Xander and the Lost Island of Monsters Read Online Free PDF Page A

against the Geneva Convention, I think.
    I must be exceptional. I never really thought so before today. But it turns out I am.
    I’m the first kid in the history of time to get detention the day that spring break starts.
    Yay, me.
    Peyton pulled Lovey off me before she could break my face. Getting beat up by a girl:
masculinity, minus 2,000 more points
. Having to be rescued by your best friend:
masculinity, minus another 50 points
.
    And somehow, though she’s the one who attacked me, I’m the one who’s in trouble.
    Mr. Stedman’s being a jerk, making me wait around until he’s good and ready to let me go. No book to read, no paper to write on, no nothing. Just me sitting here while he cleans up his classroom and does stuff on his computer—I don’t know what. Probably playing solitaire, or writing to all his imaginary girlfriends.
    Finally, he types a note in boldface addressed to my
Parent and/or Guardian
, prints it out, and hands it to me. “That drawing you created is a form of bullying, Xander. It shall not be tolerated.”
    â€œI didn’t draw it,” I say, but I know that sounds like a lie. “And she bullied
me
. She called me ugly and made a crack about Asians. What about that?”
    The slightest frown crosses his face. “Well. I didn’t hear that, so I can’t punish her.” Mr. Stedman crosses his arms. “Anyway, Xander, you’re not allowed to punish her yourself, no matter what she says. It’s not an eye for an eye around here.”
    I just nod. What else can I do? He won’t believe me.
    I
don’t even believe me. How can somebody draw something and not remember doing it?
    â€œXander, I don’t know why everything has to be so difficult with you,” Mr. Stedman says with a sigh. “Go on home.”
    I don’t hesitate. I stick the letter into my back pocket, grab my stuff, and run out.
    I find Peyton sitting at the bus stop. It’s warm and breezy, just like spring break is supposed to be. So much for the weather forecast. This makes me feel better. I grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be at baseball practice or something?”
    He shrugs and holds out a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. His blue-green eyes squint up at me from under his ball cap. His skin is a permanent goldenish tan from all the time he spends in the sun. “Don’t tell my dad.”
    I won’t. Peyton’s dad is basically bent on turning his son into some kind of super Olympic athlete. Water polo in the fall. Basketball in the winter. Baseball in the spring. Summer’s for training camps in at least two sports. Extra time is designated for long-distance running. Or mountain biking down hills so steep and rocky I have a panic attack just looking at them.
    Mr. Phasis is a navy pilot, and he wants Peyton to follow in his footsteps. If he found out Peyton skipped practice, he’d ground him for two weeks, easy.
    â€œI’ll throw some dirt on you so it looks like you went.” I kick a cloud toward his shins. The thought of his father makes bubbles churn in my stomach. He would rather Peyton find a new best friend. One who could mountain-bike or ski or even play driveway hoops with him.
    The day after my birthday last year, I went over to Peyton’s house, my Nintendo 3DS in my hand and a brand-new game loaded up.
    I knocked five times fast and three times slow, our special
Hey-it’s-me-I’m-coming-in
code, and put my hand on the doorknob. Mr. Phasis threw open the front door, a smile settling over his face like one of those clear plastic Halloween masks. His blond-red hair bristled like a rooster comb on top of his head. “Peyton’s busy, Xander. Come back another day.” He began to close the door.
    I stuck my foot into the doorway without thinking. Mr. Phasis was supposed to be gone for a few days, flying people to Florida. “Hey, Mr. Phasis, erm…” I tried to think of a reason