21 - Go Eat Worms! by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)

spun out of his grasp. “What worm? Are you still
carrying on about breakfast?”
    “No. Lunch,” Todd shouted furiously. “You know what I’m talking about,
Reggie. Don’t pretend.”
    She shook her head. “No, I really don’t, Todd.” She turned to the door.
“We’re going to be late.”
    “You put the worm in my sandwich!” he screamed, his eyes locked on hers.
    She made a disgusted face. “Yuck! In your sandwich?” She seemed really
shocked. “That’s gross!”
    “Regina—”
    “You didn’t eat it, did you?” she asked, covering her mouth in horror.
    “Uh… no. No way!” Todd lied.
    “Ugh! I’m going to be sick!” Regina cried. She turned and, still covering her
mouth, ran into the building.
    Todd stared after her. She seemed totally shocked, he realized.
    Is it possible that Regina didn’t do it?
    Is it possible?
    But then, if Regina didn’t do it— what does that mean?

 
 
19
     
     
    “Aren’t you sick of worms? Why are we digging up more worms?” Danny demanded.
    Todd dug his shovel into the soft mud behind second base. “I need more,” he
murmured. He pulled up a long, brown one. It wriggled between his fingers. “Move
the bucket over, Danny.”
    Danny obediently held the bucket closer. Todd dropped the worm into it and
bent to dig up more. “My worms are all disappearing,” he said softly,
concentrating on his work. “They’re escaping, I guess. So I need more.”
    “But they can’t escape,” Danny insisted.
    Todd dropped a short, fat one into the bucket.
    They both heard the rumbling sound at the same time.
    The ground behind second base trembled.
    Danny’s eyes grew wide with fright. “Todd—another earthquake?”
    Todd tilted his head as he listened. He dropped the shovel and placed both hands flat on the ground. “It—it’s shaking a
little,” he reported.
    “We’ve got to go!” Danny cried, climbing to his feet. “We’ve got to tell
someone.”
    “Nobody ever believes us,” Todd replied, not moving from the ground. “And,
look—the rest of the playground doesn’t seem to be shaking at all.”
    The mud made a soft cracking sound as it trembled.
    Todd jumped to his feet and grabbed up the bucket.
    “Maybe we should find another place to get worms,” Danny suggested, backing
away from the spot, his eyes on the shaking ground.
    “But this is the best spot!” Todd replied.
    “Maybe it’s a sinkhole!” Danny declared as they hurried off the playground.
“Did you see that sinkhole on the news? A big hole just opened up in somebody’s
back yard. And it grew bigger and bigger, and people fell in it and were
swallowed up.”
    “Stop trying to scare me,” Todd told his friend. “I’ve got enough problems
without worrying about sinkholes!”
     
    When he arrived at school on Friday morning, Todd found three worms wriggling
around in his backpack. He calmly carried them out to the front of the school and deposited them in the dirt under the long hedge that lined
the building.
    I’m going to stay calm, he decided.
    They’re only worms, after all. And I like worms. I collect worms. I’m a worm
expert.
    He returned to the building, frowning fretfully.
    If I’m such an expert, he asked himself, why can’t I explain how the worms
are following me everywhere?
    When he took out his math notebook an hour later, he found a mass of long
purple worms crawling around near the binding and between the pages.
    The kids sitting near him saw them and started pointing and screaming.
    “Todd,” Mr. Hargrove, the math teacher, said sternly, “I think we saw enough
of your worms at the Science Expo. I know you’re attached to them. But do you
have to bring them to math class?”
    Everyone laughed. Todd could feel his face growing hot.
    “Todd’s saving them for lunch!” Danny exclaimed from two rows behind him.
    Everyone laughed even louder.
    Thanks a bunch, Danny, Todd thought angrily. He scooped the worms up, carried
them to the window, and lowered