Orson Buggy's Big Fang Theory
LESSON 1: Beware the Coyotes

"ORSON! Why aren't you up?"

My dreams of winning the world cup shatter when I go to take a penalty kick, and the soccer ball turns into Mom's face. My eyes pop open. There's a giant soccer ball hovering over me.

No, wait. It's Mom.

I blink against the harsh light. "What's going on?"

"It's late. Have you seen Jinx?"

"Huh? Is it morning already?"

"You didn't answer me."

It takes a second for my head to clear, but I'm pretty sure she didn't answer me, either.

"Think, honey. Jinx. You didn't let him out last night, did you?"

I glance around the room. The last thing I need is for Dune to be around when Mom calls me honey. But it's just the two of us. I try to think about what Mom is asking. Jinx is our cat. He seems to find ways in and out of the house whether I open the door for him or not. Sometimes I question if he has magical powers. I don't remember letting him out. "Why, was I supposed to?"

"No. Your father told you last night it wasn't safe outside after dark, remember?"

"He did?"

She gives me The Look. I'd probably get it less often if I ever listened to what she and Dad told me.

"Coyotes, remember?"

I don't.

"My word, Orson, do you ever listen when your father and I speak?" She frowns. She's probably wondering if I'm listening to her now. "This is important. We told you pets have been disappearing from the surrounding neighborhoods lately. The police think there may be a pack of coyotes living in the area."

"Mom, we live in Indiana. Coyotes live in the desert."

And I thought she looked disappointed before.

"Get up. I'll keep looking."

"You want me to help?"

"No. You'll miss your bus. Now, go."

I feel a little awkward. It was unusually hot last night, so I slept in my underwear instead of pajamas. Mom drops to her knees and peers under my bed, so I make a break for the closet and grab a pair of jeans while she's not looking. I slip a foot through one leg and hop out of the room trying to slip a foot through the other, when I run straight into June.

"Hey watch out. Oh, gross."

I pull my jeans on so fast, I probably have brush burns on my thighs. "What are you looking at?"

She holds out a palm between me and her face. "Not you, that's for sure. I was looking for Jinx. Now I'm headed to the kitchen to claw my eyes out."

"Very funny."

She bounds down the stairs. "I think you mean traumatic."

Where did June hear that word? She's only ten.

I head to the kitchen too. It only takes a couple of seconds of watching June dig at her eyes with a spoon for me to realize I forgot to put on a shirt. I race back upstairs and practically scream when I reach for a shirt and Mom pops out from between the clothes in my closet.

"He's nowhere around."

"Who is?"

Her face turns all weird. "Really?"

"Oh, Jinx. Right. Well, I didn't let him out." I don't think.

I nearly head back to the kitchen before I remember I never got a shirt. When I'm fully dressed and finally do make it to breakfast, Dune is there, talking to June. It's a rare event I should probably feel privileged to witness.

"But I thought coyotes lived in the desert." Apparently June doesn't listen to Mom and Dad either.

Dune takes a spoonful of cereal and swallows after about two chews. "Dad talked about this last night. Coyotes have spread all across the country. They're becoming a real nuisance."

"What's a nuisance?"

"Like a baby sister," I tell her as I drop into my chair.

Dune kicks me under the table. "A nuisance is like an annoying problem."

"How is that different from what I said?"

His second kick glances off me and strikes mostly chair leg. I can tell it really hurt, but Dune would never give me the satisfaction of seeing him tear up. "Shut it, dweeb." He turns back to June. "Sometimes coyotes get hungry and have no choice but to come into the suburbs looking for food. That's why we can't let Jinx out at night anymore."

Unlike Dune, she looks like she's about to cry. "You think Jinx got eaten?"

"No, of course not. I didn't let him out last night, did you?"

"Nope." They both look at me.

"Hey, I didn't let him out." I really do hope.

Mom steps into the kitchen, wringing her hands.

"Find him?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Why aren't you eating?"

"We're talking."

She rolls her eyes. "For heaven's sake, it's time for your bus." She hurries to the cabinet, pulls out two Pop Tarts and hands them to me, along with my backpack. "Eat these on the way to the bus stop. You do still have that toothbrush I gave you in here, right?"

"Sure." Like I'm going to be caught dead brushing my teeth in the bathroom at school.

I throw one strap of my pack over my shoulder and head for the door, when Dune calls out after me.

"I'd stay alert at the bus stop if I were you. I heard coyotes dragged away a sixth grader from there just last week."

*

The bus stop sits next to an undeveloped lot that's covered with trees and overgrown brush. I'm almost positive no coyotes live in there, but Dune planted a seed, and now it's growing faster than the weeds on the undeveloped lot.

As if from a long way off, I hear Albert Ashburger's voice.

"What do you keep looking at?"

"Who me?"

"You're the only other one here."

"Oh, right. Nothing."

"You sure had me fooled."

I force myself to look at Albert instead of the shadows in the trees. "You know anything about coyotes?"

He's so short, it's hard to believe he belongs in middle school. He squints up at me through lenses that look like two huge magnifying glasses and points at the overgrown brush without even looking. "I know there's none in there."

Albert's really smart. I should have known he'd figure out what I was thinking. "You hear anything about coyotes eating pets in the neighborhood?"

He turns back to the brush and stares intently into the shadows. "Could be coyotes. If it's not something worse."

"What could be worse than coyotes?"

Albert shrugs. "Wolves, I guess. Maybe pythons."

"Oh, come off it, Albert. I might go along with the coyote thing, but no way we have pythons here."

"Not normally, no. But then somebody buys one as a pet and it gets away, and then the next thing you know . . ." He stares into the brush and shudders.

I know he's just messing with me, but suddenly I'm feeling an even stronger need to keep an eye on the shadows. A few seconds pass with neither of us saying a word, and then Albert suddenly speaks, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.

"Of course, wolves or pythons aren't the only dangerous things in the woods."

"What now, Albert?"

"Could be a bear."

I turn back toward him. "Albert, we do not have-- "

This time I do jump. Not out of my skin, but pretty close. Tony Roma's standing right next to Albert. Tony's sixteen and easily twice as big as my other friends. Well, four times as big as Albert. What's worse, he's got hair all over his body, about as close to a bear as you can get. I can't help myself. I scream like a girl.

Nope. I can't even say that. Nancy Hines and Kate Rootey both walk up behind him, and neither of them screams.

The bus pulls up and screeches to a halt. Why couldn't it have arrived a few seconds earlier? The doors barely open before I push my way through and head for the back. Who knows? Maybe if I hide here, where no one can see me, I can make it all the way to school without doing any more stupid things in front of Kate.

Lesson 2: Coyotes Might Be a Best Case Scenario

Homeroom with Miss Pell goes about like I expect. We only have to spend five minutes here, but five minutes can seem a lot longer when you sit next to a jerk like Curtis Langley.

"Thanks for losing us the soccer game last Friday, Buggyman."

"I didn't lose that game. We all did."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

What a jerk. Albert was right. There are worse things than coyotes and pythons. Curtis Langley could have been hiding in the brush this morning. The thought's enough to make me never want to go near the woods again.

He kicks my chair. "I guess you think you're something special now, just because you're a big soccer player."

Why won't he leave me alone?

The second kick is harder, enough to make my desk screech on the floor. Miss Pell doesn't notice.

"Well, maybe I'll just have to get my boy Tinsley to knock you down a peg."

Great. Jason "Freak Face" Tinsley is rough enough on me when he's not trying to teach me a lesson.

When the bell finally rings, I can't get to first period Algebra fast enough, which is saying a lot, because I hate Algebra.

I'm sitting in class about two minutes before some girl I've never seen walks in and heads straight toward me. She smiles and says hello, proving she must be new here, and then plops into the seat behind me.

"You don't want to sit there," I tell her. "That's Dylan Pennington's seat." Not that I want Dylan to sit there--I despise the guy--but I suspect if he finds her there, he's going to blame me.

"Who?"

"Wrong, Buggyman. That's my seat."

Uh-oh. That's Jason Tinsley's voice. I turn to find him towering over me. Not only is he dressed in his usual vampire-black style; he's wearing a bunch of jewelry punched through his face again, just like on the first day of school.

"Oh, Jason, hi." I gesture toward his vampire outfit. "Nice look. I was just telling the new girl she was in Dylan's seat."

"You need me to clean out your ears, Buggyman? I said that's my seat."

"Oh, right. That's what I meant." He looks like he's about to kill me. "Hey, speaking of ears. Those piercings. Really awesome."

Before I know what's happening, he grabs me by the collar and heaves me into the air. Since our chairs have desk arms, and my body's kind of tense, my legs catch on the underside of the desk and pick it up with me. But then Jason raises his fist, my legs go numb, and the desk hits the floor with a bang.

"Put him down."

It's a female voice. At first I think it's Ms. Zurry, our algebra teacher, but then I realize it's someone much younger. New Girl is up on her feet, tugging on Jason's arm. I can tell, because every time she tugs, my limbs flop around like I'm made of rubber.

Jason drops me with a bang similar to the one the chair made--I guess because I land on the chair. He spins toward New Girl with rage in his eyes and points a warning finger at her face. I'm seriously thinking about tackling him, when Ms. Zurry enters the room.

Thank you, Ms. Zurry.

"Morning, class."

Jason drops his hand in an instant. "Morning, Ms. Zurry."

"My word, what have you got all over your face?"

A few of the more distant kids laugh. Those of us up close don't dare say a word. Me most of all. Jason's not talking either. Ms. Zurry comes over to take a closer look and grimaces. "Principal's office, Mr. Tinsley. Now."

He storms out of the room, and we all sit in shocked silence, until New Girl drops noisily into Dylan's chair.

"You're new here," Ms. Zurry tells her, although I'm guessing New Girl already knew that. "Do you want to tell the class your name?"

I would have probably said, "No," but New Girl doesn't seem to mind. "Meagan," she says. "Meagan Pearson."

"Well. Meagan, it's nice to have you. We do have assigned seats, though, so I'll have to ask you to move to the back. That's Dylan's seat."

"Told you so," I say to the air.

"No problem." Meagan picks up her backpack and smiles at me again before she heads for an empty chair in back.

Too bad. I like her way better than Dylan Pennington or Jason Tinsley.

*

Last Friday, Nancy Hines said she didn't think we should be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore, but she still likes me and claims she always will--make that "loves" me, which is understandable because she's been crazy about me for six years, and I think I'm a totally lovable guy.

Even if no one else does.

Point is, I know we're not together anymore, but we are still friends, and I was expecting to sit with her in the cafeteria for lunch. That's going to be kind of hard, because when I walk in, she's sitting at a round table for four, with Kate and Albert on one side of her and some guy I've never seen before on the other.

I grab a chair from a nearby table and wedge it between Nancy and the new guy.

"Oh, Orson, hi. Have you met Eric?"

"Von Brugar," he adds, putting out a hand to shake.

What kind of name is von Brugar? Sounds like some ancient vampire family from Romania. I debate ignoring his hand, but then I notice Kate frowning at me and give it a quick shake.

He smiles. Next to Dylan Pennington, the jerk from our bus stop who was missing from Algebra this morning, he has the most perfect teeth I've ever seen. "Orson, did you say?"

No, Nancy did, but I decide to nod instead of pointing it out. He probably wants to know my last name, too, but no way am I letting him know it's Orson Buggy.

"It's Orson Buggy," Kate tells him, and then gives me a little grin. She has perfect teeth too. I'm not sure why she hates me so much. Aside from accusing her of being a rotten person and trying to talk Nancy out of being her friend, what have I ever done?

"Really?" Eric lets out a low whistle. "Orson Buggy? Sorry."

What? Who gave him the right to feel sorry for me?

He turns away and starts talking to Nancy like I'm not even there. I want to jump in and say something clever, but . . . well, let's face it. I'm not exactly known for my cleverness. Besides, they're talking about a touchy-feely movie I've never seen, so I wouldn't have a clue what to say. Instead, I chomp away at my lunch, watching them talk, until suddenly I notice Kate shaking her head at me.

She moves her mouth without making a sound. Jealous, much?

"I'm not jealous."

Both Nancy and Eric stop talking and look my way. Nancy turns red. Eric looks like he's not sure what to say, but then he comes up with, "Good to know" and goes back to talking with Nancy.

I give Kate an evil stare. She's mouthing something over to me again.

Nice one, Buggy.

*

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it or not, but I'm not exactly known for being on time to anything. Normally when I arrive at soccer practice, the other guys are already out on the field, organized into three or four small circles, passing the ball back and forth to warm up. Today they're all gathered together into one small circle, standing shoulder to shoulder, watching something at the center. I pick out the two smallest guys I can find and wedge my way between them to take a look.

"I don't believe it."

Jogging easily around the center of the circle, juggling a soccer ball, is the new girl from Algebra class. Meagan, I think she said her name was. Every other step she takes, she taps the ball a foot or so into the air off her right toe. Then on one step, she kicks it a little higher and starts juggling off her left toe without ever breaking stride.

The guy next to me elbows me in the ribs. "You see that?" I'm just glad he didn't put the same effort into it that Jason Tinsley normally brings to the field.

Meagan's dribbling skills are so effortless, she doesn't even need to watch what she's doing. I know, because while she's jogging around, she spots me watching her from the circle.

"Algebra Guy. How's it going?"

I step forward. From the sudden silence, I think the others are impressed that I know her. "You play soccer?"

She catches the ball between her foot and shin and smiles at me. "Soccer? I thought this was a basketball."

"Funny."

She jerks her left foot so the ball hops up to about shoulder level and catches it again with her right. "You play?"

"Basketball? No, don't have the height for it."

Her smile widens. "Good one."

As if he somehow senses things are going well for me and needs to put an end to it, Coach Ayre blows his whistle and calls us over to the sideline. Meagan jogs over with the rest of us, still dribbling the soccer ball without it ever touching the ground, but stops when Coach starts to speak.

"Okay, guys, listen up. We have a new player trying out today."

Billy McNabb, one of the eighth graders, laughs. "No foolin', Coach."

"Funny, McNabb. I guess you've all met Miss Meagan Pearson. Apparently her parents have been quite persuasive with the school board about girls having the right to play on the boys' JV sports teams if they are equally qualified."

Billy elbows Bobby Barnes. "From what I can tell, she's not 'equally qualified' with anyone here. Have you seen her dribble?"

Coach Ayre scowls. "Yes, well, there's more to soccer than dribbling. You need to be a team player if you expect to win, Miss Pearson. Why don't we start out today with a little scrimmage game and see how you fit in?"

He breaks us into "shirts" and "skins," and after about twenty of the guys suggest Meagan be on "skins," Coach Ayre puts her on "shirts" and we start up a game.

Coach Ayre is right. Dribbling skills aren't everything, but they do make a great starting place for Meagan. She moves the ball past the defenders so easily, it's as if she's playing with a bunch of first graders. But within seconds, I can tell she's no ball hog. She passes the ball to me every chance she gets, and more. Even with a wall of defenders surrounding her, she somehow manages to thread a pass to me like it's just the two of us playing. It's amazing. She makes me look so good, Coach Ayre even praises me for my game.

After about fifteen minutes, Jason Tinsley shows up on the sideline. The jewelry is gone from his face, but I'm surprised he's not in detention. Coach calls Meagan off the field to talk to her and puts Jason in her spot. We take our places on the halfway line and wait for Coach to blow his whistle.

I catch Jason's eye. "You see the new girl play? Pretty good, huh?"

"Who said you could talk to me, Buggyman?"

"I just thought after the game Friday, maybe you and I could be . . . well, non-enemies."

Coach blows his whistle, and Jason kicks the ball to the left wing instead of me. "I guess you thought wrong."

It's funny how fifteen minutes can go by so quickly when your teammates use you, and so slowly when they pretend you're not there. I guess I should be thankful, though. At least Jason's on my team, so he doesn't have any good excuse to take me out.

Coach blows his whistle and stops the game. "Tinsley, Buggy, if you're not going to play nice together, I'm going to have to split you up. Buggy, you're on skins."

Of course.

I feel a little weird taking my shirt off with Meagan watching, but I quickly forget she's there once Tinsley sends me flying onto my back on the very next play.

"Easy, Tinsley," Coach shouts from the sideline. "We all have to play next weekend, remember?"

From then on, Jason's hits are less conspicuous, but they still hurt plenty. And I thought the previous fifteen minutes were long. Finally, I catch a break. Jason's too busy checking to see if Coach is watching him to notice a big hole in the turf. His foot turns so sharply, I swear his ankle bone actually touches the ground. Everyone within viewing distance cringes and groans, me included. If I'd done that, I'd be out for weeks, maybe the rest of the season, but super-human Jason just shakes out his ankle for a few seconds and goes right back to playing. Finally, Coach blows the whistle for the end of practice, and I stagger off the field.

Meagan hands me a towel on the sideline and starts undoing the laces on her cleats. "That Tinsley guy's kind of a jerk, isn't he?"

"You noticed?"

"He sure recovered quickly from that twisted ankle, didn't he?"

"Yeah." I press a hand against a tender bruise between my ribs. "I guess it wasn't as bad as it looked."

She watches Jason stalk off toward the school. He's not even limping. "Maybe. Isn't he that freak with all the piercings from Algebra this morning?"

"One and the same."

"Figures."

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't it obvious? The guy's a vampire."

"Yeah, right." I'm pretty sure she's joking, but her face says otherwise.

"Think about it. He dresses in all black. His complexion is white as a ghost. He uses his face as a pin cushion, so obviously he doesn't feel pain. And now he heals instantly from a twisted ankle that would have kept you or me off the field for weeks."

If Albert were anywhere around, I would swear he put her up to this. She can't seriously believe Jason Tinsley is a vampire. Then again, that thing with his ankle did look bad, and I've always thought he dressed like a creature of the night.

She tosses her cleats into a bright pink bag and pulls out a pair of pink sneakers. "Have you heard the news reports about all the pet disappearances lately?"

"Oh, now you think Jason is going around stealing pets and drinking their blood?"

"If the fangs fit."

"That's ridiculous."

She hangs her pink bag over one shoulder. "Think what you want. But if you ever find yourself in a dark alley with the guy, don't say I didn't warn you."

I try laughing, but it seems forced, even to me. If I ever find myself in a dark alley with Jason Tinsley, I won't need Meagan's advice. I'm a dead man, vampire or not.