Creature from the 7th Grade : Boy or Beast (9781101591833) by Andy (ILT) Bob; Rash Balaban

the rest of my life I will be the only one of my kind walking the planet. A mutant dinosaur could get lonely.
    â€œI wouldn’t say I enjoy it, exactly,” I slowly reply. “But I wouldn’t say it’s the worst thing that ever happened to me, either.” I hand the boy back my autograph, careful not to scratch him with my claw.
    The boy looks down reverently at the little piece of paper. He utters a barely audible “Thank you, sir.” The bell rings and he and his companions race up the stairs, to share the exciting news of their Close Encounter of the Amphibious Kind.
    Sam and Lucille come running over to me. “You were great, Charlie,” Lucille says. “We’re really proud of you.”
    â€œYeah,” Sam adds. “You killed.”
    â€œI did?” I say, worried.
    â€œIn a funny way,” Sam explains. “Not in a Tyrannosaurus rex kind of way.”
    Sam, Lucille, and I hurry up the stairs toward English class. A bunch of middle-schoolers follow close behind, whispering excitedly and pointing at me. Alice Pincus pushes her way through the crowd to let me know she thinks my tail is “way cool.” “Great,” I reply. “Be sure to tell your mom.” Go figure. Rachel Klempner practically steps on Alice Pincus to get closer to me, says I’m a “gifted public speaker,” and asks if I have ever thought about having my own talk show. “It was an honor and a privilege to be in the same room with you, Charlie Drinkwater.” When Rachel Klempner gives you a compliment it’s like getting licked by a cat. At first it feels good, and then you can’t wait for it to be over.
    â€œC’mon, Charlie,” Lucille says, nudging me. “Let’s go. We’re late.”
    One of the Schlissel twins (they’re not wearing their baseball caps today so it’s impossible to tell which one is which) stops me to ask if I’d like to go toss a football around with him sometime. This is not exactly my idea of a great time. But when Dirk or Dack Schlissel asks you to do something, you don’t say no. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” I reply. Evidently being a big hit at your own assembly can do wonders for your popularity scorecard.
    Everyone wants to talk to me. And tells me how great I am. And asks me to hang out with them. A creature could get used to this kind of attention.
    â€œMove your tail, Charlie,” Sam says.
    â€œIt must be a terrible strain on you, Charlie,” Lucille says. “All those adoring fans clamoring for your attention.”
    â€œYeah,” Sam agrees. “Better watch out or you’ll get a swelled head, pal.”
    â€œYou really think it could get any bigger?” Lucille jokes.
    â€œVery funny, guys,” I say. “Nothing’s happening to the size of this head. These flippers are staying firmly planted on the ground.”
    â€œGood,” Sam says. A smile flashes over his face and then disappears when Larry Wykoff approaches and asks if I’d be willing to do an interview with him this afternoon after sixth period for the front page of tomorrow’s edition of
The Sentinel
. “Maybe,” I say casually. “I’ll have to check my schedule and get back to you after lunch.” Translation:
    â€œ ARE YOU KIDDING!?!?!?!? ”

FOOD FOR THOUGHT
    THE LUNCH BELL is going to ring any minute. But I get a “special permission slip” to leave math class early so I can make it through the lunch line without creating a disturbance. Principal Muchnick says I’d better do everything I can to avoid any more “incidents.”
    Two Banditoes have already received demerits for spying on me during class and trying to take my picture through a crack in the door with their cell phones. In between third and fourth period, several eager sixth-graders approached me and offered to give me their lunch if I promised to sit next to them in the