Dread Detention (Creatures & Teachers) - Softcover

Buch 1 von 2: Creatures & Teachers

Killick, Jennifer

 
9780593652282: Dread Detention (Creatures & Teachers)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593652282 ISBN 13: 9780593652282
Verlag: Yearling Books, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

The Breakfast Club meets Stranger Things in this middle grade horror novel that the New York Times calls "wickedly funny" for fans of Goosebumps! Detention turns even scarier when a group of classmates discover dangers lurking in their school.

When classmates Hallie, Angelo, Gustav and Naira are forced to come to school on a Saturday, they think things can’t get much worse. But they’re wrong. Things are about to get seriously scary.

What has dragged their teacher underground? Why do the creepy caretakers keep humming the tune to Itsy Bitsy Spider? And what horrors lurk in the shadows, getting stronger and meaner every minute . . .? Cut off from help and in danger each time they touch the ground, the gang’s only hope is to work together. But it’s no coincidence that they're all there on detention. Someone has been watching and plotting and is out for revenge . . .

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jennifer Killick is the author of the Dread Detention and other series for kids. She lives in Uxbridge, in a house full of children, animals and Lego. When she isn't busy mothering or step-mothering (which isn't often) she loves to read, write and run, as fast as she can.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1


Club Loser


There aren’t many worse things than being in school, but being in school on a Saturday is one of them. Water drips off the trees that loom like ancient sentinels over the path to the locked gates and circle the grounds all the way to the Dread Wood that backs onto the school. I wonder how many weekend detentions they’ve watched over. How many groups of irritated kids scuffing up the gravel lane, wishing they were somewhere else. An icy droplet falls from a low oak branch, rolls down my neck and under the collar of my sweatshirt, but I see the others--three of them--waiting up ahead, so I make sure I don’t flinch. When I reach the gates, I keep my head down so I won’t make eye contact.

“I’d honestly rather be dead than here right now,” Hallie says. I know it’s her without looking up because it’s the kind of stupid thing she’d say.

“Really?” someone snorts. It’s Gus, the kid who seems to live his life by a different set of rules from everyone else. I have no idea what they are--he’s unpredictable as a dog in a field of squirrels. Like walking chaos. “This is a seriously grim way to spend a Saturday, but I’m not sure it’s as bad as death.”

“Of course it isn’t,” the other girl snaps. Naira. Uptight, overachiever, 100 percent perfect, on the surface. Spends a lot of her time using her brilliance to make other people feel worthless. “And let me make it clear right now that none of you are to talk to me for the duration of this consequence. I don’t want anything to do with any of you losers.”

Gus laughs.

“If we’re losers, Naira,” Hallie says, “then welcome to the club.”

“Club Loser!” Gus whoops, jumping up and grabbing a tree branch, sending a shower of water drops over everyone else. He swings there for a few seconds as Naira shrieks and Hallie swears, both of them swiping at the droplets like they’re being stung by wasps.

I let the water roll down my face, enjoying the thought that it’s been on an epic journey, falling from the clouds high above, then trickling through the tree, and finally landing on me. I look up at Gus.

“We should make a badge, guys!” he shouts. “I’ll use my best pens to draw a logo. And we simply must have a motto.” He puts on a fake snooty voice for the last part.

“Have some respect for the tree, lamebrain,” Hallie says. “It’s like a million years old. If you break that branch, I’ll break your arm.” Hallie uses her anger for both good and evil--it seems to me she has a ton of it stored up and she loudly puts it on display. There are unauthorized pins on her sweatshirt declaring her pride in being vegetarian, an LGBTQ+ ally, and a welcomer of refugees.

“It’s just a dirty lump of wood and dry leaves,” says Naira, glaring upward while smoothing her hair back.

“I know we’re not friends, but describing me like that is hurtful, Naira.” Gus drops from the branch, and I let out a snort of laughter, even though I didn’t plan to.

“So he is listening,” Hallie says, hands on her hips like she’s just won a game.

Gus’s eyes open wide, and he clutches Hallie’s arm. “Wait. Do trees have ears?”

“She meant Loner Boy over there.” Naira tilts her head in my direction. “Table flipper.”

“Yeah, all right, tray launcher,” I say. “I seem to remember it was you who started the whole thing.” I regret speaking as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Just like I regret lasting less than three months in seventh grade before getting involved in a situation that the rest of the school now refers to as the Dread Wood Riot. “Riot” is an exaggeration, but I can see how it led to all of us being here, in detention, on a Saturday. Anyway, let the rest of them think what they want, and don’t get involved. I just have to get through the next four hours.

The sound of someone whistling makes me turn back to the gates. The school groundskeeper is walking slowly toward us, keys dangling.

“Finally,” Naira says. “Let us in, will you, so we can get this over with?”

“Someone’s in a hurry.” He smiles as he chooses a key from the bunch and puts it into the lock.

“She knows she’s here for the same reason as the rest of us, right?” Gus whispers to Hallie, loud enough so we can all hear.

“Not sure,” Hallie says. “You can never tell with Naira. I don’t think anyone really knows her.”

“Is her name even Naira?” Gus whispers as we start to crunch up the drive. Naira is speeding ahead, Gus a few feet behind her, talking to himself, with Hallie trailing, eyes glued to the phone in her hand. I keep to the back, still of half a mind to turn and run. I notice a beetle on my sleeve that must have fallen with the rainwater from the tree. I let it crawl onto my finger, then carefully transfer it back to the trunk of the nearest oak. As it stops to take in its surroundings, I hear the school gates clank shut behind me, and the click as the groundskeeper locks us in. The moment for escape has gone.

“You’re to sign in at student services,” the groundskeeper calls. “Mr. Canton will meet you there. Good luck.” He starts whistling again--sharp and clear. It’s a familiar tune that I can’t quite place, and I can’t be bothered to wonder about. None of us turn around and thank him.

Dread Wood Academy is a weird place--a mix of old and new, historical and modern, in the way it looks and the way it feels. The main reception and offices are in the old mansion, a grand building that would be nice to look at if it wasn’t a school. Imagine horses pulling carriages, ladies in bonnets, and gentlemen in high boots and frilly shirts, and you’ll get the picture. It has a conservatory and ornamental gardens out the back, but only teachers are allowed in there. Nothing makes me want to see a place more than being told I’m not allowed, but when I snuck onto the science block roof once, I got a good look. There are bushes cut into ball shapes, a pond with a fountain, and a load of smug seniors, who didn’t notice me laughing at them. I’m not bothered about going in there now. It’s the kind of place where, if it was in a movie, there would either be a wedding or a murder. You’d think they would have used a place like this for something nice, but I guess whoever owned it was some kind of charity do-gooder, because instead they decided to turn it into a school for the local kids.

The rest of the school was added bit by bit as they took on more kids, so every building is in its own different style. None of it matches or connects. Even more random is that when the school was a rich person’s manor they kept animals on the land, and the school kept them on. I mean, obviously the original animals died a long time ago, but they still keep pigs and chickens for “student well-being.” Only in upstate New York. The pig yard is my favorite place in the school.

Student services is downstairs in the main classroom block--a concrete place that looks like a prison or hospital from the outside. Not much difference, really, as I want to be there as much as I’d want to be in either of those places. When we arrive, Mr. Canton is waiting. We were told to wear our PE clothes and sneakers for “outdoor activities”--no further explanation given--and Mr. Canton is dressed in a...

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Verlag
Yearling Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2024
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593652282
ISBN 13 
9780593652282
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
198
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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Verlag: Delacorte Press, 2024
Hardcover