School by Nathaniel Hardman (top reads .TXT) 📕

his most casual tone, he said, “I just have huge muscles.” He pulled an exaggerated body-builder pose, pointing awkwardly into the sky and flexing every muscle in his body. “The butterfly went that way,” he gasped out through clenched teeth. Jenny and Miley giggled, and Suzy smiled.

Jeff pulled his shirt back on, and after a quick look around showed no signs of the butterfly, he and Nacho went inside with the girls. His parents were in the kitchen, pulling out a gallon of ice cream and a jug of root beer.

“We knew you kids would be here tonight,” said his mom, “So we thought we’d do root-beer floats together!” Suzy grumbled but went to help fill cups.

Jeff told his dad about the butterfly.

“Hmm. Very odd. Well, we’ll ask Perry about that, too. Perry Johnson was that bug scientist I was thinking of – your friend Peter’s dad.” Jeff scowled, but his dad didn’t seem to notice and went on, “He said he’d come look at our little fly on Monday.”

Jeff thanked Suzy for the float she was holding out to him; then a thought occurred. “Hey, how come you guys were watching us?”

Suzy grinned, but it was Karen who answered, giggling, “We saw your heads over the top of the window-well, sneaking up, and we thought you were trying some prank. Suzy had us come upstairs, and she wanted to bring the hose around from the back yard and hose you guys down.” Jeff looked in dismay at his sister, who smiled back impishly.

“Maybe next time,” she said.

FOUR

When Suzy awoke on Saturday, her phone read 6:59. She lay in her bed for a while; it was Saturday after all, and she could sleep in if she wanted. Her mind drifted.

Saturday. No school. Should work on the campaign skit for the student council assembly. She hummed in satisfaction.

When her family moved here two years ago, she had no friends, no network. No one knew her name. Two years ago, they had told her that the student-body president was ALWAYS a boy and ALWAYS a member of the football team. Even now, the memory made her indignant. As if football players were better. As if they cared more about the student body and represented them better…

But that was going to change. Two years after moving here, Suzy had friends. She had connections. Everyone in the school knew her name. And yesterday in the lunchroom, she had seen the panic in big, strong, Derek Peterson’s eyes at the sight of all those kids wearing Vote-for-Suzy buttons.

Suzy’s smile broadened, and her mind continued to drift. Need to finish homework so I can work on the campaign. Homework. Math. Stupid Jeff.

Suzy’s warm bubble popped, and she scowled. Why did her dumb seventh-grader brother have to transfer into her math class? SHE was the smart one! SHE was in advanced math, and SHE had a perfect 4.0 in middle school. And then dumb Jeff had to skip ahead, the only seventh grader in the school taking advanced eighth-grade math, and now when people saw her, they said, “Isn’t that Jeff’s sister?”

Suzy let out a long, hot breath. Who cared? It was Saturday, and she wasn’t going to school today.

But she did have to pee.

When she was done in the bathroom, she wasn’t feeling sleepy, so she went down to the kitchen, poured herself a bowl of cereal, and ate a few bites standing. She wrinkled her nose. Something smelled like curry.

Suzy headed to the table, passing Dusty’s bed by the laundry-room door. As she passed, he growled at her, and she jumped, sloshing a bit of milk down her wrist.

“Jeez Dusty,” she said, “Did someone forget to feed you yester...” she trailed off as she looked down at her dog. Or rather, as she looked down at what was NOT her dog.

Dusty’s fur was grizzled, gray and curly, but this dog’s fur was shiny and black. Dusty had grown thick and stiff with age, but this dog looked lean and fit. Dusty had one head. This dog had two.

One head still seemed to be asleep. The other had its eyes half open, its upper lip pulled back slightly to expose a glimmer of wet teeth.

Suzy almost ran, but she remembered that the surest way to get Dusty excited was to run away from him. Also, she thought the dog’s vibe was sleepy/annoyed, not two-headed murder.

Suzy inched her way backward to the kitchen table and eased her bowl down. Then she backed her way to the stairs, eyes fixed on the dog. As she sidled backward up the first stair, she saw the dog close its eyes and drop its head.

Suzy bolted.

She ran to her parents’ room at the end of the hall. The bed was unmade, and her parents weren’t in it. Not in the closet; not in the master bath. Suzy ran back to Jeff’s door and found it locked. She knocked quietly but continuously until Jeff opened it a crack.

Suzy shoved him out of the way and slammed the door shut behind her, locking it with trembling fingers.

“What the...?” Jeff mumbled, brow furrowed, eyes still half closed from sleep, “Why are you being crazy?”

“I’m not being crazy!” Suzy hissed as she strained to pull his dresser across the carpet toward the door. “There’s a two-headed dog in the kitchen.”

Jeff considered this, then, “Are you sure you’re not being crazy?”

Suzy rounded on him, her eyes wild. “There is a MONSTER dog in the kitchen, and Mom and Dad are missing! And I don’t know where Dusty is!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t, like, Dusty on top of a toy dog or something?”

Suzy glared. THIS was the kid who had skipped ahead in math?

“Okay,” said Jeff, starting to wake up, “So there’s a two-headed dog in the kitchen. And it was trying to