The Word Eater (6 page)

She stopped in front of the vending machine in the foyer and looked at all the candy bars hanging from their metal hooks inside the glass. Giggle Bar. Nutty Munch. Goo Choo. Then she noticed a small white tag glued to the machine.

Lerner glanced around. The hallway was still empty. On impulse, she shook Fip out and placed him on the label.

Dizzy, Fip gripped the label tightly with his bristles. So much rustle bustle in one day! He'd been hoisted up and down and almost smooshed. Now he was expected to eat sideways! He sniffed the
V
. Not too fresh, but not bad. Steadily, he ate every letter and the crunchlies.

Lerner plucked him off and took a step back. Nothing happened for a moment, then the machine started to shimmer. One, two, three seconds . . . and the vending machine vanished. Rows of candy bars and a massive pile of quarters hung in midair for a split second, then hit the floor.

Lerner yelped. She looked around and saw Sharmaine at the other end of the hall coming her way. Quickly she put Fip back in the bottle, then began stuffing candy bars and quarters into her backpack, a smile spreading from ear to ear. Incredible! She felt like Santa Claus loading a sack full of goodies. Ho! Ho! Ho! She had magic power in her grasp. How did she get so lucky?

Sharmaine's footsteps slowed as she got nearer. Lerner stood up, hands full with candy bars. She piled the candy on top of the books in Sharmaine's arms, laughed, and said, “Merry Christmas from a SLUG!” Hoisting her own pack over one shoulder, she ran out the door.

At the Cleveland Park Middle School, Principal Eve Norker's voice came booming over the intercom system into Mr. Droan's room. “There has been a serious theft. It occurred sometime after school yesterday. The police are looking into it. I sincerely hope no students were involved.”

The principal's announcement flew in one of Lerner's ears and out the other. For the fifth time since she got off the bus, Lerner checked the side pocket of her backpack. Nestled amid a dozen candy bars, Fip's ink bottle was still there.

Mrs. Norker continued. “The stolen vending machine was . . .”

The words screeched to a halt in the listen-to-me section of Lerner's brain. VENDING MACHINE! Mrs. Norker was talking about Vending Machine No. 203! The one Fip had made disappear. Lerner glanced out of the corner of her eye to see if anyone was looking at her. Just then, Sharmaine turned around, eyes wide with surprise.

Would Sharmaine tell the police that Lerner had been at the scene of the crime? That she had walked off with candy bars and quarters?

Somehow Lerner didn't think Sharmaine was the type to tattle. But even if she did, nobody could prove a thing. Besides, Lerner didn't steal the vending machine. Fip was really the one directly responsible for the disappearance of the machine. What would the police do . . . arrest a worm? Lerner imagined little Fip on trial in a courtroom, putting his bristles on the Bible and saying, I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth . . .

Mr. Droan's voice brought Lerner back to reality. “All right, people. Clear your desks,” he said. “It's test time.”

Lerner's stomach sank. Instead of studying, she'd spent the night eating Goo Choos and making a mental list of words she'd like to feed Fip:

1.
Tooth decay

2.
Fractions and long division

3.
Wool (she was allergic)

4.
Hot Days and Nights
(the annoying television show Mrs. Chilling had to watch at 3:30 every day)

5.
Dust (her mother was allergic)

6.
Mad Cow disease and any other horrible animal infections (her father was a veterinarian)

7.
Airplane fares (then everyone could ride for free and she could fly back to Wisconsin every weekend)

The list went on, and although making it had been fun, it had been stupid not to review the chapter. Mr. Droan's tests were duplicates of the “sample tests” in the book, so if you just took a minute to look at the chapter before the test, you could pass with no problem.

“Ms. Chanse. Backpack under your chair now.”

Reluctantly, Lerner took a pencil out and was just about to set her backpack under her desk when she had an idea. She tucked Fip in her hand and put her pack away.

Fip rubbed his underbelly bristles together.
He'd spent the night replaying the vanishing vending machine scene over and over in his mind. He didn't know how or why, but he knew that he was the reason that huge machine disappeared. Hungry and excited to see exactly what he was capable of doing, he skinched around and around in Lerner's cupped hand until she giggled.

Mr. Droan frowned and gave a huge stack of exams to Winny the SLUG to pass out. “I would wish you luck, but luck isn't going to save you now,” he said.

Nonchalantly, Lerner put her palm down next to the test's title. Fip plopped out gracefully and sniffed.

Her classmates scribbled away while Lerner watched Fip nibble the letter
P
. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

“Lerner Chanse, stop daydreaming and get busy,” Mr. Droan said and ducked behind his propped-up grade book to read the final chapter of
Burning Heart of Desire
.

Careful not to smoosh Fip, Lerner wrote her name at the top. Growing more robust and agile every day, Fip munched away like a tiny deleting machine. He'd already finished eating the words PHOTOSYNTHESIS and was almost done with EXAM.

Please work
. Lerner closed her eyes.
Please work
. When she opened her eyes, Mr. Droan's exam on photosynthesis was shimmering just as the vending machine had. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw more shimmering. It wasn't just her exam. All the tests were shimmering.

To Fip, the magic felt like an earthquake. The paper underneath him was splitting apart, molecule by molecule, each part vibrating wildly. He screamed and waved his bristles.

Entranced by the shimmering light, Lerner didn't even notice him.

One second . . .

Two seconds . . .

“Hey,” whispered Bobby. “What's going on . . .”

Three seconds.

Fip hit the nicely solid wood of Lerner's desktop. The paper was completely gone. Lerner looked around. All the desktops in the room were empty. The room was dead silent.

Lost in
Burning Heart of Desire
, Mr. Droan had forgotten that his students even existed.

“Uh—Mr. Droan . . . ,” Reba said. “The tests . . .”

Mr. Droan looked up and blinked at the empty desks. “Very funny. Ha. Ha. Get back to work.”

No one spoke.

“This is very simple, people,” Mr. Droan said. “Put your tests back on your desk and get to work.”

Everybody started talking at once.

Lerner put a cupped hand over the exhausted Fip and tried to look calm. Inside her head, her own voice was shooting off like a firecracker:
Fip has magic power! And I have Fip!
It was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to her, the most incredible thing that had ever happened to anybody.

Mr. Droan frowned, his eyebrows smashing together. “Bobby—”

“Don't look at me!” Bobby said.

Mr. Droan whirled around to face Reba. “Ms. Silo, does this have anything to do with your little club?”

Well, this accusation was startling. Teachers had generally thought the MPOOE Club was cute—an impression Reba had worked hard to maintain. Now, the club was actually being linked to something bad that they didn't even do! Reba stammered that she didn't know anything, and the sound of her faltering voice made many of the MPOOEs in the room take pause.

Lerner grinned. She felt like standing up and
shouting, “Now who's the Most Powerful One On Earth?”

“Ms. Chanse, you look like you're enjoying yourself. Perhaps you know something about this?”

Lerner's smile vanished. She shrugged, avoiding Mr. Droan's eyes.

“All right, people,” the teacher said. “You all have after-school detention today and every day until the tests are returned.”

The class groaned.

“This is not excellent,” Reba muttered darkly.

Sharmaine turned around and looked under Lerner's desk as if she expected to find the tests in a neat pile under Lerner's feet.

“My mom is going to kill me!” Winny the SLUG sobbed. “I've never had detention!”

A ping of guilt hit Lerner, but she ponged it away by remembering that she hadn't
intended
to get everybody in trouble. Winny was exaggerating. After-school detention wasn't even that big of a deal. And Mr. Droan couldn't keep them in detention forever, could he?

By lunchtime, the whole school was buzzing. Mr. Droan told the principal that someone had stolen the exams, and the principal made everyone who was in Droan's first-period science class spend recess sitting in the lunchroom. The
students were confused and furious—especially the MPOOEs.

During Ms. Findley's fifth period language arts class, Reba and Randy passed notes to everyone.