It was the third time he had told the story that month. So I got to thinking, if he likes bugs so much, why not give him some? I wasn’t very fond of Mr. Frang. I was always in trouble with him for not doing the homework right. So, I spent the evening collecting a jar full of grasshoppers and another jar full of worms in our backyard. That part was pretty easy because it was raining, so all the worms were out.

The next morning, it was still raining.

I went into school early, and snuck into the classroom. I dumped my little collection in Mr. Frang’s top desk drawer, the one he keeps his lesson plans in. I figured he’d be sure to open it first period during our Earth science class. I knew I left a little trail of mud and water in the room from my raincoat and boots, but figured it didn’t matter.

When the bell rang, I rolled into class along with everyone else. For once I was on time. I really wanted to see Mr. Frang’s face when he opened the drawer. Only, Mr. Frang wasn’t there. It was some substitute teacher—some old lady sub, really old. Old like they had brought her out of retirement or something. This was going to be bad.

I slid into my seat, trying to think of what to do, and hoping the old lady wouldn’t open the drawer. Then, she asked, “Does anyone know where Mr. Frang keeps his lessons plans?” And Sukie piped right up, “In the top drawer.” Right then I knew I was cooked—as my mom always says, cooked like a goose.