hardest.”

“No, please —” I started.

Too late. Darleen grabbed me around the waist. She tightened her arms around me with all her strength.

I heard a craaaaack. Pain shot up and down my body.

“My ribs!” I cried. “You broke my ribs!”

Groaning in pain, I hobbled onto the boat. Dad handed my duffel bag to Jared. He shoved it inside the cabin.

I gazed around, looking for other passengers. But of course, I was the only passenger. Camp had started two days before. We were late because my parents insisted on competing in a barbecue championship in Santa Fe.

The little boat bobbed from side to side. Jared pointed me to a bench seat at the back. “I know it’s a lake, but it gets a little rocky, dude,” he said. “Don’t throw up on the boat, okay? Only losers throw up on the boat.”

“Okay,” I said, dropping onto the bench. “No problem.”

He disappeared around the cabin to the front. A few seconds later, the motor started up with a roar. The boat bobbed away from the dock.

I waved to my family. They waved back. I knew they were about to have their race to the car.

They vanished from view as the boat scooted over the lake. The late morning sun sent gold ripples on the gentle waves. The water sparkled all around me. Above the boat, chattering seagulls followed us for a while. Then they gave up and turned back toward land.

Hypnotized by the shimmering gold in the water, I just sat and stared for a long while. My family seldom takes boats anywhere. Mom and Dad say they are too slow. But I found it relaxing to bob on the gentle waves and smell the fresh air.

I saw a stack of camp brochures beside me. I picked one up. It snapped me out of my relaxed mood. I gazed at a photo of the camp director, Uncle Felix. He was bald and kind of mean-looking, with narrow slits for eyes. He had a red bandanna around his neck.

I read another quote from Uncle Felix:

At my camp, you won’t just win, you’ll win BIG-TIME. We EAT LOSERS for breakfast at Winner Island.

“Whoa,” I muttered. I tossed the brochure to the floor.

“It’s just another sports camp trying to sound different,” I told myself. “And my parents totally fell for it.”

I wondered if they had tennis. Tennis and swimming are my best sports. My parents started giving me tennis lessons when I was about as tall as the racket. I’m not a great player. But my forehand is as good as my backhand.

I pulled out my phone. I tried to text my friend Ramon back home. Then I saw that I had no bars. I remembered what the brochure said — no phone or Internet anywhere near Winner Island.

I guess that’s part of being tough. You can’t complain to anyone about what a loser camp it is.

I stuffed the phone back in my pocket. I gazed around. Nothing but shimmering water on all sides. Like being on another planet.

I pictured the photos of Earth you always see taken from outer space. Nothing but a big blue ball.

How long was this boat ride? Were we almost there?

I stood up and looked for Jared at the front of the boat. But I couldn’t see him.

The boat rocked hard. I fell back onto the bench.

I wonder if I’ll make any friends at this camp, I thought.

I knew there would probably be a lot of rah-rah, gung-ho types competing to be the best. But maybe I’d find a few kids who were sent there against their will and who thought the whole thing was kind of crazy. Like me.

“Winner Island on the starboard bow!” Jared’s voice rang out from somewhere.

I stood up and turned to the front. There it was. I could see the island coming into view. I saw a sandy beach and a row of low, tangled trees. I saw a small dock poking out from the beach. On one side of the dock stretched a green field filled with kids playing some kind of sport.

The motor hiccupped as Jared brought the boat to the side of the dock. The boat tossed up and down, as if it didn’t want to be here.

I had that heavy feeling in my stomach again. Only two weeks, I reminded myself. It’s only two weeks.

Jared appeared. His face was sunburned and sweaty. “We made it,” he said. “Nice ride, huh? The lake was smooth as glass.”

“Yeah. Nice ride,” I said.

I heard shouts from the playing field. Jared gave me a boost onto the dock. Then he hoisted my duffel bag up beside me.

“Hope you have a good time, Tommy,” he said. His smile faded. He suddenly had this intense look in his eyes. “And hope I see you on the way back.”

What does he mean by that?

I ducked as a shadow rolled over me. It took me a few seconds to realize it was the shadow of a bird. I raised my eyes and saw a hawk swooping low over the beach.

Jared waved and disappeared into the cabin of the boat. I glanced around, wondering where I was supposed to go. I was still thinking about what he said: Hope I see you on the way back.

That wasn’t a warning — was it?

“Hey, dog!”

I spun around as a tall, bearded guy in a denim jumpsuit came trotting toward me. He had short, spiky brown hair and silvery eyes. I saw a gold ring in one ear and a sparkly stud on one side of his nose.

“Welcome to Winner Island,” he said. He raised a hand for me to slap him a high five. “Where are you from, dog?”

“Hartford, Connecticut,” I said.

He nodded. “Okay. Well … welcome. My name is Robb. R-o-b-b.” He grabbed my duffel bag. “I’ll take this to Cabin Twelve for you.”

“Thanks, Robb,” I said. “Should I follow you, or —”

I stopped when I heard the shouts. Angry cries from the playing field.

Was it a fight during a game?

I turned and squinted at the field, shielding my eyes from the sun with one hand. I gasped when I saw what was happening.

There were dozens of kids, and they were all battling. Shouting and groaning and grunting. Shoving, wrestling, tossing each other to the ground. A huge, horrible free-for-all.

And I saw two counselors — a guy and a girl in red camp T-shirts — standing there with their arms crossed, watching the battle. Just watching. Not trying to stop it.

“Robb, what’s going on?” I cried. “They’re killing each other. Why aren’t the counselors stopping it?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Stop it? Why should they, dog? That’s our morning warm-ups.”

My mouth dropped open. “Morning warm-ups?” I squeaked.

I realized my heart was pounding. I’d never been in a fight in my life. I’d never been in a shoving match. I’d never hit anyone, except maybe my sister. And that doesn’t count.

Was I going to have to do morning warm-ups, too?

What would I do? Fold myself into a ball on the grass. Yes. That will be me. I’ll be the kid rolling around in the grass, groaning in pain.

A loser.

Robb tapped my shoulder. “I’ll get this duffel bag to Cabin Twelve. You follow that path to Uncle Felix’s office. I’m sure he’ll want to say hi to you, dog.”

I nodded weakly. I was still thinking about morning warm-ups.

I hopped off the dock as Robb headed away with my stuff. The shouts and cries still rang in my ears as I followed the curving, sandy path away from the beach. The path led through a thick patch of smooth-barked trees. On the other side, I saw a bunch of wooden cabins. They were built in a circle around a large meeting area. I saw a burned-out campfire in the middle of the circle. And a bunch of little birds, black with pointy yellow beaks, poking in the dirt around it.

One cabin was bigger and taller than the others. A sign beside the door read STAFF ONLY. I figured that had to be where I’d find Uncle Felix’s office.

I stepped inside. I smelled coffee brewing. I saw three office doors in a row along a narrow hall. The door in the middle had a window. The name Uncle Felix was stenciled on the window.

I peeked in and saw a small waiting room with three folding chairs lined up against the wall. No one in there.

I pulled open the door and stepped into the waiting room. There was an office at the front of the room. I heard a cough and rustling sounds from the office.

Uncle Felix must be in there.

The door was closed. A sign read: DO NOT KNOCK.

So I took a seat on one of the folding chairs and waited.

And waited.

I could hear the man muttering to himself and clearing his throat on the other side of the door. So I cleared my throat, too, to let him know I was out here.

I gazed at the DO NOT KNOCK sign and waited. And waited some more.

Nothing to read in the room. Nothing to look at. I took out my phone and played Angry Birds for a while.

Finally, the office door opened and a man poked his head out. I recognized his bald head and red bandanna from the brochure. Uncle Felix.

He squinted at me. Then he took a few steps into the waiting room. “You’re Tommy Farrelly? Are you waiting for me?” he asked. He had a high whistle of a voice.

“Yes,” I said, tucking my phone back into my pocket.

He squinted at me some more. “Why didn’t you knock?”

I pointed to the sign. “It says not to knock.”

He frowned at me. “Well, you failed the first test. A winner doesn’t let a little sign stop him. A winner just steps forward and does what he wants.”

“Uh … sorry,” I muttered. What was I supposed to say?

He took a few more steps toward me. He was very short, maybe only a foot taller than me. And he was skinny with tiny arms and no muscles, and legs that looked like chicken legs beneath his blue shorts.

I can’t believe this little wimpy guy runs this tough camp, I thought.

“I’m Uncle Felix,” he said in his shrill voice. “You wanted to see me, right, dog? So, you should have ignored the sign and knocked.”

He put a hand on my shoulder and guided me back to his office. One wall was covered with photos of campers playing sports. He had a wide desk with nothing on it except for a phone and a pad of paper.

I took a seat in the folding chair in front of his desk. He stood behind his desk and studied me with his tiny black eyes.

“Have you met The Teacher yet, dog?” he asked.

“The Teacher? No. I just arrived,” I said. “I know I’m two days late, but my dad said —”

“The Teacher will show you a few tricks,” Felix said. “Yes, I know you’re a few days behind, dog. But she will whip you into shape.”

Whip me into shape?

I took a deep breath. “Why does everyone keep calling me dog?” I asked.

“Because this is a dog-eat-dog camp,” he answered. “You’ll soon learn. It’s eat or be eaten.”

For some reason, that made me laugh. People don’t eat people here — do they?

Felix talked like a tough guy. But he looked like a strong wind would blow him into the trees.

He adjusted his red bandanna. “Well, good luck to you,” he said. “You can report to Cabin J now.”

I started to stand up — then stopped. “Cabin J? But Robb said he was taking my duffel bag to Cabin Twelve.”

Uncle Felix leaned across his desk. “Who? We don’t have a Cabin Twelve. Our cabins are all lettered.”

“But — but —” I sputtered. “Robb said that —”

“Robb? Who’s Robb?” Felix demanded. “No one named Robb works for me.”

He paused for a second. I could see he was thinking hard. “Oh, wait,” he said softly. “Wait. I get it. Robb. Yes. This guy was having a little joke. Robb.”

“Joke?” I said.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Tommy. But you’ve just been robbed. Some stranger took all your belongings.”

I wandered outside to find my cabin. I thought of the words in the camp brochure: Everyone arrives at Winner Island a loser….

Well, that definitely described me.

Robbed? Robbed by a guy who said his name was Robb? All of my belongings taken my first minute on the island. How could that happen to me?

Uncle Felix patted my shoulder as I left the staff cabin. “You’ve learned your first lesson, Tommy,” he said. “Don’t trust anyone.”

I felt kind of dazed. I had a tight feeling in my stomach. Sunlight danced in my eyes. Everything seemed too bright.

I don’t even have a toothbrush.

I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket. I had the crazy idea maybe I could call home. Tell my parents to send me all new supplies.

But, of course, the phone was useless here. No bars. No Wi-Fi. I jammed it back in my pocket.

Two big yellow dogs, barking ferociously at each other, raced in front of me. I nearly tripped over them.

It’s dog-eat-dog here.

They ran through the ashes and blackened logs of the dead fire, and chased each other into the trees.

I heard shouts from the playing field. Insects buzzed around my head. I brushed them away as I struggled to find the path that led to the boys’ cabins.

I couldn’t find any signs telling me where to go. Maybe this was another test. Find your cabin without any help.

What am I doing here?

The question kept repeating in my mind. I followed a sandy path into the trees. But it ended without leading anywhere. Birds began to squawk. I could still hear the dogs barking somewhere nearby.

“I’m a total loser,” I muttered out loud. “I can’t even find my cabin.”

I tried another path that curved away from the meeting circle. I found myself climbing a gently sloping hill. I could see small, white cabins at the top.

A girl wearing a red camp T-shirt and blue shorts came walking quickly down the hill. She had dark eyes and short, crinkly brown hair under a red baseball cap. She was swinging her arms as she walked.

She stopped when she saw me. Her dark eyes studied me for a moment. “Are you lost?” she asked.

I nodded. “How did you know?”

She pointed behind her. “These are the girls’ cabins.”

“I’m definitely lost,” I said. “I just got here a few minutes ago.”

“Two days late,” she said, brushing a fly off her knee. “That’s not good.”

“Do you like this camp?” I blurted out.

She shrugged. “I thought I wanted to be a winner. But —” She stopped and glanced around. She bit her bottom lip. Like she was suddenly tense. “I’m Sophie, by the way,” she said.

“Tommy,” I said. “I’m … looking for Cabin J.”

“Huh?” She blinked. “There is no Cabin J. The cabins are all numbered.”

I stared at her. Was Uncle Felix giving me another test?

“You’re the new guy, right?” Sophie said. “Then you’re in Cabin Twelve.” She pointed past the staff cabin. “Boys are on the other side. There’s a path over there.”

“Thanks, Sophie,” I said.

Her dark eyes darted all around again. “We’re not supposed to help each other,” she said in a low whisper. “We’re all competing, see. We have to battle each other.”

“But … why?” I asked.

“So we won’t be eaten,” she replied.

I laughed. “Dog-eat-dog?”

“It isn’t funny,” she snapped. “I’m serious. Have you met The Teacher?”

“No. I —”

“You don’t have to believe me now, Tommy. But when you meet The Teacher, you’ll know I’m telling the truth.”

I shielded my eyes from the bright sunlight. “What’s so scary about The Teacher?” I demanded.

“The Teacher is a monster,” Sophie said. “Her name is Mrs. Maaargh. And no joke. She’s really a monster.”

I laughed again. “So we’re all starring in a horror movie?”

“I’m serious, Tommy. I —”

“I get it,” I said. “Let’s play a joke on the new kid.”

Sophie scowled at me. Her big dark eyes made her expression intense, serious. But was I really supposed to start believing in monsters?

“I’m trying to help you,” she said, balling her hands into fists at her sides. “This camp isn’t what it seems to be. We’re here to feed the monster.”

She was suddenly breathing hard. “You know in the camp brochure where it says only winners leave Winner Island?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I read that.”

“Well, it’s true, Tommy. Because Mrs. Maaargh eats the losers.”

I couldn’t help it. Something about Sophie’s intense expression made me laugh again.

She stepped past me and started to stride down the hill. “I have to go. They’re watching us.”

“Seriously?” I said.

She spun around. “They’re always watching us. To make sure we don’t help each other. It’s dog-eat-dog, remember? I know you think it’s a big joke. But guess who The Teacher is going to eat?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Probably you. Because you’re two days late. And you’ll never catch up to the rest of us. And you think it’s a big joke.”

She sighed. “You’ll be the loser, Tommy. And you’ll never get off this island.”

“Give me a break,” I said. “Do you really expect me …”

But she was running full speed down the hill.

I stood and watched her until she disappeared into the trees. Does she think I’m dumb enough to believe there is a monster on this island? A monster who eats kids? I thought. Do I really look like that big of a sucker?

The sun was scorching my forehead and cheeks. I turned and started down the hill. I passed the burned-out campfire and the staff cabin.

A group of guys came out of the trees. They were walking silently. I saw that they were sweaty and covered in dirt. They walked past me without saying anything.

I found the other path and followed it up a hill. I could see a cluster of white cabins in a clearing up ahead. It took me a while, but I finally found the cabin with the number 12 over the door.

Success.

I pulled open the door and stepped into darkness. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light.

But before I could see clearly, a powerful wave of freezing cold water smashed over me, drenching me. It sent me staggering back to the door, spluttering and choking.

“Ohhhhh.” I collapsed to my knees, shivering in shock, struggling to catch my breath.

Shaking off water, I made ugly gasping sounds. A big kid came into view. He was holding a metal bucket.

He set it down and leaned over me. His black hair fell over his face. He brushed it back. And I saw the surprise on his face.

“Oops,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

Huh? Sorry?

He reached out to help me up. “I’m way sorry,” he said, brushing his hair back again. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Someone else?” Cold water rolled from my hair, down my forehead. My T-shirt was drenched, stuck to my body.

“A dude from Cabin Ten. I thought you were him. We’re having a water war.”

“W-war?” I stammered.

“He’s going to lose,” he said. “And I’m going to win. You’ve got to win here, you know. You don’t want to be a loser.” He grinned. “A good surprise splash like that will send me to the top of the chart.”

I squeezed water from my T-shirt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“You’ll learn.” He reached out and pulled me to a sitting position. “I’m Ricardo, by the way. Are you Tommy?”

I nodded.

“Then you and I are bunkmates here. We have this bunk all to ourselves. Sweet?”

“Sweet,” I replied.

I glanced around. I thought maybe my duffel bag had been delivered to Cabin 12 after all. But no. No sign of it. “All my stuff was stolen when I got off the boat,” I told Ricardo.

His eyes went wide. “Hey, mine too! A guy named Steele met me at the dock and stole my bags.”

“Guess they do it to everyone,” I said.

He nodded. “Yeah. You’ve got to be super-tough at this camp. No one gives you a break.” He dropped down on the edge of a cot. “Especially the monster.”

Not this joke again, I thought.

“You mean the monster that likes to eat all the losers?” I shook my head. “Every camp has stories like that. You really don’t expect me to believe —”

I didn’t finish, because Sophie came bursting into our cabin. She was panting and looked like she had been running hard. Her face was red. Her dark hair was damp and matted to her forehead.

“Tommy —” she cried breathlessly. “I … I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I … ran into Mrs. Maaargh,” she stammered. “She heard about you arriving two days late. She — she says she’s not going to wait till the end of camp. She’s going to eat you this afternoon!”

Ricardo’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open in shock.

Sophie just stood there panting like a dog.

I rolled my eyes. “Does she use silverware?” I asked. “Or will she cut me into triangles like a pizza?”

“This isn’t a joke!” Sophie screamed. “What is your problem, Tommy? Can’t you see I’m telling the truth?”

“When I first came here, I didn’t believe it, either,” Ricardo said. “But … Mrs. Maaargh is no joke.”

Sophie dropped down on the other cot. She wiped both hands back through her short, crinkly hair. “Uncle Felix didn’t hire her,” she told me. “She just showed up on the island. She’s here for a free meal. And he’s too wimpy and terrified of her to do anything about it.”

I still didn’t buy it. “You seriously expect me to believe that this monster eats kids?” I said.

They both nodded. “Uncle Felix said she could eat one camper. If she promises to let the others go home.”

I gazed at them both. They weren’t smiling. Their faces were totally serious. They didn’t look like they were playing a joke.

They were good actors. But they weren’t fooling me.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ve had enough.” I turned and started to the cabin door.

“Where are you going?” they both demanded.

“I’m going to find Mrs. Maaargh,” I said. “If she exists. And I’m going to put an end to your joke!”

“No! Don’t!” they both screamed.

But I was already on my way.

I clenched my jaw and flexed my muscles as I walked toward the staff cabin. Campers are all supposed to be tough here. Well, okay. I can be tough, too.

Uncle Felix said to ignore signs. He said a winner does what he wants.

I was tired of being a loser. I hadn’t even been in this camp for a full day, and already I was the camp loser. Ready to be eaten by a monster.

No way, I told myself. Tommy Farrelly is a winner.

I planned to put an end to this stupid monster story and show Sophie and Ricardo I wasn’t a loser.

I saw a crowd of kids outside the circle of cabins. There were at least a dozen, maybe more. And they were all running full speed. Running around and around the circle of cabins, sweat pouring down their foreheads. Their faces were red and tight with panic.

“Why are you running?” I called.

A girl with braids flying behind her head turned to me. “She lets the wolf out at noon!” she shouted. “Don’t just stand there — run!”

I shook my head. “Wolf?” I muttered. “You’ve got to be joking.

“Hey!” I jumped back as a bowling ball came bouncing over the grass.

“Can you toss that back to us?” someone called. I turned to see a boy and girl running toward me. “Can you toss that ball back? We’re playing dodge ball.”

“With a bowling ball?” I cried.

They both shrugged. “Don’t blame us. Blame Mrs. Maaargh,” the girl said.

“Dodge the Bowling Ball is one of Mrs. Maaargh’s favorite games,” the boy said. “If we don’t play, she’ll move us down the chart.” He picked up the ball and cradled it against his chest in both hands.

“Is everyone in on this dumb monster joke?” I demanded.

The girl studied me. “You’re new here?”

I nodded. “Just got here.”

“You’ll learn,” she said.

The boy staggered under the weight of the ball. “Want to play? It doesn’t hurt too much. Unless it hits you.”

“Uh … I gotta be somewhere,” I said.

I turned and trotted over to the staff building. A short, skinny boy with curly black hair was just walking out. His camp T-shirt hung on his shoulders, ripped to shreds.

He saw me staring at him. “Mrs. Maaargh is in a bad mood today,” he said. He held the door open for me. “Good luck,” he muttered, as I stepped past him into the building.

I walked down the narrow hall until I came to an office at the far end with the stenciled words on the door: THE TEACHER.

I took a deep breath and pulled back my shoulders. I flexed my muscles.

I’m going to be aggressive.

I’m going to be a winner.

I knocked on the door. I didn’t wait for an answer. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Sitting at a desk facing the door was an enormous woman, as wide as a truck. She wore a loose-fitting tent of a red dress. Her dark hair was piled a mile high on her head.

My eyes stopped at her huge hands, as big as baseball gloves. They were crossed in front of her on the desk. Her long fingernails were black and curled like animal claws.

And … and … she was wearing one of the ugliest monster masks I’d ever seen. Bulging eyes, big knobby warts on her cheeks, rows of pointed teeth in a long animal snout.

Most Halloween stores wouldn’t carry a mask that ugly. I wondered where she bought it. But I didn’t wait to ask.

I wanted to impress her with how bold I was. I wanted her first impression of Tommy Farrelly to be — “This dude is a WINNER!”

So I gathered all my courage, stepped up to the desk, and cried out, “That’s the worst mask I’ve ever seen. Do you really think you can fool anyone with that?”

And I shot out both hands, clamped my fingers onto the sides of the mask — and started to tug it off her face.

“Oh nooooo.”

A moan escaped my throat. My fingers dug into warm skin.

No mask. I couldn’t find the sides of the mask — because I was gripping her face!

Mrs. Maaargh uttered a shrill cry: “You’re hurting me!”

With a gasp of horror, I forced my hands to spring open. And I stumbled back until I hit the wall.

My heart pounded so hard I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my face grow hot and I knew I was blushing bright red. I could still feel the damp, fleshy folds of her face on my fingers.

“Th-that’s your real face.” The words spilled from my mouth in a trembling voice I’d never heard before. “I … I … I …”

Her eyes bulged, round as onions. She gnashed her pointed teeth. She jumped to her feet, so heavily the whole room shook.

Under the short sleeves of the massive red dress, her arms were like fat hams. She balled her hands into huge fists.

She let out a long, sour breath. The room suddenly smelled like a garbage truck. Her cheeks fell like flabby cookie dough on both sides of her snarling snout.

She didn’t blink as she gazed at me. Her brown eyes were wet like swampy pits. “Are you the new dog? Tommy Farrelly?”

“Y-yes.” I choked out a tiny reply. I pressed my back hard against the wall.

“Did someone tell you to do this to me?” she boomed. Her bellowing voice made the office window rattle. “Did someone dare you?”

“N-no,” I answered honestly.

“Too bad.” She licked her brown liver lips with a wide pink cow tongue. “You’ve made a very bad impression on The Teacher.”

I lowered my eyes. “Sorry.”

“Winners don’t apologize,” she said.

“Sorry,” I replied again. “I just … didn’t believe them when they said you were a monster.”

She let out a roar. “You don’t believe in monsters?”

Another powerful whiff of garbage breath rolled over me. “Well … I do now.” My answer came out in a shuddery whisper.

Mrs. Maaargh scratched the lumpy warts on her cheek with the claws on one hand. She squinted at me. “Didn’t anyone tell you I’m a bottom-feeder?”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “What does that mean?”

“I eat the dog at the bottom of my chart,” she said. She stepped up close to me. Her feet made a wet plop plop plop sound as she walked.

I glanced down and saw that she was barefoot. Her feet looked like lumpy pillows. She left wet footprints on the floor behind her.

“You’ll see my chart later,” she growled. “But, guess what? You’re there, Tommy. You’re at the bottom.” A lopsided smile made her doughy cheeks flap. “You’re looking like lunch to me.”

This can’t be happening, I thought.

This is the part of the story where the kid wakes up, and it’s all been a terrible nightmare.

But I knew this couldn’t be a nightmare. No way I could ever dream up a monster this ugly or this frightening. Besides, dreams don’t stink to high heaven — do they?

I have a good imagination. But no way I could ever dream up Mrs. Maaargh.

With my back against the office wall, I slid toward the door. My knees were shaking so hard, I didn’t think I could stand up much longer. I just wanted to get out of there.

But she bounced past me and blocked the doorway. “You can’t leave, dog,” she snarled. “You have to be punished.”

“Punished?” I whispered.

She nodded. “For hurting The Teacher’s face.”

“B-but I said I was sorry. I —”

“Sorry isn’t enough, dog.” Suddenly, I saw a big silvery serving spoon in her hand. I don’t know where it came from. But she waved it in front of me.

“Go ahead. Pick my nose, Tommy.”

“Huh?” I stared at the serving spoon. It was big. Bigger than a tablespoon. It was the kind of spoon Mom uses to serve mashed potatoes.

Then I raised my eyes to her huge nostrils. They looked like cave openings in the middle of her face.

Mrs. Maaargh shoved the spoon into my hand. “Take the spoon, dog. Quick. Pick my nose for me.”

I felt my stomach lurch. I thought I was going to puke.

“Pick my nose. Hurry.”

I squeezed the handle of the spoon and stared into the darkness of her nostrils. My hand trembled. My stomach lurched again.

Can I do it?

My breath caught in my throat. My hand began to shake as I raised the spoon to her nose.

“Pick it. Pick it for me!” she bellowed.

I could see green drippings in her nostrils. Deep in her nostrils. I forced the spoon a little higher.

Then I opened my mouth in an angry scream: “Noooooooo!”

I tossed the spoon against the wall. Then I lowered my head, swerved around her, and bolted out the door.

I stumbled into the hallway and kept running. The photos on the walls, the office doors and windows — they were all a blur as I stumbled and staggered to the exit.

I shoved open the door with my shoulder. I darted outside. A counselor carrying a stack of Frisbees uttered a cry and dodged out of my way. Frisbees spilled over the ground.

I felt as if my chest was about to explode. But I ran full speed, ignoring the pain.

I sprinted past the running kids. There were dozens of them now, running in a total panic.

I couldn’t get the odor of the monster’s breath from my nose. Was it clinging to my clothes? And I couldn’t get the sight of that green gunky stuff deep in her nostrils from my mind.

I ran past the sports field, into the woods. I could hear the rush of waves in the lake on the other side of the trees.

Where was I going? I didn’t know. Wherever my legs took me. I knew I had to get away from Mrs. Maaargh. Get away from Uncle Felix. Get away from the crazy kids, who only wanted to WIN.

This camp was too insane, too dangerous.

Sure, my parents were eager for me to be a winner. But if they only knew … If they only knew the truth about this camp, they’d never want me to stay.

My shoes sank into the sand as I stepped out of the trees. I trotted along the beach. No one here. I still had no idea where I was running.

Clouds had rolled over the sky, turning the lake water green and gray. The low waves washed onto the sand. The small dock came into my view.

And I stopped. Panting hard, I stared. The boat. The little white boat that brought me to Winner Island was back, bobbing at the end of the dock.

Forcing myself to breathe normally, I made my way closer. Was that guy Jared, the guy who piloted the boat, onboard?

I crept to the side of the dock. The boat bumped the wooden pilings gently. I stood perfectly still and listened.

Silence except for the whisper of the wind and the water and shouts from kids back at the camp.

My eyes alert, darting in every direction, I walked down the dock and lowered myself into the back of the boat. “Anyone here?” I called.

No reply.

I can hide in the cabin down below, I decided. The boat will take me away, take me somewhere safe.

Then I can phone my parents and tell them to come get me.

I squeezed into the lower cabin. It was very small, smaller than the linen closet at home. But I didn’t care. I could make myself comfortable on the cabin floor. I didn’t care how long I’d have to wait — as long as the boat took me away from Winner Island to safety.

I settled myself down, crossed my legs, and pressed my back against the cabin wall. My T-shirt was damp from sweat. My glasses were steamed up. My hair was wet, too, matted against my forehead.

I took a deep breath and held it, trying to calm myself. The boat bobbed gently. Then I heard a rattling sound.

Too soft to be the boat motor. Too loud to be crickets chirping.

I sucked in my breath when I heard it again. A long rattle. Like someone shaking a baby rattle. Very nearby.

My muscles tensed. I glanced around the tiny cabin. My eyes stopped on the hand-lettered sign posted on the wall to my side:

WARNING: THIS BOAT PROTECTED BY A VENOMOUS RATTLESNAKE.

I gasped as the rattle grew louder — and I saw a fast, darting flash of movement in front of my face.

I ducked.

The snake snapped its jaws inches above my head.

Its tiny eyes glowed as it pulled back its head. The black forked tongue lashed from side to side.

It rattled again, curling its body as it prepared another attack. The rattle grew to a roar in my head.

I froze, hypnotized by the sound, hypnotized by the shiny black eyes.

Then I rolled on the floor as the narrow head shot forward and the fangs snapped again. Snaaaap. The fangs missed my ear.

And then as the snake raised its tail to begin its rattle, I leaped to my feet. Off balance, I stumbled headfirst into the cabin wall. Shaking off the pain, I grabbed the rails with both hands and scrambled up the ladder to the top deck.

The snake didn’t give up. It snapped again, a few inches from the back of my right ankle.

I kicked at it. Missed.

I grabbed the rail and hoisted myself onto the dock.

Struggling to catch my breath, I took two steps — and bumped into Uncle Felix.

He was wearing a baggy sweatshirt with the words: Never Cry Uncle. And baggy blue shorts that made his legs look like toothpicks. He frowned and shook his head at me.

“I — I —” I stammered. I didn’t know what to say. “How did you know —?”

“We have cameras everywhere, dog,” he said. He pointed to a tiny camera on top of the dock piling. He crossed his arms in front of him. “Listen to me. A winner never quits — and a winner never tries to escape.”

“But I want to go home!” I blurted out.

“You want to go home a winner, dog,” he said. “Losers never leave Winner Island.”

“You know about Mrs. Maaargh?” I cried. “You know what she does?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, of course. It’s a real shame she came here,” he murmured. “I made her promise she’d only eat one kid. That was the best I could do.”

“But … how can you let her do that?” I cried. “How can you —”

He raised a hand to silence me.

“She’s not a bad teacher,” he said. “She just gets hungry.”

He put a hand on my shoulder and started to guide me back to camp.

I stopped and turned to him. “Wh-what are you going to do to me now?” I asked in a trembling voice.

“I’m taking you to The Teacher’s daily class,” Uncle Felix said. “She already knows you tried to escape. I’m sure that will put you at the bottom of her chart.”

“I’m already at the bottom of the chart,” I muttered.

“Do you know what I always say?” Uncle Felix asked. “A winner tries hard and a loser hardly tries.”

He had a million useless phrases. Did he really believe that garbage?

A hideous monster planned to eat me by next week, and he was telling me I should work hard and be a winner.

Why not just pour on the salt and pepper and serve me up on a platter? Hey, Mrs. Maaargh, would you like fries with Tommy?

“You can be a winner,” Uncle Felix said as we made our way off the beach. “But you have to do it on your own, dog. No one will help you. Only losers help others. A winner helps himself to whatever he wants.”

“Uh … thanks for the advice,” I said. I tried not to sound sarcastic.

We stepped into the circle of cabins. I saw kids hurrying to the lodge building next to the staff cabin.

Uncle Felix pointed. “That’s where The Teacher holds her classes every day.” He gave me a gentle shove forward. “Good luck. Don’t be late.”

I nodded and started to follow the other kids to the lodge. Some kids were racing, competing to see who could get there first. I saw Ricardo and Sophie running hard, side by side.

Then I turned and saw Uncle Felix walking away. He was heading up the path toward the boys’ cabins.

He isn’t going to his office, I thought.

Suddenly, I had an idea.

“A winner doesn’t give up,” I murmured to myself. I still wanted to get off the island and away from the horrible camp. Maybe my idea would work.

I stepped up to the staff cabin. I spun around to make sure no one was watching. Then I crept inside.

Two red-and-blue uniformed counselors stepped into an office near the back. They didn’t see me. My heart started to pound as I hurried toward Uncle Felix’s office.

I peered through the window. No one in there. I knew I had to be quick. No way to know how long Uncle Felix would be away.

And if I got caught again …

I didn’t want to think about that. I just wanted to carry out my plan as fast as I could.

I slipped into the office and carefully closed the door behind me. I gazed up at the ceiling. I didn’t see any cameras.

Then I turned to the desk. Yes! I didn’t imagine it. Uncle Felix had a dark blue phone sitting on the corner of his desk. It had to be the only phone on the island. I remembered seeing it when I first arrived.

I took a deep breath and made a mad dash over to the desk. I glanced back at the office window. No one in the hall. No one to interrupt me.

Now I could call Mom and Dad and tell them what was going on here. Once I told them, I knew they would come for me tomorrow — if not sooner.

Yesss! Yesss!

I grabbed the phone. Raised the receiver to my ear — and screamed, “NOOOOOOOOO!”

The liquid felt warm on the side of my face. It came squirting out of the phone and sprayed my cheek.

I was so shocked, I dropped the receiver onto the desk.

I raised my fingers to my cheek, and they came away purple.

My heart was thumping in my chest. I felt my knees start to crumble. I grabbed the side of the desk to keep myself up.

Uncle Felix had a mirror beside one bookshelf. I stared into it and saw the huge purple stain, still wet, on my skin.

The phone had squirted purple ink as soon as I pressed it to my face.

I spotted a stack of paper towels on a table across the room. I darted over to it and began to frantically wipe at the stain.

The purple wasn’t coming off. It must have been permanent ink.

I grabbed another stack of paper towels in my trembling hand and ran out of the office. I found a men’s room down the hall.

I burst in. Luckily, no one was in there. I soaked the towels in the sink and began dabbing and wiping at the stain. But no. One side of my face was purple now. And the purple was not coming off.

I really am in trouble, I decided.

Now everyone will know what I tried to do. I am totally doomed.

I had no choice. Every camper was at Mrs. Maaargh’s class. I had to go, too. I had to go with my big purple blotch.

I dried off my face and walked out of the staff building. Maybe this is lucky. Maybe Mrs. Maaargh doesn’t like to eat purple food, I told myself.

Good, Tommy. You can still joke. Even when you’re about to become monster meat.

I stepped into the classroom. Mrs. Maaargh was pinning something on the wall and had her back turned. I spotted an empty seat in the last row. I tried to keep the purple side of my face hidden from everyone as I edged my way sideways down the row of chairs.

As I made my way to the back, I saw two other kids — a boy and a girl — with purple stains on their faces. Did that make me feel better? Not much.

I dropped into the empty seat and covered my cheeks with my hands. I saw Sophie in the front row. She had turned around and was staring hard at me. I pretended I didn’t see her.

Ricardo sat at a desk by the window. He was gazing at a squirrel on the grass. He turned to the front when Mrs. Maaargh cleared her throat. It was a disgusting sound, like someone puking her guts out. But it got everyone’s attention.

She picked at one of the knobby warts on her nose. “We have a new dog in class,” she told everyone. “Tommy Farrelly. He’s the one in the back row trying to hide the fresh purple stain on his face.”

A few kids turned to stare at me. But most of them stayed silent and kept their eyes on Mrs. Maaargh.

“For the benefit of the new dog,” she continued, “I’m going to go over what we’re doing here.”

And then she belched really loudly. A long, vibrating burp that sounded like a sewer exploding. The kids in the front row all cringed and ducked as her smelly breath rolled over them.

“That’s the last time I eat raccoon for breakfast,” she said. She shook her head. “That raccoon was overcooked.”

She swallowed loudly. “To begin at the beginning, I am called The Teacher. That’s because my job is to teach you what you need to know. And what you need to know is … you’d better keep The Teacher happy.”

She pointed a fat hand at the sheet she had just hung on the wall. “As most of you already know, this is my Wait Watchers Chart. It means we will all wait and watch to see who I will eat on the last day of camp.”

I squinted at the chart. It seemed to have the names of all the campers on it.

“I never send home the biggest loser at the bottom of the chart,” she said. “Parents send their kids here to be winners. And it wouldn’t be fair to them to send a loser home. So I eat the kid instead.”

A few kids shifted uncomfortably in their seats. But no one made a sound. Ricardo had his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He stared hard at the chart.

I saw his name. It was somewhere near the middle. Unless he totally messed up, Ricardo was pretty safe.

Mrs. Maaargh bent down and picked something off the floor. It looked like some kind of fat insect. She popped it into her mouth and chewed it for a while.

Then she pulled the chart off the wall and held it up so everyone could see it.

No big surprise. My name was at the bottom. The super-big loser of the summer.

To my surprise, Sophie’s name was next-to-last, right above mine.

I saw the shock on Sophie’s face. She went pale. “Mrs. Maaargh?” She raised her hand.

“Mrs. Maaargh?” Sophie called out again. “Why am I down at the bottom?”

“Because you were seen helping Tommy,” Mrs. Maaargh answered. “Remember, Sophie — you know what Uncle Felix always says. A winner fights to win. A winner never helps a loser. That’s the fastest way to become a loser.”

Sophie scrunched her face up angrily. I saw her ball her hands into tight fists. But she didn’t say another word.

Mrs. Maaargh set down the chart. “We have a lot of time left for camp,” she said. “I can’t wait to see which one of you will join me for lunch!” She tossed her head back in an ugly laugh, enjoying her own joke.

“I’m going to give you several tests as part of the Final Exam,” she said, when she finally stopped laughing. “The tests will let us see who at this camp is tough. Which of you will do anything to beat the other campers.”

An ugly grin sent the folds of her face shivering. “Today, we will have an Earth Science experiment.”

She reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a long, fat purple worm. She dangled the worm high so everyone could see it, and her grin grew even wider.

“Let’s see how many of these you can eat.”

Kids moaned and groaned. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I gazed at the long worm dangling from Mrs. Maaargh’s clawed hand. It gleamed wetly under the bright ceiling lights. It’s at least six inches long, I thought. Did she really want us to eat worms that big?

I knew the answer. So did everyone else in the class. She was a monster. She didn’t care if we choked on worm meat or not.

We were there to prove we were winners. I knew the other kids would do anything to keep from taking my place at the bottom of her chart.

Down the row of desks, I saw Ricardo raise his hand. “Mrs. Maaargh? Does it matter if we eat the head first or the tail first?”

The thought of gulping down one of those wet purple things made my stomach lurch. I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep my breakfast from spewing.

Mrs. Maaargh pulled a large red bowl from under her desk. I could see worms curling over the top of it. She climbed to her feet and carried the bowl to the front row of kids. Her huge, pillowy bare feet made a squishy, plop plop plop sound as she walked.

“Eat them any way you like,” she said. “You can put a cherry on yours, if you like. I’m giving each of you a worm. They’re nice and cold. I kept them in my fridge.”

She handed a worm to the first girl in the row. It slid out of the girl’s fingers and dropped onto her desktop.

“You have to squeeze them to hold on to them,” Mrs. Maaargh scolded her. “Hold the worm high over your open mouth. When I blow my whistle, let go. Drop them into your mouth and chew them up or swallow them whole.”

Kids groaned again. Mrs. Maaargh moved down the row, handing out wriggling worms.

This is totally sick, I thought.

I saw Sophie take her worm. It tried to curl itself around her wrist. She had to pull it off in order to hold it over her mouth.

Sophie stared hard at her worm. Her hand didn’t tremble. I could see she was determined to eat the worm. She didn’t like being so close to the bottom of the chart.

The boy next to her looked sick. His face was actually green. But he took the worm from Mrs. Maaargh and gripped it tightly in front of him.

“Some of these worms still have dirt clinging to them,” Mrs. Maaargh said. “Sorry I didn’t do a better job of cleaning them off.”

She handed me a very long one. It had chunks of brown dirt up and down it.

I pinched one end and held it up. The worm twisted and wriggled and tried to get free.

My stomach heave-ho’d again. I was having trouble keeping my breakfast down. Glancing around the room, I saw that other kids had the same expression on their faces.

One girl covered her eyes with one hand while she held the worm in the other. The dude next to me was hyperventilating, panting like a dog. His chest heaved up and down. His hand trembled in the air, making the worm swing from side to side.

Mrs. Maaargh blew the whistle.

A heavy hush fell over the room. The whistle still rang in my ears.

Kids held their worms high. But no one moved to be the first to drop the worm into their mouth.

My chest tightened in panic. My skin suddenly tingled as if an electric charge was shooting through me.

I was desperate. Desperate to do something right. I had to climb off the bottom rung of the chart. I had to be a winner.

I held my breath. I swung the worm over my mouth.

Can I do it? Can I swallow it?

Yes.

I opened my fingers and let the worm drop.

I almost missed my mouth. The worm hit my cheek and started to crawl.

I inhaled hard — and sucked the worm inside. It felt cold and wet on my tongue. And I could feel the clumps of dirt on its skin.

Choke it down. Choke it down, Tommy.

I started to gag. I made a loud choking sound. I gagged again.

It wouldn’t go down. I couldn’t force it down.

Then finally … finally … the worm scraped the back of my tongue and started to slide.

Ohhhhhh. It tasted sour. So bitter.

I made a gulping motion and it slid the rest of the way. Off the back of my tongue and down my throat.

Oh, wow.

I pressed both hands over my stomach to try to make it stop churning and bubbling.

I did it! Success!

It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever done in my life. But I swallowed the thing. Did that make me a winner?

I gazed around the room. Silence. To my surprise, kids were staring at me.

And then another surprise: They were all still holding on to their worms.

Huh? What’s up with that?

Ricardo lowered his eyes and shook his head sadly. Sophie frowned at me.

“You failed, Tommy.” Mrs. Maaargh’s raspy voice made me jump. The folds of flesh on her cheeks rumbled as she shook her head at me. “I should have known you’d be the one.”

Failed?

“I — I — I don’t understand,” I choked out. I still had the metallic taste of the worm on my tongue. “What do you mean?”

Everyone watched me in silence.

“Tommy, this was a test of courage — remember?” Mrs. Maaargh said. “It was a test to see who in this room had the courage not to eat an innocent earthworm. Anyone who would eat an earthworm is a loser.”

“But — but —” I sputtered.

Everyone else in the class still held on to their worm. Everyone but me.

“Everyone showed courage but you,” Mrs. Maaargh growled.

“But it took courage to swallow that thing!” I cried. “I nearly choked on it and —”

“Look at your classmates,” she said. “Look how much more courage they showed by not following my instructions.”

I realized there was no way I could argue with her. I watched her fiddle with some names on the chart. You-know-who stayed on the bottom. Yours truly, Tommy the Loser.

She held up the big bowl. “Pass your worms to the front. Good job, everyone.”

It took a minute or two to collect all the worms. Then she walked over to a table at the side of the room. “That test made me hungry,” she said. “My stomach is growling like a hungry grizzly bear.”

I saw a glass cage on the table. There were little white creatures with long pink tails crawling around inside it. White rats.

Mrs. Maaargh lifted the cage lid. She reached in and pulled out a white rat by its tail.

It squeaked as she dropped it into her mouth and chewed it up noisily. She chewed for a long while, a big smile on her face. Then she swallowed it with a loud gulp.

“I like them plain,” she said, wiping her flabby lips with the back of one hand. “I hate spicy food, don’t you? It doesn’t agree with me at all. I guess I have a sensitive stomach.”

A sensitive stomach? She just ate a rat, and she says she has a delicate stomach?!

I knew I should shut up, but I couldn’t help myself. “Mrs. Maaargh,” I said, “you

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