Young Scrooge by R. L. Stine

“Dry yourself as best you can.” He turned to the class. “The rest of you, take out your chapbooks. We shall have some quiet reading.”
    â€œDon’t you mean Chap stick ?” I said.
    He frowned at me. “Was that meant to be a joke? I’m sure I don’t understand it.”
    The other kids were pulling these little books from their desks. The books didn’t seem to have covers. Just pages.
    I climbed out of the tiny desk-chair and started up the aisle to the classroom door. The ink smelled sour, and I could feel it drying in my hair. I wondered where the boys’ room was. Maybe this horrible school didn’t even have one.
    I was nearly to the front of the room when Prescott stuck his foot out and tripped me. I stumbled into the big globe. Landed on top of it. And the globe and I rolled across the floor.
    I finally managed to climb to my feet, and I set the globe back on its wooden stand. The whole class was howling with laughter. Prescott was laughing harder than anyone. He stared at me as if challenging me.
    Challenging me to a fight?
    I ignored them all and made my way into the narrow, dimly lit hall in search of the cupboard with the towels.
    I knew what was going on here. I knew it was payback time for me. That hooded ghost wanted to teach me a lesson. He knew my new classmates would play the same kind of jokes on me that I play on others.
    I got it. I’m not stupid.
    The question was, what was I going to do about it?
    The answer came to me instantly. I was going to tell the truth to these kids. Explain to them who I really am. And ask them to help me get out of here.

 
    14
    After school, I tugged on my heavy overcoat and followed the others outside. I saw Benjamin, Prescott, and Emily-Ann walking together along a narrow path cut into the deep snow. The bare trees rattled in a cold wind. The three kids wore long overcoats buttoned to the collar. Their heavy shoes crunched on the hard snow.
    I called to them. “Wait up!”
    They turned, shifting the straps of their leather book bags. “It’s the Stoogeman,” Prescott said, grinning.
    I ran up to them, slipping on the icy ground. “Are you walking home?” I asked.
    â€œWe take a shortcut through the woods,” Emily-Ann said.
    â€œCan I talk to you for a minute?” I asked.
    Prescott rolled his eyes. We were standing in the shadow of a low, flat-roofed shed behind the school. It smelled really bad. I realized it was the school bathroom.
    Large blackbirds pecked at the ground all around us. Even though the afternoon sun was still high in the sky, a pale white sliver of a moon appeared low over the bare trees.
    â€œWhat do you want, Stoogeman?” Benjamin asked. He reached out and mussed up my hair with his hand. Then he turned to Emily-Ann. “Think that ink will ever come out?”
    â€œProbably not,” she said.
    â€œThat was a tragic accident,” Prescott said. All three of them burst out laughing.
    â€œCan I have your moccasins?” Benjamin asked, pointing at them. “I’ve always wanted real Indian moccasins.”
    â€œThey’re not moccasins, “I said. “They’re Air Jordans. Sneakers. I told you.”
    â€œThey might fit me,” Benjamin said. “Give them to me.”
    â€œNo way,” I said.
    â€œGive them to me and you can be my best friend,” he said. That made the other two laugh.
    â€œListen, I know what you’re doing,” I said. “This is the kind of thing I do to kids back home. But please … you’ve got to help me.”
    â€œHelp you out of your moccasins?” Benjamin said. He grabbed my leg and started to reach for my shoe.
    â€œNo. Wait. Please.”
    If it came to a fight, I could probably take Benjamin , I thought. But Prescott is too big. He’ll flatten me. ”
    â€œI need help,” I said. “You see, I don’t belong here.”
    Prescott rolled his