Dr. Critchlore's School for Minions (#1) , livre ebook

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164 pages

English

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Welcome to Dr. Critchlore's School for Minions, the premier trainer of minions for Evil Overlords everywhere. No student is prouder to be at Dr. Critchlore's than Runt Higgins, a twelve-year-old werewolf. (At least he thinks he's twelve. He was abandoned at the school as a baby, so he can't say for sure.) Runt loves everything about Dr. Critchlore's. He loves his classessuch as History of Henchmen and Introduction to Explosives. He loves his friendssuch as Darthin the gargoyle and Syke the tree nymph. And he loves his foster family, who took him in when his wolf pack couldn't.But not everyone loves Dr. Critchlore's as much as Runt. After a series of disasters, each worse than the next, it's clear that someone is trying to shut the school down. It's up to Runt, who knows the place better than anybody, to figure out who's behind the attacks . . . and to save his home, and Dr. Critchlore himself, from total destruction.

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Publié par	ABRAMS BOOKS
Date de parution	17 mars 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781613127575
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	4 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0330€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblanceto actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Grau, Sheila. Dr. Critchlore s School for Minions / by Sheila Grau. pages cm Summary: At his boarding school for monsters, a young werewolf learns a devastating truth about his family while uncovering a plot to sabotage the world s finest training program for aspiring minions to evil overlords. ISBN 978-1-4197-1370-5 [1. Monsters-Fiction. 2. Werewolves-Fiction. 3. Boarding schools-Fiction. 4. Schools-Fiction. 5. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Title. II. Title: Doctor Critchlore s School for Minions. PZ7.1.G73Dr 2015 [Fic]-dc23 2014029584
Text copyright 2015 Sheila Grau Illustrations copyright 2015 Joe Sutphin Book design by Jessie Gang
Published in 2015 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.

115 West 18th Street New York, NY 10011 www.abramsbooks.com
FOR JUAN
A Castle
B Dorms
C Necromancy
D Memorial Courtyard
E Garden
F Tootles s Tree House
G Dead Man s Peak
H Aviary
I Dragon Stable/Animal Pens
J Boulderball Field
K Practice Siege Wall
L Hedge Maze
M Sports Fields
N Mount Curiosity

CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Give a man a fish, and he eats for a day. Give a man a minion, and the minion will fish for him.
- ANCIENT MINION PROVERB
T he beast in front of me had the body of a lion, a human face with three rows of very sharp teeth, and a scorpion s tail tipped with a barb the size of an ice pick. The manticore was a triple threat of maiming, biting, and poisoning-and she was in my way.
She wasn t the only one. The courtyard was crowded with bodies jostling to get a look at the list posted on the wall. The manticore reared up on her hind legs, and I had to jump back to avoid her barb.
Can you see anything? I asked.
No, she said, plopping back down. Those ogres are blocking my view.
Most of the students in front of me were first-years, looking for their dorm assignments. I was a third-year, hoping that this time, for once, they had moved me to the right dorm.
I ll probably be in the Monster Minion Dormitory, the manticore said.
The Momido. I nodded. Unless it s full. Sometimes they put monsters in the D-Hum.
The D-Hum?
The Dormitory for Human Minions, I said. I should know; I d been stuck there for two years. Last year I d missed out on some important events because the notices had only been posted in the Momido. And not just the fun stuff like Night Prowls and games of Capture the Human. I was late signing up for the MMA tournament, and that really stung. I loved Mixed Monster Arts.
Hey, ogres! I yelled.
Three warty faces turned to look down at me, their bottom fangs jutting up like boars tusks. They were kids, barely eight feet tall, but honestly, there was only one option for them.
Try the Dormitory for Minions of Impressive Size, I suggested, pointing to the list on the right.
They waved their clubs in thanks and moved out of the way. I grabbed the manticore s tail and swung it in front of me like a sword, forcing her to follow me backward. Excuse me! Third-year, coming through! We edged past a bunch of kids who looked human, but they could ve been anything-werewolves, vampires, shape-shifters, or actual humans (their bad luck). I pushed through a couple of monkey-men, a lizard-boy, and some mummies. At last we reached the wall.
I held my breath, partly because I was nervous, and partly because the mummies smelled like piles of old gym socks with morning breath. I scanned the Momido room assignments. Runt Higgins, I whispered. Come on. Where s my name? My heart beat faster as I scrolled down the list.
It wasn t there.
This has got to be a mistake, I said, and I started over at the top.

There I am, said the manticore, pointing her barbed tail at the name Tiffany Smithers-Pendleton. She reached into her backpack with her tail. When she brought it out, a piece of paper was impaled on the end. Do you know where I turn in my immunization record?
I pointed in the direction of the infirmary. I couldn t speak. A cold dread filled my body. I didn t have to check the other lists. I knew I was back in the D-Hum.
The D-Hum! Oh, the humanity! (And I mean that literally.)
Slow and steady wins the race, if you have minions to sabotage your opponent.
- ANCIENT MINION PROVERB
T he D-Hum was a two-story wood-shingled building with peeling white trim. It looked like an unwanted toolshed next to its neighbor, the Dormitory for Minions of Impressive Size (the D-MIS). That immense stone building had a wide portico, giant Ionic columns, and two stone griffins standing guard at the bottom of the steps. Their motto was engraved above the missing front door: Anything in Our Way Will Be Destroyed.
By contrast, the motto above the D-Hum read, Just Do Your Best.
I didn t belong in the D-Hum. I belonged in the Momido with the other werewolves, but it had been full two years ago, when I was a first-year. It was full last year too, because monster minions are always in high demand. Humans, on the other hand, are not.
When I returned to the D-Hum, I found my roommate Darthin standing in front of a mirror as he adjusted some fake horns on his head. He d also painted himself gray.
What are you doing? I asked. Besides the fake horns and gray skin, his blond hair had been slicked flat and he smiled with fake fangs.
I m gonna be a gargoyle, he said. At Mad Scientist Camp, they said gargoyles make the best assistants. Every mad scientist wants one. They re very protective, really scary, and can turn into stone. I m not sure why that s good, but they can do it. And if they have wings, they can reach things on high shelves.
Don t they sometimes eat people? I asked.
That s actually another plus, Darthin said. Mad scientists need someone to blame for the, ah, accidental deaths.
Why don t you be a mad scientist yourself? I asked. You re the smartest guy I know.
Too much pressure, he said. All those presentations. I hate oral reports, you know that. He turned back to the mirror, pulling on some gloves that had claws built into the fingers. I m just testing out the look. If I like it, I think I can concoct a potion to make the changes more permanent.
Oh kay. Poor Darthin. He probably wanted to look like a monster because they terrified him. He rarely left the dorm if he was alone; he was so frightened of bumping into a mummy or an ogre, or anything else nonhuman.
I heard you made it into the Junior Henchman Training Program, he said. Congratulations.
Thanks.
I stood behind him and checked myself out in the mirror. I felt different, even though I looked the same, wearing the school uniform of black cargo pants, black cross-trainers, and white T-shirt decorated with the school s symbol, a blue griffin. I zipped up my new jacket, in third-year colors: tan with black down the sides. It had the Critchlore family crest embroidered as a pocket logo on one side, my name on the other.
The same old me, but now I was one of the elites: a junior henchman trainee. I was on solid footing for a great career.
As soon as I thought this, the building shook, knocking Darthin and me to the floor.
Fight sounds tumbled in through the open window. I got up and raced over, Darthin right behind me. Next door at the D-MIS, a bunch of ogres jostled one another as they chased a giant through the entryway.
It was no surprise, really, that they didn t have a door.
The floor shook again. Shouts and curses filled the air. A couple of ogres tackled the giant and sat on him, trying to get him to say Uncle.
Wally! I yelled at one of the ogres.
Darthin slugged me on the shoulder. What are you doing? he whispered. He ll see us.
Darthin, relax. They re nice, I said, for the millionth time. Wally! What s going on?
Wally turned around to see who was calling. I was right in front of him. From my second-floor window, I was practically at his eye level.
Over here, Wally! I yelled, waving my arms.
He looked to his left. Then his right.
Wally!
Finally he spotted me. Hi, Higgins! He waved.
What s going on? I asked again.
Knute called ogres sissies, he said. Then he jumped up and landed on Knute s belly.
Really? I asked. Why?
Cause they are! Knute yelled. Then he lost his breath from another crushing blow. Didn t you see the video?
What video? I yelled, but nobody answered. A few giants came to Knute s defense, and the ground shook from the giant-ogre scrum.
We could look it up on the library computer, Darthin said, but I didn t answer. I was watching the size XXXXXXXL minions punch and tackle each other, sometimes drawing blood. It was such a tender scene tha