54 - Don't Go To Sleep (3 page)

Gulp.

Suddenly the principal’s office didn’t seem so scary. This guy—whoever he
was—would never hurt me in the principal’s office.

“You’ll be needing plastic surgery when I’m finished with you!” the guy
yelled.

I opened the principal’s door and slipped inside.

A big woman with steely gray hair sat behind a desk, writing something.

“Yes?” she said. “What is it?”

I paused to catch my breath. Why was I there again?

Oh, yeah. English class.

“My English teacher sent me,” I explained. “I guess I’m in trouble.”

“Sit down, Matt.” She offered me a chair. She seemed kind of nice. She didn’t
raise her voice. “What’s the problem?”

“There’s been some kind of mistake,” I began. “I don’t belong here. I’m not supposed to be in high school!”

She frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’m twelve years old!” I cried. “I’m a seventh grader! I can’t do this high
school work. I’m supposed to be in middle school!”

She looked confused. She reached out and pressed the back of her hand to my
forehead.

She’s checking to see if I have a fever, I realized. I must sound like a
maniac.

She spoke slowly and clearly. “Matt, you’re in eleventh grade. Not seventh
grade. Can you understand me?”

“I know I
look
like an eleventh grader,” I said. “I can’t do the work!
Just now, in English class? They were reading a big, fat book called
Anna
something. I couldn’t read the first sentence!”

“Calm down, Matt.” She stood up and went to a file cabinet. “You
can
do the work. I’ll prove it to you.”

She pulled out a file and opened it. I stared at it. It was a school record,
with grades and comments.

My name was written at the top of the chart. And there were my grades, for
seventh grade, eighth grade, ninth grade, tenth grade, and the first half of
eleventh.

“You see?” Mrs. McNab said. “You can do the work. You’ve gotten mostly B’s,
every year.”

There were even a few A’s.

“But—but I haven’t
done
this yet,” I protested. What was going on?
How did I end up so far in the future? What happened to all those years?

“Mrs. McNab, you don’t understand,” I insisted. “Yesterday, I was twelve.
Today I woke up—and I was sixteen! I mean, my body was sixteen. But my mind is
still twelve!”

“Yes, I know,” Mrs. McNab replied.

“Yes, I know you read a lot of science fiction,” Mrs. McNab said. “But you
don’t expect me to believe that silly story—do you?”

Mrs. McNab folded her arms and sighed. I could tell she was losing patience
with me.

“You have gym class next, don’t you,” she said.

“What?”

“This is all some kind of joke, right?” She glanced at my schedule, stapled
to the file.

“I knew it,” she muttered. “You
do
have gym next. And you’re trying to
get out of it.”

“No! I’m telling the truth!”

“You’re going to that gym class, young man,” she said. “It starts in five
minutes.”

I stared at her. My feet felt glued to the floor. I should have known she
wouldn’t believe me.

“Are you going?” she asked gruffly. “Or do I have to take you to the gym
myself?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” I backed out of the office and ran down the hall.
Mrs. McNab stuck her head out the door and called, “No running in the halls!”

Pam and Greg always said that high school was bad, I thought as I trotted to
the gym. But this is a nightmare!

Tweet!
The gym teacher blew his whistle. “Volleyball! Line up to pick
teams.”

The gym teacher was a stocky guy with a black toupee. He chose a couple of
team captains, and they started picking teams.

Don’t pick me. Don’t pick me,
I silently prayed.

One of the captains, a blond girl named Lisa, picked me.

We lined up at the volleyball nets. The other team served. The ball flew at
me like a bullet.

“I got it! I got it!” I cried.

I reached up to hit the ball back.

Klonk!
It knocked me on the head.

“Ow!” I rubbed my sore head. I’d forgotten—my head was much higher now than
it used to be.

“Wake up, Matt!” Lisa yelled.

I had a feeling I wasn’t going to be very good at volleyball.

The ball came flying at us again. “Get it, Matt!” someone called.

I reached up higher this time. But I tripped over my giant feet and fell—
oof!
—on top of the guy standing next to me.

“Watch it, man!” the guy shouted. “Get off me!” Then he clutched his elbow. “Ow! I hurt my elbow!”

The teacher blew his whistle and hurried over to the guy. “You’d better go to
the nurse,” he said.

The guy hobbled out of the gym.

“Way to go, Matt,” Lisa said sarcastically. “Try to do something right this
time, okay?”

I turned red with embarrassment. I knew I looked like a jerk. But I wasn’t
used to being so tall! And having such big feet and hands. I didn’t know how to
control them.

I got through a few rounds without messing up. Actually, the ball didn’t come
near me. So I didn’t have the chance to mess up. Then Lisa said, “Your serve,
Matt.”

I knew this was coming. I’d been watching everybody else serve so I’d know
what to do.

This time I won’t mess up, I vowed. I’m going to serve this ball and get a
point for my team. Then they won’t be angry at me for making us lose.

I tossed the ball in the air. I punched it as hard as I could with my fist,
trying to get it over the net.

WHAM!
I hit that ball harder than I’d ever hit anything. It whizzed
through the air so fast, you could hardly see it.

SMACK!

“Ow!”

Lisa doubled over, clutching the side of her head.

“Why did you have to hit it so hard?” Lisa cried, rubbing her head.

The teacher looked her over. “You’ll have a nasty bruise there,” he said.
“You’d better go to the nurse too.”

Lisa glared at me and stumbled away.

The teacher gave me a funny look. “What’s the matter, kid?” he asked. “Don’t
know your own strength? Or just out to get your classmates, one by one?”

“I—I didn’t do it on purpose,” I stuttered. “I swear I didn’t!”

“Hit the showers, kid,” the teacher said.

I hung my head as I dragged myself to the locker room.

This day can’t get any worse, I thought. There’s no way.

Still, why take chances?

It was lunchtime. I had half a day of school to go.

But I wasn’t going to stick around.

I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I only knew I couldn’t stay in that
school.

High school was horrible. If I ever got back to my normal life, I’d remember
to skip this part.

I left the gym and raced out of the school building as fast as I could. Down
the hall. Out the door.

I glanced back. Was that big guy chasing me? Did the principal see me sneak
out? No sign of anyone. Coast clear. Then—
oof!
Oh, no. Not again!

I bumped into someone. I bounced backwards and landed with a thud on the
ground.

Ow! What happened?

A girl sat sprawled on the sidewalk. Books were scattered around her.

I helped her up. “Are you okay?” I asked.

She nodded.

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I’ve been doing that all day.”

“That’s all right.” The girl smiled. “I’m not hurt.”

She wasn’t a high-school girl—she looked about my age. I mean, the age I
thought I was. Which was twelve.

She was pretty, with long, thick blond hair in a ponytail. Her blue eyes
sparkled at me.

She bent down to pick up her stuff.

“I’ll help you,” I offered. I reached down to pick up a book.

CLONK!
My head bumped into hers.

“I did it again!” I cried. I was getting sick of this.

“Don’t worry about it,” the girl said. She picked up the rest of the books.

“My name is Lacie,” she told me.

“I’m Matt.”

“What’s the matter, Matt?” she asked. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

What could I tell her? That my whole life had turned inside out?

Then the school door burst open. Mrs. McNab stepped outside.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” I replied. “I’ve got to get home. See you.”

I ran down the street before Mrs. McNab could spot me.

I collapsed on the couch. It had been a terrible day. At least I made it home
before that big guy beat me up.

But what was I going to do tomorrow?

I watched TV until Pam and Greg came home from school.

Pam and Greg. I’d forgotten all about them.

They were little kids now. And they seemed to expect me to take care of them.

“Fix us a snack! Fix us a snack!” Pam chanted.

“Fix your own snack,” I snapped back.

“I’m telling Mommy!” Pam cried. “You’re supposed to fix us a snack! And I’m
hungry!”

I remembered the excuse Pam and Greg had always used to get out of doing
stuff for me.

“I’ve got homework to do,” I said.

Oh, yeah, I realized.

I probably really
do
have homework to do.

High-school homework.

It’s going to be impossible for me.

But if I don’t do it, I’ll be in trouble tomorrow.

In more ways than one, I thought, remembering that big guy. What did I ever
do to him, anyway?

When it was time for bed, I headed to my old room. But Pam was sleeping in
there.

So I went back to the guest room. I climbed into bed.

What am I going to do? I worried as I let my eyes close.

I don’t know what’s happening.

I can’t do anything right.

Is this what my life is going to be like—forever?

I opened my eyes. Sunlight poured in through the window. It was morning.

Oh, great, I thought. Time for another fabulous day of high school.

I shut my eyes again. I can’t face it, I thought. Maybe if I stay in bed, all
my problems will go away.

“Matt! Time to get up!” Mom called.

I sighed. Mom would never let me stay home from school. There was no way out.

“Matt!” she shouted again.

Her voice sounds funny, I thought. Higher than usual.

Maybe she’s not so tired for once.

I dragged myself out of bed. I set my feet on the floor.

Wait a minute.

My feet.

I stared at them. They looked different. I mean, they looked the same.

They weren’t big anymore. I had my old feet back!

I looked at my hands. I wiggled my fingers.

It was me! I was my old self again!

I ran into the bathroom to check the mirror. I had to make sure.

I flipped on the light.

There I was—a puny little twelve year old!

I hopped up and down. “Yippee! I’m twelve! I’m twelve!”

All my problems were solved! I didn’t have to go to high school!

I didn’t have to face that big bully!

The nightmare was over!

Everything was okay now. I was even looking forward to seeing Pam and Greg
and Biggie as their crabby old selves again.

“Matt! You’re going to be late!” Mom shouted.

Does she have a cold or something? I wondered as I quickly dressed and ran
downstairs. She really did sound different.

I practically skipped into the kitchen. “I’ll have cereal today, Mom—”

I stopped.

Two people sat at the kitchen table. A man and a woman.

I’d never seen them before.

“I fixed you some toast, Matt,” the woman said.

“Where’s my mother?” I asked. “Where are Pam and Greg?”

The man and woman stared blankly at me.

“Feeling a little off today, son?” the man said.

Son?

The woman stood up and bustled around the kitchen. “Drink your juice, honey.
Your dad will drop you off at school today.”

My dad?

“I don’t have a dad!” I insisted. “My father has been dead since I was a
baby!”

The man shook his head and bit into a piece of toast. “They told me he’d get
weird at this age. But I didn’t know
how
weird.”

“Where are they?” I demanded. “What did you do with my family?”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes today, Matt,” the man said. “Now let’s get
moving.”

A cat crept into the kitchen. It rubbed against my legs.

“What’s this cat doing here?” I asked. “Where’s Biggie?”

“Who’s Biggie? What are you talking about?” the woman said.

I was starting to get scared. My heart was pounding. My legs felt weak.

I sank into a chair and gulped my juice. “Are you saying that—you’re my
parents?”

The woman kissed me on the head. “I’m your mother. This is your father.
That’s your cat. Period.”

“I have no brothers or sisters?”

The woman raised an eyebrow and glanced at the man. “Brothers and sisters?
No, darling.”

I cringed. My real mother would never call me “darling”.

“I know you want a brother,” the woman went on. “But you really wouldn’t like
it. You’re just not good at sharing.”

I couldn’t stand this any longer.

“Okay, stop right there,” I demanded. “Stop fooling around. I want to know
right now—why is this happening to me?”

My “parents” exchanged looks. Then they turned back to me.

“I want to know who you are!” I cried, trembling all over. “Where is my real
family? I want answers—now!”

The man stood up and grabbed me by the arm. “Get in the car, son,” he
commanded.

“No!” I screamed.

“Joke is over. Now get in the car.”

I had no choice. I followed him to a car—a shiny new one, not my real
mother’s old piece of junk. I climbed in.

The woman ran outside. “Don’t forget your books!” she called. She pushed a
backpack through the open window at me. Then she kissed me again.