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Authors: Suzy Kline

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BOOK: Horrible Harry and the Dungeon

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At 9:01, the Bean Broadcast came on. Mr. Cardini read the names of the good Human Beans over the intercom.

When he mentioned Room 2B, everyone listened for their own name.

“Mary Berg for clearing off her lunch table without being asked.

“Ida Burrell for helping other people with their fraction math.

“Sidney La Fleur and Song Lee Park for sharing their lunches with someone who left his at home.”

Sidney blurted out, “I gave him a giant oatmeal cookie, a carrot slice, andâ”

“Shhhh!” Miss Mackle shushed.

“Doug Hurtuk ...”

When I heard my name, I leaned forward.

“... for being a good sport when his kickball team lost. He was the first to get in line and shake hands.”

I automatically looked over at Harry's seat. He would have given me a high five. But his seat was empty.

I looked at the clock.

It was 9:07!

The Bean Broadcast was still going on.

Poor Harry. He was too brave to cry, but I pictured him crying. Skooghammer was probably chaining him to his desk by now.

I kept waiting for the broadcast to end.

Finally, at 9:11, Mr. Cardini finished, and I jumped out of my seat to speak with Miss Mackle privately.

“Please sit down, Doug,” Miss Mackle said. “I have some important news.”

It took five minutes for the teacher to talk about our science clubs, about how the newspaper article would be in the paper tomorrow morning, and about how important it was for us to return all our library books.

9:21.

Harry was probably dying.

I was desperate. I had to see him. I raised two fingers to go to the bathroom.

Miss Mackle nodded. So I took off.

“Walk, please!” Mr. Cardini boomed when I dashed by his office.

I slowed down.

As soon as I got to the boys' bathroom, I looked around. No one was there. I looked down into the gym. It was empty.

As I hurried down the stairs into the gym, I could see the old music room door propped open.

There it was.

The Dungeon.

I tiptoed as I got closer. I couldn't peek in, because Skooghammer might see me, but I could listen.

Eavesdrop.

I got as close to the Dungeon door as possible, and waited.

I only heard one voice.

Skooghammer's.

“It's sharp. It could prick you,” he said.

I took a step back.

It was the mace.

He was probably going to use it on Harry and those two fifth-grade boys.

I raced back through the gym, and up the stairs. I made up my mind to tell the teacher.
Now!

When I got to Room 2B, Song Lee and Mrs. Park were talking to Miss Mackle.

Oh no! I thought.

Song Lee was back.

I watched from my seat as they talked. Maybe ... maybe Song Lee was confessing.

I waited.

I looked at the clock. 9:44.

Finally, Mrs. Park left, and Song Lee sat down.

When Miss Mackle started reading
Bartholomew and the Oobleck,
I knew I had to do it.

Myself.

Tell the truth about Song Lee.

And spring Harry.

When I raised my hand, Miss Mackle shook her head. She hates to be interrupted during a read-aloud.

And so it was almost 10:30 before I got my big chance.

“Miss Mackle,” I said.

“Yes, Doug?”

“I have something to say about what happened yesterday with the butterflies.”

Everyone looked at me.

Song Lee did, too.

Her eyes were watering.

“Eh...”

“Yes?”

“Song Lee ...” There, I thought. I got her name out.

“Yes?”

Song Lee put her head down on her desk.

“Song Lee ... gave the butterflies ... some sugar water.”

“I know. She was my helper yesterday. They needed sweet water to grow stronger. We'll probably let them go at recess today.”

When the class groaned, Miss Mackle added, “Freedom is important. Our butterflies are entitled to it. Do you know they have never seen a real tree? Or the sky, or grass?”

Freedom.

Harry was chained to his desk.

Maybe his fingers were bleeding again from that mace.

I had just sentenced my best friend to a day in the Dungeon.

As I watched the butterflies zigzag through the air in their net cage, I thought of Harry.

He was just like those painted ladies.

He was trapped, too.

Freedom!

It was hard for me to concentrate on my schoolwork. I kept worrying about Harry.

He probably hated me.

I had let him down.

I couldn't tattle on Song Lee. I never tattle on a friend.

“I saw Harry and those two fifth-grade boys,” Mary said at our lunch table.

“They were walking in a straight line with their lunch trays. They didn't say boo. They just followed that Mr. Skooghammer to the Suspension Room.”

“How was Harry?” Song Lee asked. She wasn't eating much of her lunch.

“I didn't see his face, but his head was down.”

Sidney crunched on a carrot slice. “Did he have a ball and chain tied to his feet?”

“No, Sidney,” Mary groaned.

“Did Mr. Skooghammer have a whip?” I asked.

Mary made a face. “This is the nineties. You're talking about the Middle Ages and dungeons.”

I picked at my beans with a fork, then set it down. I wasn't hungry.

Song Lee wasn't either. Her taco was still untouched.

That afternoon when we went out for recess, Miss Mackle carried the huge yellow net cage. We huddled around her when she stopped on the grass near a lilac bush.

“Okay, here we go. Keep your eye on our five painted ladies.”

Everyone watched Miss Mackle open the net cage.

“There goes one!”
Sidney shouted.
“Up there in the tree.”

“There's one on the lilac bush!” Ida said.

“Look!” Dexter pointed. “Two are flitting in the air. Now they're resting on the top branch of that tree.”

Everyone clapped and cheered. Then they ran to the kickball diamond.

I sat down on the grass. I didn't feel like playing.

When we returned to the classroom, Miss Mackle didn't bother hanging the net cage up again.