My Zombie Hamster (9 page)

There was more, but I had read enough. It’s pretty clear what’s happening: Anti-Snuffles! He has become my nemesis. My Lex Luthor. My Joker. And it’s getting serious. If he’s recruiting other pets to his little army, we’re going to have an outbreak of animal zombieitis inside the walls of Edenvale.

And guess who’ll get the blame for that?

I have to put a stop to it.

But how? I have no idea where Anti-Snuffles is. In the park somewhere? I don’t think so, because people walk through the woods during the day. He’d be spotted. No, he has to be somewhere else.

I needed to get the gang together, because these types of things are best done in groups. The Hardy Boys. Harry Potter and his friends. The Famous Five.

What can we call ourselves? The Famous Four? No. Too similar. The
Furious
Four? Sounds a bit angry. The Fantastic Four? No. Don’t want to get sued.

The Four Stooges? (No.) The Four Musketeers? The Four Amigos? The Magnificent Four? What about losing the number altogether?

The Eradicators. Hmm. That’s not bad. I’m sure Charlie will have a problem with it, though. She’ll say it’s too violent or something, which is a bit rich coming from someone so handy with her fists.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 10

Got the gang to come around. Spent an hour arguing over names. Charlie has made a list of possibles. Her number one choice is the Liberators. She also suggested the Fabulous Four and the Illuminators.

Terrible, all of them.

Calvin suggested Mystery Inc. But again, we had to explain to him about being sued.

It was eventually decided to put the issue aside for a while. Until we could come up with a better method of voting. One that wasn’t decided by Charlie glaring at us and casually balling her hand into a fist.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 11

My life is officially over. And for a change it doesn’t have anything to do with Anti-Snuffles.

I found out who Mr. Craston’s replacement is going to be at school.

Mom!

She’s always been a substitute who comes in every once in a while to cover for sick teachers. But this is long term. For the rest of the school year. That means months and months of having Mom as my teacher.

I asked her if I could transfer to a different school, but she told me to stop being so melodramatic.

This is the worst news in the entire history of the world!

SUNDAY, JANUARY 12

Last day of vacation. Such a depressing time. Even when you get an extra week like we did (the school was being repaired after the gymnasium roof collapsed), it’s never enough. It feels like when your favorite show is getting canceled, or you hear the local cineplex won’t be getting
Death Planet 5: The Return of the Parasites
. (I’m still broken up about that. Charlie and I had this really elaborate plan to sneak in and watch it. We’d heard it was the most violent movie ever made.)

List of Chores Before Going Back to School

All that’s left is to mope around wondering where all the time has gone. It seemed like only yesterday we were taking off from school, the whole glorious Christmas break stretching ahead of us, filled with so much potential.

And I’m no closer to catching Anti-Snuffles. I was really hoping to solve the problem before school started, but there’s no chance of that now.
I even took a ride out to the woods, which was an incredibly brave thing for me to do, especially considering what happened the other night.

But there were no deadbeat squirrels. No Anti-Snuffles. In fact, the whole forest was strangely quiet. I mean, sure, it’s the middle of winter, but you expect to see a few lone animals. Maybe a bird or something.

Nothing. Not a thing.

How can no one have noticed this yet? Are adults so blind to the world around them?

MONDAY, JANUARY 13

So. First day back at school. It went as badly as I thought it would.

Class with Mom was pretty intense, let me tell you. All the kids knew she was my mom, so they were all waiting to see who had the power.

See, that’s the thing. It’s not just about Mom teaching my class. I have my cred (such as it is) to think about. If I let Mom boss me around, then I’ll be a mama’s boy for the rest of the year. So I had to assert my dominance from the beginning.

I was pretty terrified. Mom’s not someone you want angry at you. But I had no choice. She’d forced my hand by accepting the teaching post.

First thing in a new school year, or when a new
teacher starts: find your seats. Here’s something I learned last year. If you want to sit at the back, don’t pick a seat at the back. I did, and the first thing Mr. Craston did was order the whole back row to switch with the front row. Guess he figured all the troublemakers would be trying to hide at the back, so he wanted them where he could keep an eye on them.

So this year I sat in the front row. Dead center. Right in front of Mom’s desk. Back straight. Eager smile on my face. It was a gamble, but I was sure it would pay off. Well, sort of sure. Actually, I was
hoping
it would pay off. Otherwise I’d be stuck there for months.

But it worked. She entered the class—and it’s an odd feeling seeing your parents out in the real world. You usually just see them at home, where they’re supposed to spend their life looking after you, cleaning up after you, feeding you, that kind of thing. To actually see them interacting with the outside world feels a bit like watching one of those nature documentaries.

Mom was dressed in a smart shirt and dress pants. Where did she get those? I only ever saw her in jeans and T-shirts. Okay, fine. On occasion she puts a bit of effort in and uses some makeup. Maybe wears a blouse or something. But these were professional clothes. Business clothes.

She put her briefcase down on the desk and looked over the class. I could see she wasn’t happy with me sitting there grinning at her. (Which was part of the plan.)

She did what I knew she would do.

“Those of you sitting at the back, please swap with everyone at the front.”

Groans and complaints greeted this, but Mom knew the score. Let us get away with anything now, and we’d think we could do what we wanted for the rest of the year. So she slammed her hand down hard on the desk. The crack echoed through
the class, silencing everyone instantly.

“
Now
, please.”

With a few grumbles, we all swapped seats. I leaned back and put my hands behind my head. I had picked the chair behind Stefan, the biggest kid in the class. He says he’s got a glandular problem. Whatever. All I cared about was that he was big enough to shield me from Mom’s view.

Achievement unlocked: class ninja.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 14

Charlie decided our group should be called the Illuminators. I let her think she got her own way, but secretly I know we’re really called the Eradicators.

Our first move was to go and interview Mrs. Wilson about the disappearance of her cat.

It took a while for us to actually make her understand what we were doing there. I blame old age. I mean, she must be about fifty. She thought we were there to shovel snow from her drive.

“You want to what?” she asked us.

“We want to examine your yard,” I explained for the fourth time. “To see if we can find any clues about your cat, Mr. Tiddles.”

“Snookums,” she corrected.

“That’s what I meant. Of course. Snookums. What did the police say?”

“The police? The police didn’t come.”

“You see?” I said, looking at the others. “What did I say? No one takes these disappearances seriously. It’s a crying shame,” I added, shaking my head and thinking back to the detective show I watched with Dad the other night.

“You—you think the police should have come? I thought that, too, but my daughter said we would be wasting their time.”

“Some people just don’t understand the pain of losing a pet, ma’am.”

At this point, Charlie was snorting and snuffling, trying to stifle her laughter. Aren was smiling slightly, and Calvin was just looking confused.