The Unusual Suspects

"Of course, of course," Hamelin said, forcing a smile onto his face. "Welcome to Ferryport Landing Elementary. I needed to discuss the… uh… textbook shortage with Mr. Sheepshank, but it can wait. I hope you'll help them settle in, Casper?"

"My pleasure, Mr. Hamelin," the counselor replied, leading the girls down the hallway. Soon, they stopped in front of a classroom and Mr. Sheepshank patted Daphne on the shoulder. "This is your class."

The girls peered through the window in the door and saw a woman so stu

"Daphne, your teacher's name is Ms. White," Sheepshank said.

Daphne put the palm of her hand into her mouth and bit on it. It was an odd little habit she had when she was very excited.

"I'm so happy," the little girl said giddily, "I might barf."

Ever since Gra

"Don't put any crayons in your nose," Sabrina joked as Mr. Sheepshank led her sister into the room. Daphne stuck her tongue out in reply.

As the guidance counselor introduced Daphne, Sabrina studied the teacher through the open door. Snow White and Mr. Hamelin were both Everafters. Could they be trusted? Suspicion clouded Sabrina's mind and anger flowed over her. Maybe Snow White and the Piper were in on her parents' disappearance. Maybe they were working together to kidnap her and her sister next.

"Sabrina, are you feeling OK?" Mr. Sheepshank asked. The girl hadn't noticed him step back into the hall. She nodded.

"Yes, just got a headache," Sabrina replied. It wasn't a lie. Her head was pounding.

"Check with the school nurse if it doesn't go away," the counselor instructed, as he directed her down the hall and up a flight of stairs. On the second floor was another long hallway full of classrooms. They stopped at the first door and Sheepshank opened it. He turned to Sabrina and gave her a warm smile. "I think this might just be the perfect homeroom for you."

"Mr. Grumpner," he said as he stepped into the classroom. "I'd like to introduce you and the class to a new student. Her name is Sabrina Grimm. She and her sister just moved to Ferryport Landing from New York City."

"She looks like she stuck a fork into a light socket," a boy called from the middle of the room. He was short with wiry black hair and big bug eyes. A few kids snickered, but most of the class seemed to be asleep, or about to doze off.

"Toby, shut up," the teacher growled. The boy's face turned red with rage and he looked as if he might actually get out of his seat and charge at the old man. A pretty girl with platinum blond hair and big green eyes put her hand on the boy's arm and it seemed to calm him down.

Grumpner turned his attention to Sabrina. He was an old man with saggy jowls and thin, charcoal-colored hair. To the girl, he looked like a deflating birthday party balloon you find in the garage a week after the fun is over. He frowned.

"Sit," he said gruffly as he pointed to several empty desks in the last row. Then he turned back to the guidance counselor. "Sheepshank, what is wrong with these kids?" he demanded. "Half of them are asleep and the other half are between naps!"

"I'm sure you'll find a way to get them motivated, Mr. Grumpner," the counselor said, as he waved to Sabrina and left the room. "After all, you're one of our finest teachers."

The compliment did little to calm the old man down.

"Open your books to page one forty-two," Grumpner growled, as he walked down the aisle and tossed a ratty textbook onto Sabrina's desk. She opened it and looked for page 142, but it and dozens more pages had been ripped out.

"You need to read this page carefully, morons," Grumpner threatened. "Tomorrow you're going to have a quiz on it."

Sabrina slowly raised her hand.

"What is it, Grimm?"

"That page has been ripped out of my book," she stuttered.

Grumpner's face turned red. Even from the back of the room, Sabrina could spot a throbbing vein on his forehead, preparing to explode. Luckily, the old grouch was distracted by a short, pudgy boy ru

"Wendell!" Grumpner bellowed at the top of his lungs. The chubby boy looked up from his desk, wiped his nose with a handkerchief, and looked genuinely surprised by the teacher's anger. It took all of Sabrina's willpower not to break out laughing at the boy's dumbfounded expression.

"Yes, Mr. Grumpner," Wendell replied.

"You are late, again," the teacher said.

"I'm sorry. I forgot to set my alarm clock," the boy said meekly.

"You forgot?" Grumpner exploded. "Well, that's just great! I bet you didn't forget breakfast this morning! Everyone can see that! Maybe we should cover your alarm clock with candy and French fries; then you'd never forget to set it!"

"I said I was sorry!"

The old man stomped down the aisle and roughly pulled the boy out of his seat. He dragged him to the front of the room so everyone could see his humiliation.

"Do you know why you are always late, Wendell?" Mr. Grumpner asked. "It's because you are a worthless fat-body. Isn't that right?"

This woke up the class, who roared with laughter. Toby, the bug-eyed boy, nearly fell out of his chair giggling.

"Well, I'm sure I could stand to lose a little weight, but I wouldn't go so far as to say…!" but the chubby boy never got to finish. Grumpner shoved a piece of chalk into his hand and spun him toward the chalkboard.

"And you are going to write it until the end of this class. You may think that because you're the principal's son you don't have to play by the rules, but I'm not afraid of your father. I have tenure. Get started!"

Wendell turned to the chalkboard and wrote I AM A WORTHLESS FAT-BODY. The students roared with laughter again, but Sabrina barely noticed. She was too stu

As Sabrina drifted from class to class, she began to realize that Mr. Grumpner wasn't the only teacher on the verge of a nervous breakdown. In fact, the entire sixth-grade faculty was a collection of bullying, screaming nightmares. They shouted through most of their classes, dishing out detentions like scoops of ice cream. Not that Sabrina could really blame them, though. The kids in her classes were real pains in the butt. They slept through the lectures and none of them had done their homework.

Even in gym class, the kids staggered around exhausted. Unfortunately for them, gym class turned out to be the one place you really needed to be alert. Their teacher was Ms. Spangler. Spangler the Strangler, as the kids called her, was a bulky little woman with a ponytail and an evil glint in her eye, who apparently knew how to teach just one game-dodgeball. Sabrina had played dodgeball many times at school in New York City. She considered herself to be pretty good at it; she remembered being the last kid standing many times, so in Ms. Spangler's class, when the first rubber ball smacked her in the head and made her brains rattle in her skull, she knew that something about this dodgeball game was different.