Chapter One
I was in the bathroom at school, sitting down on the toilet, humminga song. I had my pants on. I'd come in near the end of Englishclass, feeling sick. My teacher, Mr. Dalton, is great about thingslike that. He's smart and knows when you're faking and when you'rebeing serious. He took one look at me when I raised my hand and saidI was ill, then nodded his head and told me to go to the bathroom.
"Throw up whatever's making you sick, Darren," he said, "then getyour behind back in here."
I wish every teacher was as understanding as Mr. Dalton.
In the end, I didn't get sick, but still felt queasy, so I stayed onthe toilet. I heard the bell ring for the end of class and everybodycame rushing out on their lunch break. I wanted to join them butknew Mr. Dalton would be angry if he saw me in the yard so soon. Hedoesn't get mad if you trick him but he goes quiet and won't speakto you for a while, and that's almost worse than being shouted at.
So, there I was, humming, watching my watch, waiting. Then I heardsomeone calling my name.
"Darren! Hey, Darren! Have you fallen in or what?"
I grinned. It was Steve Leopard, my best friend. Steve's real lastname was Leonard, but everyone called him Steve Leopard. And notjust because the names sound alike. Steve used to be what my momcalls "a wild child." He raised hell wherever he went, got intofights, stole from stores. One day - he was still in a stroller - hefound a sharp stick and prodded passing women with it (no prizes forguessing where he stuck it!).
He was feared and despised everywhere he went. But not by me. I'vebeen his best friend since kindergarten, when we first met. My momsays I was drawn to his wildness, but I just thought he was a greatguy to be with. He had a fierce temper and threw scary tantrums whenhe lost it, but I simply ran away when that happened and came backagain once he'd calmed down.
Steve's reputation had softened over the years - his mom took him tosee a lot of good counselors who taught him how to control himself -but he was still a minor legend in the schoolyard and not someoneyou messed with, even if you were bigger and older than him.
"Hey, Steve," I called back. "I'm in here." I hit the door so he'dknow which one I was behind.
He hurried over and I opened the door. He smiled when he saw mesitting down with my pants on. "Did you puke?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"Do you think you're gonna?"
"Maybe," I said. Then I leaned forward all of a sudden and made asick noise. Bluurgh! But Steve Leopard knew me too well to befooled.
"Give my boots a polish while you're down there," he said, andlaughed when I pretended to spit on his shoes and rub them with asheet of toilet paper.
"Did I miss anything in class?" I asked, sitting up.
"Nah," he said. "The usual crap."
"Did you do your history homework?" I asked.
"It doesn't have to be done until tomorrow, does it?" he asked,getting worried. Steve's always forgetting about homework.
"The day after tomorrow," I told him.
"Oh," he said, relaxing. "Even better. I thought...." He stopped andfrowned. "Hold on," he said. "Today's Thursday. The day aftertomorrow would be...."
"Got you!" I yelled, punching him on the shoulder.
"Ow!" he shouted. "That hurt." He rubbed his arm but I could tell hewasn't really hurt. "Are you coming out?" he asked then.
"I thought I'd stay in here and admire the view," I said, leaningback on the toilet seat.
"Quit joking," he said. "We were down five-one when I came in. We'reprobably six or seven down now. We need you." He was talking aboutsoccer. We play a game every lunchtime. My team normally wins butwe'd lost a lot of our best players. Dave Morgan broke his leg. SamWhite transferred to another school when his family moved. And DannyCurtain had stopped playing soccer in order to spend lunch hangingout with Sheila Leigh, the girl he likes. Idiot!
I'm our best forward. There are better defenders and midfielders,and Tommy Jones is the best goalkeeper in the whole school. But I'mthe only one who can stand up front and score four or five times aday without fail.
"Okay," I said, standing. "I'll save you. I've scored a hat trickevery day this week. It would be a pity to stop now."
We passed the older guys-smoking around the sinks as usual-andhurried to my locker so I could change into my cleats. I used tohave a great pair, which I won in a writing competition. But thelaces snapped a few months ago and the rubber along the sidesstarted to fall off. And then my feet grew! The pair I have now areokay, but they're not the same.
We were down eight-three when I got on the field. It wasn't a realfield, just a long stretch of grass with painted goalposts at eitherend. Whoever painted them was a total idiot. He put the crossbar toohigh at one end and too low at the other!
"Never fear, Hotshot Shan is here!" I shouted as I ran onto thefield. A lot of players laughed or groaned, but I could see myteammates picking up and our opponents growing worried.
I made a great start and scored two goals inside a minute. It lookedlike we might come back to draw or win. But time ran out. If I'darrived earlier we'd have been okay, but the bell rang just as I washitting my stride, so we lost nine-seven.
As we were leaving the field, Alan Morris ran toward us, panting andred-faced. They're my three best friends: Steve Leopard, TommyJones, and Alan Morris. We must be the weirdest four people in thewhole world, because only one of us-Steve-has a nickname.
"Look what I found!" Alan yelled, waving a soggy piece of paperaround under our noses.
"What is it?" Tommy asked, trying to grab it.
"It's-," Alan began, but stopped when Mr. Dalton shouted at us.
"You four! Inside!" he roared.
"We're coming, Mr. Dalton!" Steve roared back. Steve is Mr. Dalton'sfavorite and gets away with stuff that the rest of us couldn't do.Like when he uses swearwords sometimes in his stories. If I put insome of the words Steve has, I'd have been kicked out long ago.
But Mr. Dalton has a soft spot for Steve, because he's special.Sometimes he's brilliant in class and gets everything right, whileother times he can't even spell his own name. Mr. Dalton says he'ssomewhat of an idiot savant, which mean he's a stupid genius!
Anyway, even though he's Mr. Dalton's pet, not even Steve can getaway with showing up late for class. So whatever Alan had, it wouldhave to wait. We trudged back to class, sweaty and tired after thegame, and began our next lesson.
Little did I know that Alan's mysterious piece of paper was tochange my life forever. For the worse!
Continues...
Excerpted from Cirque Du Freak #5by Darren Shan Copyright © 2004 by Darren Shan. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
