Mr. Master

This story is inspired by D.J.’s view of happiness in the sixteenth chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 16, “D.J.”

CHAPTER 16. D.J. — SUMMARY

D.J. arrives at school wearing a huge grin. When Mrs. Jewls and the rest of the class see his smile, they catch it instantly and begin smiling too. It feels as if the whole classroom (walls, desks, and chairs included) wants to laugh, especially since D.J.’s face never stops looking cheerful. Everyone asks him what he’s so excited about, but D.J. just keeps smiling. Even at recess, when Louis presses him for an explanation, D.J. simply says that you need a reason to be sad. You don’t need a reason to be happy.

D.J. wanted nothing more for his birthday than to invite Mr. Master, the great magician, to perform at his party. He still remembered how excited he’d been at Todd’s birthday — right up until Jason marched onto the stage and ruined the whole show. D.J. had been devastated.

So, his parents decided to call Mr. Master directly.

“Did you say D.J.’s birthday party?” the old magician asked over the phone.

“Yes,” D.J.’s father replied. “I’m his dad.”

“Is D.J the boy who goes to Wayside School? Same class as Todd?”

“That’s right. Do you know Todd?”

“Oh, I know Todd,” Mr. Master muttered. “And Jason. I know them very well.”

“Excellent!” D.J.’s father said.

Mr. Master cleared his throat. “I’ll perform for D.J., but only if no one else attends. Just him and his parents.”

D.J.’s father hesitated. “So, no guests? Well, all right. Should I give you our address?”

“No!” the magician barked. “If I come to your house, we could be interrupted by uninvited guests.”

“Uninvited guests?” D.J.’s father repeated,. “Then where should we meet?”

“In a hot air balloon,” Mr. Master declared. “No one can disturb us up there.”

D.J.’s father laughed. “That actually sounds like fun.”

“Good. Book a ride on a sunny day with wonderful weather. D.J. will see the best magic show of his life.”

When D.J.’s parents explained the plan, he was thrilled. And confused.

“I checked,” his father said. “Only two companies offer balloon rides: Balloonicorn Flights (cheaper but shorter) and Skyberry Balloons (pricier but more fun).”

“Let’s choose Skyberry,” D.J.’s mother urged. “Mr. Master probably expects us to pick the cheaper one.”

“He can’t prepare anything anyway,” D.J. laughed. “How could anyone set up tricks in a balloon basket?”

He was wrong, of course. Mr. Master had secret arrangements with both companies, allowing him to install hidden trapdoors and compartments in one of their balloons. So, when D.J.’s family booked their ride, the magician was already waiting.

They met him at dawn beside a wide green field, where a tall red balloon swayed gently in the morning breeze.

“Good morning, my friend,” Mr. Master said, shaking D.J.’s hand. “Excited?”

“Of course! It’s my birthday. And the best magician in town is performing for me.”

“And you’re riding in a hot air balloon,” Mr. Master added with a wink. “By the way, the ride lasts a couple of hours, and we’re not allowed to bring food or drinks. So, we’d better hydrate first.”

He opened a black leather bag at his feet and pulled out a carton of orange juice and four plastic cups.

“Amazing!” D.J.’s father exclaimed. “How did you know we were thirsty?”

“Part of the job,” the magician chuckled.

They drank quickly. Mr. Master pretended to sip his, then spilled it onto the grass when no one was looking. He tossed the empty carton and cups into a nearby bin, locked his bag with a long metal key, and climbed into the basket with them.

The balloon lifted off smoothly. Mr. Master handed his leather bag to D.J.

“Take care of this while I get us into the sky.”

He pulled ropes, adjusted levers, and soon they were drifting above the city. Then he turned around with a flourish and produced three sun umbrellas.

“These will protect you from the bright sunshine. And help you see my moves better.”

“Where did the umbrellas come from?” D.J.’s mother gasped. The magician wore tight trousers and a short sleeved shirt; there was nowhere to hide umbrellas.

“Magic,” he said simply, placing his hands on a small table in the center of the basket.

He asked D.J.’s parents about their favorite colors, the first letters of their names, and their favorite fruit juices. It was mango for Mom, cherry for Dad. Then he and used the answers to guess their birthdays with fantastic accuracy.

Then he turned to D.J.

“Your turn.”

“You already know my birthday,” D.J. laughed.

“True,” the magician admitted. “Then let me ask you this: if you could have one wish, any wish at all, what would it be? Think carefully.”

D.J. thought carefully. “I’d wish to be happy.”

“A wise choice,” Mr. Master said. “After all, being happy is the best thing you can wish for. But if you think of it, you don’t even need a wish for happiness.”

“I need a reason to be happy,” D.J. insisted.

“Then please hand me the red tube from my bag,” the magician said, giving D.J. the long metal key. “I’ll hold your umbrella.”

The bag was full of top hats, colorful scarves, white bunny plushies, and card decks. D.J. rummaged through it until he found a wide red plastic tube.

“It’s just a normal tube,” Mr. Master said, peering through it. He set it on the table.

D.J. nodded.

“What about now?” the magician asked, lifting the tube.

A tall glass appeared on the table.

“Wow!” D.J.’s mother gasped.

“Unfortunately, it’s empty,” Mr. Master said. “And what do people think when their glass is empty?”

“They think they’re unlucky,” D.J. replied.

“Exactly.” The magician lowered the tube, hiding the glass. “And what about now?”

He lifted it again. The glass was now full of orange juice.

“What’s your favorite juice, D.J.?”

“Orange.”

The magician threw up his hands. “How did I know?”

D.J.’s father frowned. “But what does this have to do with happiness?”

“Everything,” Mr. Master said. “D.J., how do people feel when their glass is empty?”

“Sad,” the boy answered.

“And when it’s full?”

“Happy.”

“Good. Now drink half.”

“But I drank a cup of juice only five minutes ago,” D.J. protested.

“That was half an hour ago,” Mr. Master said. “Do you want the show to continue?”

D.J. gulped down half the juice.

“And now?” he sighed.

Mr. Master placed the glass on the table.

“What do people think when they see a glass like this?” he asked.

D.J. scratched his head.

“Optimistic people think the glass is half full, while pessimistic ones believe the glass is half empty,” D.J.’s mother explained.

“Yes,” the magician exclaimed. “For some reason, they’re happier when they enjoy a lot of liquid. So, please drink the rest of the juice, D.J.”

“But I’m full!”

“Do you want me to continue?”

Groaning, D.J. finished the juice. His hand trembled as he set the glass down.

“You’re full of juice,” the magician said. “Are you happy?”

“No!” D.J. yelled. “I need a toilet right now and we’re in the sky!”

Mr. Master yanked ropes and pushed levers. The balloon descended rapidly and landed beside a porta cabin toilet at the edge of a park. D.J. sprinted inside.

When he returned, the magician asked, “How do you feel? Happy or sad?”

“Happy,” D.J. sighed with relief.

“That’s your lesson, my boy,” Mr. Master said, packing the umbrellas into his bag. “You need a reason to be sad. You don’t need a reason to be happy.”

 

Ruining All the Fun

This story is inspired by Deedee’s efforts to get a green ball in the fifteenth chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 15, “Deedee.”

CHAPTER 15. DEEDEE — SUMMARY

Deedee always wants to get a green ball from Louis, or at least a red one. But because she has to run down thirty flights of stairs to reach the playground, she always arrives after Louis has already handed out all the good balls. Every recess, Deedee tries a new strategy to get to the schoolyard faster: she takes the stairs ten at a time, she cuts across the grass like a professional runner, and she even asks Mrs. Jewls to let her go to recess early. Nothing works. Eventually, she disguises herself as a dead rat, and because Mrs. Jewls doesn’t allow dead rats in her classroom, Deedee suddenly finds herself outside on the playground, first in line to ask Louis for a green ball.

At recess, Dameon never made the teams. He always ended up on the bench under the chestnut tree, waiting for someone to slip or get tired so he could take their place.

He was watching the clouds drift behind Wayside School like a playful herd of white sheep when he heard quick footsteps pounding across the volleyball court. He turned just in time to see Deedee’s sneakers tearing a line through the grass. She reached the monkey bars, checked her watch, and bent over, panting.

Dameon stood and walked toward her.

“Is that a stopwatch?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Deedee nodded between breaths. “Yup. There are fifty yards from the school entrance to the monkey bars.”

“I didn’t know that,” Dameon chuckled. “I’m terrible at guessing distances.”

Deedee tapped the stopwatch. “I can run it in ten seconds now. If I get it down to eight, I’ll reach Louis before Todd does.”

“Why do you need to beat Todd?”

“To get a red ball. Or at least a green one,” she said. “Todd always ends up with the last green ball.”

“But you don’t have to kill your lungs for it,” Dameon laughed. “You’ll make the teams even if you’re not the one who gets the ball.”

Deedee brushed dust and grass off her ankles and jogged back toward the school steps to try again.

“Hey, Dameon!” someone called.

He turned. Todd was waving from the kickball field.

“Did someone get tired?” Dameon asked.

“Nope,” Todd said. “Come sit on the bench.”

Dameon headed back toward the chestnut tree. “I was telling Deedee she can join our teams,” he said. “Or she can sit with me until there’s a free spot.”

“Deedee’s trying to get the ball herself,” Todd replied. “Leave her alone. You’re ruining her fun.”

Dameon snorted. “Did you see her purple face? She didn’t look like she was having fun.”

The next day, neither Todd nor Deedee bothered to chase Louis for a ball. Instead, they slipped behind the school, where Deedee began running back and forth across the porch.

Suddenly she sprinted toward the edge, jumped off, and tucked her knees to her chest, spotting her landing point like a hawk. Dameon watched in awe as she touched down on the balls of her feet beneath the older chestnut tree near the fence. She bent her knees and held her arms out for balance.

“Oh my gosh!” Dameon shouted, rushing to her. “Deedee, are you okay? What happened?”

“Deedee is fine,” Todd called from the porch. “Relax, dude.”

He crouched and offered his hand so Deedee could climb back up.

Dameon frowned. “Does Louis know what you two are doing? What is going on?”

“Nothing,” Todd said. “I’m teaching her parkour. That was a precision landing.”

“Precision landing,” Dameon repeated. “What does she need that for?”

Deedee grinned. “Look. When the bell rings, everyone rushes down the stairs. Some kids take two or three steps at a time. I need to take ten steps at a time if I want a red ball. Or at least a green one. That’s why I need precision landing.”

Dameon stared at her. “That’s crazy,” he whispered. “Let me get the ball for you. You don’t have to do all this.”

Todd squinted at him. “What’s your deal, Dameon? Do you like Deedee?”

“I don’t like Deedee!” Dameon blurted. His face turned bright red. “I mean, I like her, but not that much.”

“Then leave her alone,” Todd said. “She just wants to get the ball herself.”

The next morning, Dameon tried to forget all about Deedee and her bizarre training. He didn’t make the teams again, but Todd told him to wait on the bench until someone slipped or got tired.

He was watching the clouds drift across the kickball field when he noticed something strange behind the school. The crown of the chestnut tree was shaking violently, even though there wasn’t a breath of wind.

He stood and walked toward it.

Suddenly Deedee burst out of the tree like a launched firework, plunging toward the ground faster than a ball Terrence kicked over the fence. For a moment, Dameon was sure she was going to die.

But she bounced, flipped in the air, and landed on her feet. Two long elastic cords stretched from her waist to the branches above.

He sprinted to her. “Deedee! Are you okay?”

“Better than you are,” she laughed, unclipping the cords. “This is just bungee jumping.”

“I know what bungee jumping is!” he gasped. “But why are you doing it?”

“You know I look like a mousy little girl,” she said. “Tomorrow I’ll pretend to be a dead rat. Mrs. Jewls will throw me out the window. I’ll be the first one to reach Louis. Red ball guaranteed.”

“But you’ll break your neck, won’t you?”

“Not if I use these bungee cords,” she declared. “I’ll carry them in my backpack.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just carry a red ball?” Dameon asked.

“Leave her alone, dude,” Todd called from behind. “You’re ruining all the fun.”

LAB RATS

This story is inspired by the strange behavior of the “new kid” in the fourteenth chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 14, “Sammy.”

CHAPTER 14. SAMMY — SUMMARY

It’s a rainy day, and the classroom smells funny. Mrs. Jewls’s students are excited because a new kid is joining their class. Their excitement quickly turns to horror when the newcomer starts yelling at them and calling everyone mean names. He also manages to stay completely hidden under an impressive pile of smelly raincoats, which he refuses to take off. When Mrs. Jewls finally removes all the coats, she’s shocked to discover a dead rat underneath,, one she promptly throws away.

The building across the street from Wayside School was even taller. Everyone thought it was a fifty story hospital, but in reality it housed army laboratories where dozens of scientists tested advanced equipment and gadgets you usually only see in the movies.

On the fiftieth floor, one lab specialized in training animals: pigeons, fish, and especially rats. Hundreds of rats learned to slip through security systems, report their positions, and complete missions that humans would later use in special operations around the world.

It was lunchtime. Dr. Bidenko slid the glass container back into the metal cupboard and locked it. Then he glanced at one of the video screens on the wall. Inside the container, the rats were clustered around a number puzzle he had prepared for them. If any of the rats solved it, a trapdoor would open and they’d be free to explore the maze below.

He grabbed a hot dog from the table and stepped onto the balcony, where Ms. Germs was already standing. Both names were fake—standard procedure in a secret facility where no one was supposed to know anyone’s real identity.

Ms. Germs was staring into the distance through a pair of oversized army binoculars.

“Checking the sky for spies?” Dr. Bidenko said between bites.

“You can never be too careful,” Ms. Germs chuckled. She lowered the binoculars and squinted at the clouds. “Looks like rain tomorrow.”

“I enjoy rainy weather,” Dr. Bidenko replied. “I’ve got raincoats in every color.”

Ms. Germs shook her head. “Rainy days stink in this part of the city. Too much pollution.”

Dr. Bidenko finished his second hot dog and took a long sip of soda. He paused when a loud bell rang from across the street.

“Recess at Wayside School,” Ms. Germs said, pointing at the playground below. “Sometimes watching the kids is like studying the rats in our lab.”

“What are you talking about?” Dr. Bidenko laughed. “Humans aren’t like rats.”

“But rats can be like humans,” Ms. Germs replied. “Here! Look at this.”

She handed him the binoculars and pointed toward the kickball field.

“That boy in the middle is Todd. Watch him.”

Dr. Bidenko focused the lenses. Terrence kicked the ball, which shot off in the wrong direction. Everyone except Todd ducked. The ball smacked Todd right in the neck.

“What’s wrong with that boy?” Dr. Bidenko muttered.

“Todd always thinks before he reacts,” Ms. Germs said. “Our rats do the opposite. They react before they think. That’s why they’re so good.”

Dr. Bidenko nodded slowly. “True. But I’ve noticed strange things lately.”

“It’s unavoidable,” Ms. Germs sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“All the labs are downsizing. When I first came here, over a thousand people worked in this building.”

“And now?”

“Maybe a hundred.”

“That explains it,” Dr. Bidenko murmured. “Last week I was working on codes and passwords, and my rats acted strangely.”

“What did they do?”

“They used the letter blocks I gave them to spell HELP,” he said. “No codes. No passwords. Just HELP, from dawn to dusk.”

Ms. Germs smiled. “At least your rats are still smart.” She checked her watch. “Recess is over. Let’s get back.”

They stepped inside. Dr. Bidenko glanced at the screens. Ms. Germs leaned over his shoulder.

“Looks like they solved the puzzle,” she said. “They’re in the maze.”

“Yeah, but Sammy’s missing,” Dr. Bidenko muttered.

“Who’s Sammy?”

“Everyone else uses letters and numbers to name their rats,” he explained. “I prefer real names: Timmy, Joey, Sammy.”

“Sammy’s not a bad name,” Ms. Germs said.

“If I don’t find him by tomorrow, he’ll be gone,” Dr. Bidenko sighed. “He’s the third one since September.”

Ms. Germs looked toward the window. “It’s going to be a rainy day tomorrow,” she said. “I hope he’ll be all right.”

FREEMAN

This story is inspired by Rondi’s situation in the thirteenth chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 13, “Rondi.”

CHAPTER 13. RONDI — SUMMARY

Rondi is missing her two front teeth, and suddenly everyone thinks those missing teeth are the cutest things in the world. She can’t understand why. After all, something that doesn’t exist can’t be cute or beautiful. Her classmates start teasing her by complimenting outfits she didn’t wear and laughing at jokes she never told. When she finally tries to tell a real joke, no one pays attention. At recess, she runs outside only to be stopped by Louis, who wants to see her adorable front teeth. She screams and punches him in the stomach.

Uncle Freeman was the most unusual guy Rondi had ever met. He was her dad’s best friend. Unlike most adults, he never ignored anyone—not even kids. He was sharp, warm, and funny all at once, which seemed impossible for anyone, let alone someone her father’s age.

“Freeman’s paying us a visit today,” her dad announced last Saturday.

“Really?” Rondi exclaimed. “That’s amazing!”

“I know,” her dad said. “Freeman never goes to anybody’s place. Everyone wants to go to his mansion, where he throws the best parties in town. And he knows all the famous people in the country.”

The news helped Rondi forget about her two front teeth. They had been wobbling for days, and one had finally dropped that morning.

“Cute!” Freeman exclaimed the moment he saw her. “I’ve always loved missing teeth.”

Rondi clamped her lips shut. “You don’t have to be nice to me,” she muttered. “I’m not a little kid anymore. And you can’t love something that doesn’t exist, can you?”

Freeman plopped onto the couch beside her. “First of all, I’m nobody’s uncle,” he laughed. “So, call me Freeman, because that’s exactly what I am: a free man. Second, less is more.”

Rondi snorted. “Less is more? That’s just a slogan, Freeman.”

“Not if you put your money where your mouth is,” he said. “Take me, for example. I sold my house and bought the best pickup truck. Now I travel all over the country in my new trailer home. More friends, more adventures, more freedom. Less is more!”

“You sold your mansion?” Rondi’s dad blurted. “What about your parties? They were the best in town!”

Freeman patted him on the back. “They still are,” he chuckled. “I’m inviting you all to the ultimate barbecue experience outside my trailer. Everyone who’s famous will be there tonight.”

On Monday, Rondi’s second front tooth fell out. That night, she wanted to tell her dad how her classmates had started teasing her, but he was already on a video call with Freeman.

“Where are you now?” her dad laughed. “I thought you said you live in a trailer.”

“Not anymore,” Freeman declared. “I sold my pickup truck and moved to New York City. You don’t need a vehicle around here.”

“But why?” her dad asked.

“Less is more,” Freeman replied. “I have so many friends here I don’t even have to rent a room. I stay with a new friend every two weeks. My social life is richer than ever.”

By the end of the week, Rondi had had enough of her classmates’ teasing. Her missing teeth were cute, the outfits she didn’t wear looked fabulous, and the jokes she didn’t tell were the most hilarious ever.

She even tried telling one of Freeman’s jokes, but nobody listened.

“Have you talked to Freeman lately?” she asked her dad that evening.

He shook his head. “Freeman is gone,” he sighed. “I only received an email from him saying that less is more.”

“What does that mean?”

“He no longer lives in New York,” her dad explained. “He stopped staying with friends to avoid carrying too much emotional luggage. Now he travels all over the country, sleeping on trains and buses. He’s an urban camper or something.”

“But why didn’t he call you?” Rondi asked.

Her dad shrugged. “He carries nothing,” her dad said. “He wears rented suits and owns no bags or devices. He says he’s a completely free man now.”

And that was the last time they ever heard from Uncle Freeman.

BIG MOUTH

This story offers a new perspective on Joy’s decision to place her enormous piece of gum on Jason’s seat in the twelfth chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 12, “Jason.”

CHAPTER 12. JASON — SUMMARY

Jason tells Mrs. Jewls that Joy is chewing gum in class, and the teacher prepares to write Joy’s name on the blackboard under the word DISCIPLINE. Jason volunteers to write it himself, and while he’s at the board, Joy places her huge glob of gum on his seat. When he returns to his desk and sits down, he becomes stuck to his chair. Mrs. Jewls tries several methods to free him (including throwing ice water on him to make the gum less sticky) but nothing works. Just as the three Erics are about to carry Jason and his chair to the bathroom to cut his pants off, Joy promises she can get him unstuck if Mrs. Jewls erases her name from the board. The teacher agrees, and Joy finally frees Jason by kissing him on the nose.

Everyone had had enough of Jason’s big mouth.

It all started on Todd’s birthday last year. He had invited the whole class, promising an unforgettable show. Todd’s parents had hired the most famous magician in town: Mr. Master and His Magical Moments.

Jason sat in the first row.

“I need a volunteer,” Mr. Master announced.

Dozens of hands shot up. Before Mr. Master could pick someone, Jason stood, marched onto the stage, and planted himself beside the magician. Mr. Master asked him to check whether the hat was empty.

Jason peered inside, then nearly burst into laughter.

“Guys!” he shouted. “The hat has a false bottom. Lean this way. You can see it better!”

Mr. Master froze.

“Jason, what are you doing?” Todd yelled.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Jason snapped. “I’m saving your show! Can’t you see the rabbit up his sleeve? It’s been trying to escape since the show started.”

Mr. Master packed up his props and stormed out. Todd’s mother begged him to stay, but he refused.

“Don’t call me again,” he said. “And I’ll make sure the other entertainers know what kind of hosts you are.”

With the show canceled, the children drifted home. Todd felt helpless and humiliated.

“You have such a big mouth, Jason,” he muttered.

“That’s not true,” Jason replied. “Joy’s mouth is bigger.”

Nobody invited Jason to another birthday party. And when he invited them to his own, everyone was suddenly very busy.

Mrs. Jewls knew nothing about Jason’s reputation. She always punished Todd for talking in class, but somehow she never heard Jason at all.

Until the day Jason couldn’t keep his mouth shut again.

Mrs. Jewls’s birthday was approaching, and Miss Mush decided to throw her a surprise party at lunch. Everyone agreed to keep it secret.

But when Mrs. Jewls arrived that morning, she felt a little hurt. No one had wished her a happy birthday. Jason was the last to leave the classroom for recess and noticed her sitting alone at her desk.

“May I help you, Mrs. Jewls?” he asked. “You look upset.”

Mrs. Jewls smiled. “I’m not upset,” she said. “Jason, do you know what day it is today?”

“Oh! You think we forgot your birthday!” Jason exclaimed. “Don’t worry! Miss Mush is throwing you a surprise party at lunchtime.”

When Miss Mush heard what Jason had done, she canceled the party on the spot and threw away her cake. The entire school was furious, but no one knew how to deal with Jason.

“I may have an idea,” Joy said. “But I’ll need a piece of gum from each of you.”

Everyone handed over their gum. Joy had the biggest mouth in class, and she stuffed every piece inside. At first her jaw ached and she could barely breathe, but soon she managed to chew steadily.

The bell rang. Everyone returned to their seats.

Jason noticed the huge bulge in Joy’s cheek.

“Mrs. Jewls,” he called out without raising his hand, “Joy is chewing gum in class!”

Mrs. Jewls reached for the chalk to write Joy’s name on the board, but Jason jumped up.

“I’ll write it for you!”

While he was at the board, Joy removed the giant glob of gum and placed it on his chair. When Jason returned, he sat down, and smiled at Joy.

Joy smiled back.

NUMB

This story is inspired by Dana’s troubles in the eleventh chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 11, “Dana.”

CHAPTER 11. DANA — SUMMARY

One day, Mrs. Jewls is teaching arithmetic, but Dana complains that she can’t concentrate because of her mosquito bites. Mrs. Jewls insists on continuing the lesson, claiming that arithmetic is the best cure for an itch. She keeps giving the students arithmetic problems to solve, and when Dana finally adds up all her mosquito bites, she’s surprised to discover that they’ve magically stopped itching.

Louis was the first teacher to arrive at school. He strolled around the building, checking that no stray balls or hula-hoops had been left on the field or forgotten in the bushes. The morning sun warmed his face, and the birds in the treetops chirped as if greeting him personally.

Just as he headed toward the entrance, a sharp sting jabbed his elbow. He slapped his arm and found a mosquito flattened in a tiny smear of blood.

“Small but painful,” Louis muttered. “I hate vampires.”

He cleaned the spot carefully. He knew better than to scratch. Scratching only made things worse.

A sudden uproar rose from the front of the school. A long line of students spilled out of the bus, racing up the stairs toward their classrooms. Long after the last one had disappeared inside, Dana appeared, panting and crawling forward at the speed of a tired snail. Her enormous backpack made her look even smaller.

“Did you pack your whole room in there?” Louis joked.

Dana shook her head silently and trudged up the steps like an underwater crab moving in slow motion.

At recess, the students burst out of the building again, filling the playground with shouts and wild energy. Louis’s multicolored balls were tossed, bounced, and kicked until every one of them turned the same dusty brown. When the bell rang, the children vanished back inside, leaving Louis alone with the mess, and wondering how he could gather the balls without ruining his brand-new training suit.

While hauling an armful of basketballs toward the underground bathroom, he nearly bumped into Dana, who was climbing the stairs from the basement.

“Dana!” Louis exclaimed. “What are you doing down here?”

Dana shrugged. “Emergency,” she said with a little laugh. “You know. I had to go.”

Then she darted up the stairs toward Mrs. Jewls’s classroom.

Louis shook his head, smiling.

At lunchtime, he spotted Dana again, this time sitting alone at a narrow table in the far corner of the cafeteria, right next to the big refrigerator. She looked small and miserable, hunched over her tray and nibbling at a tiny sandwich.

Louis sat beside her. “What are you doing here?”

Dana frowned. “What do you mean? I’m having lunch.”

“Far from everyone else, in the corner of the room?” he asked. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” she muttered. “This is my favorite table.”

Louis studied her. She was leaning against the refrigerator door, one leg pressed firmly against the cold metal.

“Something’s going on,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure it has to do with this fridge.”

“What fridge?” Dana asked, feigning surprise.

“The fridge you’re glued to,” Louis laughed. “You look like you’re trying to take all the cold out of it. Are you hot or something?”

Dana sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.”

She stuffed the last bit of sandwich into her mouth, drained her Capri Sun, and then held out her arms.

“Mosquito bites,” she whispered.

Louis nodded. “I hate mosquitoes too.”

“I mean I’m covered in mosquito bites,” she moaned. “They itch all the time.”

“Don’t scratch them,” Louis warned. “Scratching makes them worse.”

“Too late!” Dana cried. “My whole body itches so much I could scream.”

“Did you try calamine lotion?” Louis asked. “It helps with itching.”

“I know,” Dana said. “But I can’t use it at school, can I?”

“No, I guess not,” Louis admitted. “So, what are you going to do?”

Dana leaned closer. “The best way to fight an itch is to make your skin feel nothing. When does your body feel numb?”

“In winter, when it’s cold?” Louis guessed.

“Exactly!” Dana said. She tapped the refrigerator. “That’s why I’m sitting here. In class, I press my legs against the metal frame of my desk.”

Louis blinked. “Wait. I think I know what you were doing at recess.”

Dana grinned. “I was charging up more numbness. There’s a big pipe down there with super-cold water. If I lean on it for a minute, my mosquito bites go numb for almost an hour.”

“And your backpack?” Louis asked. “You looked like the world’s largest snail this morning.”

Dana pointed at her empty juice pouch. “My backpack is full of half-frozen Capri Sun bags. I need them whenever I feel like I’m about to scratch again.”

The bell rang, and the students hurried back to class, including Dana.

Louis looked at the mosquito bite on his arm and pressed his elbow against the fridge door. He yelped and jumped back.

“Too cold for me,” he groaned.

PIG TAILS

This story explores Paul’s urge to pull Leslie’s pigtails in the tenth chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 10, “Paul.”

CHAPTER 10. PAUL — SUMMARY

Sitting at the back of the classroom, Paul can’t focus on Mrs. Jewls’s lesson because Leslie’s pigtails keep dangling right in front of him. He tries to resist the temptation to pull one, but he fails. First he pulls Leslie’s right pigtail, and Mrs. Jewls writes his name on the blackboard. Then he pulls the left one, and she adds a checkmark. At this point, Paul thinks he can get away with pulling Leslie’s pigtails twice every day. However, Leslie suddenly screams again, even though he hasn’t touched her a third time. Mrs. Jewls circles his name and sends him home early on the kindergarten bus.

On Sunday, Peter woke Paul up at dawn. Paul squinted at the clock on his bedroom wall.

“But it’s Sunday,” he groaned. “Why are we waking up at seven?”

“Do you want to go to Cousin Jim’s birthday party or not?” his older brother asked.

Paul was in no mood for a two hour ride to the middle of the countryside, but he had no choice.

“Man, I forgot all about it,” he mumbled. “It feels like his last birthday was only two months ago.”

He tried to sleep in the car, but Peter played a very loud game of I Spy with their parents. They burst into laughter every time they spotted a cattle crossing sign, a scarecrow, or even a red barn.

“Could you please play the Quiet Game?” Paul begged. “I’m trying to catch up on my sleep.”

Peter pulled off Paul’s cap and ruffled his hair. “The Quiet Game is only for little brothers,” he chuckled.

When they arrived at Uncle Red’s farm, Paul was both sleepy and starving. Peter and his parents had eaten breakfast in the car, but he had been too tired to chew.

“Happy birthday to your son, Redford,” Paul’s mom said. “Where’s Jim?”

“Jim and his sister are feeding the animals out back,” Uncle Red replied. “Do you kids want to see the horses?”

“Sure!” Peter exclaimed, sprinting toward the stables.

Paul sighed and followed, but not all the way. Instead, he slipped into a quiet shed and collapsed onto a hay bale behind the door.

He had just closed his eyes when someone shoved him off the bale.

“Wake up, City Boy!” a voice boomed. “You can sleep when you go back to that boring school of yours.”

It was Bouncing Betty, Cousin Jim’s sister. Everyone called her that because she hopped everywhere she went and had enough energy to power an entire farm.

Paul stood up and pushed her back. Then he brushed straw off his T shirt. “Nobody sleeps at my school,” he muttered.

Betty snorted. “That’s not what I heard.”

Cousin Jim and Betty were homeschooled, and she never missed a chance to tease Paul about it.

“Oh, here you are!” Cousin Jim shouted as he burst into the shed with Peter behind him. “We’ve been looking everywhere.”

“I’ve been here for less than thirty seconds,” Paul protested.

“No excuses,” Jim snapped. “Last year you pretended to be sick. This year you’re playing Barnyard Blitz with us or else.”

“Or else what?” Paul blurted. “Can’t we have cake first and play games after?”

Jim wagged his finger. “You’re not fooling me again, Buster. It’s Team Brother vs. Team Farm. Winners get double cake. Losers get regular cake. And if you don’t play, you get zero cake.”

Paul’s stomach growled louder than an angry pig. He followed Jim outside and nearly bumped into Uncle Red, who was holding a book so thick it could stop a tractor.

“Not so fast, partner,” Uncle Red chuckled. “Before a single boot hits the dirt, we follow the rules in The Official Barnyard Blitz Rule Book.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “How many rules are there?”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Uncle Red said. “Right now, we focus on Rule One: The Farmer’s Handshake.”

The children shook hands. Betty squeezed Paul’s so hard his eyes watered.

The first challenge was the Chicken Coop Scramble. They were supposed to reach into a giant nest, which was a kiddie pool filled with straw. There, they had to find three wooden eggs and carry them in a tiny plastic bucket without dropping any.

“Don’t forget the pig tails,” Peter said, pushing Paul toward the pool. “I’ll handle the next challenge because I don’t want you ruining our chances.”

Paul dove into the straw and found the eggs faster than Jim. But as he sprinted toward the finish line, his shaking hand betrayed him and one egg hit the dirt.

Uncle Red blew his whistle. “Egg Rule! Return to the nest and find another egg. But first, give me five chicken flaps.”

“I’m not doing that,” Paul snapped. “I want to make an official complaint. My egg dropped because Betty crushed my fingers before the race. That’s cheating.”

Uncle Red pointed to a jar filled with corn kernels perched on the fence post. “That’s the Complaint Jar. You must count one hundred kernels before I listen to anything.”

“One hundred kernels?” Paul gasped. “That’ll take all day!”

“And that’s exactly the point,” Uncle Red said. “By the time you reach ninety nine, you’ll forget why you were grumpy.”

Paul groaned, returned to the nest, and finished the task.

“The tails!” Peter shouted.

“What tails?” Paul panted.

Peter pointed to the Pig Pen, where three curly pink rubber bands dangled from a post.

“You must pull the tails to signal the end of the challenge.”

“Why?”

“Because pig tails are meant to be pulled!” Jim roared, laughing so hard he nearly fell over.

The rest of the race was a blur. Peter tackled the Muddy Marsh like a pro athlete. Paul hauled sandbag “potatoes” in the Vegetable Patch. They hurdled hay bales, milked a wooden cow, and pulled more pig tails than they could count.

By the final challenge, Paul collapsed on the ground.

“I don’t care if it’s double or regular,” he groaned. “Just bring the cake.”

In the end, Uncle Red gave everyone as much cake as they wanted.

“If you’d paid attention to the rules, you would’ve won,” he told Paul. “Next time, remember: don’t forget to pull the pig tails.”

“But why?” Jim and Betty mimicked Paul.

“Because pig tails are meant to be pulled!” Uncle Red laughed.

On Monday morning, the first thing Paul noticed at school was Leslie’s long pigtails dangling right in front of him.

“Pigtails are meant to be pulled,” Paul whispered to himself.