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H Y N
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P E R I O 1
H Y N
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R I Ohe ungle

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ometimes it feels like a cold breath against the back

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DI Y
of your neck. Sometimes it shakes you awake in the

H
middle of the night. One day you’re all la-de-da, thinking

Y I O
you’ve got life figured out, and the next day you’re racing

E R
down a grassy hill in the dark, being chased by your own

N E
S P
screams, because you know what is out there. And what is

D I Y
out there is terrifying and it is calling your name.

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Welcome to my world.

Y
My name is Elizabeth Webster and my story, like every

E R
mystifying and horror-filled story in the whole of human

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S P
history, begins in a middle school cafeteria.

D I Y
See me there gripping my tray, black hair falling over my

Y H
eyes. Among the tables of gazelles and rhinos, I am the lost
meerkat, trying to find a sheltered place to sit so I won’t

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get gored. Lunch at my school is like a program on Animal

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Planet: Wild Beasts of Suburban Phildelphia.

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H
“Lizzie.”

Y O N
In the middle of the jungle I spied Natalie Delgado wav-

E R I
ing me forward like a gym teacher encouraging me to run

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faster, jump higher.

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“Lizzie, over here!”

Y
H N
The louder she called my name, the more kids swiveled

Y O
their heads, and the more I wanted to disappear.

E R I
Natalie had been my best friend since the first day of

S N E
kindergarten—we had bonded over coloring books and the

P
DI Y
taste of glue. A seat beside her was normally a safe enough

H N
spot, but Natalie was sitting with the Frayden twins, two

Y I O
sixth graders who were as annoying as a cloud of gnats.

E R
Charlie was short and blond with large front teeth, wear-

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ing a red plaid shirt. Doug was short and blond with large

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DI Y
front teeth, wearing a blue plaid shirt. They looked like a

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pair of chipmunks dressed for a rodeo. I glanced around

Y I O
quickly to see if there was someplace else—

E R
“Come on, Lizzie. I saved a place for you.”

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S P
I took one last look for a rock or something to hide

D I Y
behind and eat my gruel in peace before heading over to

H
her table. Just as I was slipping between two rows of tables

Y
to the open spot, I tripped over a chair leg, rattling my sil-

E R
verware and spilling my apple juice.

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S P
“Squeak, squeak,” someone shouted out, followed by a

D I
chorus of laughter.
Y
Y H
Ha-ha. We were such a happy bunch of comedians at
Willing Middle School West. So here’s the sad story about

N E
that. For the winter concert last year, I was given a clarinet

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elizabeth webster and the court of uncommon pleas

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solo that ended with an epic squeak that froze the entire

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orchestra in shock. In the suddenly silent auditorium, you

Y
H
could hear the mice chewing on our shoelaces. Such fun.

Y O N
Now, with the laughter still ringing in my ears, I hurried

E R I
over and dropped into the chair next to Natalie.

SN E
“Nice landing,” said one of the Fraydens in that grat-

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ing Frayden voice, like a cross between an air horn and a

Y
H N
bumblebee.

Y O
“Be quiet, Doug,” said Natalie. “Hey, Lizzie. The twins

E R I
were just trying to get me to join Debate Club.”

S N E
I picked at the macaroni and cheese on my plate, which

P
DI Y
looked suspiciously like chunks of rubber hose in a yellow

H N
industrial sludge.

Y I O
“Both you guys should join,” said Charlie.

E R
“Pass,” said Natalie.

S N E
“But we have so much fun,” said Doug. “We laugh and

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DI Y
laugh.”

H
“Have you ever noticed that when you guys laugh you

Y I O
sound like hyenas?” said Natalie.

E R
“How do hyenas sound?”

N E
S P
“Say something amusing, Lizzie.”

D I Y
“Something amusing,” I said.

H
The boys snorted.

Y
“Like that,” Natalie said.

E R
The Fraydens were smart and cheerful and beyond my

N E
S P
comprehension. First off, they seemed to like everyone,

D I Y
which made no sense to me, since I pretty much knew

Y H
everyone they knew and I barely liked anyone. They were
also always so excited about the lamest things, such as

N E
Debate Club. If instead of a debate club there had been a

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silent club, I would have been right on it. When the mood

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struck I could out-silent a rock. But the thought of standing

Y
H
around arguing about something with other people who

Y O N
were arguing back, and doing it on purpose—for fun—just

E R I
seemed wrong. Like if someone told me she had joined the

SN E
falling-off-the-roof club. I mean, if it wasn’t for the broken
arms . . .

Y P
H N
“What do you debate about?” I asked.

Y O
“It doesn’t really matter,” said Charlie. “You don’t pick

E R I
your topic or your side. It’s all in how you argue.”

S N E
“That sounds like dinner at my house,” said Natalie.

P
DI Y
“What about you, Elizabeth?” said Charlie. “We could

H N
use some brains on the team.”

Y I O
“Obviously,” said Natalie.

E R
“You mean you want me stand in front of a bunch of

S N E
people I don’t know,” I said, “and argue for something I

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DI Y
don’t care about.”

H
“Exactly.”

Y I O
“You see this fork,” I said, holding up a piece of silver-

E R
ware spearing a drippy piece of yellow macaroni. “I’d rather

N E
S P
stick it in my eye.”

D I Y
“Better yet, stick it in Charlie’s eye,” said Natalie.

H
“We need that aggressiveness, Elizabeth,” said Doug.

Y
“You’re a natural.”

E R
“I have got to find something to do after school,” said

N E
S P
Natalie. “Even debate would be better than going home on

D I Y
the early bus. I was thinking of trying out for cheerleading

Y H
in the spring. You want to do it with me, Lizzie?”
“Give me an ‘N,’ ” I said. “Give me an ‘O.’ ”

N E
“But they give us pom-poms,” said Natalie. “Who doesn’t

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like—” She stopped talking and lifted her head, before say-

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ing in a soft whisper, “Yikes alive.”

Y
H
And there, right there, in Natalie’s breathless little eep,

Y O N
was the beginning of everything.

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